Doggone

by Herkert, Gabriella

  ‘‘There’s an exception to every rule.’’ Ryan looked over his shoulder into the shadowed apartment. ‘‘Where is he, anyway?’’

  I sighed. ‘‘Still at the office. He had some important meeting with his boss. I’m starting to feel neglected. I tried calling but he didn’t pick up the phone. I was going to ask him what he wanted for dinner, like a good wife, then see if he’d pick it up on his way home.’’

  He laughed. ‘‘Good one . . . Did you really take Siobhan with you yesterday afternoon?’’

  ‘‘Word travels.’’

  ‘‘She called me. Then she wouldn’t tell me anything.’’ I grinned. ‘‘Maybe you’ve got loose lips.’’

  ‘‘If you hadn’t met my brother first, I’d show you.’’

  ‘‘Behave, little boy.’’

  ‘‘Yes, ma’am.’’ Ryan propped his feet up on the table, leaning back into his chair. ‘‘So are you going to tell me what you girls did yesterday?’’

  ‘‘We’re not girls,’’ I scolded, mirroring his posture.

  ‘‘You’re not. Siobhan is.’’

  ‘‘Your sister is a grown-up.’’

  ‘‘Well, in some ways maybe.’’ He frowned. ‘‘Whatever you were doing, it’s the most alive I’ve heard her in a long time. Thank you.’’

  ‘‘Connor might not be so thrilled.’’

  ‘‘If he doesn’t have a sense of humor, to hell with him.’’

  We clinked bottles.

  ‘‘I think the womenfolk were chasing bad guys while Connor typed reports. Am I close?’’

  ‘‘No comment.’’ I didn’t need Ryan putting it like that to Connor. After my run-in with the cat-sitting murderer earlier in the summer, I’d promised no more personal confrontations without backup. I had a feeling Connor’s idea of backup wouldn’t stretch to include inviting his sister to witness the fireworks.

  Ryan cleared his throat to cover a laugh. ‘‘I’ll bet. Is he still waiting for the other shoe to drop?’’

  ‘‘He thinks I’m mad.’’

  ‘‘Mad as in angry or mad as in hatter?’’ Ryan asked.

  ‘‘I doubt he distinguishes the two.’’

  ‘‘At least you’re not a shrieker.’’ Ryan chuckled softly.

  ‘‘Or a hitter. He’s lucky. If your felon-chasing, badass self had been on the other end of that slap he took, we’d still be picking him up off the floor.’’

  ‘‘You’ve got that right. What do you think set Lily off, anyway? Siobhan said that Lily is famous for her control. I’ve got to tell you, she didn’t strike me that way at the club.’’

  ‘‘Gee, I don’t know. Giving Connor a lap dance before he introduced you as the missus seemed calculating to me. Maximum damage, minimal personal risk. There’s no way she could know you’d clean her clock. Maybe she didn’t take her medication. Or maybe it was her time of month.’’

  I looked over at him. ‘‘And you think Connor’s stupid about women? If you ever repeat that in my hearing, I’ll beat you up every day for a solid month so you understand that there is no safe day for the likes of you.’’

  Ryan grinned. ‘‘I will heed the warning. That’s why I’m the ‘lucky with women’ brother. I know my audience. Of course, unlucky Connor managed to end up with a fox like you.’’ He leaned his head back against the cushion of the chair, a slight smile still evident.

  ‘‘Yeah.’’ My chair scraped against the redwood as I moved a couple of inches away. I closed my eyes and relaxed against the canvas. ‘‘You think I’m a fox?’’

  ‘‘I wouldn’t push you out of bed.’’

  I turned my head and glared at him through my sunglasses. ‘‘That’s on the wrong side of the little-brother line, but thanks.’’

  ‘‘My pleasure.’’ He pulled his sunglasses to the end of his nose before doing a Groucho Marx eyebrow impersonation. ‘‘And I mean my pleasure.’’

  ‘‘Just knock it off.’’

  He sighed. ‘‘I’ll try but I can’t make any promises. I’m a male in my prime. Besides, since Connor was stupid enough to get involved with someone like Lily, sooner or later you’re going to realize I’m the smarter brother. A far better catch. And did I mention I’m in my prime?’’

  ‘‘You did.’’

  ‘‘It bears repeating.’’

  ‘‘Shut up,’’ I told him. Ryan was fun. I’d never had a brother or even wanted one. Suddenly I was seeing how much I’d missed. I picked up my cell phone and dialed Connor’s number. Still no answer.

