Off the Record (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 10)

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I don’t want it to be my story,” I argued, my stomach twisting when Eliot shot me a dubious look. “Okay, I mostly don’t want it to be my story. I just … that woman was young. The article says she was twenty-one. That’s too young to die.”

  “There’s nothing you can do about that.”

  “If I could go back in time I could kick ass instead of saving lives,” I said. “Of course, the asses I’d want to kick belong to jerks who kill people, so I would actually be saving lives.

  “She was alone,” I continued. “Someone hid her under the tent like that as if she was … garbage and no one would notice she was dead and gone. Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “It bothers me when anyone dies,” Eliot replied. “That doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t your story. Even if you could somehow do some digging – and I can see your mind working from here and I’ll pitch a fit if you attempt to work while we’re supposed to be off – this isn’t a story for The Monitor. This place … this murder … this bad coverage is all beyond your scope.”

  I leaned back in my chair, annoyance bubbling up. “I think you’re insinuating that I’m a busybody.”

  “Oh, Trouble, I’m flat out saying it.” Eliot grinned. “You can’t do anything about this story. You know that. Why are you letting it eat at you?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it.”

  “Are you having a bad time?”

  The question caught me off guard. “I’m not having a bad time.”

  “You’re not having a good time,” Eliot said. “I knew that camping wasn’t going to be all hugs, kisses and constant nudity, but I thought you’d find something here to enjoy.”

  It was only then that I realized I was completely ruining his vacation. I bought the camping package as a Valentine’s gift because I knew he’d enjoy it. He deserved to enjoy it. He often went out of his way to do things for me. Because I’m so self-involved I can’t help but forget his needs when I bury myself in a big story. This trip was supposed to make up for some of that.

  I made a promise to myself when planning the trip. That promise involved putting Eliot’s needs first. It was kind of a foreign concept to me – I’m spoiled rotten and something of a bully when I want my way – but love is a great equalizer. I wanted Eliot to be happy even more than I wanted to win. Er, well, mostly.

  “I enjoy you.” I sounded earnest, which was good, because I felt earnest. “I’m sorry for getting distracted. That’s the last thing I want.”

  “I don’t want this to be torture for you,” Eliot said. “When you first surprised me with the cabin rental I couldn’t help but wonder if you thought things through. I was touched by the gesture but if you can’t do this … .”

  Oh, now he was just messing with me. “That was smart.”

  Eliot feigned innocence. “What was smart?”

  “Turning it into a challenge.”

  He didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “I’m certain that wasn’t what I was trying to do.”

  “Oh, don’t bother lying.” I moved from my chair, sweeping the newspaper to the side before settling on his lap. Eliot wrapped his arms around me, rubbing his cheek against mine as I got comfortable. “I’m trying. I hope you know that. I’m used to being good at stuff, but camping is … different. I’m not good at it.”

  “I don’t think that’s it.” Eliot pushed my hair from my face. “I think you prefer knowing how to do everything and you’re at a point where learning how to do new stuff seems a waste of time because you’ve convinced yourself that you already know how to do everything that’s even remotely important.”

  “Did you just psychoanalyze me?”

  Eliot shrugged. “You’re a fascinating test case.”

  “Tell that to the guidance counselor I drove around the bend in high school.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “Well, I was sent there to talk about my attitude regarding authority figures – the English teacher was a total pervert and kept measuring people’s shorts with a ruler just so he could touch bare skin – and I ended up with weekly sessions because my attitude regarding everyone was deemed poor.”

  Eliot snickered, genuinely amused. “You do tend to gravitate toward ‘dislike’ rather than ‘like’ when meeting someone new. It’s an interesting feat.”

  “I don’t mean to be difficult.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Fine. I don’t mean to be difficult. I love you.”

  “Duly noted.” Eliot kissed my cheek. “For the record, I know you aren’t purposely difficult when dealing with me. I think it’s a gift. You manage to make everything more difficult than it has to be.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  Eliot nodded.

  “If you believe that, why do you want to live with me?”

  It was an honest question and I expected Eliot to be uncomfortable under my weighted gaze. He was the exact opposite.

  “I want to live with you because you make me laugh,” he replied. “I’ve never had more fun with anyone in my life.”

  “Even though I’m difficult?”

  “You’re definitely difficult. The thing is, the best things in life aren’t easy. They’re a struggle. Before you, I wasn’t sure I was the relationship type. The idea of coming home to the same woman every night was something right out of my nightmares.”

  “I hear that,” I intoned. “Romantic comedies are much scarier than slasher movies.”

  Eliot’s lips curved against my cheek. “I would be bored with someone who wasn’t difficult. I know that now. That doesn’t mean I want you to increase your difficulty factor, just for the record.”

  “I would never.” I pressed my hand to the spot over my heart and earned a snort from Eliot. “I’m sorry if I’ve been ruining this for you. I honestly didn’t mean to do it.”

  “You haven’t ruined anything. I actually enjoyed the French bug virus story.”

  “Even the part where you were prostrate with grief and died a year after me?”

