Laurel laughed. “Not likely.”

  “I got you, buddy,” Duarte said from behind us.

  “Dude. Personal space,” I said.

  “Sorry.” He skirted the bar and opened the fridge. He pulled out two bottles of Singha and set them in front of us triumphantly.

  “Okay, I forgive you,” I said.

  “As long as there are more in there,” Laurel said.

  “Don’t worry. I got a six-pack. And we’re working so it’s all you,” Duarte said.

  Laurel tapped the neck of her beer against mine. “So what have you been up to all day?”

  “Reading Fingersmith. And I just got off the phone with Marjorie.”

  “Marjorie?”

  “My mom.”

  “Oh. Weird. How’d that go?”

  “I’m not sure.” I twirled a fat noodle and ate it slowly. “I think I like her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I guess she’s an enjoyable person to talk to. It was just easy.”

  “That’s kind of cool, right?” she asked.

  I thought about that a minute. The whole conversation was too fresh to process. “Yeah, I think it is.”

  “I assume you didn’t talk about like why she left you as a kid or anything?”

  I grinned. “No, nothing quite so substantial. Just books we like and shit.”

  “She likes to read. Of course she likes to read. Is she a poetry aficionado like you?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know. She likes Hemingway.”

  Laurel groaned. “Oh no. Don’t you loathe Hemingway?” She shoved a forkful of noodles into her mouth.

  “Indeed I do.” I took my own bite of noodles.

  The guys were all lounging around. Boyd and Reyes had gone back to their laptops at the dining room table. They’d barely cleared off enough room for their plates. Duarte and Malone were sitting at the bar on the opposite side of the kitchen. There was another laptop between them. Duarte used his fork to point at something on the screen. Malone nodded and made a note.

  “Hey, Laurel?” I said quietly.

  “Yeah?”

  “Why the fuck haven’t they caught Henry?”

  “I don’t know, honestly. As far as I can tell, he’s been a lot harder to track than they expected. He’s surprisingly good at hiding,” she said.

  “That’s what’s throwing me. He’s not that smart.” I’d been thinking about it for a few days. Henry wasn’t built to keep such a low profile.

  “He’s been pretty sophisticated. He’s smarter than you think he is.”

  “I promise you, he’s not. We went to high school together. Dude is an idiot.” I took a drink of my beer and glanced around. The guys were all absorbed in their own tasks. No one was listening to our conversation. “He only got as far as he did in school and the sheriff’s department because he seems really nice and he doesn’t have any qualms about breaking the rules.”

  “So he just cheated his way through?”

  “Yeah. He usually found a girl who wasn’t quite pretty and had her take his notes. He bought his essays. I’m certain he did the same thing in college. Even at the sheriff’s academy, he was doing the bare minimum.”

  “He outran me. I’m thinking he didn’t cheat on the physical portion,” she said.

  “I’ll give you that. Maybe I’m wrong. This just doesn’t feel like something Henry excels at.”

  “Then how is he doing this?”

  “He’s got to have help. The Henry I know wouldn’t have the skills,” I said.

  “If someone is helping him, the feds missed it in their sweep.”

  “That’s probably bad.”

  “Yeah, just a little bit. I’ll talk to Reyes. See what he thinks.”

  ✥ ✥ ✥

  Two beers later, I wanted to blame said beer for my decision-making process, but I was tragically sober. I should have gone to my room and read some Victorian high jinks, but Laurel was watching Alien and Sigourney Weaver was hot.

  It was easier to watch television in the condo with someone. The night before, I felt like I was disturbing everyone’s work. Which I was, but who did paperwork at eight p.m.? With Laurel controlling the remote, the decision had been taken from me.

  Our third beers slowly approached room temperature as we nursed them. I scooted down the couch and put my bare feet on the coffee table. Ripley’s arms were sexy. So were Laurel’s, but I definitely wasn’t thinking about that. Laurel slid down and put her feet up next to mine. She was wearing canvas deck shoes. One of them was coming untied. When the alien burst from Kane’s chest, Laurel twitched. Her shoelace brushed my ankle. I became very invested in that shoelace brushing my ankle. Sweaty Ripley couldn’t even distract me. And sweaty Ripley was pretty distracting. Laurel crossed her ankles and the shoelace shifted to the top of my foot.