  ‘‘Ryan?’’

  ‘‘Yes, O hot one?’’ he asked, his eyes closed.

  ‘‘Can I ask you a personal question?’’

  ‘‘Prime. One hundred percent.’’

  I shook my head. ‘‘Seriously.’’

  He opened his eyes and looked at me. ‘‘Seriously prime.’’

  ‘‘You seemed angrier about Lily than Connor. He was mad for us, Siobhan and me. You seemed mad for yourself.’’

  ‘‘It’s no big thing.’’

  ‘‘I think it is.’’

  He looked away, staring out at the water. I waited.

  ‘‘It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me. I mean, we only met a couple of days ago, even though it feels like I’ve known you a lot longer.’’

  ‘‘You’re tough. You’ll hang in. You’re not like . . .’’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘‘She left him?’’ No way. If that were true, what was the big production about at lunch? I thought her spin earlier was a lie, but if she had left him, maybe she did think all she had to do was crook her little finger and he’d come back.

  ‘‘When? Why?’’

  ‘‘Doesn’t matter now. He’s with you. You’re sticking.’’ He hadn’t moved, and yet all his easy slouch was gone.

  ‘‘I am.’’ I raised my bottle to my lips before realizing I’d drained the last of my beer. We watched the boats in silence for a couple of minutes.

  Ryan cleared his throat. ‘‘Why do you think he never told you about Lily and everything?’’

  ‘‘It’s the past.’’

  ‘‘Hmm. It’s not like they were ever actually married or anything.’’ Ryan leaned toward me. ‘‘You’re not like other women. You’re not obsessed with shit that doesn’t have anything to do with you.’’

  ‘‘Technically, I think lunching with my husband’s ex-fiancée who’s still wearing his grandmother’s ring has something to do with me.’’

  He laughed, relaxing back into his chair. ‘‘A mere technicality. You’ve got a great story for the grandkids, though. Beauty and the Bitch.’’ He laughed again.

  I joined him. It seemed funnier now than it had at the time. I wondered about running into Lily. Whatever her history with Connor, that meeting was no coincidence. She’d been loaded for bear. Ready to make a scene, whether at Connor’s expense or Siobhan’s, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, she’d been okay with burning her bridge. I hadn’t thought so at the time. I’d been smug in my handling of her, but now I wondered. Whatever Ryan’s issue with Lily, something big and ugly was still lurking. Something told me Lily wasn’t done yet.

  ‘‘Did you know she does some charity thing with Siobhan? Your sister told me, like they were friends, maybe. Even now. All that at lunch and Siobhan never said a bad word aginst Lily. Jack either.’’

  Ryan’s body tensed. He put his bottle on the table with a dull thud. ‘‘Of course not. Siobhan never has a bad thing to say about anyone. People who know that, well, they take advantage. You should try to get Siobhan to go out to dinner with you and Connor.’’

  ‘‘What about you? Do you want to join us?’’

  ‘‘I’m not good with crying. You don’t need me there. You and Sib can do that woman-bonding thing that makes no sense to us alpha males.’’

  ‘‘Which makes Connor . . .’’

  ‘‘A hostage,’’ Ryan supplied.

  ‘‘Well, I can tie you to a chair if that makes you feel more manly.’’

  He g
ot out of the chair and strode to the railing. He held his shoulders stiffly, his entire posture screaming anger. Then his shoulders slumped. He turned to face me, leaning back against the railing.

  ‘‘I can’t be around her. She’s my sister and I love her, but I just want to shake her. She caught him doing his secretary and stayed with the asshole. Now he’s buying some penthouse screw pad with her money, and she spends all her time crying or moping. She probably wants him back. How stupid is that?’’ His hands were gripping the railing behind him so tightly that his fingers showed white.

  ‘‘Even so.’’

  ‘‘Even so what? I think I ought to kick the crap out of that dirtbag.’’ He pounded the railing.

  ‘‘That’s not a good idea, Ryan.’’

  ‘‘Why not? You think he’s going to whine to Siobhan about it?’’

  ‘‘I think he’d have you arrested.’’

  ‘‘Not if he knew I’d be back.’’ Ryan’s voice was low and mean.

  ‘‘Use your head, Ry.’’

  ‘‘I’d rather use my fists.’’

