Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(6)
April picked up the article. “I saw this picture before. Who is he?” She brought the red-framed glasses hanging on a chain around her neck to her nose.
In the photo, Conor’s lean face was turned away from Louisa and toward the cameras. He’d been furious at the macabre story-lust of the media. Anger hardened his angular features. With his unshaven jaw, he looked more than a little dangerous. The motorcycle boots and leather jacket contributed to his bad-boy persona.
“His name is Conor Sullivan. His family owns a tavern in South Philadelphia.”
“He lives here?” April pursed her lips and raised a single brow. “Please tell me you’re seeing him and then give me all the details.”
“No. I’m not seeing him.” What would it be like to be with him again? Heat crept up Louisa’s neck.
April raised her eyebrows and considered Louisa from over the half lenses of her reading glasses. “Is he an *?” she asked with her typical bluntness.
“No.”
April made mmm, mmm sounds at the photo. “Scorching.”
Conor’s hotness wasn’t in question. “We don’t have much in common, and we met under such bizarre circumstances. I’m sure he doesn’t have any interest in seeing me.”
April studied the picture. “Louisa, he might not be looking at you, but his body language is all about you. He’s practically wrapped around you. If a man like that was paying me that kind of attention . . . Wonder how he feels about older women.”
Louisa couldn’t hold back a short laugh. “I admit. He is good-looking.”
She bit into her sandwich. April’s distraction had allowed Louisa’s stomach to settle, which undoubtedly had been her assistant’s intention. Louisa struggled to connect with people, but April’s honesty and humor, along with Louisa’s determination to be less of a loner, had eroded Louisa’s resolve like the persistent drip of water on rock.
“Honey, calling that man good-looking is like calling Michelangelo’s David a nice statue.” April fanned herself.
“I don’t usually go for the bad-boy type.”
April shook her head. “That is no boy. That is a man.”
The door opened again, and Louisa’s intern hurried into the office. Though she’d just turned twenty-one, Zoe’s long body retained its youthful slimness. With her long brown hair tied back in a ponytail, she looked younger than her years. Her brown eyes were open wide. “The police asked me a bunch of questions. Why would anyone steal a replica? Its dollar value is relatively low.”
Louisa replaced the picture of her and Conor and returned the folder to her drawer.
Zoe’s face paled. The freckles popping against her fair skin lent a frightened cast to her complexion. “They wouldn’t tell me anything, but it must have something to do with Riki’s disappearance, right?”
“I really can’t say what the police are thinking,” Louisa said. “April and I are going to stay tonight and run a complete inventory on the European exhibit.” It would likely be an all-nighter. “We could use a hand.”
“I have a date.”
Louisa looked up from the sandwich. “Really?”
“You don’t have to act so surprised that I have a boyfriend.” Zoe grinned. “Though, honestly, even I’m shocked he asked me out.”
Louisa smiled. “I’m only surprised because you never mentioned him before.”
Zoe was several years younger than her graduate student peers and suffered from the social awkwardness that often accompanied brilliance. She was an excellent intern, though, except for some habitual lateness. No doubt both those issues would resolve as the girl matured.
“He’s new. Tonight he’s taking me to a hockey game.” Zoe sobered. “But I guess I could cancel if you really need me to stay.”
Louisa and April shared a resigned smile.
“No, you enjoy your date.” Louisa knew exactly what it was like to be desperate to fit into the social environment when you were different from everyone else. “We’ll manage.”
“Thanks.” Zoe grinned. Excitement radiated from her brown eyes.
“Be careful.” As Louisa knew from experience, boys knew how to take advantage of na?veté like Zoe’s. Her settled nerves tightened at an old memory. No. Not the time. She put the old pain back in the dark corner of her mind, where it belonged.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“Have fun,” Louisa said as Zoe bounced out of the room.
Louisa’s thoughts turned to the gruesome photos the police had brought. Was the body Riki or some other poor young woman? Whoever she was, had she thought she was safe? Where and how had she been taken?
And most importantly, would the killer strike again?
3
Would this night never end?
In the basement of the South Philadelphia bar he owned with his three siblings, Conor set up a new keg of brown ale. The old brick floor dug into his knee. Finished, he climbed the steep wooden staircase, passed the kitchen, and went back into the main room.
A cheer erupted at the far end of the bar. A half-dozen college—age hockey fans circled around a table, all dressed in Flyers jerseys. They’d painted their faces with orange and black stripes in support of their team. Conor didn’t recognize any of them, and unlike the usual Sullivan’s crowd, these boys had been overt about flashing their cash since they came in an hour ago. One raised his hand and snapped his fingers for the waitress. The sound didn’t carry over the din, but the superior attitude came across crystal clear. An aura of privileged aggression hovered around the group. While Conor appreciated the dollars in the drawer, this bunch set off his well-developed troublemaker radar.