“Sweetheart?” He doesn’t bother to keep his voice down because he’s trying to embarrass me. Little does he know, I’m not that easy to shame.
“Problem,poppi?” I goad him by using the nickname his wife, Ana, often uses to address him.
“No problem at all. Just making sure I heard you right.”
I move away from the bedroom to stand in the kitchen, but my gaze returns to the door. While Harlyn was sleeping, I filled Chauncey in on the possible leads that came in last night about our case when I probably should have given him a little more insight into Harlyn, or should I say, us. “Listen,” I whisper, glancing in his direction, “don’t be weird about her being here. She already feels guilty.”
“Guilty? From where I’m sitting, you might be the one who needs to feel uncomfortable. Are you sure you aren’t taking advantage of her?”
I scowl so hard my jaw protests. “No. I wouldn’t do that. I don’t know if I’m pissed at you for thinking it or impressed that you’re making sure she’s okay.”
Chauncey nods, and his familiar grin returns. “The fact that you’re saying that tells me all I need to know.”
“And knowing me for the past five years wasn’t enough?” I retort, not expecting an answer.
The door to my bedroom slides open slowly, and a slightly tousled Harlyn emerges. Her eyes seek me out first, and I have the satisfaction of watching her bunched up shoulders relax when she finds me. The urge to motion her over and tuck her under my arm is strong, but with Chauncey’s words fresh in my mind, I think better of it. She meanders into the kitchen, not coming as close to me as I hoped, but she’s certainly putting more distance between herself and my friend.
“Hello,” she greets, her voice still smoky from sleep.
“Hey, Harlyn,” Chauncey responds as if he knows her. In truth, he probably feels like he does, at least a little. He’s been reading up on her sister’s case for the past few days right along with Kel and Frank.
“This is Chauncey. We work together, but he’s also a friend.” Chauncey’s eyes widen in shock before he recovers quickly, plastering a charming smile on his face and extending his hand toward Harlyn. She looks over at me quickly before stepping closer and accepting his hand in a brief shake.
“Nice to meet you, Harlyn.”
“You too.” She steps back again, keeping a fair amount of distance between herself and Chauncey. It kills me to know how cautious she is and why, but I’m also appreciative because it may have very well kept her alive over the past year.
“Chauncey has been helping me sort through your sister’s case. What’s available to us, anyway.”
“And what Frank has dug up.”
“Is that why you’re here? Did you find something?” She sounds so damn hopeful, I hate that I’m going to have to ruin that.
“Not this time.” Regret tinges my words. I wish like hell I could tell her that the guy fucked up along the way, but the truth is, I haven’t investigated Hayzel’s case enough to pick up any leads yet. I’ve been focused on making sure Harlyn was safe, but now that she’s here, that will change.
“I’m so sorry. That was insanely selfish,” she says.
“Not really,” Chauncey tells her before I can voice it. “We just need a little more time. Everyone makes mistakes, and we’re damn good at finding them.”
Harlyn’s lips move into a flat smile of acceptance before the room falls into silence that isn’t quite awkward, but isn’t comfortable either. “I need to go into work for a little while. He’s here to pick me up.” I hoped to get a few more things in order for her before leaving her alone, but there are things I need to do from a more secure connection which the office computers will provide, as well as open official channels in Hayzel’s case, and only Mickey can give me the clearance to do that.
“And I’m not just a chauffeur or a pretty face. I also brought this.” Chauncey pulls a tablet out of a messenger bag on the seat next to him. There’s a beat-up purple case on it that he explains quickly. “This was my daughter’s before she got her laptop. It hasn’t been used in a while, but Ana reset it and made sure it was charged this morning.” He stands up and slides the device across the counter, closer to Harlyn.
“All my tech is for work, and when I mentioned ordering something for you last night, Chauncey offered to let us use this. I figured you’d like to get some of your life back sooner rather than later. You can get your new email registered with your accounts and make new passwords for the things you can access,” I say while Harlyn looks down at the tablet. Her hair is blocking her face, so I can’t read her expression. It makes me question if I should have just bought her something new.
“That… Thank you. That was so thoughtful.” She spares me a glance that lets me know she’s talking to me before adding, “And so kind of you to let me use it,” in Chauncey’s direction.
“It’s a couple years old, but it should work just fine for most things.”
“A phone is what you really need, but that will need to be handled in person, along with your bank stuff. I thought we could do that later this evening.”
She nods, and I ignore the glossy sheen in her eyes that looks suspiciously like tears.
Chauncey turns around to gather his bag. “I’m going to grab the car and meet you out front. It was nice meeting you, Harlyn. I’m sure we will see each other again soon.”
“You too,” Harlyn calls to his retreating back as he heads down the hall. Less than two seconds later, the heavy door to my apartment closes, leaving us alone for the first time since she woke up.
The urge to touch and kiss her is strong, but her crossed arms are now tucked up under her breasts, and she’s working really hard not to look in my direction. Is she mad that I didn’t warn her before Chauncey showed up, or is she upset that I’m leaving?
