I gulped. His parents? Oh, my God.
“Are those my only choices?”
His smile was gentle, but he showed no signs of backing down. And given my options, I’d choose talking about my job every day and twice on Sunday.
“So why did you go see Sergeant Wesley?”
“You weren’t talking, so I went to the source. I figured that the cop would see me as useful to his investigation and maybe share some information in the interest of keeping me cooperative.”
“Why would he care? You don’t have anything to do with this case.”
“My wife does, and unlike her, I’m not asking for a lawyer. Wesley sees me as his best chance at inside information without legal heartburn.”
“That sort of makes sense. Did you learn anything useful?” I reached for another napkin and started wiping the mashed bran from the table.
“Did you?”
I crumpled the napkin. I thought I’d managed to divert him by asking questions and turning the focus, but his dry rejoinder told me he wasn’t buying it.
“Well, if we’re going to go through all ten rounds, I’m going to need some real food.”
“That’s a plan.” We got up, and Connor picked up my jacket and computer, gesturing for me to precede him while throwing a friendly smile at the drooling sales-clerk. I sent her a withering look and she moved away.
“So you knew after a week that I wasn’t an instant bonder, huh?”
“Actually, I knew that after two minutes.” He reached beyond me to open the door, his hand slipping to the middle of my back. “It took me a week to realize that it mattered.”
Rendered mute, I led him to the bus stop.
I took him to Mama’s, my favorite Mexican restaurant, only a few blocks from my apartment. The booths had cushy brown upholstery, the lighting featured dim tabletop candles, and the tortilla chips were warm. The smell of cooking meat wafted through the room on the currents generated by overhead fans. For a moment, when our waiter, Tino, was giving me a long look with raised eyebrows, I regretted making a public appearance looking like Mike Tyson.
I hid behind salty chips and spicy salsa, grateful for the weak candlelight and the fact that Tino had put us all the way in the back, away from prying eyes. I ordered fajitas and a lemonade without looking at the menu. Connor asked for fajitas and a beer.
“You are totally giving me the willies with that lie-in-wait thing, Connor, so knock it off.”
A look of surprise crossed his face and his lips twitched. He leaned back against the booth’s dark upholstery.
“That was a subtle change of subject.”
“The only subject we were on was your going behind my back to the cops.” My earlier moment of weakness had passed with the introduction of food, and I no longer felt like sharing.
“You make it sound like I turned state’s evidence and you’re on your way to the big house.” Connor ran a finger up the side of his water glass, streaking the condensation. One corner of his mouth remained upturned. My temper spiked.
“It’s not a joke. I never gave you permission to meddle in my case.”
“Obviously, permission isn’t going to play a big role in our relationship. And I don’t think it’s meddling to find out what’s going on with you. Especially when whatever it is lands you in the emergency room.” His lips setting in a firm line, he pushed his water glass away, all amusement gone from his face.
I took a deep breath and dropped my eyes to the table. I fidgeted with the silverware, twirling the fork in my hand. I looked around the room, nodding to a neighbor and his wife in a table a few feet away, really seeing a moody landscape that had probably been on the wall forever. Everything seemed so alien somehow.
“I’m sorry about the emergency room thing, Con.” I felt small. If someone had embarrassed me the way I’d embarrassed him, I wouldn’t have wanted to show my face for a week.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t know. Russ knows me, and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, I guess.”
“I don’t mean then. Although from now on I would appreciate being your only husband of record.” I glanced up and met his sardonic expression before breaking eye contact. “I mean, why didn’t you call me before you went into that alley? Jesus, Sara, when I think about you walking into that place by yourself . . .”
I held his gaze. I didn’t know how to tell him. I didn’t want to hurt him, and I didn’t want to look like an idiot. Russ would have had a great lie, a slick escape from the corner I’d boxed myself into, but I couldn’t come up with it.
“I didn’t do it deliberately. Well, not exactly. Russ was there. Before. Right after he left I saw the cigarette. I thought, No big deal. It’s a missing cat, not a mob hit. I really did think it was no big deal.” Okay, that did make me sound like a moron. I pushed my hair back behind my ears and crossed my arms over my chest just as Tino came with our entrées. We waited while he put sizzling platters on hot pads and placed a basket of fresh tortillas on the table.
“Can I get you anything else?” Tino asked, looking from me to Connor and back again. His thick black eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline as he rolled his eyes in my direction, backing away from the table without waiting for an answer.
“I keep forgetting this whole thing is about a cat.” Connor sighed, lifting a tortilla out of the basket and covering it with fajita mix. He straightened the meat and peppers, aligning them just so on the tortilla.
Watching him, my heart ached. I’d hurt him. It hadn’t been deliberate, but I’d hurt him all the same. Wanting to apologize, I reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. He stilled, and I held my breath until he set his fork down and turned his palm toward mine, squeezing for a moment before releasing my fingers. Suddenly I felt . . . reprieved. I put my hand in my lap, my thumb rubbing the spot where he’d touched me behind the shield of the table. I cleared my throat.
