Chapter 27
I climbed the perfectly painted steps and knocked, careful of my bruised hand. I hadn’t even noticed the large contusion near my thumb. Stupid explosion.
Mrs. Brannigan stood there, smaller and smelling of cookies, green eyes clear and a crown of gray hair piled high. She pulled me inside in one swift motion and hugged me until I could feel the thump of her heart. “Anna, you sweet girl. How’s Aiden Devlin doing?”
“He’s going to be okay,” I said, patting her petite back carefully. “A stomach wound and a concussion, but he’s already feeling better. He wants to get out of the hospital and right now.”
“Yes. Well, you know men.” Mrs. Brannigan tutted. “My George would be the same way. He’s probably out gardening, though he did put his back out last month.”
I shared her frown. “I hope he’s okay.”
“Of course. I bought some of your Nana’s healing balm for him.” She shut the door behind us with a soft click. “What are you doing here, darling girl?”
My gaze flicked from the polished entryway to the old fashioned living room, where Cormac sat with the Timber City Gazette splayed across his knees.
He wore jeans and a brown cable-knit sweater that somehow fit him.
I could see this guy looking at home in everything from an expensive tux to a flannel.
He lifted his head and smiled when he saw me, an easy tilt to the expression that never reached his eyes.
“I believe Miss Albertini is here to see me.”
“I am.” My chin lowered.
Mrs. B patted my arm and leaned in. “Oh, my. Is this about a case, Anna? You’re always having such grand adventures.”
I forced a smile. “It is for a case, Mrs. B. Right, Cormac?”
“I said to call me Mac. Would you like to go for a walk?” He gestured toward the door.
“Yes. I could use some air.” The room smelled faintly of lemon oil and old paper. Outside, the sky was clearing, but the ground still steamed where the rain had hit. I zipped my coat higher and shoved my hands into my pockets.
Mrs. Brannigan fussed. “Do you need a scarf?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you.” I walked out the door and he followed, the wooden steps creaking under our weight. I led him around the side of the house to the walkway of decorative rocks that followed the river.
“I asked your sister Donna out three times,” he said as the river rushed by next to us. “She said no all three times.”
“My sister has impeccable taste.” I kept my voice light. The river shoved itself past the bank, swollen and fast, pulling everything along with it. The trees along the walkway dripped, and a bitter fresh scent rode the air.
He glanced sideways at me. “I’ve found no evidence that she’s dating anybody.”
“Well, then. Either you’re not as plugged-in as you think, or maybe she just doesn’t like you.”
His smile seemed easy. “You don’t find me charming?”
“Nope.” Charming. Smooth. Safe. None of that fit him in the way I wanted. “You’re something,” I said instead. “Are you with the CIA?”
He shrugged. “I’m freelance these days. Not with the Agency.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you’re naturally suspicious,” he said, easy, like he’d known me long enough to read my face. The wind pushed at our coats and flung a handful of wet leaves into the path ahead. I wrapped my fingers tighter inside my pockets.
“Am I? Why am I here, then?” I felt like we were playing chess, but I’d only had enough sleep to play Go Fish. Would he tell me the truth?
He watched the river a moment. “I think you want to know how I found out about the tunnels.”
I stopped walking. A pair of fawns threaded through the trees, careful and small, and for one ridiculous second I was taken by how the world kept making normal things no matter what had happened the night before. Then I turned back to him. “Yes. Tell me.”
“Same way you investigate anything.” He had a thoughtful look now that juries would love.
I shook my head. Why was I thinking about work? “How so?”
“I talked to people and then examined city and building records. It made sense something ran underneath town.”
Fine. “So where are the boxes?” I asked.
He stopped and looked at me the way other people look at a sudden wet patch in a room that shouldn’t belong. “I don’t have them.”
“You don’t,” I echoed. I could feel the heat in my palms that came from anger. “Don’t lie to me.”
He lifted a shoulder. “I’m not. Why in the world would I take them? I wanted the reward money, and you found the boxes, so it’s yours.”
Right. Like I’d make my grandparents pay me.
“I don’t believe you,” I snapped.
The wind smashed against us both. “I think you do.”
Darn it, I kind of did. “As a collection item, the boxes are worth more than the reward money. Heck, even melted down for silver, they’re worth a lot more.”
“I don’t melt or ruin beauty,” he said instantly.
My chin lifted. “I think that’s the first thing you’ve said to me that isn’t calculated.”
