‘‘I’m Sherlock. You’re Watson. And they’re tools, not toys,’’ he told me. He leaned back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. It screamed, If you can wait, so can I. A challenge.
‘‘I get it. I do. I even put a little kit of my own together after we broke into that impound yard, complete with sleeping aids and dog chews for antisocial rottweilers. Even if it didn’t yield nuggets of information, I suppose you could always make the stylus into a weapon.’’ I pulled the tiny pointer from the outside of the case, pointing it at him.
‘‘I’m a SEAL, not MacGyver.’’
‘‘I loved that show.’’
‘‘Figures.’’
‘‘So?’’
‘‘I used it to download Jack’s information off his computer.’’
‘‘Obviously. Slick, but don’t you already know your parents’ phone number?’’
‘‘Bigger picture, hon.’’
I scrunched my nose, tugging at the collar of my T-shirt. I could talk business while ratcheting up the sexual tension if he could. Connor started to rise.
‘‘I still don’t get it,’’ I said.
He sat back down, his eyes glowing. Plotting as fore-play. Yes, he was definitely going to accept that challenge.
‘‘Jack’s a geek. He loves all the whizbang stuff.’’
‘‘I’m still going to need a bigger hint.’’
‘‘Most people use their PDAs for phone numbers, maybe their schedule. Jack uses his for everything. Expenditures. E-mail access. Surfing. His broker.’’ He tapped the PDA against his palm. ‘‘Anything and everything anyone might want to know about Dr. Jackson Reed in a handy five-by-five container.’’
‘‘That is so 1984,’’ I said. ‘‘If he used it like that, it’s kind of surprising he left it in his office.’’
‘‘This one isn’t his; it’s mine. I downloaded his information.’’
‘‘Of course you did.’’ I was still impressed he knew how to do that. He was a continual surprise, this husband of mine.
I reached over and picked up the PDA, doing my best to give Connor a view down my shirt. He took in an audible breath. Good.
I smiled at him and hit the power button on the PDA. I tapped the icon for his address book, scanning the names.
‘‘Now that we have all this vital information, shouldn’t it be useful or something? I mean, it’s only a clue if you can do something with it.’’ Maybe I was missing the forest for the trees, but darned if I could see any way to get Jack by knowing when his next dental cleaning was.
I opened his scheduler and started flipping through Jack’s most recent appointments.
‘‘Patience,’’ Connor advised.
‘‘Is that like telling me to keep my shirt on?’’ I looked up at him through my lashes.
‘‘I would never say that.’’
‘‘To anyone?’’
‘‘To you.’’
I fought the grin. ‘‘Glad to hear it. I’d hate to think the honeymoon was over.’’
He leered. ‘‘It’s not.’’
An entry in his datebook jumped out at me: L.D., Hippo. I flipped pages. Weekly. Going back months. ‘‘Oh.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘Nothing.’’ Jack couldn’t be that stupid. Not without multiple blows to the head. Ryan would kill him. Connor would drop his dead body off the pier. Both would be mercies compared to his mother-in-law’s wrath.
‘‘That wasn’t a nothing ‘oh.’ That was a something ‘oh.’ ’’
‘‘Jack had what looks like a standing date, er, appointment. Tuesday afternoons at noon.’’
‘‘He was cheating on Siobhan?’’ Connor asked, his voice tight.
So Siobhan never told him. I bit my lip. Thank God I hadn’t let that cat out of the bag. If Connor were my brother and my husband were a lying, cheating son of a bitch, I wouldn’t tell him either unless I wanted to be a widow. Which I would, except I’d prefer the self-help route. Ready or not, Siobhan was going to have to get ready for this hitting the fan.
‘‘Probably. Don’t take this the wrong way, Connor, but are you surprised? I mean, they are separated. A girlfriend isn’t that far a leap. It might also mean there’s no chance they’ll reconcile. Your sister is pretty fragile. She might go back if that were an option. Forget everything. Or pretend to. If he’s involved with someone else that might close a door she needs to stay shut.’’
I set the PDA down. Connor paced. This was going to be bad. I could feel it.
‘‘ ‘L.D., Hippo, 555-8412.’ ’’ I recited.
