Loose.
One scotch beyond a light buzz. His mind ticked back to his mother, wooden spoon in hand while making dinner and giggling during a slow-dance with his father. Smack dab in the middle of the kitchen. It should have been a happy sight. Should have been. Instead, it had become something he’d grown used to when his mother hit the vodka bottle one too many times and Dad humored her rather than upset the grieving drunk.
Dysfunction at its highest level.
He brought his gaze back to Taylor and her thrown back shoulders. Nothing loose about her tonight. The federal agent had something on her mind and he wasn’t interested in competing with whatever it was.
“Wicked woman, Ms. Sinclair, but I think you’re distracted. And, if we’re going to end this night the way we did our last one together, I’d like your full attention. Your call earlier have anything to do with it?”
“Your client.” She set the drink down and rested one hand on the back of the sofa. “He’s pissing me off and putting me in hot water with my bosses.”
“I gathered that. What’s the latest?”
She hesitated and—here we go—he’d lay odds they were back to the debate over sharing information and him stealing her cases.
“I shouldn’t tell you, but”—she shrugged—“someone will leak it anyway.”
“Gee, thanks for that trust.”
“Don’t give me that. I trusted you enough to call you this morning. I was going to have you meet me at the scrapyard for some detective work, but you were too busy.”
“I do have a job.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “The CSI unit has been over every section around Felicity’s bones and there’s no baby.”
No bones. Matt’s brain tunneled, hyper-focused on Felicity and her unborn child. He held up one finger. “She was pregnant when she disappeared. How are the baby’s bones not there?”
“Well, that’s the question isn’t it?”
She picked up the drink again, slugged it back and held up the glass, inspecting it under the shadowed light of a floor lamp.
He snatched it away from her. “Let’s forget the drink a minute.”
“Not likely. I’ve had a shitty day. My boss is unhappy because I’ve stepped out of her careful, very rigid boundaries on this case and I have the press breathing down the Bureau’s neck—which is exactly what she told me not to let happen. I’m hoping you’ll make it better for me. In a couple of ways.”
For safekeeping, he tucked the empty glass out of her reach in one of the three square trays on the leather ottoman that doubled as a coffee table. “Have they finished searching? Could the bones have been…moved? An animal could have gotten to them.”
“There’s approximately a few hundred yards still to be searched once they’ve moved the pile of shit covering the ground, but if there was a baby buried with Felicity, the bones shouldn’t be on the other side of the yard. No bones. They’re still looking, but…” her voice trailed off and she shrugged.
“What, Taylor?”
“What do you mean,what?Where’s the baby? I have questions about this woman’s death and yourclientis not only being uncooperative, he’s making the FBI, including yours truly, look incompetent. I want to know what Jarvis is hiding.”
How the hell much had she had to drink? The woman was all sorts of fired up. Matt held out his hands. “He didn’t kill her. He’sgrieving. People do stupid shit when they’re grieving. Which would explain the press conference. Ever think of that?”
“You’re awfully confident.”
Bet your ass. “Yeah. I am. He loved her. And believe me, I looked at every angle. The marriage was strong. They respected each other. Her family confirmed it. Sure, they fought occasionally, who doesn’t? It’s not a smoking gun.”
“I never said she was shot.”
He gave his head a solid shake. “It was a figure of speech. What the hell’s your problem?”
“Myproblem? I’m trying to figure out what the hell happened here!”
“And I’m not?”
For a few seconds she gave him the hard stare. The I-will-incinerate-you look his mom liked to level on them when someone suggested another rehab stint.Well, have at it, sweetheart.Over the years, Matt had become immune to that look.
