“Oh, thank you, thank you! I knew right away that I would love you.” Emma waved her arms in the air, as if the concert was already underway. “Can I take one of my roommates? It’s a long drive—not to mention she’s also a huge fan.”
“Go for it,” Casey replied with a wave of her hand. “Just be innovative about what you tell her. No giveaways.”
“Of course not. I’ll tell Brynn that I accidentally brought my office’s recyclables home with me. I’ll throw the bag into a recycling container on campus. She’ll be too excited about the concert to even hear my explanation, much less see what I’m doing.” Emma’s eyes were still glowing. “Wow, she and I are going to have a blast!”
“I’m sure you will.” Yoda spoke up again. “Since this is your first stay near the campus, I’ve compiled a list of appropriate and safe hotels where you and your friend can stay.”
Ryan chortled at that one. “See how protective Yoda is about you, Emma?” he teased. “I’m not your only FI big brother. And, by the way, do you even know how to drive?”
Emma made a face at him. “Yes, I can drive—in my cool secondhand Mazda3, which is jet black and in near-mint condition. I’ve also got long-term parking a couple of blocks away from my apartment in Chinatown, which I can now afford. When I’m in the city, I take mass transit. When I travel outside the city, I drive. I’m a damn good driver, too. And I don’t need a red Corvette to do it in, like some showoffs I know.”
“Burn!” Claire was openly laughing. “She’s got you there. Any snide comeback?”
“I’m sure I’d have one.” Ryan was pushing back his chair. “But duty calls and the clock is ticking. So it’s back to the lair for me. Yoda? Are my laptops en route?”
“Indeed, Ryan. Josh was most cooperative. He did say you owe him one, though.”
“Okay, no problem. He and I will figure that out another time. Meanwhile, I need you to monitor the laptops’ delivery progress. Send me a message if any time deviations occur en route.”
“Understood.”
Ryan beamed. “Excellent. When the laptops arrive, I’ll shove one of them in a black bubble mailer, then inside my laptop duffel, and weigh it. I’ll give the weight specs to Emma. She’ll prepare identical black bubble mailers for everyone. Then, you can start putting magazines in them, stuffing it all into your bags or briefcases, and gassing up your cars.”
17
Offices of Forensic Instincts
Ryan’s Lair
Tribeca, Manhattan, New York
Thursday, March 16, 7:10 a.m.
The timer on Ryan’s cell phone sounded.
He dragged his gaze away from the System76 that he’d been hard at work programming since two thirty a.m. For one moment, he stared stupidly at the phone, wondering why it was bugging him. Then, he remembered. Time to call his mom, to let her know he wouldn’t be able to get away from his lair today, and to give her time to break that news to Kennedy. Because he knew his sunshine. Even though his promise as to when he’d be returning had been vague, she’d be expecting him sometime today. And, because of what was about to go down, there was no way he could indulge her.
His mom would ask why he couldn’t come.
He’d dodge the question.
She’d get the picture.
But Kennedy wouldn’t.
Shutting off the annoying alarm, Ryan dragged both hands through his hair, rising only to stretch, and then to pour himself yet another cup of crappy coffee from his own mediocre coffeemaker. He didn’t have time to go upstairs and get himself a pot of the good stuff—even though Yoda had brewed one. Maybe later. Now, he was flying on adrenaline and on a roll, working his butt off to achieve his goal.
Thanks to Claire, he had a great alternative to pass along to his mom, who would, in turn, pass it along to Kennedy.
Claire had presented the idea to him sometime around four thirty a.m.—the first and only time she’d interrupted his work. She’d eased into the lair, waiting patiently to be noticed.
When Ryan sensed her presence, turned his head, and peered at her through red-rimmed eyes, she’d shoved a mug of the A+ coffee brewed upstairs at their Jura station into his hands, and plopped a steaming box of pizza on the nearby table.
“Hey, thanks,” he’d said, his mind still on the software he was writing and installing. “I skipped dinner. You probably just saved my life.”
Claire had nodded. “No problem. But that’s not the only reason I’m here. It occurred to me that Kennedy is going to expect you to visit. If not tomorrow—sorry, I mean today—then Friday, since it’s St. Patrick’s Day. I know you’ll get there by evening, but she doesn’t. So I wanted to run a suggestion by you. Since Kennedy and your mom will be hanging out alone today, I thought I’d go over and keep them company. Your whole family will be there tomorrow. But today might be lonely. I’ve finished my pressing work, plus all I need to get ready for Casey’s and my trip to Central Park tomorrow. So, after I go home, grab a shower, and get a few more hours’ sleep, I have plenty of time to fill the void.”
An expression of sheer gratitude and relief crossed Ryan’s face. “That would be awesome. You really wouldn’t mind?”
