Jennifer felt a slow-burning excitement. She’d half expected him to brush off her comments. She leaned forward. “So … what do you think? Is God real?”
He seemed to weigh his answer carefully. “I don’t know, but … I kind of hope he is.”
She nodded. “Me too.” But she wasn’t at all sure she would ever know.
The discussion on books broadened. Harvey was an eclectic reader, and she had a mental picture of his apartment, lined with bookshelves and comfortable chairs. He seemed to read everything, from best sellers to obscure authors.
“I like mysteries,” she said, feeling just a little silly.
Harvey grinned. “Mysteries are great! I like legal thrillers. What do you like?”
“I like detectives.”
He nodded expectantly, and she flushed.
“Oh, well, you know. Lord Peter Wimsey, Hercule Poirot…”
“The classic detectives.”
“Yes, because the writing is so good. But I like spy stories, too. Escapist literature, my father calls it.”
The waitress came to refill their water glasses, and Jennifer wondered if the uniformed girl thought Harvey was her father. She was enjoying his company. Every woman should have the chance to go out with a smart, attentive man once in a while. She knew she would be very disappointed if he never called her again.
When they left the restaurant, she wished the evening wasn’t over. The house was dark when they walked up the steps.
“I guess Donna-jean isn’t home yet,” she said.
“She’s the bad-news roommate?”
Jennifer smiled. She had told him a little about Donna-jean. She fished her key ring from her pocket and gulped as he reached for it. Did he expect her to ask him in? The only men who had been inside the little house were her father and brothers and Donna-jean’s boyfriends.
She glanced up at Harvey warily, and he looked a little nervous himself.
“I enjoyed the evening,” she said.
Harvey smiled. “So did I. Do you think—”
He broke off as a car drove up, and Donna-jean bounced out, shouting noisy good-byes to the occupants over the blaring music that pulsed from within.
“The infamous Donna-jean, I presume?” Harvey asked.
“The very same.”
She trudged up the walk as the car pulled away and stopped in surprise when she saw them.
“Well, Jennifer, a date at last?”
“Donna-jean, this is Harvey. Harvey, this is my roommate, Donna-jean.”
“The guy with the roses? Pleased to meet you, I’m sure.” She was tipsy and loud, fumbling with her key ring.
“The door’s unlocked,” Jennifer said.
“Oh, did I interrupt the good-night kiss?”
Donna-jean stumbled through the door and slammed it.
Harvey looked down at the ground with a tight little smile. “Well, I guess I’d better go.” His eyes met hers, and Jennifer caught her breath as the intimacy returned. “Can I see you next weekend?”
She hesitated. “What did you have in mind?”
“I checked the paper this afternoon. There’s a jazz concert in the Old Port, or we could go early to the art museum. Unless you’d prefer Shakespeare? As You Like It, at the university on Saturday.”
Jennifer stood still, savoring the feelings that washed over her. His confidence was back, and he’d gone to some trouble to search out something she would like. “I like that play.”
“Let’s do it, then. And I’ll check out the symphony’s schedule for another time.”
Another time. Already he was planning their future together. It made her feel wanted and pampered, and a little shy of his direct masculinity.
“What do I wear to the play? I mean, is it a student production?”
“No, I think it’s a professional group from out of state. They have a big production at graduation time every year. It should be good.”
“So, slightly formal?”
“If you want. I think it’s up to us what we want it to be.”
Inside her, the excitement warred with a nagging caution. But he was so different from any of the men she had ever liked before. He wasn’t impulsive or arrogant. Despite the slight nervousness she had detected earlier, he had remained gracious and thoughtful. From the moment she’d opened the door to him tonight, she’d known she wouldn’t refuse another invitation. And she would definitely buy a new dress.
Harvey looked down at her, a smile playing at his lips. “What part did you play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream?”
She laughed. “You don’t want to know.”
“Yes I do. I’m guessing Hermia. Tell me it wasn’t the donkey.”
