But something made me answer. Maybe it was the same instinct that used to tell me when a student was about to confess to plagiarism, or when a parent was calling with news that would require tissues and a closed door.
“Hello?” I said, tucking the phone between my shoulder and ear as I reached for a dish towel.
“Mrs. Thompson? This is Rick Brennan. I photographed David and Jessica’s wedding.”
I remembered Rick—charming, professional, expensive. Jessica’s parents had spared no expense for their daughter’s wedding, and Rick Brennan was apparently the most sought-after wedding photographer in Dallas. I’d met him briefly during the reception, where he’d complimented my dress and assured me he’d captured beautiful moments of David and me dancing.
“Of course, Rick. How are you?” I kept my voice pleasant, but his tone was setting off alarm bells. This wasn’t a social call.