  As she watched, she unconsciously drew her thumb back and forth in the condensation on her beer bottle. The corner of the label came loose. She smoothed it down and switched the bottle to her other hand. Her now empty hand dropped to the couch between us. I felt like I could sense the slow tick of her watch inches from my arm. I couldn’t, but that didn’t quiet the imagined rhythmic tick.

  She kicked off her shoes and put her foot up on the couch. I’d almost forgotten how she tended to take up space while sitting. The shift put us inches from each other. Too close for propriety, but far enough that we could pretend it was okay. As long as we weren’t touching it was fine. It didn’t matter that I could feel the heat off her bicep or the whisper of her T-shirt sleeve brushing my bare arm. I could smell the musky bite of her hair product, the warmth of her sweat. I knew how her skin would taste. I knew it would be salty and smooth from the summer heat. I knew how the remnants of the light beer would taste on her tongue.

  I didn’t want her. I couldn’t.

  Except, of course, I did. Watching a movie with her while surrounded by law enforcement agents in a cramped condo was somehow the most erotic thing I’d experienced in the seven months since she’d left. Maybe I should have tried getting laid. But I knew now what I’d known all along: no one would compare. That was my albatross. I couldn’t control falling in love with her. That was beyond me. But I’d forgiven far too many sins. Each time I let her in, I’d fused some part of myself with her. It was impetuous and constant and I could no longer function without her. She was me. And I didn’t trust either of us. So I sat and watched Sigourney Weaver stalk a monster.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I woke up to a handful of photos of Andy and Nickels snuggling and a text from Robin. Someone misses you.

  I looked through the pictures. Andy was curled up in the fetal position. Nickels was sprawled on the pillow next to her with her head tucked under Andy’s chin and her butt pressed against Andy’s forehead. It looked uncomfortable, but Andy and Nickels seemed good with it.

  I hope it’s your mom. Is it your mom who misses me? I asked.

  Yeah, Cash. It’s my mom.

  Robin had assured me when we all packed up that I didn’t need to feel guilty, but I still felt guilty. I’d scattered everyone I loved to protect them. It was exactly what Henry wanted. We were hiding and we were scared. Well, maybe pissed off more than scared. I thought of the dark bruise stretched across Laurel’s throat. Okay, a little scared.

  There was a knock at my bathroom door. I sat up. “Come in.”

  Laurel opened the door. “Hey, sorry to intrude,” she said quietly.

  “What’s up?” I tossed my phone on the bed.

  “Michelson is on his way over here to give us an update. Well, he’s going to give them an update.” She nodded in the direction of the living room. “But we’re going to participate whether they want us to or not.”

  “Excellent. I love crashing FBI briefings.” My phone vibrated. I glanced and saw it was Robin again.

  “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can wait if you need to respond,” Laurel said.

  “It’s cool. It’s just Robin.”

  “How’re she and Andy doing?”

  “Fine. They like Robin’s mom so it’s just a mini vacation at Grandma’s,” I said.

  “She lives out in Jackson, right?”

  “Just outside of town. Andy can walk to the creek. Robin can walk to the main street. Grandma can walk to the wine tasting room. Nickels can look out the window at the birds. Robin says it’s pretty great.”

  “I haven’t been there since we did gold mining tours in elementary school.”

  “That sounds way more fun than Old Hangtown.”

  She grimaced. “That’s morbid.”

  I shrugged. “I never gave it much thought. You know there’s a bar where the hanging tree used to be. They have a fake body hanging from a noose.”

  “What?” She sounded incredulous.

  “Yeah, it’s on Main Street,” I said. Her confusion confused me. The body hanging on Main Street had always been a quirk of my hometown. I suddenly saw it through her eyes. She was right. It was morbid.

  “You’re not serious.”

  “Serious as a hanging tree.” I grinned.

  “Cash.”

