Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(27)

Was Zoe Finch dead? What happened to her after he dropped her off at the subway station? Both were questions he couldn’t possibly answer tonight.

He finger-combed his hair and brushed his teeth with the diligence of an obsessive-compulsive. The second he finished, his stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten since lunch. He stomped into an old pair of running shoes and went downstairs. Conor joined Damian at the booth, but he didn’t sit down. The lawyer was digging into a plate of wings.

Pat walked up behind him. He wrapped an arm around Conor’s shoulder and handed him a burger. “I’m damned glad to have you back.”

“I’m glad to be back.” Conor ate the hamburger in a few bites. “Thanks for springing me.”

“Wasn’t me.” Pat shook his head.

Setting the plate on the table, Conor glanced from Pat to Damian. “Then who—?”

“Louisa hooked you up,” Pat said. “You should go see her.”

“It’s late.” But he knew he’d never sleep until he talked to her.

Damian nodded toward the door. “Really, she’ll want to see you. She was worried.”

“She was?” Conor asked.

“Yes. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Damian sipped his Guinness. “Go.”

Conor was already out the door, car keys in hand. Louisa had saved his ass tonight. Why? Sure, he’d thought they’d had a couple of moments earlier, but he could never tell where he stood with her. She seemed confident about her professional abilities, but personally aloof and alone. He had to work to get a hint of the real person underneath all that expensive silk. But the glimpses he’d seen were a fascinating combination of strength and vulnerability. Reading her was like trying to see through frosted glass. After being skewered by Barbara’s lies, lack of transparency made him wary. Louisa was definitely holding back on him.

Yet two minutes later, he was in his car and driving toward Rittenhouse Square.





11


Louisa removed the tea ball from the ceramic pot and breathed in the jasmine-scented steam. Would Conor call? He was home. She’d talked to Damian earlier. The police hadn’t pressed charges. Though Damian warned Conor was still in jeopardy.

The phone on the counter rang, and Louisa jumped to answer it. Only the front desk called on the landline. Everyone else used her cell number.

“Dr. Hancock, Conor Sullivan is here to see you,” the doorman said.

“Please send him up.” She hung up the phone and turned to the dog sleeping on the sofa. “See? I told you everything would be all right.”

The soft knock on the door a few minutes later brought the dog off the couch. Louisa opened the door. Conor stood in the hall. She wanted to say hello, but she wasn’t prepared for the flood of relief into her throat at the sight of him. His hair was still damp from a shower, and he smelled like soap. She inhaled. No fancy cologne, just the scent of clean skin.

He held out a takeout bag. “The doorman asked me to bring this up to you.”

She swallowed. “Thank you. Come in.”

In the foyer, he handed her the bag and crouched down on the tile floor to greet the dog. “Nice place.”

Louisa led the way into the kitchen. The scent of grilled steak wafted from the bag, and her stomach rumbled. “The lease is short-term. Really it’s more than I need, but I didn’t know the city when I moved here. I didn’t want to buy until I decided where I wanted to live.” Though she loved the sleek kitchen, the gas fireplace, and the view of the city.

“Hey, I’m damned glad you’re staying here.” He followed her across the black-and-white porcelain tile. “Looks nice and secure.”

“I prefer a building with a doorman and twenty-four-hour security.” Louisa set the takeout on the black granite counter next to an assortment of designer dog food. She pulled the Styrofoam cartons from the bag. “Please sit down. You look tired. Are you hungry? I have green tea and coffee.”

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” He slid onto a stool. “Thank you for sending Damian. How do you know him?”

“When I first moved here, he recruited me to help out in his teen shelter. I was impressed with what he’s doing trying to get kids off the street and encourage them to stay out of gangs.”

Louisa took a second china mug from the overhead cabinet and poured tea for both of them. “With Zoe’s disappearance tied to the museum, I feel like your involvement is my fault.”

Conor gave the steam a suspicious sniff, then tasted it. He set the cup down. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Opening the food carton, she lifted the steak onto a plate and sliced off a large chunk, which she cut into bite-size pieces. “I had my reservations about using Damian. He works mostly with juveniles. But I didn’t know whom else to call. I haven’t lived here long, and he’s the only lawyer I know. Your brother was frantic.”

“Damian was great. I don’t know how to thank you. We’ll find a way to pay you back.”

She heaped French-cut string beans onto the plate and cut them into inch-long strips. “No need. He owes me.”

Louisa slid the pile of cut-up meat and vegetables into a bowl and set it on the floor.

Conor stared. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t get Kirra to eat dog food.”