I guess he moved her to bed first.
He closes the door and lets out a breath.
“I see someone has a new favorite,” I joke, with only the faintest hint of jealousy in it.
He gives me a wry smile. “I was just coming to get you, and here you are, awake.”
“I was lonely on the couch all on my own.”
“You were both sleeping on the couch. Robin just woke up before you,” he admits. “A detective called for her, and she got upset. She’s sleeping again now, and I don’t want to wake her.”
“Huh,” I murmur. “A detective called? I assume you mean on the phone?”
I’d hate to think I slept through a house call from someone like that.
“Yeah, she called the landline. She’s going to visit Robin tomorrow in person.”
I straighten. “What for? Is it about the guy who had her working for him like a slave?”
“It’s about her mother. She died when Robin was young. The police have been trying to find her body so they can charge Ivan Hamilton with murder. There’s no evidence to help with that until they have a body.”
“That’s awful!” I exclaim.
I wince the second I realize I just raised my voice.
“Sorry,” I murmur, frowning. “But it’s fucking awful.”
“It is. Robin lost so much. She’s not okay.”
“But she will be,” I assure him. “Because she’s got us, and we won’t let that asshole get away with what he did. Right?”
Jay blinks at me. “Um, yeah. She’s got us, and we’ll help her through it.”
“And by that you mean, we’ll go find the guy and take care of him, right?” I ask, making a slit-throat motion.
“I think you’ve been watching too many gangster movies, Harp.”
“Seriously. Falcon knows where he lives.”
“He’s in prison, for a start. He’ll be charged with multiple offences, even if they don’t find Robin’s mother’s body.”
“Damn. Don’t we know anyone in prison who could gank him?”
“Gank him?” Jay sputters. “No more gangster movies, Harp. I’m serious.”
“Don’t you kind of want to beat the crap out of him?” I ask, a little insulted that it wasn’t his first instinct.
Where’s his inner caveman when you need him?
“Of course I do,” he admits. “He deserves worse. But it’s not up to us what happens to that creep. He’s in the system now. Let’s hope it chews him up until he’s a bloody lifeless pulp.”
“That’s more like it,” I tell him. “I hope he gets a few shankings in the joint, too, before he’s sent to hell to burn for the rest of eternity.”
“Let’s hope,” he agrees.
The sound of the doorknob being rattled makes both of us jump.
“Not it,” I say quickly.
