In the Clear (Codex Book 3)

by Kathryn Nolan

  Four heads swiveled toward me as one. Four sets of eyebrows shot right up.

  “Seems like those Hawaiian shirts did the trick, huh?” Freya shrugged.

  “No comment,” I said.

  Delilah flagged down a passing server. “Any chance you can send a bottle of wine to our table? And yes, we know it’s breakfast time.”

  36

  Abe

  Once seated, our table was piled with an odd assortment of tea, wine, and scones with jam. Beneath the table, Sloane’s leg was pressed to mine in a silent show of support I appreciated more than I could say.

  Across the table, the familiar sounds of teasing and messy affection among my team dragged forth a feeling I couldn’t deny was yearning. I’d gone and missed them, even though it had been barely a week since I’d seen them last. And now they’d gone ahead and flown across the world to fight my fight before I had even, technically, asked.

  Again, their devotion reminded me of that beautifully wrapped gift—only this time, I wanted to work on my ability to open it. Enjoy it. Not be afraid to receive their loyalty and affection. I wasn’t a betting man, but I’d place my money on this new openness being Sloane’s doing.

  “So forty-eight hours is all it took, huh?” I asked, spinning my teacup between my fingers.

  Delilah smiled at me above her wine glass. “It was the night we pulled an all-nighter to close The Black Stallion case. There was way too much alcohol and coffee involved and combined.”

  Henry grimaced. “Worst hangover of my life, actually.”

  “It had kind of been our office inside joke,” Freya continued. “The only time Abe would ever dare to go on an actual vacation was only if he could catch Bernard Allerton while doing it.”

  Next to me, Sloane made a kind of hmmmmm sound. Hiding a smile, I placed my palm on her knee and squeezed.

  “And as much as we all support you in breaking your workaholic habits,” Sam said. “You’re not the kind of guy who would enjoy ten days of leisure.”

  “You’re a hunt a man to the ends of the earth kind of guy,” Freya continued. “Which is why we adore the shit out of you, of course.”

  “And here I thought I was being slick,” I said mildly.

  Henry glanced at Sam. “That night, all of us punch-drunk and up late, Sam got an email from his contact at the FBI.” Henry dropped his voice immediately. “The email contradicted what had been sent earlier and now listed London as one of the highly likely places where Bernard could be. And it’s only been nine weeks since The Empty House case, and I, for one, feel like we’re closer to catching him than ever.”

  Henry leaned across the table—the look on his face so open, so trusting, it only made me feel like more of a bastard for keeping things from them. “You might not remember this, but the night that Delilah and I recovered the Copernicus from Victoria’s house, you told me that you often needed to hear your own advice when it came to Bernard. As our boss, you repeatedly reminded us that getting the damn book back was all that mattered.”

  “That I could be unnecessarily prideful in my thirst for revenge,” I added—because I did remember that conversation and how conflicted I’d felt at my righteous anger. Worried it would obscure the focus of Codex, which was always rescuing the book over capturing the thief.

  Four sets of heads nodded with knowing looks. “Call it a bloodhound instinct,” Delilah said. “But it didn’t take much to get us from there to sitting right here. The worst that would happen is we found you relaxing by the pool, and we spent a few fun days with you in the city.”

  “It’s hard for me to ask for help,” I said.

  “Yeah we know,” all four replied in unison.

  “I’m loving this by the way,” Sloane added.

  I brought my hands together on the table, looked each one of my team members in the eye.

  “When I was deciding where to go, I received an anonymous email from an agent at the FBI with information they felt confirmed, without a doubt, Bernard’s location here. And not just here but within a two-mile radius of The Langham Hotel and the Sherlock Holmes museum. Surveillance reports attached to the message checked out. Those other reports Sam had received about his credit card use I believe to be a red herring.”

  There was an explosion of whats and are you serious and what the fucks. Delilah crossed her arms, looking rightfully irritated. “And why the hell didn’t you tell us? Seems pretty crucial, Abe.”

