Doggone

by Herkert, Gabriella

  I finished copying and went back to Jackson’s office. I stood in the doorway and watched Connor work. Efficient. Catlike. Soundless. Every move deliberate. It was like watching a dancer. He was good.

  Walking to the windows, he pushed the drapes to one side. With the moonlight streaming through the window, I saw him jam a wadded-up piece of paper into the lock.

  ‘‘We’re coming back?’’ I asked.

  He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

  ‘‘Maybe.’’

  ‘‘You take me to all the best places.’’

  He rolled his eyes, closing the drapes. I blinked, trying to adjust to the darkened room. I clicked my flashlight on and went back to the file cabinet, returning folders to the drawers. Finished with my task, I turned back to Connor, spotlighting him with my flashlight. I watched as he turned the desk phone over and used a screwdriver to open the casing.

  ‘‘What are you doing?’’

  ‘‘Nothing.’’ He didn’t look up.

  ‘‘Oh, my God, you’re bugging his phone.’’

  ‘‘Look for a safe.’’

  ‘‘Where’d you get it?’’

  ‘‘We need to move, Sara.’’

  I walked around the room, peeking behind paintings. If I were Jackson, where would I hide my safe? Well, there was no plastic dog poop. From Siobhan’s description, he seemed like a plastic-crap kind of guy. Okay, so if I had an office with a safe, where would I put it? I went back to the bookshelves. Fake book, maybe.

  Connor finished at the desk. He found the safe in less than a minute, in a pot holding a ficus. He pulled the tree out easily and set it on the floor. I went over to him and flashed my light into the hole. There it was. I was impressed.

  ‘‘How did you know?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘It’s fake.’’

  I reached out and touched a leaf. Glossy silk. ‘‘So?’’

  ‘‘There are plants in the outer office. They’re real.’’

  ‘‘So?’’

  ‘‘In this place they probably have a service that comes in and takes care of them. Waters them, feeds them, whatever.’’

  Light dawned. ‘‘If you already had someone on the payroll to take care of the plants, why would you choose fake? Got it. You’re smart. I like that in a guy.’’

  He reached out and touched my cheek, then crouched down to examine the safe.

  ‘‘I’m guessing it’s his birth date,’’ I offered.

  ‘‘Because . . . ?’’

  ‘‘From what Ryan told me, Jack is the center of his own universe.’’

  Connor glanced down at his notebook and punched keys. ‘‘Where’d you get the date?’’ I asked.

  ‘‘It’s on his calendar.’’

  ‘‘I rest my case.’’

  The safe opened on the first try. ‘‘You’re smart. I like that in a woman.’’

  I knelt next to him and leaned in. ‘‘That’s good to know,’’ I whispered in his ear.

  Connor pulled three envelopes and a ring of keys out of the safe.

  ‘‘Get the pack,’’ he said.

  I got up and took the backpack we’d brought from the desktop. I unzipped it and peered inside.

  ‘‘What do you want?’’

  ‘‘Passport.’’

  Searching the contents, I came up with the blue-covered book. I held the backpack with my chin so I could flash light on the inside. A nice-looking guy. The name Jackson Reed. Date of birth.

  ‘‘We could have gotten the code from here,’’ I said.

  Connor reached out a hand. I watched as he swapped our passport for one he’d taken from the safe.

  ‘‘What are you doing? And where did you get a fake passport so fast?’’

  ‘‘Not fake—expired. I got it from their house. I’m making sure he can’t wander out of the country anytime he chooses.’’

  ‘‘You think he’s going to leave?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know. Better to be sure.’’

  ‘‘Wouldn’t it be a good thing? For Siobhan, I mean. If he went away?’’

  ‘‘Eventually.’’

  ‘‘But not until she’s taken back her life?’’ I guessed.

  He nodded. I knelt down and wrapped my arms around him from behind. ‘‘You’re a good guy.’’

  He reached back and wrapped an arm around me. ‘‘Thanks.’’

  ‘‘A good guy with an expired passport. An irresistible combination.’’ I kissed the back of his neck.

  ‘‘Remember that for later.’’

  The second envelope yielded two electronic passkeys.

  ‘‘Black bag,’’ Connor said.