“Wrong. I don’t lie, lass.”
That wasn’t the same as calculation. “You and Rory used to work together. At the CIA?
“Used to work together, and I can’t tell you where,” Cormac said. “Not anymore. I’m freelance now and I work for myself.”
I wanted to press, to turn his words inside out until something real fell out. Instead I watched him pull a phone from his back pocket and press it to his ear.
“Hey, it’s Mac,” he said. “Can you pull CCTV from the Timber City Hospital? From yesterday afternoon until early this morning. Yeah—make it until six a.m. Get me the whole feed.”
He clicked off and his gaze snapped back to me. “Some of it will be available,” he said. “Not all of it.”
“Who are you?” I asked. I didn’t want to let him breeze away with half answers.
He smiled, not fully, and put the phone away. “Already told you.”
“You have a hacker who can obtain CCTV?” I asked, because it seemed the next logical question.
“Everyone has one,” he said, as if that settled it.
I thought about the way he’d said it, the ease of his voice. “Did you just call my cousin?” Pauley couldn’t be hiring out to strangers, could he? Panic heated my breath.
Cormac snorted. “Rory couldn’t hack his way out of a paper bag.” His eyes crinkled like he’d just told a private joke.
“Different cousin,” I whispered.
“No. My hacker isn’t related to you in any manner.”
We walked on in silence for a minute, both of us listening to the same river and the same wind, but I had no clue if he was hearing the same thing as me. Without agreeing, we turned around and strode back to the driveway.
He smiled, that slow, confident tilt that lacked the dimple. “Tell you what.”
I crossed my arms. “What?”
“If I find the boxes before you do,” he said, eyes gleaming, “you make your sister go out on a date with me.”
The wind lifted my hair, tangling it across my face, and I shoved it back, glaring. “You’re so desperate for a date you have to make deals to get one? That’s just sad.”
He grinned, unbothered. “Desperate? No. Determined.”
“Donna wouldn’t date anybody who tried to bribe me first,” I said, half amused, half irritated. “She’s got better taste than that.”
He leaned back, his eyes shifting to more blue than green. “You make a good point.”
“I usually do.”
For a moment, the wind was a strong sound along with the river rushing against the bank and the occasional cry of a jay from the trees. The air smelled like pine sap and wet earth, cool and rich. He shoved his hands in his pockets again and looked toward the water, his expression shifting.
“All right,” he said. “New deal. If I find the boxes before you do, you invite me to one of those Sunday night family barbecues at your parents’ place.”
My jaw actually dropped. “What? You want to come to family dinner?”
He nodded, and I couldn’t read him.
I narrowed my eyes. “How do you even know about our weekly dinners?”
He smiled. “People talk.”
“People seem to talk to you a lot,” I muttered, studying him. There was something too knowing in his expression, like he collected secrets for sport.
“Part of the job,” he said.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “All right. Saying you didn’t steal the boxes this time. Why do you think somebody wants them so badly anyway?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
I was missing something. “To steal them twice? That’s too dangerous.”
“They’re silver,” he said blandly. “You can melt them down, make a decent amount.”
I shook my head. “Baloney. If that were true, they wouldn’t have been left behind in an alcove in the first place. Whoever hid them didn’t do it for profit.”
He watched me closely, his gaze thoughtful. “What’s your theory?”
“I’m lost,” I said softly. The thought settled in me like a cold stone.
His jaw flexed. “Then we’d better find them.”
“I plan to.” I turned toward my sweet Fiat. An idea hit me. A real one, and hope flared inside me along with anticipation. Out of nowhere, but at least I finally had a direction.
“Anna—”
But I was already moving, boots crunching against gravel. I picked up my pace, and when the ground sloped toward the parking area, I broke into a jog. The cold air bit my cheeks, the wind pulling at my hair as I moved.
“Hey.” Cormac called, and when I glanced over, he was running easily beside me, not even breathing hard. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” I said, quickening my steps.
“How about we work together?”
I slowed near my car, yanked open the driver’s side door, and turned to face him. “Nah. You’re totally on your own, Cormac.” I meant about more than the boxes.
His smile stayed in place, but his eyes sharpened. “Suit yourself.”
I started to get in, but he caught the edge of the door and leaned down just enough that his voice dropped low. “Honey, I find things for a living. I’ll find those nugget boxes for you.”
“If you do,” I said, lifting a shoulder, “give me a call. Maybe we’ll work something out then.”
He let go of the door, still smiling.