“So, honey, how was your day?” I asked the question in my brightest June Cleaver voice.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and a teasing gleam returned to his eyes.
“Interesting.”
“A word that covers a multitude of sins. What did you do today, other than try to pry information from tight-lipped cops?” I took a bite of the fajita. It was the first food I remember tasting since Connor’s unexpected arrival, and it was delicious.
“I reconned your neighborhood.”
“Oh, good. Now if you need to get out of Dodge in a hurry, you’ll have the perfect escape plan.”
He smiled. “I’m not anticipating a middle-of-the-night bunk. I will have to go back to San Diego in a few days. I wanted to take more time, but scheduling was a bit tight.”
“I know, I know. Dictators to overthrow, hostages to rescue. You guys really ought to come up with new lines. Those are getting so old.” I tried to keep a straight face.
Connor chuckled, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “I’ll do my best. Why don’t we talk about what you did today? Anything new with the case?”
I sighed. How much to tell? I’d hate for detente to fall in the face of detail.
“Well, I nearly got myself fired.” Just thinking about my near miss flattened my mood.
“How?”
“My boss, Morris, called me onto the carpet first thing this morning.”
“He was probably just worried you were hurt last night.”
“Obviously you’ve never met my boss.” I pushed my empty plate to one side and brought my lemonade closer, cradling the cold glass in my hands. “No, he was more interested in humiliating me in front of Sergeant Wesley. He didn’t mention it when you talked to him?”
“Not a word. Why would your boss undermine you like that with the cops?” Connor’s smile had disappeared.
“Morris doesn’t think much of my abilities. Oh, and he’s a lawyer. Enough said.”
Tino came back and cleared our plates without a word.
“Maybe it’s
time to work for someone else.”
“I like the job, Con,” I rushed in. I didn’t want him to start thinking I would be happy to just drop everything in Seattle. “Morris is an ass, but I can handle him. Until this case, I’d never even had a real conversation with him before.”
“So what’s so important about this case?”
I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table and taking a quick glance around to see if anyone was listening.
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
Connor’s green eyes went wide; then he threw his head back and laughed. “Good luck with that.”
I laughed, too. It made my head ache a bit, but it was worth it. “I don’t know. I thought it was about the money, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
“You should have seen my boss when I asked him for the files. He was . . . I don’t know . . . odd. Masterson’s business partner, Henry Jepsen, turned out to be this Donald Trump caricature. And Masterson’s kids—good grief. Silver spoon gangbangers. The body in the alley and these people, it just feels . . .” I struggled to find an accurate term.
“Off?” Connor suggested.
“That’s the word,” I agreed.
“Okay. Any luck finding out what happens to the money if the cat doesn’t come back?”
“Nope. Morris wouldn’t let me see the trust document.”
Connor held his glass at an angle and poured the beer. “Why not?”
“Client confidentiality.”
“Doesn’t that apply to you anyway?”
“Oh, yes. A point he was quick to make to both me and the cop.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.”
“That’s what I thought. In fact, when I really started to dissect exactly what Morris said when I asked him for the files, my imagination went into overdrive. I began to wonder what he had to hide.” I took a drink, shuddering a little at the tartness.
“He’s a lawyer. He’s probably used to denying everything. It could be habit.”
“Possible. On the other hand, he totally dismissed the dead guy as a coincidence and told me in no uncertain terms to stick to the cat-chasing business. He really was over-the-top. Which is what I was thinking when I nearly got caught trying to snag the files from the file room.”
He arched one golden eyebrow.
“Interesting career choice.”
I shrugged.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time. Although I was really sweating it when the file clerk practically popped up beside me.”
“Honey, rule number one is don’t get caught.” Connor raised his glass and took a sip of beer. A tiny line of foam marked his upper lip for an instant before he wiped it away with his napkin.
“Now you tell me.”
“Learn anything good?”
“Nothing. The files were gone. Although I did go back to look at the billing files later.”
“Gone where?”
“According to Joe, who’s the exploited junior associate in the next cubicle, the hard files are probably in Morris’s office under lock and key. He also thinks there are computer files with the same information, but they require a password, which no one has seen fit to share with me. When I went back to look at the billing files, though, I might have found something. Flash’s owner, Millicent, had an appointment to talk about estate planning with Morris. She missed it.”
“Anything else, Sara?” Tino was back.
“Not tonight, Tino. Thanks.” Tino winked at me, sliding the bill next to Connor and drifting away.
“Is there any way to know specifically what she wanted to talk about?”
“I don’t think so.” I leaned back against the upholstery.
“So what are you going to do now?”
“I guess I’ll just follow the money.”
“The last time it led to the emergency room. I don’t want you taking chances, Sara.”