  I let go and searched the backpack, handing him the nylon bag. I watched as he used a black box to clone the electronic card keys. Then, he made impressions of the safe keys using a ball of plastic putty.

  ‘‘Where did you get all this stuff?’’

  ‘‘As I said, I got the passport from Siobhan’s house. The reader and key-impression material I borrowed. ’’

  ‘‘I’m guessing you can’t just go to the library and check that stuff out.’’

  ‘‘Depends on the library.’’

  ‘‘How do I get a card?’’

  He shook his head. Opening the last envelope, he exposed stacks of hundred-dollar bills, maybe fifty thousand bucks’ worth.

  ‘‘Wow,’’ I said. I’d never seen that much money before. ‘‘Where do you think he got it?’’

  Connor hesitated, then put the envelope back in the safe with the rest of the items and replaced the plant.

  ‘‘We’re going to leave it?’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘Why? Wouldn’t it make it harder for him if it went missing? Especially if he’s planning to run?’’

  ‘‘I don’t want him knowing we were here. He might check the money.’’

  ‘‘And we don’t have stacks of Monopoly cash to swap it with? Bummer.’’

  ‘‘Roger that.’’

  I glanced at my watch. ‘‘We’re at nineteen minutes.’’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘‘Confirm nineteen.’’

  ‘‘I love it when you talk spy.’’

  ‘‘Feel free to repeat that after we’re out of here.’’

  ‘‘Aye-aye, Cap’n.’’

  I went over to the file cabinets where I had set my copies. I stuffed them into the backpack as Connor resettled the ficus. He reached out his hand and I took it. We were moving to the door when the phone rang. I froze. It rang again. Connor went back to the desk and turned up the volume on the answering machine.

  ‘‘This is Security One Services. If either Dr. Dreznik or Dr. Reed is available, please call immediately.’’

  ‘‘Oh, my God. We must have tripped security,’’ I said, starting to sweat. Probably not we. It must have been me. When? They were just calling now. Maybe a neighbor walking his dog or something had seen the light? Whatever. We had to get out of here.

  Connor turned the computer back on.

  ‘‘What are you doing? What about the first rule?’’

  ‘‘Breathe, Sara.’’

  I raced over to him and grabbed his arm, my eyes moving back to the door. ‘‘We’ve gotta go. We’re caught.’’

  Connor tapped a few keys. He picked up the phone and dialed.

  ‘‘This is Dr. Reed, Jackson Reed,’’ he said calmly. How could he do that? Stay so cool. I was on the verge of panic.

  ‘‘Zero-zero-seven-H-I-P.’’

  He had the code. He must have. He was just going to play through. Act like nothing was wrong.

  ‘‘Zero-zero-seven-H-I-P. It was a false alarm.’’

  It was going to work. Jesus.

  ‘‘You, too.’’ He put the phone down.

  I stared, putting a hand on my chest to try to keep my pounding heart from jumping out.

  ‘‘Way to stay calm there, Twitchy.’’

  ‘‘I don’t have as much felony experience as you, sailor.’’ I fanned my face. ‘‘I
nearly wet my pants. You were great, though.’’

  ‘‘Thanks.’’

  ‘‘I mean amazing.’’ I was definitely jumping his bones at the first available moment. There was nothing he couldn’t do.

  ‘‘I’ll be more amazing later,’’ he said, practically reading my mind. So maybe I was drooling a little bit. Who could blame me? The guy was talented. And gorgeous. And felonious. What was a girl to do?

  ‘‘Promises, promises.’’ I laughed and leaned over to kiss him hard. God bless adrenaline. ‘‘Mmm,’’ I said, moving closer.

  Connor pulled away. ‘‘Right,’’ I said. ‘‘Business first. I admire your professionalism.’’

  ‘‘Thanks.’’

  I looked at my watch. ‘‘Tsk, tsk. Late again. Will you never learn?’’ I grinned.

  I smiled back.

  Five minutes later Connor was driving us away. Ryan was in the back, all nervous energy.

  ‘‘What’d you get?’’ Ryan asked as we drove through the neighborhood.

  ‘‘Nothing earth-shattering,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘I bet you got something good.’’ Ryan said, leering at me in the passenger seat.

