Page 35 of One Wrong Move
Christian smiled at the concrete timing.
Tad narrowed his eyes. “Why on earth are you smiling?”
He wasn’t telling Tad that Cara recalled the man, but what she said had just been confirmed by Tad. The space had been renovated when the man came in, but it wasn’t to see the renovated space. He was casing the new collection. “It means the thieves had to have cased the place within the last three months, which gives us a window of video footage to watch. It’ll take a while, scrolling through for a single man....” He’d fill Andi in when it was just them. He didn’t trust Tad, and his distrust was growing as the case proceeded.
“I thought there were two men,” Tad said, then rose rushed his cheeks. “I called Joel, and he said the video showed two of them in Jeopardy Falls.”
“He was talking about the heist. You only need one to case the place,” Christian said. “No sense sending two when one will do.”
“Okay. Well, now what?” Tad asked.
“We watch the video footage of this heist.” Christian stretched. He doubted it lasted more than an hour. Whoever the men were, they were good. Good enough to obtain Tad’s fob, break into his Jeopardy Falls safe, and turn the alarm off. And they were brash—hitting a second gallery in the same night. “Then I’ll stake out your Taos gallery.”
“We’llstake out your gallery,” Andi added.
“Is that really necessary?” Tad asked, swiping his nose.
Christian narrowed his eyes. That little liar. Hedidknow something. “I think we’re going to need to have a chat before we go.”
“About?” A clueless expression filled Tad’s fake-tan face.
Christian linked his arms over his chest. “Your involvement with the heists.”
“My—” Tad squeaked. “My involvement,” he tried again, but only managed one octave lower.
SEVENTEEN
AN HOUR LATER,Christian held the gallery door open for Andi, and they darted through the still-pouring rain to Deckard’s Equinox. Every time she saw the man’s car, she pictured his condemning face. That he and Christian were brothers seemed surreal. From her short interactions with each, there were more differences than just their last names.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a grown man squirm like Tad did,” she said as Christian climbed into the driver’s side. “I’m sure he knows more than he’s saying.”
“Agreed.” Christian raked a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back from his face. She warmed despite being drenched in the cold rain. He had the most handsome profile.
He moved to start the ignition, then froze.
“What’s wrong?” Then she saw it. The envelope on the dash—on the inside of the car. They’d been there again, and this time it was even more intrusive. They were growing bolder.
“Hang on,” Christian said. “I’ve got gloves in the back. We’re going to need to give this to the Feds.”
Which meant more interaction with Adam. Just what she needed, and on this weekend of all weekends. She no longer loved Jeremy. That love had ceased long ago, but the sting of his marrying another on what was to be their wedding day still burnt her heart. “Couldn’twe just give it to Joel?” she asked, knowing that’s not how things worked.
“Nope. We’re out of Joel’s jurisdiction, and they’re on the case now.” A kindness filled his eyes.
Great. He could pity her now. But his expression wasn’t one of pity, but of ...compassion? “I’m gonna have to crawl to the back to get the case if I don’t want to get drenched again.” He shimmied sideways between the seats. “Sorry,” he said as his legs brushed her.
“All good,” she said as an unexpected warmth shot through her. She scooched back against the door, so he had more room, but he’d already tumbled into the backseat and was leaning over it to the rear of the vehicle. It took him a rustling moment, but he sat back up with two pairs of gloves and a plastic evidence bag in hand.
“You come prepared,” she said.
“PI gig,” he said. “Never know when you’re going to come across something.”
She scooched her back flat against the passenger door as he climbed back over and landed in his seat with an oomph.
Sliding the gloves on, he handed her the second pair and the evidence bag and then reached for the envelope, flipped on the interior vehicle light, and held the envelope between them.
Andiwas scrawled across the front of the envelope—in what looked like a woman’s handwriting. Her chest squeezed. “I don’t understand why it’s addressed to me.”
“Could it be someone you busted in the past?” he asked, rain pelting off the steamed-up windshield.