“No, it was Snug.”
“You played a man?”
“Yeah, it was fun.”
“Wasn’t Snug the guy who got to be the lion?”
“Yup.”
“That’s a funny part. I’ll bet you were cute.”
“No, I was very fierce,” Jennifer said with dignity.
“Right.” He was shivering a little.
She reached for the doorknob. “I’d better go in.”
He nodded, his eyes very serious. “Good night, Jenny.” He squeezed her hand for an instant and stepped back.
Jennifer swallowed hard. “No one ever calls me Jenny.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right. I mean, if you want to …” He smiled, and she felt very young and inept. She made herself open the door.
*****
“More trouble?” Channing asked. He leaned back in his leather-covered swivel chair and eyed his partner coolly. “I guess our electronic security isn’t as tight as I thought it was.”
Jack Rainey sat down opposite him and locked his hands across the front of his pearl gray vest. “I’ve got Henderson on it, but I’m not sure he should be the one handling this.”
“Why is that?” Channing asked. “We agreed we can trust him.”
“We’re pretty sure this breach originated from the same place as the last one.”
Channing swore. “Not that cop again?”
“Portland police station,” Rainey agreed. “It’s got to be Detective Larson.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because he’s smart.”
Channing sighed and picked up his telephone receiver. “Bart, are you free at the moment? Jack’s in my office, and we’d like you to step in here if you can.” He hung up and stared gloomily at the abstract painting on the wall near the door until Bart Owen’s quick tap came on the oak panel.
“What’s up, Ron?” Owen asked cheerfully as he entered.
Channing scowled. Bart Owen was the oldest of the partners, and by far the most optimistic. When things were looking shaky, he found Bart’s upbeat outlook irritating.
“A hacker got into our company records again Friday night.”
Owen shrugged. “We don’t keep anything sensitive in there. Confidential, yes, but not top secret. All of that is on secure drives, and we’re very careful.”
Rainey turned from the window. “The police are looking at us again, Bart.”
Owen frowned. “I see. Well, I don’t like it, but I suppose it’s inevitable. Unfortunate, this whole business with Dunham. It comes at a bad time for us. They found his car, and he was last seen here. We can’t do anything about that.”
“We need to tighten the security features on our company databases,” Channing said.
“Well, yes.” Owen smiled. “Put Jennifer Wainthrop on it. She’s capable.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Owen’s eyes widened in surprise, and Channing looked away. He knew Owen had always liked Jennifer Wainthrop and encouraged him and Jack to put her on the most important projects. But Channing wasn’t sure she had the temperament for the stress involved, or that her loyalty to Coastal was unshakable, even if she was a better designer than the rest of them put together.
Jack Rainey stepped forward. “Bart,
this cop who’s looking at us … the first time, he looked at Miss Wainthrop’s personnel file. This time he went after Tom Henderson’s.”
Owen’s brow furrowed as he considered that. “You think that’s significant.”
“Of course it’s significant,” Channing snapped. Sometimes he wondered why he and Jack had teamed up with Bart. He could charm the clients, but he was definitely a step behind when it came to shrewdness.
Jack Rainey said quietly, “Detective Larson went to Henderson’s house Friday night and asked him about Dunham. Then someone at the police station broke into Henderson’s personnel file and e-mail.”
“You think they believe Henderson had something to do with Dunham disappearing?”
“Who knows?” Rainey shook his head.
Owen looked from him to Channing. “But Miss Wainthrop?”
“I’m not sure we can trust her,” Rainey said. “He looked at her file last Thursday.”
“Why do you think he’s investigating our employees so minutely?” Channing asked the older man, watching his face carefully.
“I don’t know.” Owen was clearly baffled, and Channing admitted inwardly that he felt the same way. “Are you sure it’s the detective?”
“Who else could it be?” Channing rubbed his forehead.
“But he’s not trying to access the new program,” Owen said.