  “You can’t hate the truth.”

  Now it was my turn to grin. “I’ll be better.”

  “You don’t have to be better. You simply have to let this go.” Eliot shook the newspaper for emphasis. “You can’t change this. I know you want to solve it, find answers, bug the cops … whatever. This isn’t your story, though.”

  “I know that. I guess I simply needed a bit of a reminder.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” Eliot gave me a sip of his coffee before finishing off the mug himself. “Can you focus on me until we head back home?”

  “You’re my favorite thing to focus on … other than Star Wars. Oh, and Lord of the Rings. And Harry Potter. And Jaws. Did I mention they’re doing a Meg movie? That’s that book about the giant prehistoric shark. Jason Statham is in it. I think he’s going to punch a shark.”

  “That sounds entertaining.”

  “I think it’s going to be a summer movie highlight.” I turned to stare at his profile. “I’m excited to move in with you. I don’t know if I’ve said it enough but … I am.”

  “You’ve said it. You’ve showed it.”

  “Well, I mean it.”

  Eliot tightened his arms around my waist. “While you’re in a conciliatory mood, I don’t suppose I could talk you into going kayaking, could I?”

  “Those are those little boats with the paddles, right?”

  Eliot nodded. “I think you might like it if you give it a shot.”

  “Will you protect me from bugs?”

  “That’s the other thing I’m here for.”

  “Then I would love to kayak with you,” I said, kissing his cheek before hopping to my feet. “Just as soon as you buy me breakfast. I’m starving.”

  Eliot narrowed his eyes. “You ate three pounds of crab legs last night. How can you be starving?”

  “Being mean and surly burns a lot of calories.”

  Eliot’s laugh was warm and rich. “I
should’ve taken that into consideration. Breakfast it is.”

  5

  Five

  I generally hate Mondays but I was beside myself with joy when the weekend ended and we left the woods behind. Despite his general happiness in the outdoors, even Eliot appeared thrilled to return to civilization. We celebrated by ordering Middle Eastern takeout (my favorite) and packing while naked (his favorite) the rest of the night.

  I woke ready for action when morning hit, and the emotion lasted long after I stubbed my toe on the mountain of boxes in the hallway as I made my way to the bathroom. It extended through breakfast – Eliot cooked hash browns and eggs in an effort to empty out the refrigerator – but I was antsy when he didn’t appear to be in a hurry to let me out of the driveway. He purposely parked behind me the night before, boxing me in so I couldn’t leave until he did.

  “What do you have planned today?”

  I wasn’t in the mood to badger him into letting me out … or begging, because that would require negotiating and he’s often better at it than I am. I figured if I played nice and had a pleasant meal – a little conversation thrown in for good measure – he’d be much more malleable.

  “I’m going to go over the books at the store and then spend the afternoon packing up the bulk of my apartment.” Eliot remained focused on the morning newspaper so he didn’t see the way I rolled my eyes. He owned a pawnshop in Mount Clemens, although he’d been branching out into security work in recent months, and I loved him despite the fact that he boasted a head for business. “What are you doing?”

  “I have no idea yet.”

  “I’m surprised that you haven’t been hounding Fish via text message since the moment you woke up.”

  Fred Fish, the managing editor of The Monitor, was used to my moods. He blocked my number from his phone in anticipation of just that. I opted to refrain from admitting that to Eliot, though. It was embarrassing, although only mildly. “I have no reason to text Fish.”

  “Did he block you?”

  I frowned. “No. He’d never block me.” Little white lies are okay. I checked the relationship handbook and it’s totally allowed. It’s no different from when Eliot tells me that my jeans don’t make me look fat even though I have PMS and know I’m bloated and huge. “I don’t know why you’d say that.”

  “Because he blocked you right before we left when you were hounding him to come up with an emergency assignment to keep you in town,” Eliot replied. “He told you he wasn’t going to unblock you until you showed up in the office today.”

  Crap. The guy has a memory like an elephant. “Whatever.” I decided to change course. “Do you need me to head over to your apartment after work and help you pack?”

  Eliot spent almost every night at my house instead of the apartment above his store. That didn’t mean the location – which would eventually become his security office – wasn’t packed with belongings. The Roseville house was far too small for all of our things.

  “Oh, what did I do to deserve that threat?” Eliot smirked as he lowered the newspaper. “I can handle my apartment. I honestly don’t have much there. Some of the stuff – like the furniture – is staying behind. What we need to talk about is your office.”

  I balked at his tone. “What about my office?”

  My office was really only an office in the loosest sense of the word. It was really a showplace for every piece of geek memorabilia I’d acquired since middle school. Eliot often teased me about the collection, but he didn’t put up a fight when I announced all of it would be moving to the new – and much bigger – Macomb Township house.

  “A lot of that stuff is worth some money,” Eliot answered. “I saw boxes in the attic. I can start packing it if you give me the go ahead.”

  “So? Do it.”

  “I wanted to know if you’d have a meltdown if I did.”

  Well, that was mildly insulting … I think. “Why would I have a meltdown?”

