He huffs out something that might be a laugh.
“Ask your friend how they know,” he says. “Then we route what they say to Brady. You don’t promise them anything. You don’t make yourself look more connected than you already are.”
I type.
how do you know about the shelf
A beat.
friend on the rescue team. they’re not supposed to talk but people talk.
they said her arms were—
The cursor blinks.
Then:
nvm. forget it.
“Not ominous at all,” I mutter.
“You can pull prints from that handle later,” Bran says. “For now, we work with what you’ve got, and we let Jack do his job in the field. You are not going up there.”
“I didn’t say I was,” I lie.
He doesn’t look away from the screen. “Don’t even think about it.”
“If we go up there we can—”
“That’s for Jack and his team. I feel certain they have it roped off, anyway.”
“Probably.”
I yawn and turn my attention back to the computer, fingers poised over the keyboard as I consider my next move. I jump when Bran’s hand settles over mine, warm and steady.
“Let’s call it a day on that note. It’s getting late, and you’ve been at this for a while.”
“But—”
“What was our deal?”
I regard his uncompromising gaze. I could argue. I could probably nag my way into working as late as I wanted to. But I am tired, and giving in gracefully might earn me brownie points for a later time.
Grumbling only a little, I put my computers to sleep.
Done with that, I look around my small studio. “I…ah…there’s just the one bed; I’m sure you noticed.”
Bran’s gaze is inscrutable. “The couch will be fine. Go to bed, Tallulah.”
I give him a jerky nod. “I’ll grab you a pillow and blanket.”
“Tallulah.”
I lift an eyebrow from where I’m leaning over the bed to grab a pillow, partially hidden behind a folding partition.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn the light off and go to sleep now.”
NINE
