“What?” He crouched next to her as she took a picture, then used her gloves to pick up something bronze and shiny, fallen against the curb of the street.
“I think it’s a cuff link.” She turned it over. “And, it has a crest on it.” She looked up. “Sigma Chi.”
“You are simply brilliant, Eve Mulligan.” He smiled at her, something so big in his expression, it fell through her, pinning her to the spot.
Everybody was simply, terribly wrong about Rembrandt Stone.
“Rem! Let’s go!”
He jerked, as if he came back to himself. “Thanks, Eve. I’ll find you later.”
I’ll find you later.
She watched him go. Yeah, okay. She might like that.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. She was pitiful.
She turned back to the crime scene to bag the evidence. Spotted her father looking at her, his jaw tight.
Yeah, well, he wasn’t in charge of her life—
And that’s exactly what she wanted to say as he came up to her, as she was bagging and labeling the evidence. But the words clogged in her throat.
“Your Mom is hoping you’ll stop by for dinner tonight.”
“Can’t. Have to work late—” She didn’t look at him.
“Lucas will be here from Chicago—
“Dad,” she turned to him. “I’ll be there this weekend, okay? For the Fourth of July party. I promise.”
His mouth tightened, and apparently he just couldn’t stop himself from looking over his shoulder, at Rembrandt, then back to her.
“Eve—”
“I know, I know. Rembrandt Stone is trouble.” She closed up the bag and put it in another. “There’s just something about Rem—Inspector Stone—that just—”
“Stop. He’s not a science experiment. And I know you love a good mystery, but stay away from this one. There is something about him that I just don’t trust.”
“Dad. You don’t know him.”
“Neither do you. I want you to keep it that way.”
She watched him head back to the scene and talk to Silas.
Problem was, she loved a good mystery.
8
I haven’t lost it.
Three years out of the force, and I still know when someone’s lying. And right now it’s Dr. Lindgren from Planned Parenthood who is trying to tell me she’s never seen Gretta Holmes before.
I have to be careful because no one has identified her yet, and the slip of her name might alert Burke the hound dog to keep sniffing around the comment he made as we walked over to the clinic.
C’mon, Rem, how did you know she’d be there?
He said it casually, easy, as if we were continuing a conversation from earlier, and I recognized an interrogation technique that I very nearly fell for.