Channing said slowly, “He doesn’t know about that program, Bart. And we’ve got to make sure it stays that way.”
Rainey sighed. “I don’t know if we’ve got anyone besides Miss Wainthrop who can build a program that will keep this detective out.”
“Now that Dunham’s gone,” Channing agreed.
Rainey shook his head. “She’s even better than him, Ron. I’m just not sure …”
Owen looked from Rainey to Channing. “Surely the police couldn’t get into any files that would cause suspicion.”
Rainey went back to the window. His silence told Channing that Jack was uneasy. He looked up at Owen. “If Larson starts monkeying around with our databases during business hours, when the designers are online and working on projects, some of our programs could be compromised.”
“And if someone were working on the special project,” Rainey said ominously, “that would be very bad.”
“Do you think Henderson is safe?” Owen asked.
Rainey nodded with the slightest reservation.
“But he’s not as smart as this cop,” Channing said.
“Oh, surely the city doesn’t hire people the caliber of our staff,” Owen began, but Channing interrupted him.
“That cop went to Harvard. I did some checking on my own. He’s not someone you want to mess with.”
Rainey said slowly, “If he’s that clever, and he knows computers …”
“What? You’re thinking we should hire him?” Owen asked. “Maybe that’s not a bad idea.”
Channing shook his head. “His record’s clean as a whistle. His captain can’t praise him enough.”
“Nobody’s untouchable,” Rainey said, fingering the knot in his silver and burgundy foulard tie.
“No, I think the original plan is best.”
Owen’s eyes narrowed. “What plan is that?”
“Just business as usual,” Channing said.
Owen stepped forward and leaned on the edge of his desk. “You know I don’t like this contract we’ve taken on.”
“Yeah, I know, Bart.”
Rainey stepped closer to Owen and put his hand on his partner’s shoulder. “We had this discussion months ago. We’re in it now, and we’re in it together.”
“It was just a couple of disks then, harmless disks for a foreign client.”
“Well, things got a little complicated,” Rainey said.
Owen stared at him for a moment, then turned abruptly and left the office.
“What do you think?” Rainey murmured.
Channing sighed. “I think we’d better be careful.”
“I’ll take care of this.”
Channing pushed his chair back and stood up. “Make sure you do, Jack.”
Rainey nodded. “We’ll have to keep Henderson out of it. He’s useful, but the less he knows, the better. And right now he thinks the cop is just looking at him because he didn’t give him a pat answer the other night.”
“All right. We’ll get someone else to beef up the security.”
“It may have to be Jennifer Wainthrop. There’s no one else, Ron.”
Channing scowled. “Keep Henderson at his usual mundane routine, and try to find something to distract Bart.”
“He’s going to Concord tomorrow to meet with the hospital executives there and push the administrative programs.”
“Perfect.”
Chapter 8
On Monday evening, Harvey made himself do laundry and buy a few groceries. He hadn’t been home enough lately to make the apartment messy, but it was dusty, and he decided to do a little cleaning up. He didn’t know why he had kept the place so long. After Carrie had left him, it was easier to do nothing. But now the memories were kicking in, and he wished he had moved out long ago.
As he hung up the clean shirts he’d pulled from the dryer in the basement utility room, his thoughts strayed to Jennifer. All through the previous evening, he had tried to decide whether she made him feel really young or really old.
He’d suspected a girl her age could shred his ego in seconds, but he’d ignored his instincts and asked her out again. He hadn’t really cared whether she chose Shakespeare or the concert, as long as she would see him again. He would have taken her anywhere. Well, not bungee jumping.
He opened the day’s newspaper and was circling ads for used cars when the doorbell rang. Eddie entered the kitchen and thrust a bright orange Uncle Henry’s booklet into his hands.
“Page fifty-three.”
“Well, hello to you, too.” Harvey opened the book and saw an ad Eddie had circled. A six-year-old Ford Explorer. “I don’t know, Eddie. That’s a lot of money.”
