Finlay Donovan Is Killing It(Finlay Donovan #1)(66)

He glanced up at me, surprised. “That obvious?”

“Let’s just say I know the signs.”

He shook his head, staring at the sod and mud on his boots. “It’s not just that. I know I’d probably deserve it if all she was doing was sleeping around. But I’m worried that she’s in over her head with this guy. He’s bad news, Finn. I’m afraid she’s going to do something stupid and get herself in trouble. Something that could cost me my business or my kids. The business I could come back from, but I already lost our kids once, and I don’t think I could…” A muscle bobbed in his throat and his eyes shone, reflecting the streetlamp on the sidewalk. “I’m sorry,” he said in a choked voice. “For everything.”

“I know.” I reached out, my hand held open in the space between us. It hung there for a moment before I felt Steven’s cold, calloused fingers in mine. I squeezed them. Not because I forgave him for doing what he’d done. But because this was a fear I understood. Because I shared it. Because of all the things I had to be afraid of right now, this was the one that terrified me most, too.

Steven’s eyelids were heavy. With a gentle tug of my hand, he pulled my swing closer, until I could smell the liquor and fear and hopelessness on his breath. His head tipped, just enough to be an invitation. Just close enough for our foreheads to touch. It would be so easy to lean into him. It was all so familiar, something I could fall into without thinking. I lifted my feet, my fingers sliding from his as the swing pulled me back to its center.

“Are you really dating an underwear model?” he asked through a sleepy, drunken grin.

A smile tugged at my lips. “My attorney would probably advise me not to answer that.”

Steven nodded. He kicked softly at the circle of dirt under his swing, making me wonder if he was jealous. Which made me wonder if that mattered to me.

I stood up, pulling Steven from his swing, making sure he was steady on his feet before letting him go. “Come on,” I said, taking his keys from his pocket. “I’ll drive you home.”





CHAPTER 29





Steven’s key was a warm, satisfying weight in my pocket as I walked home from his town house. When I’d driven him home, I’d slipped his house key off his key ring. It had seemed only fair since he’d kept a copy of mine for a year. He’d wake up tomorrow morning and realize it was gone. He’d tell Theresa some bullshit story about how he lost it, and then he’d nag me about it until I gave in and eventually gave it back. Even if it was only temporary, the sense of control it gave me felt good, and the walk home in the fresh air gave me time to think.

My shoes were soft on the sidewalk, fallen leaves crackling as the breeze tossed them over the light frost on the grass. I froze halfway across my yard, staring at the dark shape lying supine on my porch.

“So tell me,” Nick said, leaning back on his elbows on my front steps, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “What’d you dig up?”

I took a cautious step closer, only releasing my held breath when I caught the flicker of his smile. It billowed out in a white cloud as I sat down beside him.

“You scared me to death,” I said, clutching my chest. “I didn’t see your car.”

He gestured along the street, where the retired cruiser melted into the dark. “Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier. I was tied up. What’d you find out?”

Keep it simple, I reminded myself. As close to the truth as you can. Just enough to keep him busy. “I think Theresa’s having an affair with one of her clients,” I said. “I think that’s who she was with that Tuesday night, and she doesn’t want Steven to find out.”

“If Steven doesn’t know, how did you hear about it?”

“Vero and I staked her out.”

Nick’s lip curled with a wry smile, his laughter coarse and teasing. “A stakeout, huh? Did your sister teach you that?”

“I’ve been on a few ride-alongs,” I said defensively. “I’m not a total amateur.”

His teeth flashed white in the dark. “Okay, Detective. What did you see?”

I ignored the playful twinkle in his eye. “She came out of her office with an attractive man. Well-dressed. Late thirties. Nice figure. Dark hair.”

“And why do you assume they’re having an affair?”

“Their good-bye was a little less than professional.”

“How so?”

“He kissed her cheek, whispered in her ear, and, according to Vero, he was picturing her naked.”

His eyes fell over me with a cop’s scrutiny. “And what exactly does that look like?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Blood rushed to my cheeks. I was grateful he couldn’t see them in the dark.

“So you don’t know for a fact that she’s having an affair with this client. Or that he’s a client at all. Or that she was definitely with him the night Harris disappeared.”

“No, not exactly. But I talked to Steven tonight. He said she’s been spending a lot of time with this guy. He’s worried they’re sleeping together.”

This earned a less skeptical nod. “Do you know the client’s name?”

“No.” The longer Nick chased his tail trying to figure it out, the better.