If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(33)

Maybe he meant the gesture as a kind remembrance of better times. But no matter how beautiful the bouquet, right now I’d rather Lyle had simply sent that deed.





CHAPTER SIX

ERIN

“What do you mean you can’t find him? This town’s not that big, Rodri. He’s broke, too, so there aren’t many places he can hide.” With the phone tucked between my ear and shoulder, I stooped to unlock my bike while half the women in town strolled past. I didn’t care who overheard me, though. Enough was enough. It’d been almost forty-eight hours, for God’s sake.

“We’ll keep looking, but he might’ve split town. In fact, if I were him, I would’ve taken off after stealing your albums.” Rodri chuckled. I did not.

Max wouldn’t have fled to his dad’s. Old Charlie wouldn’t put up with him lying around the living room all day. With no siblings to turn to, that left his mom. Now that had possibility. She babied the crap out of him, resulting in his massive case of Peter Pan Syndrome. Not that either of them saw it. Joan—that was her name—lived in Atlantic City. Twenty-five dollars in bus fare would put him across state lines. That sneaky weasel. “He could be with his mom in Atlantic City. Try there.”

“That’s not my jurisdiction.”

As usual, rules stood in the way of easy solutions. What was it with society and rules? People were always looking for excuses to bend or break them. Wouldn’t it be simpler to get rid of them altogether?

“Get a local cop to pick him up. Or drive me there so we can haul him back ourselves.” I imagined Max’s stunned expression when he opened the door to find us standing there. “I’d love to get my hands on him.”

“That’d be entertaining, but, no, I can’t do that.” He paused. “I’ll be honest. Extradition is expensive and time-consuming. Paperwork galore. You’d be surprised how many people get away with pretty big crimes by crossing state lines. This theft isn’t likely to be something that the department will pursue with much vigor if Max is in Jersey.”

“Well, that sucks!” I stood, holding the phone again now that I’d freed my bike. I needed those albums. Like, needed them to function. That music kept my dad alive for me. I thought better when pairing the right album with a particular problem. I couldn’t move forward without those records. And the whole reason I’d kicked Max out was to get my life together, so I needed this major distraction to end yesterday.

“Sorry. I’ll look into it, but we’ve got bigger crimes to solve. You’ll have to be patient.”

We’ll see about that.

“Fine.” I had to be careful not to give anything away. “Please call me if you learn anything.”

“Erin, trust me. I know what those records mean to you. I’ll do everything I can, okay?”

He meant that, but I couldn’t sit around waiting, especially when I wasn’t bound by his rules.

“Thanks.” I closed my eyes. Rodri had been a good friend for half my life. Tons of people assumed we’d slept together, but we never had. Ours was not that kind of love. Too bad, really. My parents would’ve been happy if I had ended up with a nice, stable cop from a decent family. Instead, I’d chosen Max, who’d turned out to be worse than a simple loser. A heartless, cruel thief. As bad as Lyle, if I were being honest. Boy, that didn’t make me happy. I’d never before considered myself a dupe.

“Wanna grab a beer or something this week?” Rodri sounded distracted, like someone else was waiting for him to finish the call.

“I won’t be good company until I find Max. But call me later. Bye!” I hung up and hopped on my bike, heading for Nuts & Bolts to find Max’s BFF, Joe, a mechanic and fellow stoner. The low-lying body shop had been in his family for two generations. Dingy white paint flaked off the brick exterior like old bark. Not that I cared about its state of disrepair. Joe was Max’s friend, so his family business meant less than nothing to me. Heck, I hadn’t even owned a car since the rusted-out Volkswagen I’d bought at twenty-one finally gave up the ghost two years ago.

In my haste to get to Joe, I didn’t bother locking my bike. Instead I leaned it against the wall and strode right into the garage, coughing from the stench of oil and engines. “Joe Marinelli, get your butt over here!”

Joe popped his head out from under the hood of a nice-looking Cadillac. “Erin?”

He’d pulled his dark hair into a short ponytail, but one section had fallen forward. The baggy work attire didn’t hide an otherwise smokin’ body. Six feet three. Clooney eyes and a sweet smile. Yeah, Joe was a hottie, but not any more motivated than Max. If it weren’t for his dad keeping him employed, he’d probably be sponging off folks like Max did.

I marched over to him, my hands on my hips. “Where’s your lying thief of a friend?”

Joe sucked at poker, as proven by the numerous times I’d beaten him. He had many tells, like, right now, the way he scratched his ear and avoided my gaze. “Dunno.”

“Bull.” I extended my arm, palm up. “Hand me your phone, please.”

“What?” He half laughed, waving me off like I was a powerless little flea. “Why?”

“The phone, Joe.” When he continued to play dumb—or be dumb, I couldn’t be sure—I barked, “I’ve already gone to the cops. Make no mistake, I’ll do anything to get my dad’s albums back, and I don’t care who gets hurt in the process. If you don’t cooperate, Rodri will be here in five minutes to write you up for obstruction.”