  I chanced a glance at Henry, who seemed genuinely hurt. “I am truly, truly sorry for keeping this from you. What I’ve done, my actions, none of that reflects the kind of leader I pride myself on being. I’ve always valued integrity above all else. In that, I failed you.”

  Now Sloane’s hand rested on my knee. Before I could doubt the gesture, I dropped my own hand beneath the table and curled my fingers through hers.

  “It’s challenging for me to admit how personal catching Bernard feels to me; it’s challenging for me to admit I’ve always wanted to be the one man to do it where everyone else had failed. It would be the ultimate fuck you to the Bureau and to everyone that doubted private detectives could be as successful.” I swallowed past the urge to stop. “I had no money, no warrant, no client, no jurisdiction. I was comfortable risking myself. Much less so risking all of you.”

  I set my eyes on each one of them, didn’t shy away from the mixture of loyalty and anger I saw there. “Unlike my previous statements, I do feel more than a mild affection for all of you. Tomorrow, nothing could happen. We could take a massive swing and miss again. The thought of asking all of you to have hope one more time…”

  I trailed off—smacking hard against my limits of emotional vulnerability. Between my night, and morning, with Sloane and this hard conversation, my body felt like a marathon runner’s at mile twenty-three.

  “It’s hard to risk the ones you care about the most,” Freya said softly.

  Nodding, throat tight, I managed, “It’s no excuse. Please, forgive me.”

  “I think we can make that happen,” Sam said. “By lording it over you for months and accepting your apology gifts.” He flashed me a shit-eating grin. “Sir.”

  “Of course,” I promised. “A genuine bounty of donuts awaits.”

  I was still focused on Henry, who had yet to say a word. Now, he was shaking his head, a tiny smile on his face. “I can’t say I haven’t had those same dreams. I get it, I do. But we’re doing this together, Abe. Like we were always supposed to.”

  I let out a big exhale of relief. Placed my hand on Henry’s wrist, who clapped his on mine with a look of understanding I wasn’t sure I deserved yet. He was right, though—Henry and I had inadvertently started this journey together, sitting in that claustrophobic room at the McMaster’s Library. We would get him—together.

  “Sloane and I have a lot to catch you up on. We’ve had an interesting few days, to say the least. We believe Bernard will be making a move on a collection of Arthur Conan Doyle’s private papers tomorrow night. We’ll need every idea, every strategy, and all the help we can get. And tonight, we were invited to a fancy auction party held at the very same place where we believe the move is going to take place.”

  A familiar feeling settled between all of us at this tiny café table—electric and exciting, thrilling and wild. Reunited, a team again, with only our biggest case yet ahead of us.

  I would never again doubt that I needed them in my life.

  With a sly grin, Delilah said, “Let’s get the damn book back.”

  37

  Sloane

  Abe scrubbed a hand down his face—looking momentarily tired—before straightening. Crossing his arms, he nodded at the four private detectives assembled in front of him in our hotel room. “Plan. One more time. Go.”

  Delilah tapped her pen across a notebook, pointed to the large white paper on the wall. Codex had packed light and smart—most of the items in their suitcases were designed to create a mobile office, which was good since everything Abe and I had bro
ught was either soaking wet or totally destroyed.

  “Eight is the start of the auction. Sloane and Abe will be there accompanying Humphrey and Reggie with their undercover personas, Devon and Daniel,” she said. Delilah grabbed Freya’s shoulder. “It’s a public event, so Freya and Sam will be attending with a cover as two Sherlock-loving tourists from America here for the spectacle of it all.”

  “Freya and I are putting the finishing touches on our cover now,” Sam said. “We’ll have everything memorized by the time we show up. And we’ll be pulling together a disguise as best we can. We’re stepping into an audience with people who could recognize us as Codex agents, given some of the people in attendance might be opportunistic book thieves.”

  “Good,” Abe said. “Disguises should be a requirement. Give nothing away, listen as best you can. My and Sloane’s covers have already been blown, so the night will be a tense one. If anyone else at this event recognizes me as a private detective, or any of you, we need to agree ahead of time on our exit plan.”