‘‘What?’’
‘‘The Tuesday appointment. ’L.D., Hippo, 555-8412.’ ’’
He stared.
‘‘It’s in his address book, too.’’
‘‘Lily,’’ he said, so softly I almost didn’t hear. L.D.
Lily Dawson. Jack was a colossal ass and Lily was an evil bitch. Connor’s ex evil bitch.
He did seem upset. His face was flushed, and his hands were clenching and unclenching. He did still care about her. Watching him hurt my heart.
‘‘They’re friends,’’ Connor whispered.
‘‘I think they’re more than friends now, Connor.’’
‘‘Not Jack and Lily. Siobhan and Lily. They’re friends. Even after we broke up Sib kept in touch. Cared about her. This is going to kill her.’’
He was upset for Siobhan. Not for himself. The tightness in my chest eased a little. ‘‘It won’t be good.’’
‘‘They deserve each other.’’
‘‘Truer words,’’ I conceded. ‘‘Since he’s not going to refer to his lover as some sort of humongous mammal, I assume that must refer to a place.’’
‘‘His boat, the Hippocratic Oath.’’
‘‘Clever,’’ I mocked.
‘‘That’s Jack.’’
‘‘And stupid. I haven’t met the guy, but why would he choose your ex? Maybe he wants to get caught.’’
‘‘Or he’s rubbing Siobhan’s nose in it.’’
I thought back to my afternoon with his sister. She’d talked about Jack without judgment. I remembered thinking she didn’t realize he was going out of his way to be a bastard to her. Denial. Self-protection. Both. But a lie like this . . . it was inevitable it was going to come out. This wasn’t selfishness on Jack’s part. It was deliberate violence.
‘‘He needs to be stopped,’’ I said. I no longer felt any guilt for what I’d done.
Connor stopped pacing. Stared at me. I could practically hear his gears grinding.
‘‘What did you do?’’ he asked.
‘‘I sort of borrowed something,’’ I confessed, not feeling at all repentant.
‘‘Honey, you’re welcome to anything I’ve got. It is a community-property state,’’ he stated solemnly. He sat back down at the table. ‘‘Well, everything but my ‘Beat Army’ sweatshirt, anyway. I’m sentimental about that.’’
‘‘It wasn’t that sort of something.’’
‘‘Let me guess, you hot-wired that rattletrap you’ve been traipsing around in all day.’’
‘‘I don’t know how to do that.’’ Another interesting sideline. The man was multidimensional. ‘‘Do you?’’
‘‘I plead the Fifth.’’
‘‘Is that what you got arrested for? Would you show me? Every girl can use a few mechanical skills.’’
He laughed. ‘‘No comment on the first, but as for the second, sure. We’ll make it the advanced course in Sneak One-oh-one.’’ He drained his juice. ‘‘So if you haven’t graduated to grand theft auto yet, what did you take?’’
‘‘Some papers from Jack’s office.’’
‘‘That’s why we were there, Sara. Our motives weren’t pure.’’
‘‘Actually, I took some other papers from his office.’’
‘‘Why?’’
‘‘That would be part two of my confession.’’
‘‘How many parts are there?’’
‘‘Two. Well, three, maybe, but no more.’’
‘‘Okay.’’
I fidgeted, folding my legs under me and playing with my hair. I wasn’t worried that my behavior would shock him. He hadn’t seemed the least bit disturbed by the scene I’d made at lunch. He owed me a couple of minor transgressions. No, it wasn’t what I’d done that was the problem. It was Jack’s connection to my case. Connor wasn’t going to take it well.
‘‘I took a billing file.’’
He seemed surprised. ‘‘Fraud.’’
‘‘What?’’
‘‘You think he’s stealing from his patients. Lord knows he’s taken enough of Siobhan’s money. Or the insurance companies. He’s overbilling.’’
Connor wanted Jack to be guilty of something. Something more than cheating on his wife. Something that would give Connor the leverage to get Jack out of Siobhan’s life. Given Jack’s choice of adulteresses, I didn’t blame him.
‘‘The forgive-no-one, coldhearted, I-will-definitely-send-you-to-prison insurance companies?’’ I guessed.
‘‘Stands to reason.’’
