“Thanks Sig, I’ll see you when I get in.”

I ended the call and slipped the phone into my small clutch. The sole remaining item from last night’s outfit. A shame since I purchased the shoes and purse specifically to match the dress. A double shame since last night marked the dress’s inaugural, and subsequently, final event.

I jotted down a few of the notes from my conversation with Sigmund, while Lachlan silently navigated his Tesla through Lake Shore Drive’s non-existent, pre-rush hour traffic. Sigmund’s call interrupted our budding conversations about the victims, but my scribbles stalled with a glance over at Lachlan. In brown slacks and a white shirt he should have looked normal. I found myself wondering just as much about Lachlan as the case.  

&l...

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