“Sure, it’s not,” she teased, rinsing Nick’s mug and setting it in the dishwasher. “How did things go with Bree?”
I slumped in a chair, taking a cautious sip of the coffee I’d left on the counter that morning. “I’m pretty sure she’s notFedUp; she’s still in love with Steven.” Vero stuck a finger in her mouth and made a gagging noise. “But she did mention something suspicious. She said Steven ordered the security system before all this business with Feliks. Apparently, some woman had been harassing him, calling his cell phone and making demands.”
“Did Bree have any idea who it was?”
“No, but she said the calls were frequent. She said they started over the summer and got worse through the fall. She said Steven ordered the security system in the early part of October. If we can get our hands on his mobile and look through his call history, maybe we can figure out which number belongs to this mystery woman.”
“How do you plan to do that?”
I drew my finger through the Pop-Tart crumbs on the table as I considered that. “The same way we sneak things away from the kids—we use a distraction.”
CHAPTER 18
An hour later, Vero and I stared at the mess we’d made on the kitchen floor. The cabinet doors under the kitchen sink had been flung wide, all the chemicals, detergents, and cleaning supplies removed and displayed across the countertop. A puddle spread from the bottom of the cabinet, dripping over the lip onto the floor where an artfully arranged landscape of bath towels had been scattered to collect it.
Vero squatted to inspect the pipe fitting I’d loosened. “Who would have thought a plumbing wrench could be so handy?”
A truck door slammed outside. I thrust the wrench into Vero’s hands. “Steven’s here. Hide this somewhere. I’ll keep him distracted in the kitchen. You take his phone and see what you can find.”
I took my time unlocking the front door. Steven stepped inside, carrying a leather tote bag of tools. “I can’t stay long. I’ve got a meeting in an hour,” he said, toeing off a pair of muddy work boots.
“It’s probably just a leak. Thanks for coming.” I stole a glance at his jeans as he shrugged off his coat. No obvious bulges in the pockets. His phone was probably inside his jacket. “You didn’t have to bring your tools. I’ve got a few here if you want to go check out the garage.”
When I looked up, Steven was smirking, as if he’d caught me peeking at his jeans. “If you had the tools you needed here, Finn, you wouldn’t have called me.” He rolled up his sleeves and carried his bag to the kitchen. Vero was waiting inside, her hip cocked against the stove, arms crossed and jaw already set to fight.
“Hello, Steven.”
“Vero.” He spared her a cool glance as he set his tools on a dry patch of floor beside the open cabinet. Flipping on a flashlight, he ducked to look inside. I signaled to Vero over his head, pointing behind me to the coatrack. She nodded. Steven’s voice came from under the sink. “I can already see the problem, Finn. Just a couple of loose fittings.”
“How long will it take you to fix them?” Vero would need at least ten minutes to copy the numbers from his phone.
Steven pulled his head from the cabinet. I hated that cocky grin, all the assumptions behind it. He tapped his flashlight on his palm as he scrutinized me with mild interest. “Those threads are pretty grimy. I could take them apart and clean them a bit. Put some fresh plumber’s tape on them. By the time I’m done, they’ll be good as new.”
Vero rolled her eyes behind him.
“That’d be great,” I said.
Steven reached in his bag for his plumber’s wrench. “Hey, Vero,” he called over his shoulder as he rummaged through his tools. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and clean up that water under the sink. I don’t want to get my clothes wet.”
I cringed at the dangerous tilt of her head.
“Sure, Steven.” Her furious eyes met mine as she squatted to wipe the puddle under the sink. “Why don’t you go get me a few extra towels, Finlay. I’m betting we’re going to need them.”
Vero tossed the wet towels aside with a flourish as Steven loweredhimself to the floor.Go!she mouthed to me, shooing me from the kitchen when his head disappeared under the sink.
Shit!This was not the plan.
I rushed to the coatrack and dug inside Steven’s pockets, scurrying up the stairs to my room with his phone. I thumbed it on as I grabbed the last handful of shower towels from my bathroom, tossing them down the stairs into Vero’s waiting arms. She carried them into the kitchen with a devilish grin.
I stole back to my room with Steven’s phone, pausing over the lock screen as Steven and Vero bickered downstairs. He was a creature of habit, I reminded myself, trying our old joint ATM PIN first. When that didn’t work, I tried the four-digit code to the garage. The home screen opened, revealing a menu.
Tools clanked against pipes downstairs, their argument building to a crescendo in the kitchen. Vero’s voice rang out, alerting Delia and Zach their father was here for a visit. Delighted screams tore through the house. The children’s feet thundered down the steps.
Scrolling frantically through Steven’s call log, I skimmed past the familiar names, pausing only on the incoming calls from women. There had been one outgoing call toBree’s House,in the late hours of Thanksgiving night. Nothing else stood out to me in recent weeks.
I scrolled further back in time, to early October, when Bree had said the calls had been frequent, but most of the calls were to or from Bree—outgoing calls toBree’s Cell,incoming from both her cell and her house, the calls coming and going at all hours of the day and night, interspersed with routine calls from Steven’s work associates, Theresa, and me—no unusual patterns of incoming calls I could identify. At least, nothing that jumped out as threatening or suspicious.
The cacophony grew louder downstairs, the children’s laughter escalating until it was almost frantic. I rushed down the steps,slipping Steven’s phone into his coat pocket on my way back to the kitchen.