  ‘‘But then Siobhan would pay.’’

  ‘‘And he just gets away with it?’’ He looked over at me, his voice rising.

  ‘‘I never said that.’’ I smiled.

  Ryan stood straighter and stared. ‘‘You never did, did you?’’

  ‘‘Nope.’’

  ‘‘Did I ever mention how much I liked your style at lunch?’’

  ‘‘You did.’’

  ‘‘Lily’s warped but not stupid. She understood you were taking her down. Jack’s not like that.’’

  ‘‘Too subtle for him, am I?’’

  He stared. ‘‘I’ve got a feeling you’ve got range.’’

  ‘‘You know, I really do. Bummer for him.’’

  ‘‘So, what’s the plan?’’

  Two birds with one stone. Work my case and help Siobhan take out the trash. ‘‘First, we have to see if Connor is in the mood for an adventure.’’

  Chapter Ten

  ‘‘I love this breaking-and-entering stuff,’’ I whispered in Connor’s ear.

  ‘‘Shh.’’ He dropped to his knees in front of Jack’s office door, reaching into his pocket for the small leather case.

  ‘‘I want lock picks for our first anniversary.’’

  ‘‘Quiet.’’

  I listened while the tumblers clicked. ‘‘And maybe some sort of alarm detection thing.’’

  ‘‘I’ve created a monster.’’ He stood, opening the office door and ushering me inside. He closed the door and locked it. We bypassed the reception area and headed straight to a door marked with a gold-plated JACKSON REED, PSYCHIATRIST.

  Fifteen years of treatment with the good doctor and Charles Smiths was still hiding in his house. In Seattle, where he wasn’t doing interviews with Henry DeVries. I couldn’t deny it: Dr. Jack Reed had gotten him away from the place of his childhood trauma—only to have an identity thief set up shop a few miles from the house where the real Charles Smiths’s parents had been murdered? Across town from the crime scene where the only man who spoke to the thief was also murdered in cold blood? A small world was one thing. This was something else.

  No wonder the head games Jack was playing with Siobhan were making her nuts. He was in the industry. He had to know he was pushing her buttons, undermining her confidence. I didn’t even know him and he was making me crazy.

  Jack’s door was unlocked. We went in and Connor shut the door, moving to the windows and closing the curtains before pulling a penlight from the backpack. He pointed the beam at me. I blinked.

  ‘‘What is the first rule?’’ Connor asked.

  ‘‘Never wear white after Labor Day?’’ I shielded my face with an arm.

  ‘‘Never get caught. Which is what happens when you talk too much before you’ve secured the premises.’’

  ‘‘Enough with the spotlight already. What’s next, rubber hoses? Don’t worry so much. Ryan’s watching. He’ll call if the big bad wolf comes creeping down the lane. C’mon. We’ve got serious snooping to do.’’

  He shook his head, his lips twitching.

  Okay, so it wasn’t the traditional dinner-and-a-movie date night with the husband. Sneaking around. Unlawful entry. Plotting against Jack the Bastard. I loved this stuff. Maybe I could talk Connor into taking me to the base. I bet they had some cool toys over there that would seriously expand the scope of my imagination. I glanced at him. He’d say no. He already thought I was nuts. In a good way. Probably.

  I used my flashlight to assess the room, taking in filing cabinets, expensive furniture, and original art. Psychiatry must pay pretty well. Jack was definitely living the good life. I made a mental note of the layout. Connor moved toward the computer. I took the file cabinets.

  ‘‘What do you think we’re going to find?’’ I asked while flipping through files, using my flashlight to read. ‘‘This is mostly billing stuff.’’ Which included first-class tickets to Seattle billed to Smiths, C., every other week. Nice work if you could get it.

  ‘‘Check the other cabinet. Look for any files marked ‘personal’ or ‘miscellaneous.’ They might be under his name or the practice’s name.’’ Connor pushed a PalmPilot into the port.

  ‘‘Hey, can you just do that?’’

  ‘‘Do what?’’

  ‘‘Put a different Palm into his dock and get it to download?’’

  ‘‘It has to be the same type of device. And you need the pass code.’’

  He never looked sexier to me.

  ‘‘That’s cool.’’

  He looked up. Smiled wickedly.

  ‘‘Having fun?’’

