Connor’s voice held none of my sympathy. “Why didn’t you tell us any of this earlier?”
Jay reined in his sobs. “Because I’d already wiped the files and I knew that’d make me look guilty. I’d gotten rid of the phone and everything before I found out Earnest was gone, so I had no proof at all. I didn’t know what to do. I’ve been agonizing over it. Then when you came over here this morning, I saw a chance to put you onto Coleman in case I’m wrong about him being behind it. But what else could I do?”
I’m sure Connor would’ve had a few ideas, but he just said, “Tell me exactly what you did with the phone, the finger, and anything else you received with the threats.”
“I followed their instructions with the phone before I heard he was dead. I smashed it to bits and chucked the pieces down a few different drainpipes.”
If it weren’t for this morning’s rain, we might’ve been able to retrieve the pieces, but they could’ve been washed anywhere by now.
“And I knew I should’ve kept the… part… for evidence, but I couldn’t stand having it in the house—”
“Did it smell bad?”
“No, it was the idea of it. I didn’t want to sleep with it nearby. But I was too scared to go to the cops. I thought about dumping it in the trash, but that seemed wrong somehow, like, disrespectful to the person it once belonged to. So I posted it to the police in an unmarked envelope. I knew it was a long shot, but I hoped maybe they’d track down the guy behind it all.”
“Good. One last question, Mr. Massey.”
Jay and I waited a couple of beats to hear what it would be.
“Did you accept Coleman’s bribe given you were being forced to erase the files anyway?”
Jay started sobbing again. “Yes. I did.”
I watched the dark figure on the street walking toward me. Despite knowing it was probably Connor, I couldn’t be sure in the shadows cast by the occasional streetlight, and I was feeling jumpy. My eyes stayed on the figure while my hand searched my bag for the Taser. A few seconds later and a dozen feet nearer, I released it and slumped back in my seat, reminding myself to breathe.
The finger thing had me freaked.
Was the person who smacked me over the head the same one who’d chopped off a person’s finger?
As if he’d read my mind, Connor climbed into the car and said, “I think it would be best if you stayed at my house again tonight.”
“Okay,” I said too quickly. I took a big breath. “If it’s not all that much trouble, I mean?”
“It’s the easiest way to keep you safe.” He turned the engine over and pulled out onto the road.
“Well. I still have my Taser and pepper spray. And I held my own against Albert.” Albert was a creep who’d dosed me with GHB-X, a potent derivative of the date-rape drug, and tried to seduce me. Twice. I’d tasered him and ran away as fast as I could. Then I’d hidden behind Etta and her Glock until the police came.
Connor glanced at me, and I saw from the set of his mouth that he was mad. Perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up Albert. “Albert wasn’t threatening physical violence,” he said.
“Mr. Black was,” I reminded him.
“Well, maybe I should’ve had you stay with me then too. But Mr. Black was paid to scare you. He wasn’t going to kill you, and you knew what he looked like so you could be cautious. He also wasn’t about to use Oliver or Meow against you. This person is an unknown. The few clues we have suggest they have no qualms mutilating bodies and could have already murdered Earnest.”
In other words, scary as hell. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure. I feel bad about invading your home now that it’s not a job requirement.”
“Don’t.”
We stopped at a traffic light, and he looked over at me again. “I mean it. The truth is, I missed you. A little.”
The light turned green, and my cheeks turned red. Connor had missed me? I couldn’t believe it.
Even though we’d developed a camaraderie when we’d been forced to work together, it was a bond that came from being on the same side of a life-or-death investigation. On a personal level, I was under the distinct impression that he’d barely tolerated me.
Sure, there’d been some sexual attraction there after he’d had his stylist make me over to his tastes, and he might have slept with me if I’d been willing. But when we were trapped in the car together for two and half hours on our way to interview a suspect, he’d avoided conversation about everything but the case and tried to drug me so I’d sleep all the way home.
How could he miss my company?
I cleared my throat, but no words came to me. I didn’t want to make a joking retort and laugh off the weightiness of this tiny yet big-feeling confession, but I also wasn’t ready to say anything too, well, significant.
I cleared my throat again. “I guess I should admit that Etta wasn’t the only one who missed having you around. I kind of missed that as well.”
And I realized how true that was. I had missed his strong, ever-competent presence and the opportunity to witness the brief glimpses of the man underneath. The flashes of humor, anger, amusement, and concern. Cuddling Meow on the couch while he waited for me. Trying to snap me out of it when I was overwhelmed with guilt and fear. Teaching me to use pepper spray on a Spider-Man cutout of all things. And the kiss. The one we’d shared in the elation of learning Dana was going to live.
I swallowed hard and let my mind drift along with the hum of the engine. Now I felt uncomfortable about sleeping at his house for a different reason.
Had I hoped some professional wall had been broken and I’d meet the person underneath Connor’s mask, I would’ve been sadly disappointed. We drove the rest of the way to his Beverly Hills mansion in silence.
I wondered whether Connor was thinking about the kiss too.