  “Do you remember what happened when I mixed up the Harry Potter and Chronicles of Narnia bookends?”

  I averted my gaze. “Not particularly.”

  “You threatened to ban me from the room.”

  Oh, well, geez. They’re completely different franchises. “There are no lions in Harry Potter,” I reminded him.

  “Duly noted.”

  “There are no wizarding schools in Narnia,” I added.

  “Avery … .”

  I blew out a sigh and considered the situation. “If you get the boxes down from the attic I will pack everything.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Barring a major breaking news story.”

  “That wasn’t really an answer.”

  “Then you weren’t listening.”

  Eliot made a face as he shook his head. “Fine. You’re not going to wish for a breaking news story, though, right? We have a lot to do over the next few days. Moving is tiresome.”

  “They say moving is akin to a death in the family,” I pointed out. “That’s how stressful it is on people.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I know things.”

  Eliot snorted. “You do indeed. Know that I need you to pack that stuff, though, because we need to get it in boxes. I have painters coming here two days after we leave. A cleaning service, too. That means you need to pack that office. Everything else is mostly done.”

  “I said I would do it.”

  Eliot leaned over, his gaze locking with mine, and practically dared me to focus on something else. “You’ll do it tonight or I’ll do it for you.”

  “You’ll do it wrong.”

  “Then you’d better make sure you’re here to do it right.”

  Wow. He’s strict when he wants to be. Still, he was probably on to something. If he didn’t force me to pack I’d drag it out for years. “I’ll do it.”

  “You’d better.” Eliot gave me a quick kiss before standing. “Are you ready for me to let you out of the driveway?”

  Well, that answered that question. He knew what he was doing the entire time. That was beyond frustrating. “I knew you did that on purpose.”

  “Yes, well, I’m not new in the Avery Shaw relationship game,” Eliot supplied. “I didn’t want to interrupt naked packing with a serious discussion last night. You’re always grumpy in the morning so I wasn’t risking anything.”

  “Things are going to change when we live together,” I warned, extending a finger. “I’ll be the boss. Mark my words, because … well … you’re going to be living in fear.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m worried about, although … if you pack everything in that office tonight I’ll get you a crown.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “A real one?”

  “Whatever one you want.”

  “Will you bow down and call me ‘your highness?’”

  Eliot shrugged. “Whatever gets you hot and bothered.”

  I extended my hand. “Deal.”

  Eliot grinned as he grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me up to the tips of my toes for a kiss. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  I DECIDED to announce my triumphant return to the newsroom with a little pizzazz because I was sure the operation had practically ground to a halt during my absence.

  “Duck and cover because camping put me in a mood.” I let my voice float over the room as I strode in, smiling when Fish rolled his eyes and sank lower in his chair. He didn’t look happy to see me. That couldn’t possibly be right. I imagined nonstop tears when I pictured my coworkers toiling without me.

  “Oh, good, you’re back,” Fish intoned, rubbing the top of his balding head. He had a few remaining wisps of white hair, but they were few and far between these days. He said I was to blame. I think he’s simply sexist when he wants to be because my male counterparts are ten times more annoying than I am. No, seriously. I’ve given this a lot of thought.

  “Did you miss me?” I leaned over the edge of his cubicle so I could r
ead his computer screen. “You need to take my number off block, by the way. I think you forgot.”

  “Oh, I didn’t forget,” Fish muttered. “It was a conscious choice to keep you blocked until you walked back into this building.”

  “Why? Did you think you might cry if you heard my voice?”

  “Yes, but not for the reasons you think.”

  I don’t know why he tries to hide his feelings. Everyone knows he loves me … including me. “Come on. Don’t hold back, big guy.” I thumped my hand against his back. “Tell me how you really feel. I can handle the tears.”

  Fish shot me an annoyed look as he shook his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you – I really don’t – but if someone could die from an oversized ego, it’d be you.”

  “Oh, I missed you, too.” I rolled back and forth on my heels as I regarded him. “So, what big story do you have ready for me?”

  Fish’s face was blank when he swiveled. “I’m not your keeper. It’s your job to come up with your own story.”

  “Yes, but I’ve been gone for a week.”

  “That must be why everyone had celebratory cake every day last week,” Duncan Marlow interjected as he strolled past me. He’s my office nemesis – I wasn’t joking about having multiple enemies – and he was one of the few things I didn’t miss about The Monitor while I was off.

  “How’s life with your blow-up doll?” I shot back.

  “I happen to be married,” Duncan snapped, his temper getting the best of him. He’s so easy. I can make his head spin around like the kid in The Exorcist with thirty seconds of effort and one appropriately timed eye roll. Yes, I’m just that good … and I’m not ready to roll out that particular gift until I see how bored I am in an hour.

  “I thought your wife took all of the money from your joint checking account and fled back to Mexico?” I challenged. “I mean, I have to give it to you. The woman married you for a green card, but she couldn’t stick it out long enough to get it. She comes from a country where drug cartels are wiping out people on the streets, but you were too much. You should be proud.”