Mean Streak(79)

“She verified that Connell had come to see her and only after she had called him.” Sounding defensive, she added, “I enjoyed talking to her. She’s married now. Pregnant with her first child. It was good to hear her sounding so happy.”

He bowed his head low, tucking his chin into the collar of his coat, pained that his sister felt it necessary to make an excuse for enjoying a chat with an old friend. Her loyalty to him had cost her dearly. He probably knew of only a fraction of the sacrifices she had made, and was still making, in order to protect him.

“I’m glad you called,” he said thickly. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t you dare hang up!”

“I’ve talked too long already.”

“You asked about Sarah.”

His heart hitched. “She okay? Jesus, Connell didn’t—”

“No. I threatened him with emasculation if he went near her.”

“And then I’d have to kill him.”

“Unnecessary for the time being. In answer to your question, Sarah is doing great.”

“Still playing the cello?”

“There’s a recital in a few weeks. I wish you could be here for it.”

“I wish I could be too.” A silence followed, and it stretched out until it took on more significance than merely a lapse in conversation. “What aren’t you telling me, Becs?”

When she was twelve and he was fourteen, she’d smacked him every time he’d taunted her with the pet name. Over time, however, she’d come to like it, even though his using it usually signaled a shift in the tenor of their conversation. It was the verbal equivalent of getting to the heart of the matter, of the kid gloves coming off.

“Sarah and I like it here,” she said. “She loves her school. She has tons of friends. The shop is doing well. Outperforming my projections. We’ve made a home here. If I were to uproot us again—”

“I didn’t ask you to uproot the first time.”

“No, it was my decision alone to leave New York. But as long as Jack Connell had me on his radar, he was going to be a pest, and I hated having my life monitored.

“Then, too, Sarah and I needed a fresh start, away from that jerk I was married to. I don’t regret leaving Manhattan.”

She paused to take a breath. “But moving to a different city now, assuming another name, having to lie to everyone in order to establish a new identity, I don’t want to do it again.”

“I don’t want you to either,” he said, meaning it. “Stay where you are, Becs, and live your life. Don’t consider me every time you make a decision. Your happiness and well-being, Sarah’s, that’s all that you should take into account.”

“But now that Jack Connell knows where I am—”

“You can’t betray me to him because you don’t know anything.”

“He doesn’t believe that. He’s certain that I know where you are.”

“Then he’s wrong, isn’t he?”

“And so are you.”

“Am what?”

“Wrong. Something’s going on. What?”

God, she was tenacious. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

Ever attuned to the slightest nuance, she asked, “What did you do this time?”

“You know better than to ask.”

“Just tell me so I won’t have to worry.”

He hesitated, then said, “I got crosswise with my neighbors.” Experience had taught her to read between the lines. She wouldn’t guess that, this time, he was speaking literally.

“Plural?”

“Two of them.”

She made a small sound of regret. “How crosswise did you get?”

“They’re still breathing, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Don’t get nasty. I just want to know what happened.”

“Actually, Becs, you don’t. If you don’t know, you won’t ever have to lie about it.”

“For God’s sake, when will you stop?”

“When I’m finished.”

“Or until someone finishes you.”

“There’s always that possibility.”

She gave a huff of mirthless laughter. “But I’m not supposed to worry?”

He didn’t have a response for that.

“If you’re done there, wherever there is, you’ll be relocating now.”

He looked at the building across the street from where he was leaning against a utility pole. Visiting hours at the hospital were over, so there weren’t as many people coming and going as there had been earlier.

The two men who’d escorted Emory into the ER earlier in the day had driven away in their SUV. The news vans had departed after the press conference. Shortly after ten o’clock Jeff Surrey had left in a late-model European car.

Somewhere in that building Emory was alone, and would be for the rest of the night. That should relieve his mind. It didn’t.

To his sister, he said, “I can’t relocate right away.”

“You always do. Immediately.”

“Not this time.”

“What makes this time different?”

He couldn’t tell her or she would be even more worried and afraid than she was. If he told her about Emory, she would advise him to turn his back, walk away, leave it alone, and do so tonight, now. He didn’t want to hear it from Rebecca. He knew it already.