“Before I am skewered, please introduce yourselves to the sixth member of our team here in London. Sloane Argento, a PI from Brooklyn currently working to find Bernard with the McMaster’s Library.”
I was positive that Henry had already informed them of this on the plane. But, still, the very real looks of surprise, then intrigue, then mutual admiration that flowed across their faces reminded me of just how emotional—just how vital—this case was for us all.
They took turns shaking Sloane’s hand.
“Dr. Henry Finch, former special collections librarian.”
“Delilah Barrett, former police detective.”
“Freya Evandale, proud Quantico drop-out.”
“Sam Byrne, former special agent.”
Sloane shook their hands, maintained strong eye contact. And unleashed the wide, charming smile that was her trademark. Every member of my team melted toward her like flowers to the sun.
“It’s nice to finally meet all of you,” she said. “I own my own investigative firm in Brooklyn, and I’m being paid by Henry’s old boss to catch Bernard. And I’m truly looking forward to calling Abe on his epic bullshit with the rest of you.” She cast her eyes at me. “Skewer, if you will.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Freya drawled, propping her hands on her hips. “Now how did you meet our Office Dad again?”
“It is a mathematical impossibility for me to be your dad,” I interrupted.
Sloane’s smile only grew, her shoulders relaxing. “I picked his pockets, tailed him across the city, and accidentally booked a hotel room right next door to his.”
Four heads swiveled toward me as one. Four sets of eyebrows shot right up.
“Seems like those Hawaiian shirts did the trick, huh?” Freya shrugged.
“No comment,” I said.
Delilah flagged down a passing server. “Any chance you can send a bottle of wine to our table? And yes, we know it’s breakfast time.”
36
Abe
Once seated, our table was piled with an odd assortment of tea, wine, and scones with jam. Beneath the table, Sloane’s leg was pressed to mine in a silent show of support I appreciated more than I could say.
Across the table, the familiar sounds of teasing and messy affection among my team dragged forth a feeling I couldn’t deny was yearning. I’d gone and missed them, even though it had been barely a week since I’d seen them last. And now they’d gone ahead and flown across the world to fight my fight before I had even, technically, asked.
Again, their devotion reminded me of that beautifully wrapped gift—only this time, I wanted to work on my ability to open it. Enjoy it. Not be afraid to receive their loyalty and affection. I wasn’t a betting man, but I’d place my money on this new openness being Sloane’s doing.
“So forty-eight hours is all it took, huh?” I asked, spinning my teacup between my fingers.
Delilah smiled at me above her wine glass. “It was the night we pulled an all-nighter to close The Black Stallion case. There was way too much alcohol and coffee involved and combined.”
Henry grimaced. “Worst hangover of my life, actually.”
“It had kind of been our office inside joke,” Freya continued. “The only time Abe would ever dare to go on an actual vacation was only if he could catch Bernard Allerton while doing it.”
Next to me, Sloane made a kind of hmmmmm sound. Hiding a smile, I placed my palm on her knee and squeezed.
“And as much as we all support you in breaking your workaholic habits,” Sam said. “You’re not the kind of guy who would enjoy ten days of leisure.”
“You’re a hunt a man to the ends of the earth kind of guy,” Freya continued. “Which is why we adore the shit out of you, of course.”
“And here I thought I was being slick,” I said mildly.
Henry glanced at Sam. “That night, all of us punch-drunk and up late, Sam got an email from his contact at the FBI.” Henry dropped his voice immediately. “The email contradicted what had been sent earlier and now listed London as one of the highly likely places where Bernard could be. And it’s only been nine weeks since The Empty House case, and I, for one, feel like we’re closer to catching him than ever.”
Henry leaned across the table—the look on his face so open, so trusting, it only made me feel like more of a bastard for keeping things from them. “You might not remember this, but the night that Delilah and I recovered the Copernicus from Victoria’s house, you told me that you often needed to hear your own advice when it came to Bernard. As our boss, you repeatedly reminded us that getting the damn book back was all that mattered.”
“That I could be unnecessarily prideful in my thirst for revenge,” I added—because I did remember that conversation and how conflicted I’d felt at my righteous anger. Worried it would obscure the focus of Codex, which was always rescuing the book over capturing the thief.
Four sets of heads nodded with knowing looks. “Call it a bloodhound instinct,” Delilah said. “But it didn’t take much to get us from there to sitting right here. The worst that would happen is we found you relaxing by the pool, and we spent a few fun days with you in the city.”
“It’s hard for me to ask for help,” I said.
“Yeah we know,” all four replied in unison.
“I’m loving this by the way,” Sloane added.
I brought my hands together on the table, looked each one of my team members in the eye.
“When I was deciding where to go, I received an anonymous email from an agent at the FBI with information they felt confirmed, without a doubt, Bernard’s location here. And not just here but within a two-mile radius of The Langham Hotel and the Sherlock Holmes museum. Surveillance reports attached to the message checked out. Those other reports Sam had received about his credit card use I believe to be a red herring.”
There was an explosion of whats and are you serious and what the fucks. Delilah crossed her arms, looking rightfully irritated. “And why the hell didn’t you tell us? Seems pretty crucial, Abe.”
I chanced a glance at Henry, who seemed genuinely hurt. “I am truly, truly sorry for keeping this from you. What I’ve done, my actions, none of that reflects the kind of leader I pride myself on being. I’ve always valued integrity above all else. In that, I failed you.”
Now Sloane’s hand rested on my knee. Before I could doubt the gesture, I dropped my own hand beneath the table and curled my fingers through hers.
“It’s challenging for me to admit how personal catching Bernard feels to me; it’s challenging for me to admit I’ve always wanted to be the one man to do it where everyone else had failed. It would be the ultimate fuck you to the Bureau and to everyone that doubted private detectives could be as successful.” I swallowed past the urge to stop. “I had no money, no warrant, no client, no jurisdiction. I was comfortable risking myself. Much less so risking all of you.”
I set my eyes on each one of them, didn’t shy away from the mixture of loyalty and anger I saw there. “Unlike my previous statements, I do feel more than a mild affection for all of you. Tomorrow, nothing could happen. We could take a massive swing and miss again. The thought of asking all of you to have hope one more time…”