‘‘And it plays into your hands.’’
‘‘Maybe.’’ He reached for the backpack.
I pulled the pages from the backpack, handing the crumpled folder to him. He raised one eyebrow and took it.
‘‘Whoever this guy was, he was paying a pretty penny to get his head shrunk. The invoices were paid.’’ He flipped pages. ‘‘By check. Damn. No insurance.’’
‘‘It could explain the cash in his office.’’
Connor leaned back and stared at the ceiling. ‘‘It’s possible.’’ He pinned me with his eyes. ‘‘Why did you take it?’’
‘‘Curiosity killed the cat.’’
‘‘So tell me, kitten, what was so interesting about this one?’’
‘‘Charles Smiths is the name of the guy my identity thief has been impersonating.’’
His eyes widened. He picked up the folder and opened it, his finger running down each page.
‘‘You do have a way with dropping bombs into conversation.’’
‘‘At least I’m not boring.’’
He looked up. ‘‘Not boring, no.’’
‘‘Could be a typo on the file folder.’’ He played devil’s advocate. ‘‘Everywhere else they use this guy’s Social Security number. ‘Smith’ is not exactly uncommon.’’
‘‘You could be right,’’ I agreed. ‘‘And even if it is Smiths, there’re probably lots of them, too.’’
‘‘But you don’t believe it?’’ he guessed.
Coincidence never sat well with me, either. ‘‘No.’’
‘‘You have a reason to doubt it?’’
‘‘That would maybe be that part two I was talking about,’’ I confessed.
‘‘Not boring.’’ He grinned. ‘‘Tell me.’’
‘‘Don’t get mad.’’
‘‘That’s not a promising start.’’
‘‘My Charles Smiths is under a psychiatrist’s care. Has been since his parents were killed.’’
‘‘How do you know?’’
‘‘It was in the brief from the bank. They told me to justify their demand that I not speak to Smiths in person. He was in a delicate emotional state. Shouldn’t upset him. Any bad news, blah, blah. I thought it was a euphemism for rehab. I also thought it pretty convenient for the bank, who didn’t want to tell him, anyway.’’ Stealing documents from the office could clue Jack in to our evening adventure. Pick ’em.
‘‘What was Smiths being treated for?’’ Connor asked, still in the casual conversation mode.
‘‘Initially, some sort of adolescent something or other. No one seemed to know. But later he was treated for post-traumatic stress.’’
He was processing. It didn’t show on his face, but I could swear I heard his wheels turning.
‘‘He’s starting to look like a suspect, Connor.’’
‘‘A suspect in what?’’
‘‘Whatever’s going on with Charles Smiths. Whatever got that radio guy killed, assuming it was the radio guy in front of the warehouse.’’ I pulled my legs out from under me and shifted in my chair. ‘‘You’re the one who doesn’t believe in coincidence, Connor. Whatever he’s been up to, it could come out. It could blow up. In Siobhan’s face, maybe. Suddenly this thing is about your family.’’
‘‘He’s no family of mine. I tolerate him because Siobhan wants him. I’ll keep my mouth shut if she decides to take him back, but he is not my family.’’
I thought about that, chewing on my thumbnail. ‘‘You don’t feel like you have to be loyal to him for Siobhan’s sake? I mean, as satisfying as it might be to get some real dirt on Jack, Siobhan might be the one to pay.’’
‘‘I think it would be in Siobhan’s best interest—in everyone’s best interest, really—if Jack were helped out the door.’’
Tough love. Families appeared pretty complicated from the outside. If I were his sister—thank God I wasn’t—I’m not sure I’d appreciate his commitment to expediting my husband’s exit. And I was a lot tougher than Siobhan. She might never recover. Then again, Siobhan’s fragility might be all about the treatment she was getting from her I’ll-screw-you-and-your-friend husband.
‘‘I think that would be the best thing, too,’’ I agreed.
‘‘You’re smart. You haven’t even met him yet and you know he’s no good. I wish Siobhan could see it.’’
‘‘Maybe you should help her see it. You could tell her what we already know. About Lily, I mean.’’
Would I want to know if it were me? Probably. Would I want my brother to be the one to tell me? Couldn’t see myself enjoying that.