  “Honestly, I never gave it much thought until right now. Isn’t it strange how they indoctrinate us with violence? The gold rush was horrific and lawless. We decimated the landscape and the people. And now they send school children to tour the carnage.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I forgot you just wake up like this. No coffee, no morning stretches. Just, boom, systemic power structures.”

  I was formulating a snarky response when Reyes knocked on my door. “Cash, you up?”

  Laurel ducked back into the bathroom and closed the door partially.

  “Yeah, come in.”

  “I just wanted to give you a heads-up that Michelson is on his way over. He’s going to update us on Brewer. Afterward, I’ll sit down with you and Kallen to tell you what’s going on.”

  “It’s cool. We can just sit in on the Michelson briefing,” I said.

  “Uh, no. You can’t.”

  “Yeah, that seems like the best move.”

  “No.”

  “Hey, Laurel,” I called.

  She waited a couple seconds before pushing the door back open. “What’s up? Oh, hey, Lucas.”

  “Reyes was just telling me Michelson is coming to brief them on the Brewer situation. I told him we would sit in on it.”

  “Great. That works for me,” she said.

  “No, that doesn’t work. You two aren’t law enforcement officers. You can’t sit in on an FBI briefing,” Reyes said.

  “Sure we can. There’s no reason we can’t. Plus it’s more effective. We might catch something you all missed. And I have the training. So does Cash from her time as a CI. It’s prefect,” she said.

  Reyes stared at Laurel. She stared back. He sighed. “Fine.” He closed the door.

  “Well done,” I said.

  “I think it was a solid tag team effort.”

  Twenty minutes later, I went into the living room. Reyes, Malone, and Laurel were all discussing our participation in the briefing.

  “Hey, pals, I thought we already figured this out,” I said.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t have civilians sitting in on briefings,” Malone said.

  “Buzzkill, man,” I said.

  Michelson knocked on the door. Malone nodded at our bedroom doors.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Laurel and I went in and closed the door. A second later, Reyes opened it again. We went back out to the living area. Michelson and another agent were getting comfortable at the dining table. The other agent looked familiar. His dark hair was slicked back and his tailored suit couldn’t hide how fit he was. I’d definitely met him before. “Alec.” Laurel shook his hand vigorously.

  “How the hell are you?” When he grinned wide, I recognized him. He was with Michelson in Marysville when the local sheriff decided to detain us. Turned out it was real convenient to have an FBI agent monitoring you when you went to piss on other people’s territory.

  “I’m so good. Really living the life.” Laurel nodded at our cramped surroundings. “You remember Cash Braddock, right? Cash, this is Alec Orr.”

  “Yeah, we met up in Yuba County a while back,” he said.

  “Good to see you again.” I shook his hand.

  “What are you doing here? Reyes said it was just Michelson,” Laurel said.

  “Actually, why don’t you all sit down. Agent Orr is the reason we’re here,” Michelson said.

  “Oh, you want us to join the briefing?” I was aiming for a perfect blend of surprise and honor just to be asked. I nailed it.

  “It will be a whole lot easier if we don’t have to repeat information. And there’s always the chance you’ll catch something we missed,” Michelson said.

  “Wow. Yeah, great idea.” Laurel turned to look at Malone and Reyes. “Don’t you guys think that’s a great idea?”

  Malone grunted.

  Reyes exaggeratedly rolled his eyes. “You know my doctor dramatically reduced my heart medication when Duarte became my partner.”

  Duarte looked up from his laptop. It looked like he was already taking notes on the meeting that hadn’t started. “Really?”

  Reyes sat next to him. “Yes, Jeff, really.”

  Duarte smiled and went back to typing. Boyd and Malone pulled up chairs at the far end of the table. Laurel and I sat opposite them.

  “I think everyone here knows each other, right?” Michelson asked. We all nodded. “Good. Okay.” He flipped open a leather portfolio and turned a few pages. “We found where Brewer was staying for the last two months or so. We weren’t able to get anything from the room he was renting. It was cleared out. But we did manage to get his internet history for the last ten days.”