  ‘‘Oh, yeah.’’ I turned back to the files. ‘‘Okay. Here’s one. ‘Dreznik Reed, professional services corporation. Partners, Gretchen Dreznik and Jackson Reed.’ Nothing. ’’ I looked over my shoulder. His attention was elsewhere. I pulled the file marked ‘‘Smiths, C.’’ and slid it into my backpack. ‘‘Psychiatric services, blah, blah, blah. You want any of this?’’

  ‘‘Grab anything you think might give us an edge and we’ll copy it before we go. Just make sure you know where it came from so we can put everything back in the same place.’’

  I hesitated. Maybe I didn’t want Jack to know I’d been looking for Charles Smiths either. On the other hand, I definitely didn’t want Connor to know I was working on my case, and it was going to take Jack longer to realize I’d stolen a file than it would for Connor to realize I was copying one with my identity victim’s name on the label. Theft it was.

  ‘‘Okay, but wouldn’t it be considerably creepier if he knew someone had broken in?’’ I suggested. ‘‘I mean, the whole point of this is to get under his skin, right? To play with his head? To make him straighten up because he’s sure he’s being watched. Having somebody break into my place would do that to me.’’

  ‘‘You doing something I should know about?’’

  ‘‘I haven’t been conserving water.’’ I looked over my shoulder and frowned. ‘‘Just today, for example, I showered twice. Once by myself and once . . . well, let’s just say that shower lasted a little longer.’’

  ‘‘Stop showering by yourself.’’

  I giggled. ‘‘There’s an idea.’’

  I moved to the cabinets behind the door. ‘‘They’re locked.’’

  It took Connor less than a minute to find the key in the pencil cup. He held it up.

  ‘‘Nice,’’ I complimented, taking the key from him. I started with the S drawer.

  ‘‘We only need the financial stuff, Sara.’’

  ‘‘Just making sure this is all patient files.’’ Smith, Smith, Spurr. No Smiths. I flipped through a dozen files in each direction. No ‘‘Smiths, C’’ in the patient records. Billing but not patient.

  ‘‘Anything?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘No. Just the medical mumbo jumbo.’’

  Connor was busy jotting into a notebook. Charles Smiths could be misfiled. Then it could
be anywhere. Damn. I thought I was onto something.

  ‘‘Okay. Potential dynamite at the ready.’’ I picked up the folders I’d pulled from the billing cabinet. ‘‘I’m ready to copy. You know what we need?’’

  ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘One of those little cameras. We could take pictures of every page. Very Maxwell Smart.’’

  ‘‘He wasn’t that good at his job.’’

  ‘‘Maybe not, but he had fun stuff.’’

  ‘‘You want a shoe phone?’’

  I laughed. ‘‘My birthday is coming up.’’

  ‘‘I’ll keep it in mind.’’

  He walked me over to the door, cracked it, and peered out. The outer office was empty. He shepherded me, keeping near the walls and away from the front window. Stealthy. Very professional. I didn’t see any lights or hear any cars. The outside light was enough to work by. We went to the copy machine tucked away behind a cubicle wall.

  ‘‘Be sure to copy with the lid down. We don’t want a green glow through the window.’’

  ‘‘Could be aliens.’’ I dumped my stack next to the machine.

  ‘‘Well, neighbors have a tendency to call the cops to report little green men.’’

  ‘‘Maybe they’ll send the X-Files guys to investigate. That’d be great. That guy is really cute.’’

  He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. ‘‘You’re married, remember?’’

  I winked at him. ‘‘Married doesn’t mean dead. Go sleuth some more while I finish this up.’’

  I clicked off my flashlight and copied pages, using the light from the machine to read. I should tell Connor about Jackson. Or at least mention that his name had come up as part of my investigation. Except Connor had been quick to agree to this felony when he thought it was just to help Siobhan. I doubted he’d be as thrilled if he knew I was once again working a case that led to grounds for my arrest. Of course, we were together during this B and E, so it would leave him with a do-as-I-SAY-AND-NOT-AS-I-DO problem.

  What were the odds? Just because Connor’s brother-in-law treated Charles Smiths, it didn’t mean Jack was involved in DeVries’s death. Philandering jerk was one thing, deep conspiracy killer another. So my thief chose a San Diego radio guy to tell his life story to. Smiths had lived in San Diego for years before moving to Seattle. It made a twisted sort of sense that his ties to Jack’s hometown left enough of a trail to make it the likely location of an identity theft. Still, most of these cases were hackers with no connection whatsoever to the actual victim. It felt . . . off.