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“The security guard?” Carter says, probing. “He’s a person of interest.”
“Uh, yeah. The Kyle, Chad guy? Did the other security guards figure something out about him?”
In mere seconds, I’ve gone from thinking there is no way Connor could’ve stolen the artwork to realizing he might have and then pumping Detective Carter for information because I’m scared . . . for Connor.
Petty theft is one thing. A major art heist is quite another.
He’s in some serious shit here, and so am I.
Carter shakes his head, sighing. “Not really. I wondered if you maybe remembered something that could be helpful? Or you said you were going to continue your own . . . investigation.”
He makes it sound like I’m Nancy Drew trying to play with the big boys. It’s insulting, but I’m too damn scared to be insulted.
What do I say? What do I do?
I have all these feelings for Connor, and I know he has them for me too. They’re in the way he looks at me, the way he strokes my neck. The way he only had eyes for me as he toasted the neighborhood walking group with his coffee. I saw it in his eyes, even in that dark truck. I know that for sure.
My gut struggles with what’s right here, though. At first thought, I should tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth and let the chips fall where they may. Lying is wrong. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I want to protect Connor, save him, even from himself.
So even though I’m not sure it’s the right thing, I cover for him. “No. I never found out anything useful.”
Carter blows out a breath. “Sorry to hear that.” While it’s a good huff of disappointment, he doesn’t seem sorry. It’s like he expected that I would be useless at tracking someone down.
“Are you looking for him now?”
Carter nods. “Of course. Don’t worry, Poppy, we’ll find him.”
Poppy? When did we start going on a first-name basis? “Good luck with that,” I say just as condescendingly.
“Thank you. I’ll definitely let you know as soon as we have more information to share.” When I don’t bow down, thanking him for the kindness, he asks, “Hey, how’s your book going?”
I blink at the sudden subject and tone change. “Uhm, good?”
He pauses, clearly looking for more information for some reason. When I don’t offer anything further, he adds, “Glad to hear that. I’d love to read it sometime. What’d you say the title is?”
“Love in Great Falls. I’m working on the sequel, which I should probably get back to . . .” I trail off, suddenly very uncomfortable with this whole conversation. I can’t decide if Detective Carter is flirting . . . or if this is still a conversation about the stolen property.
It’s a lot to take in, and I need to process all this.
Because I’ve fallen in love . . . not with a petty thief but an art thief . . . who’s been lying to me all along.
But Carter seems willing to drop it for now. “Sure thing. I understand. I’ll be in touch.”
I nod slowly. “Bye, Detective Carter,” I manage to stammer out, sounding mostly normal. But going back inside, I’m freaking the fuck out.
What if they figure out that it’s Connor who stole my laptop and the painting? What if they track him next door? What if they realize that we’re dating . . . and telling people that we’re engaged? They’ll think I’m in on it. Especially after I lied to the police about seeing him again.
“What the fuck am I going to do?” I whisper, peeking out my fisheye lens like a total paranoid nut to make sure he’s left. “Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck . . .”
I start pacing the living room, which wakes up Nut and Juice. They look at me worriedly, probably wondering why the hell their mama’s gone crazy this time. They’re the ones who’re supposed to run in circles, not me.
“What do I do?” I ask them, but all Nut does is yawn and lie back down. “Thanks for nothing, you fuzzy little monster!”
Juice climbs off the couch, coming over to lick my foot. It tickles, and when I wiggle my toes, Juice thinks I’m playing, but this is no game.
I start my pacing again, panic rising and thoughts scrambling around faster than a cow in a tornado.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
Chapter 21
Connor
I’ve done all the internet research I can, and now it’s time to get eyes on my target.
I’ve adjusted my features some, like I normally do. First, I put in colored contacts, making my eyes look brown, then hid them behind a pair of designer, slightly gaudy nonprescription glasses. A small insert between my gum and upper lip adds a subtle amount of weight to my face, and a clip-on earring in my left ear pulls attention away from the rest. All added to my black suit with a purple striped tie that’s an attention grabber, I’m a much different version of myself.