The mundane matter of discussing dinner options coaxed us to speak again. Maria had left us a Tuscan roast tomato and white bean soup with the best garlic bread I’d ever tasted. I swiped the last piece and, emboldened by the food and the bottle of red accompanying it, asked, “So, what did you miss about me?”
Connor eyed the empty plate. “I missed you eating me out of house and home.”
I made a show of devouring the buttery, caramelized, garlicky goodness and smacked my lips. “What else?”
“I missed testing your poison-detection abilities.”
Shock rammed into me. I hadn’t bothered to check properly. Had I overlooked something? I did a physical inventory. Heartbeat, temperature, throat, stomach, senses, and mental faculties all seemed normal. “Funny,” I said.
By the light in his eyes, he must have agreed with my assessment. “I missed watching your nose wrinkle when you drank automatic drip coffee.”
“Ugh. I still can’t believe you deceived me so completely.”
He absentmindedly swirled the wine in his glass. “I missed catching you staring at my ass.”
My cheeks heated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I missed you stealing my underwear.”
Dammit. After my triumph yesterday, I’d forgotten to replace the spare pair of undies in my bag. Which meant I was back to stealing Connor’s. “Okay. I don’t like this game after all. What’s for dessert?”
The answer was dark chocolate brownie with homemade vanilla bean ice cream. After it was plated up, we fell back into our usual pattern of talking about the case.
“I’ll bring Commander Hunt up to speed and see if he wants to interview Coleman with me or not,” Connor said. “He might be able to track down that finger and tell us if the prints are in the system and whether the person it was removed from was dead or alive at the time.”
“Surely it can’t be hard for the police to find the finger that was posted to them?”
“You might be surprised how many body parts a police force the size of the LAPD get posted to them, but knowing when Mr. Massey sent it will help. The fact he said it didn’t smell horrible suggests it was
embalmed or very, very fresh.”
I stopped eating and put down my spoon.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I can afford to skip dessert.” It was true. But watching that ice cream melt and go to waste felt sacrilegious.
“Even with the cash bribe to Massey, it will be hard to pin anything concrete on Coleman. Whether or not he put a hit on Earnest, he’s good at playing dirty.”
Connor was right, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Coleman was out of my league.
“We also need to respond to that text message threat about the flash drive before whoever’s behind it decides to escalate things.”
Escalate things. That sounded bad. “Do you think Coleman’s behind that too?”
“My gut says no. Like Massey said, the direct threats aren’t his style, and there’s no way he would’ve broken into Earnest’s apartment himself. I think we’re dealing with two players.”
“So what do I say?”
“Just that you found it and destroyed it as instructed.”
Another lie. I should be better at them by now. “What if they ask for proof?”
“Then we’ll manufacture some. But like I said, there is no real proof you could provide even if you had the flash drive and videotaped yourself smashing it to pieces, because they have no way of telling if you copied it first. They have to be relying on fear. Like they did with Massey.”
“Are we sure it’s the same person?”
“No, but the basic MO is similar and their overt goal of destroying data is the same.”
“But I didn’t get a… finger.” I shuddered even saying it.
Connor scooped up the last of his brownie and ice cream, unconcerned. “I don’t think your part was planned in advance. They must have intended to find the flash drive themselves for some reason, only you interrupted their search.”
“Then I guess it’s good that they don’t carry human fingers around in case of emergency.”
Connor’s lips did their twitch thing that was the equivalent of a smile by most people’s standards. “Send the message, Avery.”
I did as he said. “Now what?”
“We go to bed. You might as well sleep on the mattress in my room again since you didn’t snore.”
My eyes rushed to his, wondering whether there was any more meaning to his words.
“It will make it easier to protect you.”
Somehow I didn’t think his home would be easy to break into, but I followed him down the hallway anyway. On my bed there was a neatly folded pile: navy cotton pajamas, two pairs of briefs, and a brand new toothbrush.
“I had Maria pick up a few things for you. Seeing as you have a habit of requiring my protection.”
I admit it. I was touched. Even if it did mean, like Levi had said, that they had every confidence in my ability to find trouble. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He waited until my hand was on the door to the en-suite before adding, “But I’m going to miss seeing you in one of my T-shirts.”
15
I felt like a kid having a sleepover as I settled into my bed with Connor a few yards away. It was kind of… cozy. Not a word I’d ever expected to associate with Connor, but somehow sleeping in one of his impersonal guest rooms would have left me wishing for my own rainbow-vomit bed. Here, knowing that he’d missed me, I felt snuggly and safe.
At least I did until my phone buzzed with a new text.
Describe the flash drive you destroyed.
Crap.
There was a silver lining though. Connor got up to read the message, so I finally saw what he liked to wear to bed. Just his gray trunks. I snorted when I realized they’d match his eyes. Like I’d be looking at his eyes.
The sight of his body, even in the low light of the lamp, gave me goosebumps. He was broad and muscular but with a lean, athletic build rather than that of a beefcake gym junkie. His strong shoulders and chest tapered to gently defined abs and… well, let’s just say he was exquisitely sculpted in every way. He was flawlessly groomed too, which wasn’t surprising given the clothed version I knew of him. I don’t mind body hair, or I wouldn’t have married an Italian, but the overall effect would forever inspire my fantasies.
