At the first mention of her figure, Matt nodded. He knew enough, could 'see' enough, to know that she did indeed have a woman's figure. Her deflection, however, had a twinge of regret to it. At least, he thought so. It could have been discomfort at having to imply her motivations for crossing the aisle to the good guys.
His investigation was narrowing. Following the trail was half the fun of what he did. Motor oil. Animal blood. Mold on old paper. Those were the first clues he picked up when he'd passed the scene on his way toward her. The chop shop was obvious, but now he knew he was looking for one within one city block of a butcher and an antique store.
In Harlem.
That was a bit of a trip. "They don't know what they have, usually. At least I know where to start looking. Thanks, Cat. Want me to tag in from here?"
There was finality in her voice, like she didn't want to go poking around. Conflicted about her choices, then. Pete would be a good influence on her. Not that someone with a wild heart like hers would ever be completely open to that influence. The adage of leopards and spots. It wasn't impossible she'd stay away from crime, but she still deserved that chance, or he wouldn't have helped her expunge her record to begin with.