“How much was the check from the insurance company?”
“Two thousand.”
“Figures. That old car was ready for the scrap yard. Well, it’s not like you don’t have it. You’re a tightwad.”
“How about this ’67 Mustang for four grand?”
“No, Harvey,” Eddie said deliberately. “Do not get an older car. Women like new cars.”
“Jennifer’s not like that.”
“Do you think she wants to ride in a car older than she is? Besides, it would be too easy to spot on a stakeout.”
Harvey sighed and called the number for the SUV in Scarborough. “We can look at it tomorrow at 6:30,” he told Eddie. “Will you take me after work?”
“Oui, monsieur.” Eddie flashed his bright smile.
“Can I take Jennifer?”
The smile dimmed. “I guess.”
*****
The closer Jennifer got to home after work on Tuesday, the faster her pulse raced. She was glad the driveway was empty when she reached it. She went into her bedroom and changed her clothes.
Harvey’s invitation had come as a surprise. He’d called at 9:30 the evening before, just as she was preparing for bed.
“Jennifer, it’s Howie,” Donna-jean had called from the kitchen.
“Harvey.”
“Whatever.”
Car shopping with his buddy wasn’t the most romantic outing she could imagine, but Jennifer didn’t care. It seemed safe. She could watch him interact with Eddie, and there would be no question of will-he-or-won’t-he-kiss-me, with his partner along.
She heard a vehicle in the driveway and glanced out the window. Eddie and Harvey got out of a black pickup. Her heart leaped, but there was an ache there, too. She remembered the car bomb, and the reason for this outing. She swallowed hard, picked up her key ring, and went outside.
“Hey, kiddo,” Harvey said as she came down the steps. “You ready to roll?”
She nodded. “H
i, Eddie.”
“Hi, Jennifer.” Eddie’s smile was brilliant.
“Did you guys have a good day? No bombs or anything?”
“We’re fine, and we’ve wrapped up the drug case,” said Harvey. “One of girls gave up the dealer.”
“Great! So, we’re going to look at a car.”
“A sport utility vehicle,” Eddie corrected her.
“Really? That surprises me.” She sat between them in the pickup. While Eddie drove, he described their work day. It was a convoluted story, ending with the arrest of a drug dealer who had been pushing his wares to high school students.
“Did you find out who put the bomb in your car?” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice.
“Not yet,” Harvey said quietly. “Don’t worry. We will.” He put his arm up around the back of the seat, barely touching her shoulders. She felt a little comforted, and tried not to let herself blush.
Harvey seemed to like the forest green Explorer. He walked around it several times and lifted the hood while the owner rattled off the vehicle’s history.
At last he smiled at Jennifer. “Want to go on a test drive, kiddo?”
She climbed in, wondering if the nickname would be permanent. She didn’t like it. It emphasized the age difference, and it made her wonder if she looked childish in her jeans and sweater. She had put her hair up for their dinner date, but had it in her usual long braid tonight. Maybe it was time to think about cutting it. She didn’t want him thinking of her as his little sister.
“I could really like this thing,” Harvey said, adjusting the side view mirror. He tried out all the lights and the air conditioner, the parking brake, the power windows and locks, the radio, the CD player, and the heater. They drove a few blocks, then headed out away from town. After a couple of miles, he turned back.
“So, you like it?” she asked, and wished she hadn’t. He’d already said he liked it.
He nodded. “I like it.”
Eddie was waiting in the owner’s driveway, lounging against the fender of his truck. Harvey parked the Explorer, and he and Eddie kicked the tires and talked to the owner about police work for twenty minutes. Harvey asked what the gas mileage was. They settled on a price, and he wrote a check. The owner said Harvey could drive it home with his license plates. Jennifer rode with him, and Eddie tailed them in his pickup.
The Priority Unit (Maine Justice Book 1) Page 10
