I trailed off—smacking hard against my limits of emotional vulnerability. Between my night, and morning, with Sloane and this hard conversation, my body felt like a marathon runner’s at mile twenty-three.
“It’s hard to risk the ones you care about the most,” Freya said softly.
Nodding, throat tight, I managed, “It’s no excuse. Please, forgive me.”
“I think we can make that happen,” Sam said. “By lording it over you for months and accepting your apology gifts.” He flashed me a shit-eating grin. “Sir.”
“Of course,” I promised. “A genuine bounty of donuts awaits.”
I was still focused on Henry, who had yet to say a word. Now, he was shaking his head, a tiny smile on his face. “I can’t say I haven’t had those same dreams. I get it, I do. But we’re doing this together, Abe. Like we were always supposed to.”
I let out a big exhale of relief. Placed my hand on Henry’s wrist, who clapped his on mine with a look of understanding I wasn’t sure I deserved yet. He was right, though—Henry and I had inadvertently started this journey together, sitting in that claustrophobic room at the McMaster’s Library. We would get him—together.
“Sloane and I have a lot to catch you up on. We’ve had an interesting few days, to say the least. We believe Bernard will be making a move on a collection of Arthur Conan Doyle’s private papers tomorrow night. We’ll need every idea, every strategy, and all the help we can get. And tonight, we were invited to a fancy auction party held at the very same place where we believe the move is going to take place.”
A familiar feeling settled between all of us at this tiny café table—electric and exciting, thrilling and wild. Reunited, a team again, with only our biggest case yet ahead of us.
I would never again doubt that I needed them in my life.
With a sly grin, Delilah said, “Let’s get the damn book back.”
37
Sloane
Abe scrubbed a hand down his face—looking momentarily tired—before straightening. Crossing his arms, he nodded at the four private detectives assembled in front of him in our hotel room. “Plan. One more time. Go.”
Delilah tapped her pen across a notebook, pointed to the large white paper on the wall. Codex had packed light and smart—most of the items in their suitcases were designed to create a mobile office, which was good since everything Abe and I had brought was either soaking wet or totally destroyed.
“Eight is the start of the auction. Sloane and Abe will be there accompanying Humphrey and Reggie with their undercover personas, Devon and Daniel,” she said. Delilah grabbed Freya’s shoulder. “It’s a public event, so Freya and Sam will be attending with a cover as two Sherlock-loving tourists from America here for the spectacle of it all.”
“Freya and I are putting the finishing touches on our cover now,” Sam said. “We’ll have everything memorized by the time we show up. And we’ll be pulling together a disguise as best we can. We’re stepping into an audience with people who could recognize us as Codex agents, given some of the people in attendance might be opportunistic book thieves.”
“Good,” Abe said. “Disguises should be a requirement. Give nothing away, listen as best you can. My and Sloane’s covers have already been blown, so the night will be a tense one. If anyone else at this event recognizes me as a private detective, or any of you, we need to agree ahead of time on our exit plan.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said.
“And we have promised to be cheese farmers from Vermont who run weekly classes of goat yoga,” Freya said soberly. “Winifred and Winston are our names.”
I grinned at Freya’s joke, and she flashed me a cartoonish wink. We’d been sitting in this room for close to seven hours now, with the exception of stopping to eat. And I was slowly learning that I liked them. Henry was this bright light of intelligence; his adoration for literature was an extra glue tying this team together. Delilah was calm, assured—and behind those eyes was a sharp intellect well-matched with her partner and fiancé.
Freya was playful and silly, and her big, messy heart was evident in her sisterly affection for everyone. And Sam, her boyfriend, was her perfect counterpart in every way. Smart, serious, competent. And clearly obsessed with her.
I was still jealous of their fondness and teasing spirit, but Abe’s obvious trust in me seemed to unlock an instant confidence from them. Those age-old feelings of being kept out—of not understanding—were the source of the jealousy. Seeing groups of friends like this at NYU, or out in the city when I was working, always incited a yearning in my chest. But now, sitting here, being myself and working toward a common goal, there didn’t appear to be anything else I needed to do except enjoy their company.
“Pleasure to meet you, Winnie and Winston,” I said. “Daniel and I would love to take goat yoga one of these days. Bucket list, and all that.”
“I can’t imagine the Abe Royal would abide something as chaotic as a goat,” Sam said. I cast a look Abe’s way—noted his effortless posture, his gentle charisma, the utter ease of being the one, the center, the leader. These seven hours of non-stop strategizing had flowed around him like he was a boulder in a river. No wonder they flew all this fucking way to help.
“Goats are not my friend,” Abe said, idly touching his cufflinks. “Now keep going.”
Smirking, Delilah looked down at her notes. “The four of you at the auction will be targeting entrances, exits, weak points. Observing, as Abe said, and keeping a close eye on Eudora Green, James Patrick, and various terrifying security guards. I’ll be in the parking lot, taking pictures of the space, noting who’s coming and going and any back entrances we should be aware of.” Delilah pinned Abe and me with a serious look. “Given that your cover is blown, at least for Eudora and Peter, you should stay with Humphrey. No more fighting.”
“Del will handle the fighting,” Henry said proudly. “And I’ll be here, keeping an eye on things and gathering any extra evidence for the real auction tomorrow.”
In a tag-team effort, Abe and I had filled them in on every last detail, starting with my weeks of working the Sherlock Society and the items we’d discovered in Bernard’s office. We covered Eudora, Humphrey, the fire, the attempted mugging, the attack at the cocktail bar, the notes, the code words. Throughout it all, the four detectives listened, asked thoughtful questions, compiled ideas and bounced off each other with a practiced skill.
I was fucking astonished. Not once had I ever had the purpose of a high-functioning team demonstrated to me the way I had on this day.
During those hours, we’d learned right away that Henry could still be recognized everywhere in this city. During his time working with Bernard, he’d met Eudora, met Humphrey, attended a handful of lectures at the Society from time to time. So he was our silent sixth partner, working behind the scenes.
“Keep pulling through the files Sloane brought from Bernard’s office,” Abe said. “And if you can start mapping out where we’ll be tomorrow night, that would help. The auction is our hot spot, but Adler’s, Mycroft’s Pub, and 221B Baker Street are still places of interest.”