Connor sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. ‘‘I can’t tell her. Not yet. They’re already separated. It would be like rubbing her face in it. I’m not going to do that to her unless I can’t see any other way. I wouldn’t want her to do it to me.’’
‘‘Maybe knowing he’d do that to her, to you, to your whole family . . . well, maybe she’d see him a little clearer, be a little surer. Or she might be so outraged that Jack did that to you, she’d choose.’’
‘‘He didn’t do anything to me.’’
‘‘He picked your ex.’’
Connor leaned forward and reached for my hands. ‘‘Lily is past. I’m only upset for Siobhan’s sake.’’
‘‘I know.’’
‘‘If you know, then why—’’
‘‘He might not know you’re past her. He didn’t pick Lily out of a phone book. Jackson deliberately chose her. Someone who still has a connection to your family. He made sure that if Siobhan found out, she wouldn’t have anywhere to go.’’
I lifted his hand and kissed his wrist. ‘‘You don’t want to tell Siobhan about Lily because it would hurt her more. Do you think her decision would be different just because the roles are reversed? She wouldn’t tell you, either, even if she knew. She wouldn’t go to your parents or your brother because it might get back to you and you might get hurt. He isolated her. He also made sure he could screw you while he was banging your ex-girlfriend. He’s evil.’’
He cupped my face with his hand. ‘‘I can’t tell her.’’
‘‘All I’m saying is, Siobhan isn’t the only McNamara Jack seems to have a problem with. He must really hate you, too, Connor. You should watch your back.’’
‘‘This is about Siobhan, not me.’’
‘‘He’s bad news for your family. It’s a pity you don’t own a house,’’ I said.
‘‘Why?’’
‘‘We could bury him in the backyard. I bet that guy Blue would help us.’’
‘‘I bet he would.’’
‘‘We need to handle this so Siobhan thinks it was all her idea,’’ I stated. ‘‘Then she can take pride in taking control of her own life. If you’re not going to tell her now, and it ever comes out about Jack and Lily, you should act shocked. Siobhan wouldn’t want to think you knew and didn’t tel
l her, even if your intentions were good.’’
‘‘You’re a constant surprise. For someone with no family, you’re pretty good with the dynamics.’’
‘‘I have Russ.’’
‘‘Coconspirators aren’t family.’’
‘‘So says a guy who was a willing accomplice less than two hours ago. Along with his brother, I might add.’’
‘‘So how do we convince my sister that eliminating Jack was her plan?’’
‘‘We act casual. Mind our own business, which, in this case, is our investigation into Jack.’’
‘‘Good thing it’s an act, because I’m not sure you’ve got the mind-your-own-business gene.’’
‘‘Accomplice, remember?’’
He smiled at me. ‘‘I’ll keep you anyway.’’
‘‘Thanks.’’ I yawned.
‘‘You ready for bed?’’ he asked.
We had a plan we couldn’t implement until morning. Which just left the night to get through. Suddenly I had a second wind. This newlywed stuff was great. ‘‘What are you suggesting?’’ I asked.
‘‘Why, nothing, ma’am.’’ He stood and came around the table to help me out of my chair.
Good manners or sexual impatience? I really hoped he wasn’t a Miss Manners devotee. I tipped my head back and looked him in the eye. ‘‘You sure?’’
‘‘Absolutely.’’ He crossed his heart and held up a hand in the Boy Scout salute.
I tried not to laugh. I put my hands on his chest and eyed him with mock suspicion. Without warning I stepped closer and pushed hard, forcing him to stumble back.
‘‘Race you,’’ I yelled, already whirling and running from the room.
He chased.
Rounding the corner, I launched myself onto the bed. I turned over and sat Indian style, raising my arms over my head in triumph. ‘‘I win.’’
He shook his head. ‘‘What did you win?’’
I beckoned with one finger. He knelt on the bed in front of me and I rose to my knees, stripping off my shirt and flinging it toward the door. I took the hem of his shirt and he raised his arms to help. His shirt landed on top of mine.
‘‘How does this differ from me winning?’’ he asked.
‘‘I get to be on top.’’
‘‘Sounds good to me.’’
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