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“I see. Anything else?”
“That’s it.”
“Thanks, man. I appreciate the legwork.”
“No problem. I’ll send you an e-mail with all the names and dates.”
Jonah had just hit the end button when another call came in, this one from his ex-wife. Apparently, Lori was tired of sending him text messages without getting a response. Since even his mother’s involvement hadn’t brought results, she was breaking away from their usual mode of communication.
“What’s it going to take to get some breathing room?” he muttered, then answered so he could finally get her off his back.
CHAPTER 20
The pain in Francesca’s arm half woke her. Then something else disturbed her sleep. Someone talking in a low voice in another room. Problem was…she lived alone.
Butch! A jolt of panic shot through her—until she opened her eyes and recognized where she was. Jonah’s motel room. She’d been so drugged up from the pain medication, she’d stayed over.
Raising her arm to shield against the harsh light slicing through the blinds, she squinted to see if any blood had seeped through the bandages, but it didn’t seem to have.
Relieved, she slumped onto her pillows, listened to the air-conditioning chug and contemplated what she had to look forward to this morning. Finch and Hunsacker had called to check on her while she was getting her stitches last night and set up a meeting for 10:00 a.m. But she could tell from Finch’s peevish voice how that meeting was likely to go.
She’d have some difficult questions to answer—like why she’d made the decision to go back onto Butch’s property. She’d explain that she’d been hoping to come up with some evidence that might save lives, which was the truth. But she doubted they’d be sympathetic, especially Hunsacker. As a private investigator, she often bent rules she couldn’t or wouldn’t have bent as a police officer. Knowing which rules could be flexible, and when to test them, was what made a good P.I.
Rolling over, she kicked off the blankets and sat up. She needed to use the bathroom, but Jonah was in there.
Should she knock or wait until he’d finished his conversation? She didn’t think he was using the facilities. She was pretty sure he was just doing his best to be quiet since she’d been sleeping. So she padded barefoot to the door and lifted her hand to knock. But when she heard him mention a woman’s name, she hesitated.
“Look, Lori, I’m fine with it. I’ll write the letter when I get home. I hope you get the baby. But I don’t appreciate you calling my mother. Although this should go without saying, leave her out of whatever happens between us.”
Who was Lori? His most recent girlfriend? Someone he was still dating but didn’t classify as a girlfriend? And what was this about a baby? Had he fathered another child?
The answers to those questions were none of Francesca’s business. Lowering her hand, she scurried back to the bed and tried to ignore the conversation. But now that she was aware of it, she couldn’t avoid hearing the rest, particularly when he raised his voice.
“It’s not up to you to decide that,” he said. “I’ve kept your little secret all these years, the least you can do is have some courtesy when you want something from me…. What’s the rush? Anything I have to say probably won’t matter, anyway. It’s been too long since we were married.”
Francesca sank onto the edge of the bed. He’d been married and divorced since they were together? Somehow she hadn’t expected that. She was quick to remind herself that once she’d turned him loose, he had every right to do what he pleased. It just came as a surprise—and added fuel to her determination to keep some emotional distance between them. He was racking up quite a number of failed relationships….
Not that her romance record was much better. She hadn’t been married or had any children, but she’d drifted from one man to the next. Even Roland, someone she’d dated steadily for over a year, hadn’t meant enough to her to continue the relationship once he started pressing for a permanent commitment. Her feelings never passed “lukewarm” for anybody.
Except Jonah. From the beginning he’d been unique.
“I’ll send it to you when I get home,” he said again. “Until then, I’m tied up with an important case…. No, I can’t meet you…. That’s not true…. I have to go. I’ll be in touch,” he said, and the silence told her he’d disconnected.
Trying to feign sleep so he wouldn’t realize that she’d picked up on so much of his conversation, Francesca crawled toward the pillows, but he came out of the bathroom immediately, catching her before she could settle in. At that point, she thought he might comment on his phone call, since he had to know she’d overheard it, but he didn’t.
“Want to shower?” he asked. “I’d like to grab breakfast before our meeting today.”
She deliberated whether or not to ignore what she’d heard, but couldn’t quite convince herself to do so. “Who’s Lori?”
Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans with the fly half-buttoned, he rummaged through the closet for a shirt. “No one important.”
“You don’t consider an ex-wife important?”
He selected a clean T-shirt. “Not anymore.”
“How long ago were you married?”
“Long enough that I’d rather forget all about it.”
