It was her.
But a car was squealing up to the curb, windows rolled down. Delilah pasted a big smile on her face then turned, casting a look back up to the museum one last time.
We slid into Abe’s car and peeled away.
31
Delilah
Abe and Freya had picked up something spicy and salty smelling that had me faint with hunger within seconds.
“Gimme,” I said, tapping Freya on the shoulder. She passed me a white take-out container and her chopsticks with a silly smile.
“For you, Mrs. Thornhill.”
She handed a similar container to Henry. “And for you.”
The scent of pad thai that wafted up was maybe the best thing I’d ever smelled in my fucking life.
“Details,” Abe said. “All of them.” He looked up into the rearview mirror as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “And well done, you two,” he said softly.
Henry and I shared a happy look. I was still draped in his coat, and when I turned my nose into the collar, I remembered the best smell was actually Henry Finch.
“Here’s what we got,” I said, twirling a noodle around my chopstick. “Henry and I gave her the book, and she didn’t bat an eye at how high-profile it was. Sven is her shadow and carries that portable transport case with him everywhere they go. And we trailed Victoria into an authorized area at the gala and overheard her yelling at someone on the phone.”
“She was instructing them to move something after her party. She sounded furious,” Henry added.
“The exhibit is a little over a week away,” Freya said. “Which means that book is officially hot. If she was smart, she would have already moved it.”
I stared out the window at the red brick row homes of Old City, flickering with gas lanterns. “I think Victoria is smart. She just has a big ego.”
“I’ll give Francisco an update,” Abe said. “Not that he’ll be happy. He told me the FBI has brought in their second and third suspects.”
My blood ran cold. “So they’re working on three?”
“Yes.”
The car was silent as we made a series of turns. Henry leaned his shoulder against mine.
“But no book,” Abe said.
I exhaled.
“Francisco said the FBI wants to run the story in the papers the day after the party. They don’t want to keep it under wraps any longer. They think the public could help, like maybe some unwitting buyer has it and didn’t realize it’d been stolen.”
“Fuck,” I said. “That’s not good for us either. It’ll spook whoever has it.”
“Sounds like our deadline is tomorrow night regardless,” Freya said. “And there has been absolutely nothing online about this that I can find. Whoever has the Copernicus isn’t talking about it, at least not in the communities we have access to.”
She turned around in the front seat. “She definitely said she’d show you her collection?”
“Her exact words were ‘if I have the time,’” Henry replied.
Freya chewed her lip, raked a hand through her hair. “Okay.”
Abe was driving so intently I thought the steering wheel was going to snap beneath his fingers. “We’ll chat plans tomorrow after we’ve all had a good night’s rest.”
We pulled to a stop in front of Henry’s historic, three-story row home. I noticed it had the perfect stoop. “I really like your house, Henry.”
He winked at me in the darkness. “It’s literally filled with books. Wall to wall novels.”
I could picture him there, cozy in front of some fireplace, reading a book with that same look of awe I’d seen on his face countless times. I went to slip out of his jacket, but he shook his head. “I’ll get it from you tomorrow.”
“Oh, okay,” I said awkwardly.
His deep voice reverberated through every nerve ending in my body. “Thank you for the ride. And the dinner. I’ll see you all tomorrow for our big day.” He was speaking to everyone but staring at me. We hadn’t gotten a chance to really talk about what had happened—and now it felt like he was sending me some kind of message.
“Good night,” I said. I watched him stride into his elegant home. Pictured him tugging loose his bowtie; slowly working open each button on his white shirt, pulling back the covers on a bed that would be perfectly warm and smell like books.
“How’s Henry doing with this case?” Abe asked.
“Good,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. “Actually, to be honest, he’s doing even better than I’d anticipated. He’s natural with a target like Victoria. A little awkward in the beginning, but he’s learning how to pivot quickly, think on his feet.”
“I suspected as much,” Abe said. “I think he’s going to make a really great detective.”
“I do miss you,” I said, reaching up to touch Freya’s shoulder.
“I miss you too,” she said. “And I’ve had to be stuck in the office with this grumpy asshole the whole time.”
“And yet I’ve brought you donuts every single day this week,” Abe mused. “Depending on how this case goes, we’ll have to talk logistics of all three of you in the field. It’ll be a new thing for us. Delilah, at this point, would you be opposed to partnering with Henry on future cases?”
I’d just experienced the most passionate moments of my life with Henry in a utility closet. My mind was either hyper-focused on Victoria—or attempting to rationalize my intense attraction to my coworker. I hadn’t once allowed myself to think past the recovery. When I’d have to spend every day at Codex, partnering closely with a man who’d brought me to orgasm and then tenderly kissed my hair.
This isn’t the first time a young female detective has latched herself to a superior officer. Mark had been so fucking smug when he said it. And I’d felt like a love-sick idiot, even though our one-month fling had been very, very real.
I placed a palm on my stomach, attempting to sort out my damaged gut instinct. When I remembered seeing Mark, there was a churning feeling; anxiety, nerves, regret.
I unfolded the memory of Henry brushing his lips sweetly against mine and felt only a tremulous excitement.
“Delilah?”
“Sorry,” I said. “Of course. He and I are developing a decent working relationship. Although my number one is always Freya.”
“You deserve more noodles for that,” she said, handing me another box.
“Who knows,” Abe said, “maybe the whole marriage undercover act will work for something in the future. We should keep those rings, Freya. Just in case.”
“Right-o.” She mock-saluted. “Don’t retire the lovely Mrs. Thornhill yet, Del. You might need her for the future.”
“Sounds good,” I said automatically. Thinking about Henry, as handsome as I’d ever seen him, telling me I was the most beautiful woman in the room. How could I spend the next few cases being fake married to a man that made me feel something so real?
“What do you think is going to happen tomorrow?” I asked, more for myself than anyone else.