If it wasn’t for the message freaking me out, I might’ve been powerless to resist running my hands over him and pulling him into my bed.
Which would’ve been a mistake.
His admission that he’d missed me wasn’t enough to stake a relationship on, and I wasn’t interested in sex on the side. Or at least most of me wasn’t interested in sex on the side. Some of me was extremely interested.
It took me a long time to get to sleep.
I peeked at him while he concentrated on his freshly toasted muesli across the table. He was fully clothed again, which was the best way for him to be for the sake of my self-control. I was also fully clothed and drinking my second espresso of the day, which was the best way for me to be.
We’d put off replying about the flash drive until this morning in order to buy us more time. Or at least give the person behind it less time. Connor thought they might be bluffing, so we made up a generic description and hoped it would convince them.
It was metallic silver.
There hadn’t been a response, and I was crossing my fingers there wouldn’t be one, except maybe: Thanks ever so much. I’ll stop threatening you now.
“So did Police Commander Hunt decide he wanted to come along when you speak with Coleman?” I asked, mostly to get my mind off my anonymous menace.
“No. Said he’s got better things to do.”
“Like what? Patrolling the streets, scaring small children?”
Connor looked amused. “Something like that.”
“Any news on the finger?”
“Also no. But it’s still early.”
Fabulous. I wondered which poor soul would have to spend their morning sorting through all the posted appendages to find it. “Do we have time to swing by my apartment to pick up some more clothes?”
“I took the liberty of having my stylist purchase a few items for you.”
“What?” This was not the reprieve it should’ve been for someone who hated shopping. His stylist and I had very different priorities around fashion and practicality. At least Maria had picked a comfy pair of pajamas for me. “Why?”
“I thought it best for you not to potentially run into the press wearing the same clothes as yesterday after not being home again all evening.”
Good point.
“And she remembered all your sizes and color palette.”
That was less good. It would have been more useful if I was the same size.
Connor must have seen the dread on my face. “I told her to choose more comfortable, casual options for you, now that it’s not a matter of my hypothetical reputation.”
When he’d first interviewed me for the position of his Shade, it was his reputation he’d cited as the reason I needed a makeover. A big one, he’d specified. It had done wonders for my ego.
“Thanks,” I said, wondering what it meant that he’d requested more casual options for me this time around. No hot-blooded male could prefer this version of me to the stylist-designed one. So maybe his choice was for my benefit. Or maybe he was tactfully calling me fat.
Then again, Connor was anything but tactful.
An hour and a half later, I was sitting in the SUV again. Dudley’s drool had miraculously disappeared from the back door panels, and I was wearing stretchy form-hugging pants, an oversized forest-green knit jumper that fell midthigh, and non-waterlogged ankle boots. The pants fit suspiciously well. Connor must have told his stylist I’d gained weight.
I was both grateful and depressed.
Connor was in the Aptech building, his audio recording in my ear.
“Mr. Stiles. What did I do to deserve another face-to-face with your friendly self?” Coleman asked. His voice was even more slick today if that were possible.
“Lie. Bribe. Chea
t. Kill,” Connor said. “Shall I go on?”
“Well I do love a good story, but why don’t you sit down first? It sounds like this could be a long one.”
From what I could hear, Connor didn’t sit.
“We know you paid Jay Massey a hundred grand cash to wipe Earnest Dunst’s hard drives.”
“Interesting, interesting. That’s the funny thing about cash, isn’t it? So hard to trace, and personal testimonies are so unreliable. Especially from the person who committed the criminal act. Go on, what else do you have for me?”
“You remember our conversation about getting the press involved? I don’t need Mr. Massey’s testimony to stand up in court. I just need to let a few reporters know about it. That kind of thing can take an awful long time to sort out. And you have the revolutionary Pearl operating system going live in two months. People are saying its success will make or break your company. Why don’t you tell me what you have for me.”
“Nicely maneuvered, Mr. Stiles. It’s not often I come across a challenging opponent, and I appreciate the entertainment, so let me tell you a little story in return.” There was a quiet shuffling noise before he continued. “Cigar? Ah well, you won’t mind if I have one myself.”
A chair creaked, and I imagined Coleman leaning back, feet on his desk. Probably his feet were on the ground.
“Let’s say, hypothetically, that I discovered there was a leak in my company. That an inside man was giving away confidential—entirely legal, of course—information away to a third party. Hypothetically, I might pay someone to delete all record of this information, and at the same time, put a plan in place to deal with the leak.”
“How would you do that?”
“Hypothetically?”
Connor grunted.
Coleman sounded like he was enjoying himself. “Let’s say there were three people who knew enough to be the leak. I might approach each of them individually and tell them I’m planning on retiring next year and have chosen them to step up and take over the company. Of course I can’t make a formal announcement until we launch the Pearl operating system. Wouldn’t want to shake consumer or investor confidence and all that, but I wanted to give them a heads-up anyway.”
The Hunger Pains (An Eat, Pray, Die Humorous Mystery Book 2) Page 14
