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Ten minutes later, Alex’s spare phone gave a beep. We all turned to look at it. I grabbed the phone and read the message aloud. “‘You’re most welcome, Aubrey. Keep sharing!’” Aubrey. That was such a distinctive name. “I know I’ve heard that name before, I just can’t remember where or how. Sound familiar to you guys?” They both shook their heads. I started pacing again as I tried to squeeze my brain for the memory. Alex sat down at his computer. He started to read off the screen. “Aubrey, Aubrey . . . wow, lots of girls named Aubrey.” Michelle watched me. “Was it during this case?” I nodded. “Maybe you heard it in court?” I shook my head. “No, I know I didn’t hear it in court.” I might not remember my own phone number, but I never forgot what anyone said in court. “Did it have something to do with this case?” Michelle asked. I stopped and stared at the floor. “No, I don’t think so.” Alex read from the screen again. “Aubrey Plaza, Allison Aubrey, there’s a town in France.” I stared at him. “You’re not helping, you know.” He glanced up. “Sorry.” But he kept scanning the monitor. “What about outside court?” Michelle asked. “I mean, when you were talking to reporters?” Something tickled the back of my brain. I had that frustrating feeling that it was hovering just out of reach. I tried to grasp it. And failed. “Damn it!” “Okay, let it go,” Michelle said. “You can’t force it. Talk about something else.” But I couldn’t. I kept pacing. Alex picked up their empty bowls. “That guy Marc was a lot smaller than this Aubrey dude. I thought models were supposed to be buff.” I’d noticed that, too. “At least more buff than Marc was. But as I recall, Golden said the agency was trying to get him to buff up.” Alex
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