I didn't have time to linger over my betrayal, though, because my phone whistled once more and the number Jazz gave me appeared.
Bar, Simone sent. Hiding. ?
I ran down the steps, out of breath but feeling rejuvenated from the rush of adrenaline as I pushed through the doors and into the lobby, heading directly for the bar and Simone. She was tucked into the back corner, head in her hands when I sank into the soft padding of the bench seat and hugged her.
Simone leaned into me, weeping softly, her hands clutching at me and I held her a long moment, chin on the top of her head, wishing there was something I could say. But her boyfriend was dead, she was a suspect and, though I knew she didn't do it, I also understood from experience how devastating it was to be fingered for murder. And, f
