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“I won’t keep you. Just for a minute.”
“Excuse me.” Tackle slid from the booth and followed her into the bar area.
“Her name is Nick?” I asked.
Knox’s gaze followed them. “I remember now; it’s actually Claudette.”
“Why does he call her Nick?”
“It’s her last name. Everyone called her that back in high school. Although, that isn’t her name anymore. She’s married, but of course I can’t remember her husband’s name.”
“Why were you talking about her?”
“I thought maybe that was the woman Tackle was interested in. Then I remembered she was already hitched.”
I grimaced. “Hitched? Who are you?”
“Quit busting my chops.”
“Sure thing, King Cliché.”
Knox didn’t appear to have heard me. His focus was on Tackle and “Nick.”
“Oh, shit,” he said under his breath.
“What?” I leaned forward at the exact, right moment to see Tackle embrace her. “They have history?” I asked.
“You can’t tell him I said anything.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
“They were on and off in high school. He’s always had a soft spot for her.” Knox took a drink of his beer. “He’s headed back this way.”
“Listen,” Tackle said without sitting back down beside me. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but there’s something I need to do.”
“Go ahead,” I said without looking up at him.
“I’ll catch up with you later?”
I saw from the corner of my eye that Tackle was looking at me, but I had no reason to catch up with him later or any other time.
“Bye,” I said.
“You need…help?” Knox asked him.
“No, but thanks. I’ll call you later.”
9
Sloane
I managed to avoid Tackle throughout the rest of the holidays by staying at my friend’s place in Boston. She was off on another trip, this time to Europe. I offered to sublet her apartment since I was staying there so often, but she laughed. “My dad owns the building, Sloane. It isn’t like I pay rent.”
This afternoon, I was on my way to Newton to say goodbye to Knox. He’d called earlier to say the missing-person case he was working on was taking him out of town. I’d told him I had to swing by the office first, but I hoped to be to him by noon or one.
“Thanks for driving over,” he said when I walked into the house. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” I hugged him hard and looked down at his bag that sat at the bottom of the stairs.