  I checked my outside mirror. No one behind us. We were clear.

  ‘‘Not much, really. It wasn’t as interesting as my boss’s desk.’’

  ‘‘You’ve broken into your boss’s office?’’ Ryan sounded impressed.

  ‘‘Once. Well, actually Connor broke in twice, but that was before I got really good at it. Now I could break in all by myself.’’

  ‘‘Which you are absolutely not going to do,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘Absolutely not,’’ I assured him with my fingers crossed.

  It was his fault. He taught me how. I couldn’t be expected not to use what I knew. That would just be wasteful. Besides, it wasn’t like I would do it to hurt someone. Well, other than Jack, of course. My intentions were pure, my aims just.

  ‘‘I mean it.’’

  ‘‘Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear.’’ I leaned toward Ryan. ‘‘He thinks everything’s about him. I only married him to pick up some marketable skills. As soon as I figure out how to swipe the Hope Diamond, I’m outta here.’’

  ‘‘I’ll run away with you,’’ Ryan offered.

  ‘‘That’s generous of you, but I’m pretty sure you’re too young for me.’’

  ‘‘Get ’em young. Train ’em right. You could be my teacher.’’

  I looked at him. He reminded me of my best friend, Russ. Well, not the flirting part. Russ was gay. But other than that, they could be twins. Funny. Sweet. Up to no good ninety percent of the time. People I wouldn’t mind needing bail with.

  ‘‘Maybe you’re too old for me,’’ Ryan came back. ‘‘How old are you, anyway?’’

  Okay, maybe not.

  ‘‘Thirty-five, and I am aging like fine wine, little brother-in-law, while you are still toddling.’’ I channeled Catherine the Great.

  ‘‘Toddling.’’ He laughed, leaning between the front seats to look into my eyes. ‘‘Great word. Maybe we should reconsider the age gap, though. Men are sexually mature earlier than women, you know. We could, if you’ll excuse the expression, reach our peaks together.’’

  ‘‘That’s a sweet offer, Romeo,’’ I said. ‘‘But it turns out I’m already involved with someone. He may not be younger than me, but he does fine.’’

  ‘‘Actually, he is,’’ Ryan said.

  ‘‘Shut up, Ryan,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘You see, Sara? He may be younger than you, but he’s already reached the old-geezer years with that attitude.’’

  ‘‘What do you mean?’’

  ‘‘Listen to him. A little innocent flirting and he gets all aggressive.’’

  ‘‘Not that. What do you mean, he’s younger than me?’’

  ‘‘It’s not enough to do you any good. You really have to go with the much younger man to get the most bang for, and from, your buck.’’

  I groaned. I pushed Ryan back and looked at Connor. ‘‘How old are you?’’

  He glanced at me, then carefully returned his gaze to the road in front of us. Oh, my God. He was younger than me.

  Connor sighed. ‘‘Thirty-two.’’

  ‘‘What?’’

  ‘‘Does it matter?’’

  ‘‘Yes, it matters.’’

  Of course it mattered. He was younger than me. I was a cradle robber. Well, maybe not Charlie Chaplin cradle robbing, but still.

  ‘‘Why?’’ Connor asked.

  ‘‘What do you mean, why?’’

  ‘‘Why does it matter?’’

  ‘‘Because it does. I never dated anyone younger than me before.’’

  ‘‘We’re not exactly dating, Sara.’’

  ‘‘You know what I mean.’’

  ‘‘He withheld material information from you,’’ Ryan goaded. ‘‘You can probably get an annulment on those grounds.’’ Ryan reached over and grabbed my hand. ‘‘This is your chance, darling. Throw him over and run away with me.’’

  He grinned at me. I looked at Connor. He was ignoring Ryan and concentrating on the road. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a huge deal. It was only three years. It just felt weird. Our little escapade had completely eliminated my bad mood after the disaster at lunch and now, over something totally unimportant, I felt my hackles rising. Maybe I was premenstrual.

  ‘‘I’m talking to your brother,’’ I said to Ryan, freeing my hand.

  ‘‘Butt out,’’ Connor told him.

  ‘‘Hey, bro. No problemo.’’ Ryan leaned back, raising his hands in surrender.