“What are the odds that twice in a week I’ll run into an inanimate object and end up knocking myself out? I’m thinking pretty small. I would really like to see the actual files, though. I can’t help but think there’s something in there that would at least put me on the right track.”
Connor pulled a few dollars from his pocket and dropped them on the table. He picked up the bill and we rose, walking toward the cashier, where I helped myself to a some butter mints from a small dish. He leaned against the counter.
“I don’t suppose I can say anything to make you change your mind about staying on this case.”
“I’ve got a job to do, Connor. Besides, I want to know.”
“Maybe we could make a deal.” He reached for a mint, sliding it between his lips.
“What kind of deal?”
Tino came to the cashier’s desk and took the money and bill Connor offered to him. He handed Connor his change and disappeared. We left the restaurant and started down the street toward the apartment, the evening summer sun still golden, the air still warm.
“I help you get a look at the files. In exchange, you let me back you up. Make sure you’re safe.”
“How could you help me get at the files?”
He reached out and took my hand, lacing our fingers as we walked along. “As it turns out, I’ve got a little experience going places I haven’t been invited.”
“How?” I asked, punching my code into the keypad of my apartment building.
“Very carefully and late at night.”
“How late?”
“Two a.m.”
“Why two?” I asked, climbing the stairs.
“Bar time is one thirty,” Connor said, crowding behind me.
Made sense. “Clever.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
I looked at my watch. “That gives us six hours. What do we do until then?” I unlocked my apartment door.
“Rest.”
A euphemism if ever I heard one. It sent a tingle down my spine. I turned around and put my arms around Connor’s neck.
“You’re kidding?” I used coy. I recognized that hint of a smile.
“No.”
“Rest or rest?” I asked.
He swept me, Rhett-style, into his arms.
“Both.”
Four and a half hours later, we were sitting bleary eyed at the kitchen table. At least, I was. Connor looked like he’d had a solid ten hours. That was just wrong.
“There’s no guarantee the files have anything to do with your missing cat,” Connor said.
Connor rocked back in the kitchen chair, studying the building map I’d drawn without the appreciation I thought it deserved. He was so methodical about breaking in to see the files I wanted to scream.
“I know that, but Morris was acting so squirrelly, and Millicent missed that appointment, and somebody searched her room. If you don’t want to help me with this, Connor, that’s fine with me, but I’m going.”
He looked up. “I’m in, honey. I just don’t want you getting your hopes up.”
“My hopes aren’t up. Well, maybe they are a little. I know I’m new at this investigation thing. I get that no one takes me seriously. Not Morris and not you.” I held up a hand to stop the argument I saw coming. “But I take me seriously. There’s a lot more going on here. I can feel it.” I put my hand against my stomach. “And I’m going to figure it out.”
“Were you this persistent in your last job?”
I thought about my last few jobs before getting my degree and finally landing with the firm. Obituary writer. Sonics mascot. Space Needle ticket taker. Phone-sex operator. That one hadn’t even lasted a week. No, persistence hadn’t been big in my career path. This job was different. A real job. A grown-up job. Testament to my finally getting through school and working at something I was actually interested in. I knew I was taking chances with Morris. He could fire me and I’d be back to scraping by. But I was done going through the motions. I was done with jobs I didn’t care about and spending my time waiting for the day wh
en my past was past and my life began.
“Okay.”
Easy agreement took the wind out of my sails. I gave him my best what-are-you-up-to look. “Okay?”
He dropped his chair back on all fours with a thud. “That’s right, Sara, okay. You’re not exactly leaving me with a lot of options. I could stay here and wait for a call from the cops or the hospital, providing that I am the one you call this time. . . .”
I winced at his hard look.
“Or I can help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“So humor me.”
The guy could be in the waiting hall of fame. And he hadn’t even taken off his clothes to convince me. What could it hurt?
“It’s my case.”
“Roger.”
“My case means I’m running things.”
“Whatever you say.”
His face was a mask of innocence. I wished I could perfect such an angelic countenance. It would come in handy. It obviously did for him.
“I mean it.”
“Okay.” He folded his hands in front of him, resting them on the place mat. He could pass for an eager-to-please third grader. Except for the sexy grin, which was entirely adult.
“So how does one breach the security of a downtown office building?”
Chapter Seventeen
“It makes a lot more sense if I do it,” Connor pointed out with an inescapable logic I resented.
I beamed death rays to where his shadow loomed next to me against the building across from my office. The two hours of sleep I’d managed before we started our adventure hadn’t made a dent in my exhaustion, and Connor’s offer struck the wrong chord. Here we were in our matching, up-to-no-good black outfits, casing my office, and he was still trying to take over.
“My case, remember. If there is any breaking and entering to be done, I will be the felon to do it.”
“It’s safer if I do it.”
“Oh, so it’s not safe for mere mortals, but for Mr. I Can’t Talk about My Job but James Bond Has Nothing on Me, it’s perfectly fine.”
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