ROWAN
“Software engineers, my ass,” I grumble, staring out the passenger window of a nondescript car from three houses down. “Gabe, tell me something.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you had your home broken into, and the only thing ransacked in your ridiculous place was your safe that held a very specific diamond, would you be throwing a party right now?”
“No, sir.”
“Didn’t think so.”
I sent the diamond to our special investigation unit. They’re the ones who identified the bloody onesie, the blanket, and the diamond from the tiara. But I took a picture of it and sent it to Sebastian, and he just about lost his mind. He wanted to come join me here, but he knows he can’t with Bellamy being so close to the end of her pregnancy, Emily just returning home, and Marcella being there.
“There.” He points. “Look.”
I watch as someone steps onto the front porch, smoking what looks to be a joint and talking onthe phone.
“Fuck. Why didn’t we bug the house?”
“Because the police were with us.”
“Right. Them. Incompetent twits that they are. Thank God.”
If they hadn’t been, we might not have the diamond without anyone knowing about it. If word had leaked about that or our involvement, it would have set us back and likely wouldn’t be as far along as we are.
Gabe takes pictures of him, but even with our windows down, we can’t hear. We’d have to get out of the car and attempt to sneak close enough to listen, but with the tight proximity of the homes to the street—and to each other—there’s no way that would work. This is the sort of neighborhood where everyone knows everyone else’s business.
“We should interview the neighbors.”
“They’re being paid off.”
I turn to him. “You think?”
He gives me awhat do you thinklook and then nods back over at Smokey Joe getting higher than Everest. No one is calling the police. No one is complaining about the noise of the party in this residential neighborhood on a weeknight.
“If that’s so, then why did the back neighbor ring the police?” I ask, rubbing at my jaw as I think this through. “Do we know?”
Gabe stops taking pictures and goes into some sort of crazy app he has on his phone. Likely something illegal that’s hacked into the police, but I don’t care, and I don’t ask.
“They phoned at midnight that a person wearing all black terrorized their dog when it barked at them, and that they saw them walking through their backyard, opening their gate, and then entering the house through the back door. She said her neighbors were out of town and she was concerned.”
“Hmm. So she knew that they were away and called the police. Do we know where these people were?”
“I’d need my computer for that, sir.”
“That’s your mission for tonight or tomorrow before we return.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Gabe?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know I hate it when you call me that, right?”
His lips bounce, the whites of his eyes gleaming against his dark skin. “Yes, sir.”
“Fucking asshole.”