  “How do you know he was staying there?” Reyes asked.

  “We have video of him coming and going. The bed and breakfast only keeps video footage for two weeks before it deletes. And they only have two cameras: one in the lobby, and one on the front porch. Orr interviewed the proprietor.”

  Orr was ready with his iPad of notes. “Their records show check in and out dates. The owners are an older guy and his daughter. Both of them remembered Brewer.”

  Laurel slowly went still the longer they talked. Her breathing was shallow and rapid. “Which B&B?”

  Orr looked down at his notes, but it looked like he was stalling. “Shaw House.”

  She took a long, deep breath. “Which room?”

  “Across the hall from yours,” Orr said.

  “That motherfucker.”

  “I take it that’s where you were staying?” Duarte asked.

  “Yep.” Laurel was holding the edge of the table. The scar on her hand turned white as her grip tightened.

  “So he’s gone? Again?” I asked.

  The agents and detectives all studied their laptops and notepads and said nothing.

  “When did he check out?” Laurel asked.

  “Two days ago,” Orr said.

  “The day we were moved into the safe house?” she asked.

  “Yep.” Orr nodded once.

  “The same day I asked you to pack my stuff at Shaw House and check out for me?” she asked.

  “Yep.” He nodded again

  “Okay, so someone tipped him off.” I looked around. “We’re all getting that, right?”

  Boyd and Duarte nodded. Michelson hesitated before joining in. “We’re doing a full review of everyone involved in the investigation. I personally did the background on Orr, Boyd, and Malone. That’s why they’re on this detail. I intended to bring in a few more agents, but we’re going to keep it to this core group for now.”

  “What about you?” I asked Michelson. Maybe I was being a dick, but I didn’t care.

  “Actually, I did Michelson’s background,” Reyes said.

  Michelson nodded, then grinned ever so slightly. “Which he didn’t inform me of until afterward.”

  “Did he have surveillance in my room?” Laurel asked. Her voice was subdued. She was clearly terrified of the answer, but I was sure not knowing would have been worse.

  “No,” Orr said definitively. “I did a full sweep. There was nothing in the room.”

  “But there was something?” she asked.

  He nodded. “A pressure plate under the carpet outside your room. He must have installed it at night when no one else was in the hallway. It would have taken too much time to install during the day.”

  “Why?” I asked. Granted, I didn’t know what a pressure plate was, but I felt pretty certain it was a plate that detected changes in pressure. Seemed like you could probably just set it down and presto, it was installed.

  “He took up the carpet in the hallway and put it underneath.”

  Yeah, okay that seemed time consuming. “So he probably wouldn’t have done all that if he could get into her room.”

  “Exactly. And if he didn’t have time to grab that when he left, he didn’t have time to break into her room and take out any surveillance equipment.” Orr made meaningful eye contact with Laurel. “I swear. There was nothing else.”

  She nodded a few times compulsively. “Thanks.”

  “You said you got his search history?” Duarte asked.

  Michelson shook his head. “Better. His entire browser history.”

  “How?” Laurel asked.

  “He started using the B&B Wi-Fi. Their system logged all of it.”

  “Why didn’t he use it before?” Duarte asked.

  “He was probably using his phone as a hot spot. He lost it when he attacked Kallen,” Michelson said.

  “So he’s already being careless?” Duarte was somehow a combination of very sincere and eager puppy. On anyone else it would have annoyed the hell out of me.

  Michelson exhaled loudly. “Christ, I hope so.”

  “When can we take a look at the internet history?” Reyes asked.

  Orr tapped his iPad a few times. “It’s shared with all of you. It’s a big data dump so it might take a sec to show up.”

  Duarte started reloading his screen compulsively.

  “Maybe you’ll find something we missed.” Michelson closed his portfolio. Digital data was not his jam apparently. “We’ve hardly started processing the information. Boyd, Orr, I want you two running background on our tech guys. They will be able to work through this much faster, but I want everyone screened before we bring them in.” Both Boyd and Orr made notes. “Start with Jalen, then Sanford if we need him.”