“I do.” He pointed to a very detailed map he’d drawn. “The next delivery is on the West End.”
“I see that. TheSea Goddess, tomorrow night.”
“That’s right,” he said, rolling his shoulders as he gave her long look that spoke louder than any words. She was to stay far away from that boat. She recognized the warning instantly fromthe set of his features, her editor gave it to her often enough. But it was one she’d ignore.
Instead, she dropped her chin and studied the carefully dated and recorded deliveries. “And you’ve traveled to these other ports and seen these drops all over England?”
“That’s right,” he answered. “They have a regular pattern of delivery, barring a major storm, of course.”
“And the goods? You’ve tracked where they go. Who buys them?”
“Yes, I have an extensive list of buyers.”
“That’s good.” She nodded. “When you bring the villain to justice, you’ll be able to give the crown a lengthy list of people who might want to hurt you after.”
He gave a quick jerk of his chin. “If I can find him. Like I’ve said—”
She held up her hand. “You will. And soon.”
“Rebecca,” he said, shaking his head. “The problem is that he’s smart enough to stay far away from the goods and the daily workings. He runs this business exactly as he did the legitimate one, from afar.”
Rebecca understood. But she’d also had years of training on the paper of searching out leads. What was more, she listened to the other journalists, the ones who took on gritty stories, and there was one failsafe way to discover a perpetrator of nearly any theft. “You’ve forgotten an important avenue of investigation.”
“What?” he asked as he stared down at the papers scattered across the table. “I can tell you how many bolts of silk, pounds of opium, containers of jade have been brought into England.”
It was true. He’d been very thorough. “I agree. You’ve painted a detailed picture that will surely convict. There is no doubt.”
“So? What have I missed?”
She looked up at him as he leaned closer. She’d forgotten how drawn to him she was. Even now, with him over her like this, she wanted to lean up and kiss him. Lose herself in the strength he effortlessly conveyed.
She focused on the papers again, attempting to ignore her racing pulse. “What, Rebecca? Tell me,” he said. “I know you were always better with solving the mental puzzles, but I’ve had investigative training. What’s more, I’m the one who’s been a spy for the past six years. Did I actually miss anything, or are you just saying that?”
Had she wounded his pride? She likely had. She looked up at him again. Bennet was strong, competent, intelligent. He had nothing to worry about. She was uncommonly good at putting together puzzles. Always had been. “You forgot to fully track the money.”
“What?”
She sighed. “The money. When the vendors pay for the goods, the money has to make its way back to the top. Always does.”
“It’s not that simple.” He started raking a hand though his hair. Then he gave a tired sigh. “I’ve tried.” He pointed to some sheets. “It goes to the sellers and then disappears. I’ve attempted to follow its trail, but it’s a ghost.”
Rebecca understood. She’d felt that way about Bennet’s death too. But it had turned out that she’d been looking for the all the wrong clues. If, for example, she’d tried to find a live man, she might have had more luck. “Sometimes ghosts have bodies,” she whispered as she arched a brow.
“Damn—I mean, blast.”
She smiled. Was he holding back a curse word on her behalf? He needn’t. She’d spent the last three years in the world of men. Her coworkers had ceased holding back in front of her ages ago. Unless it was a good story—they still held those back.
“Does that mean you think I’m on the right course or the wrong one?”
He reached out then, sliding a hand over her palm to cup her cheek. She tried to ignore the tingling that spread through her at his touch. “You know very well that you’re correct.” He sighed. “I wish I had thought of it sooner.”
Did she comfort him? Kiss him? Her gaze slid over to the small bed in the corner as she licked her suddenly dry lips. “It’s late. I should go.”
He gave a stiff nod as he dropped his hand and stood. “You’re right.”
Then he started to pick up all the sheets, carefully arranging them into a neat pile that he slid back into the envelope, and placed it back into the wall.
He opened the door. She walked in front of him, turning to say goodbye, but he followed her out, closing the door behind him. “I don’t need you to walk me home—”