  “Yes, sir,” Sam said.

  “And we have promised to be cheese farmers from Vermont who run weekly classes of goat yoga,” Freya said soberly. “Winifred and Winston are our names.”

  I grinned at Freya’s joke, and she flashed me a cartoonish wink. We’d been sitting in this room for close to seven hours now, with the exception of stopping to eat. And I was slowly learning that I liked them. Henry was this bright light of intelligence; his adoration for literature was an extra glue tying this team together. Delilah was calm, assured—and behind those eyes was a sharp intellect well-matched with her partner and fiancé.

  Freya was playful and silly, and her big, messy heart was evident in her sisterly affection for everyone. And Sam, her boyfriend, was her perfect counterpart in every way. Smart, serious, competent. And clearly obsessed with her.

  I was still jealous of their fondness and teasing spirit, but Abe’s obvious trust in me seemed to unlock an instant confidence from them. Those age-old feelings of being kept out—of not understanding—were the source of the jealousy. Seeing groups of friends like this at NYU, or out in the city when I was working, always incited a yearning in my chest. But now, sitting here, being myself and working toward a common goal, there didn’t appear to be anything else I needed to do except enjoy their company.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Winnie and Winston,” I said. “Daniel and I would love to take goat yoga one of these days. Bucket list, and all that.”

  “I can’t imagine the Abe Royal would abide something as chaotic as a goat,” Sam said. I cast a look Abe’s way—noted his effortless posture, his gentle charisma, the utter ease of being the one, the center, the leader. These seven hours of non-stop strategizing had flowed around him like he was a boulder in a river. No wonder they flew all this fucking way to help.

  “Goats are not my friend,” Abe said, idly touching his cufflinks. “Now keep going.”

  Smirking, Delilah looked down at her notes. “The four of you at the auction will be targeting entrances, exits, weak points. Observing, as Abe said, and keeping a close eye on Eudora Green, James Patrick, and various terrifying security guards. I’ll be in the parking lot, taking pictures of the space, noting who’s coming and going and any back entrances we should be aware of.” Delilah pinned Abe and me with a serious look. “Given that your cover is blown, at least for Eudora and Peter, you should stay with Humphrey. No more fighting.”

  “Del will handle the fighting,” Henry said proudly. “And I’ll be here, keeping an eye on things and gathering any extra evidence for the real auction tomorrow.”

  In a tag-team effort, Abe and I had filled them in on every last detail, starting with my weeks of working the Sherlock Society and the items we’d discovered in Bernard’s office. We covered Eudora, Humphrey, the fire, the attempted mugging, the attack at the cocktail bar, the notes, the code words. Throughout it all, the four detectives listened, asked thoughtful questions, compiled ideas and bounced off each other with a practiced skill.

  I was fucking astonished. Not once had I ever had the purpose of a high-functioning team demonstrated to me the way I had on this day.

  During those hours, we’d learned right away that Henry could still be recognized everywhere in this city. During his time working with Bernard, he’d met Eudora, met Humphrey, attended a handful of lectures at the Society from time to time. So he was our silent sixth partner, working behind the scenes.

  “Keep pulling through the files Sloane brought from Bernard’s office,” Abe said. “And if you can start mapping out where we’ll be tomorrow night, that would help. The auction is our hot spot, but Adler’s, Mycroft’s Pub, and 221B Baker Street are still places of interest.”

  Henry was nodding along while taking notes. The reflection of a laptop screen appeared on his glasses. I could see him scrolling through websites. “Anyone else get a good look at the picture of Peter Markham? The bookstore seller? I never met him in person, just heard a lot about his grandfather. And Bernard and Humphrey loved going to Adler’s.”

  “What about him specifically?” Abe asked.

  Henry touched his glasses, squinting at the screen. “He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.”

  The rest of the team gathered around the librarian. Freya and Delilah shook their heads as Sam leaned closer. “Yeah. I see what you mean. He looks familiar to me. No fucking clue how or why we’d recognize him though. Maybe you met him before when you lived out here and don’t remember.”

