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“Couldn’t hurt,” I agreed. If Cordova had made the call, I trusted she’d gotten everything she could out of them. But if Captain Booker had done it…
There was a good chance Felicity had just found a stone left unturned.
It was one of many loose ends we’d been left holding onto. Melony had gone unnoticed at Morrow Manor long enough to figure out where the boys were and when it would be easiest to take them. The guards at the gates swore they hadn’t admitted anyone who fit her description, especially not on motorcycle.
And the only outsiders they’d let in that day were the nannies from that so-called, highly vetted, prestigious agency. Felicity was right. It was the most obvious source, the glaring gap in our frontlines that Melony had managed to wriggle in through. She’d only had to use violence on her way out.
But how did a supposedly deranged, delusional woman manage to sneak into such a high-end operation? Either Doris had been lying about Melony’s mental state, or that agency wasn’t as above-board as we’d been led to believe.
“They’re giving you info, then?” I asked.
“They’re being friendly. Probably worried that if they don’t keep us placated, we might sue.” She flipped her head upside down and shook her hair from the towel. “Maybe we should. They’re emailing me a list of the employees who were scheduled that morning. It’s something, at least.”
I frowned. “Clint has that, doesn’t he? I remember when he turned it over to the cops.”
“He has the list of names that showed up. They signed in at the gates. If there are any discrepancies between the agency’s schedule and the sign-in sheet… I don’t know. I guess it still wouldn’t explain anything.” She moved to the window and pulled back the curtains, staring out into the dark of the night like she was waiting for something to emerge from it. “I just wanted to try and feel useful for a change. It’s probably nothing.”
“No, Cheeks, that’s sharp of you. Any information we can get is worth having right now.” I placed my boots aside and rose. I moved behind her, my hands sliding down her waist, my cheek brushing against her temple. “You are so—”
She stiffened at my touch, and my voice fell off. It was only then that I remembered that this kind of intimacy between us—touching, caressing, moving naturally—was one of the things we’d lost.
For two people who’d known each other for more than half our lives, we were so much like strangers now. The gulf of our grief had pulled us apart, two bodies trapped in different riptides.
Only, here I was, holding her.
“So what?” she breathed.
She didn’t pull away.
“So brilliant,” I breathed back.
My mouth went dry as I searched for something else to say—some other compliment that would make this moment last a little longer before it slipped through my fingers and slithered away.
There were a million things I loved about her. I could have rattled them off like I was making a grocery list for the perfect woman. But just then, none of them felt right.
In that moment, her best quality was how perfect her body felt against mine again. To admit that, however, would mean acknowledging the way I’d been feeling its absence, too.
I didn’t want to start a fight.
“How’d the blockade go?” she finally asked, turning to face me.
Ah. I’d taken too long. The moment was gone, anyway.
“The way I thought it would.” I rubbed the back of my neck, already missing the softness of her waist beneath my palms. “It took her a while to show her face, but Doris did give me a little to go on in the end. I’m not sure if it’ll amount to anything, but…”
I pulled the piece of paper out of my back pocket and offered it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked, unfolding it.
“An address to a place Melony’s mother owns in Texas. If it exists, it’s a lead.”
“We could certainly use one of those right now. What about this number?” She turned the paper my way. “The name?”
“A bounty hunter. Doris suggested him. I’m thinking about giving him a call.”
“A bounty hunter?” Her eyes widened, then narrowed, a sharp line creasing the skin between her eyebrows. “Is that…safe?”
“He’s professional, from the sounds of things. Ex-military, so he probably runs a pretty tight ship.” I wasn’t sure that ‘safe’ and ‘bounty hunter’ were two words that normally belonged in the same sentence. Bounty hunter and results, on the other hand? Well, we could hope. “Doris trusted him enough to send him after her husband when he went feral.”
