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Not at first, of course—but then I’d noticed that the sounds of work coming from the courtyard didn’t stop. Ever. They started at dawn and ended at dusk without break.
It had turned into some kind of contest. If he was working, I was working. The sounds of saws and hammers became an odd soundtrack to religious rituals around the world, and watching him from the corner of my eye became my new hobby.
Thanks to his insane work schedule, the Discovery work was done three days before I had to go back to the library. And I had a headache from glancing at him sideways.
“Jeez,” Juliette whispered through her teeth. “He looks like he’s lost about five pounds.”
“He doesn’t eat,” I said. “Margot leaves out sandwiches for lunch, but he eats them for dinner and I don’t know what he’s doing in the morning.”
Juliette smirked at me. “I knew you cared.”
“I don’t,” I insisted. “But we don’t need him dying on our property.”
“Good point,” Juliette said, looking out the window again. “At least he’s drinking water.”
“Oh, he’s plenty hydrated. Around noon, Katie sits up in the cypress and throws water balloons at him. It used to be orange peels, but yesterday she upped her game.”
“You don’t feel like stopping that?”
“I feel like filling up the balloons for her.”
Juliette watched him out the window for a long moment. “He is one good-looking guy. You sure you don’t want to give me a few details of whatever you two did that night—”
“Did you have a point in coming here?” I refused to take the bait.
“A friend can’t stop by and lust after the help?”
I rolled my eyes and clicked the Send button and then pushed away from the desk, grabbing a bag of candy as I went.
Nothing said celebration like stale candy.
“I talked to Garrett’s and Owen’s folks. The boys insist they didn’t have anything to do with either break-in.” Juliette said.
“Of course they didn’t.” I split a red chocolate between my teeth.
“The parents weren’t much help, but a certain vibe I got from Garrett’s stepmom makes me believe they weren’t so innocent regarding the first incident with the spray paint.”
“There’s nothing you can do?” I knew the answer even as I asked it.
“Not without proof, sorry. But we’ll keep an eye on them.”
I smiled, grim and weary. “You did the best you could.”
“The good news is, the whole town knows about Matt living here, so I’d imagine the break-ins will stop.”
“That’s my silver lining?”
“Well, that and being able to watch him out your window. Seriously, he’s sexy as hell.”
I took a deep breath and gave in to my raging curiosity. “So? What did you find out about him?”
Juliette looked blank. “What do you mean?”
“Matt Woods—you wrote down all that information.”
Juliette laughed. “I didn’t do anything with it. The guy was clearly telling the truth. I’ve never seen a more tortured liar in my life. You could tell it doesn’t come easily to him.”
“He didn’t seem to have any problem the night before,” I murmured. But then, I wondered, maybe all that stuff he’d said in the library was the truth. The mother dying of cancer and his father.
Not that I cared.
“You’re the researcher,” Juliette said. “I thought for sure you’d have him all vetted by now.” Juliette stared at me wide-eyed. “You haven’t searched his name? Not even on facebook? You? You don’t buy dishwasher detergent without looking it up.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Sure you have.”
Again, that silence that seemed to say so much.
“You know,” Juliette said, softly, carefully, as if she knew she was tiptoeing onto thin ice, “the chance of him being married—”
“I know,” I said, but I couldn’t calm the voices screaming what if?
“Is that why you haven’t checked him out?”
“I don’t think I could survive that again,” I said. Ridiculous, as if that particular lightning would strike twice, but I was still scared of typing Matt’s name into a search engine and seeing that picture of the perfect family with Matt’s name in the caption.
The memory of doing just that eight years ago still had the power to bottom out my stomach. “My conscience is about maxed out.”
“You can’t still be blaming yourself about Eric. He didn’t tell you,” Juliette cried.
“It’s my job, Juliette, to find things out. It’s what I do.”
“But why would you even suspect—”
“Doesn’t change anything,” I said, guilt like a nice warm blanket I curled up with now and again.
“It changes everything. You like being a martyr.” Juliette stood, repositioning her gun and badge on her hip. “When you finally get around to finding out who’s living in your house, find out why he got so gung ho about those gems six months ago.”
“He told us,” I said. “His father had just confessed the truth about the theft.”
Juliette shook her head. “I checked Joel Woods out. That man did six and a half years of quiet time. He’s out in six months and now he talks? And not to the cops or his lawyer, but to his architect son. Why?”
