Don't Look for Me(54)

I’m not going to help you make them bigger, he’d said to her as he walked away from her room.

No one else had understood why she did the things she did. It wasn’t in any textbook. But Reyes knew because he’d lived it as well.

That explained so much about him—how he exuded confidence and swagger, pulling women in. Probably sleeping his way through the county. But also why he was the only one who seemed to give a shit about finding her mother. And why he was so loyal to Chief Watkins, who had saved his life by giving him a second chance at being a cop.



* * *



A young woman was at the front desk.

“Can I speak to Roger?” Nic asked her.

She smiled politely. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No.” Nic was insistent. “It’s important.”

The woman picked up the house phone. “Hold on,” she whispered. Then, into the receiver, “Our guest asked to see you…”

Then a nod and a smile as she hung it up.

“He’s in his apartment,” she said. “It’s the second door down the hallway.”

She pointed to the hallway that began just beneath the stairs.

The door was already open when she got there, Booth greeting her with a burst of surprise, and an “Oh my!”

“What?” Nic asked.

He motioned toward her face, her hair. “It’s cold out. Your hair is wet.”

“I didn’t bring a hair dryer,” Nic said.

Booth looked confused. “There’s one under the sink.”

“I didn’t know. Can I come in?”

Booth hesitated, glancing behind him as though checking to see if his home was worthy of visitors.

“Do you have company?” Nic asked. “I can come back.”

Booth looked nervously at the floor. His cheeks turned red, and when she studied them they also seemed chapped from a recent shave.

Shaved. Neatly dressed. Smelling of cologne. All just to sit in his apartment or work at the diner. He really seemed to have no idea about what this place was like, Hastings.

“No, no,” he said. “Nothing like that.”

He stepped aside. “Come in. Please…”

His apartment was no bigger than her room upstairs. A bed, a small sitting area. A bathroom. The only addition was a wall of kitchen appliances near the window that faced the odd patio out back.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked.

“Do you have coffee?”

“Instant?”

“Sure,” Nic said, taking a seat at the table.

Booth put a kettle on a small gas stove. He prepared two cups on the counter—one with instant coffee grinds, and the other with a loose tea strainer.

“Hangover?” he asked.

Nic felt her heart jump. Had he seen them last night? Nic and Reyes, walking up the creaky stairs to her room? Reyes hadn’t stayed—but Booth may not know that. He would have heard them talking as they walked the stairs. He would have heard two sets of feet. And then silence, perhaps, if Reyes descended more discreetly.

Booth studied several canisters of tea before choosing one. They were lined up perfectly on the shelf.

“It’s much better, you know? Loose leaf tea,” he said.

Nic watched him, lost in her thoughts. And her fears about what he was now thinking.

He filled the strainer. The water boiled and he poured it into the cups.

Milk and sugar were on the table, but he brought saucers and spoons.

Nic sipped the coffee as she looked around the room. Booth was busy fixing his tea just so—one and a half spoons of sugar. A long pour of milk. A meticulous stir.

“Do you live here all the time?” she asked. There weren’t many personal effects. And hardly enough closet space for a few days of clothing.

“Yes,” he answered. Then he understood why she was asking.

“I have a second room next door. I keep most of my things there. I know it’s an odd arrangement, but I don’t see much point in renovating. I don’t mind it, and who knows? One day we might get busy again and I’ll need these rooms for guests.”

Nic looked at him carefully. Did he really believe that? After a decade-long spiral into an economic graveyard? How deep into this fantasy was he?

But none of this was why she was here.

“Remember when I went for that run?”

Booth smiled, causing his glasses to slide down his nose. He pushed them up with his middle finger.

“Of course. You escaped the bears and wolves.”

Nic smiled. “Yes. But I also found the fence my father saw.”

“Oh right. The fence.”

She heard Reyes now, in her head, telling her not to do this. Not to speak to Booth about his neighbors or Daisy Hollander or anything else from the past.

What had he said? That Booth was wound tight as a drum.

Then—just wait for me. The house on Abel Hill Lane had not been on the search log—and it was not a registered address. It had no street number. He’d promised to run the utility searches first thing this morning, then take her back to Laguna to get her car. Then they would go to town hall. He said he would help her get through the red tape, whatever that meant. How much red tape could there be in Hastings? It was one parcel. Still, she’d promised to wait and go with him. They would find out who owned the place. Call them, ask about the night of the storm. They couldn’t search it without a warrant, but they could stop by. Knock on the door.