  “Abe thought he looked familiar too,” I said. “Have you had any revelations about it?”

  “No,” Abe said thoughtfully. “I was ready to write it off as nothing, but if the two of you feel the same way, then I’m less likely to think it’s a fluke. Peter is already suspicious because of his ties to Bernard and whatever he’s been doing with Eudora.”

  Delilah tapped her pen against her keyboard. “Peter and his bookstore are seeming more suspicious by the second. Henry, if you went in disguise, and made it quick, could you do a walk-by of Adler’s?”

  “Absolutely,” Henry said. “And I’ll make it fast, just enough to get a sense of anything that could jog my memory—of him or the bookstore. I’ll raid Abe and Sam’s suitcases and cover myself as much as I can.”

  Delilah pressed her hand to his cheek. “My handsome secret agent.”

  Henry kissed her palm, smiled. I was slowly getting used to the fact that the Codex team was comprised of two extremely happy couples unafraid to display their happiness. It was an odd thing for me, seeing couples working together in a way that was positive. Joyful. For all of Abe’s grumbling about PDA, his quiet contentment around these four was palpable.

  Abe rubbed his face one last time before exhaling loudly. He clapped his hands together once and examined the slowly drooping bodies of his team. We had just under an hour to go. “You all appear tired.”

  “Why would you say that, boss?” Freya yawned dramatically, head in Sam’s lap. The brawny ex-FBI agent scratched her hair with a love-struck expression.

  Abe flashed me an extremely sexy grin. “Shall I get my illustrious team takeout, you think?”

  “It’s only fair, given your history of lies and deceit.” I shrugged.

  The team’s scattered laughter warmed my cheeks. “Picking his pockets and unafraid to call him on his shit,” Delilah said, approvingly. “Welcome to the team, Sloane.”

  My cheeks grew hotter. When I caught Abe’s admiring look, I went up in flames. “Just happy to be here,” I grinned. “I bring a lot of skills to the table, mainly my ability to fluster your boss.”

  There was another round of laughter, and Freya stood to clap. I laughed too, caught Abe still smiling at me like we shared the best secret.

  Abe backed out of the room and raised his palms. “Giving a man a fake name, stealing from him, then following him across all of London would fluster even the most stoic of individuals.” But when the rest of the team was turned around, Abe gave me a wink tha
t melted my insides. “Twenty minutes until we eat,” he called back, before closing the door.

  “So can a conversation get other people in a room pregnant?” Freya asked.

  My hand flew to my mouth, surprised. I was suddenly very aware I was alone with Codex without Abe as a buffer. Instantly, all four of them sat up, spines straight, filled with energy. “Wait, weren’t you all jet-lagged a second ago?”

  Delilah waved her hand. “That was a ruse to get Abe out of the room. Now tell us everything.” She had one arm draped loosely across Henry’s shoulder, and his hand squeezed her thigh.

  “And technically we can’t drink because we’re about to go on a case, so imagine I’m opening a bottle of red wine right now,” Freya added.

  “Or, given you are a stranger and don’t owe us any details about your personal life, you can choose to continue preparing for a case,” Sam said, sardonic.

  Freya elbowed his side. “Way to spoil the party, Byrne.”

  I flashed him a grateful smile and pulled one knee up, tossed my hair. “What do you want to know?”

  The four of them had already thoroughly enjoyed our cat-and-mouse story: meeting at the lecture, his business card, our neighboring rooms, each lying to one another about our names. And I’d sensed them wanting to probe more about the nature of our relationship—and I hadn’t missed the comical looks on their faces when Abe had said, simply, that we were sharing a hotel room for safety purposes.

  “So where’s home for you, Sloane?” Delilah asked, her blue eyes kind.

  I hesitated. Home never felt like home. “Brooklyn. I have a home office there where I can work with clients.”

  “Do you have a team you work with?” Henry asked. “Or is it only you?”

  “Only me.”

  “Who makes your office memes and brings donuts on Fridays?” Freya asked.

  “Um… I do?” I said, unsure. My workdays featured neither of those things.