  ‘‘Are you mad about this?’’ Connor asked.

  ‘‘Why didn’t you tell me?’’

  ‘‘Why would I? It doesn’t matter to me. Are you saying it matters to you?’’

  Maybe. No. Of course it didn’t matter. Heck, if I wasn’t going to throw a tantrum because another woman was wearing his ring, the relative number of candles on our birthday cakes shouldn’t throw me.

  ‘‘What else haven’t you told me?’’ That came out a little harsh. Apparently I was going to let this get under my skin.

  ‘‘Nothing important, Sara.’’

  ‘‘I’m not sure you understand what’s important, Connor.’’

  ‘‘You’re probably right there.’’

  ‘‘He’s always been a little slow,’’ Ryan offered.

  ‘‘Hush,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Mind your own business,’’ Connor said.

  ‘‘Jeez. Some people are in a bad mood.’’

  ‘‘What else?’’ I repeated.

  ‘‘Nothing. I swear.’’

  ‘‘I’ve never liked surprises, Connor. Maybe you should know that.’’

  ‘‘Okay. No surprises.’’ He checked the rearview mirror. ‘‘Well, maybe one.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ I couldn’t guess. Tattoos? No, I would have seen them. Prison record? The navy would have thrown him out. Love child? God, I hoped not.

  ‘‘Damn,’’ he said.

  ‘‘What?’’ Ryan asked.

  Connor pulled the car over onto the shoulder and killed the engine. The interior of the car was strobed by light.

  ‘‘I think the police want to talk to us.’’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘‘You know, your little brother takes after you,’’ I said when we got home.

  ‘‘What do you mean?’’

  ‘‘He was Mr. Cucumber when that cop pulled us over.’’ We went into the kitchen and I poured a couple of glasses of juice like I’d lived there all my life.

  ‘‘It was just a broken taillight.’’

  I handed him a glass.

  ‘‘But he couldn’t have known that. It had to cross his mind that we were about to go to jail for B and E on a family member. I mean, being arrested probably wouldn’t kill me, especially since you’d be in the next cell, but I can’t see your parents, or his college, or his future employers being that excited about a crimi
nal record. For that matter, I doubt it would do your career any good, either.’’

  He drank. ‘‘An arrest does not a criminal record make.’’

  I straightened and looked at him, excited despite myself. Maybe a prison record wasn’t a reach. ‘‘You’ve been arrested?’’

  ‘‘I didn’t say that.’’

  ‘‘For what?’’

  ‘‘I didn’t say that I’ve been arrested.’’

  ‘‘You didn’t deny it, either. C’mon, Connor. Tell me.’’ I pulled at his shirt, working on being my most beguiling. ‘‘Tell me.’’

  I was nuts. A checkered past would be a pretty interesting new fact about my husband.

  ‘‘There’s nothing to tell.’’

  Yes, there was. I could feel it. Or maybe he was just going to make something up. There was something predatory in his green eyes. Lust. He might be considering fabrication in exchange for clothing. Well, I supposed that if he was going to go to that much effort, the least I could do was play along.

  I peered at him with half-closed eyes. ‘‘Tell me.’’

  ‘‘It won’t be that easy.’’

  ‘‘I’ll get it out of you.’’

  ‘‘Promises, promises,’’ he repeated my earlier taunt.

  I’d make him wait. Not long. Just long enough to play with him a little. I’d show him he wasn’t the only one with a little self-discipline. I stepped back. ‘‘Business first. What do you hope to get from that?’’ I asked, pointing to the open backpack I’d put on the kitchen table.

  ‘‘A clue. More than one.’’

  ‘‘Ah.’’ I licked my lips. ‘‘Clues.’’ His hands came down as he stared at my mouth. There was no aphrodisiac as strong as Connor wanting me and making no secret about it. I had to take a couple of deep breaths to keep from reaching across the table and ending the game. I cleared my throat.

  ‘‘Gambits cleverly disguised as a PDA,’’ I said. ‘‘Very tricky. And what do we hope to learn from these breaking and entering toys, Dr. Watson?’’

  He moved closer, reaching out for me. I shook my head and sat down at the table. He gave a heavy sigh and sat across from me. Yes, playing with him was definitely the right answer.