For a second, Harley froze. Of all the cops the kid could live with, it had to be the cop that she’d left standing on a roof top, didn’t it? But the recriminations and yelling and mirandizing didn’t happen like she expected it to. Instead he looked past her, like he was expecting somebody else.
Harl turned her head, but nobody was there, and when she looked at him again, he was looking full at her. And all he said was hello. Just like that. Hello. No yelling, no asking what she was doing there, no demanding her gun. Just… hello. It was weird.
Did he not remember her?
Well, they had been running through the building. He did look more at her back than her front on the rooftop. Of course, there had been that ride up in the elevator, but he’d probably been trying to get a better look in her wagon than at her face. Or he might be bullshitting her.
Okay. He wanted to play it like he didn’t know her? She was onboard with that game. At least until she could figure out if he did remember her or not. Plastering her best innocent smile on her face she answered his question.
“Hiya. I hope I got the right place. I’m lookin’ for Lady Blysse Kestrel,” she announced. Then in case he misunderstood, because the kid didn’t seem as fond of that name, she added, “She goes by Firekeeper too? Has a big wolf? Is she here?”