He nearly told her. It surprised him how much he wanted to spill his guts. Maybe she was better at running a con than he’d thought.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said.
The elevator doors slid open and let out two officers and a harried-looking geek with a laptop bag and a scowl. Morena stepped back to let them pass, and while she was distracted, Jacob dodged behind the geek into the car and insistently hit the button for the ground floor.
“We will solve Harry Clayton’s murder,” Morena told him through the closing gap of the door. “If you didn’t do it, don’t let Syntech bring you down with them. If—”
The doors bounced together, and Jacob leaned back against the wall. His head dropped back and bonked against the polished steel, and he stared up at the ceiling as the elevator lurched toward the ground.
Shit.
He made his living with words, the use and abuse of them, but right then he only had the one.
The whole situation was shit. He wasinthe shit. The job had gone to shit, and he had to work out what the fuck to do about it.
Okay. Two words.
The elevator jolted to a stop, and the doors opened and let Jacob out into the hall. He pushed himself off the wall with a huff of effort and let himself out. After the dim ecofriendly lights inside, the midmorning sun half blinded him. It didn’t stop him from recognizing the man who leaned against the hood of the sleek blue Chevy parked by the curb. Simon wore his off-duty uniform of jeans and a white shirt, and Wayfarers covered his eyes.
Jacob envied them as he squinted one eye shut and lifted his hand to shade his face.
“I thought we’d done our good-byes?”
“That was when we thought we could wrap this up quietly.” Simon pushed himself up off the hood. “Beforeyougot arrested and Syntech ended up all over the news. Now we need to talk. Get in the car.”
Jacob hesitated and twisted his mouth regretfully. “No offense, Simon, but the police turned up awfully quick after you left last night. I think I’d rather wait for my lawyer. I need to discuss her leaving me high and dry in jail, for a start.”
A straight eyebrow quirked over the dark sunglasses. “Allison Moynihan, right? Same lawyer you called at Syntech that night.”
Jacob didn’t answer. Apparently he didn’t need to.
“She’s not coming,” Simon said. “Her car was run off the road last night. She’s in the hospital. Whoever is behind this, Jacob, they aren’t going to let you jet off to Bali. So. Get in.”
Once you let yourself feel guilt over one thing, it apparently took it as an open invitation. Jacob caught his breath against it and hunched his shoulder.
“Is she okay?”
Simon looked at him as though it were a strange question. Maybe Jacob couldn’t blame him for that, but he’d known Allison for years. She was the closest thing to a friend he had in professional circles.
“Broken bones,” Simon said. “It’s not good, but it’s nothing that won’t heal. Jacob, you said you trusted me.”
“That doesn’t sound like me.”
“No,” Simon said wryly. “I suppose it doesn’t, but we both know it’s what you meant. I got Syntech’s lawyers to get you out as part of the lawsuit they’re threatening the police with right now. Why would I do that if I was the one who turned you in?”
Jacob thought about it for a second. Then he sighed and got in the car.
MIDDAY ATthe Café Olé, right in the middle of Riverwalk. If whoever was behind Clayton’s murder tried anything, there would be a hundred witnesses and a thousand Walden-filtered Instagram photos for evidence. Jacob sat under a striped umbrella and poked desultorily at a plate of salsa and unsalted chips. His phone lay on the table while PayPal was busy sending a fresh bouquet of flowers to Allison’s hospital room. He was a bit surprised to realize he knew what flowers she liked.
“I appreciate you getting me out of the cells before they booked me,” he said as he found a chunk of jalapeño. “But I already told you what I knew. I don’t know what gave Clayton the idea Porter had stolen his code, I don’t know why anyone would care enough tokillhim over it, and pursuing me is a waste of money. I have no dog in this fight. If they had just let me leave town, I would have been done with it.”
“Maybe they thought you had a moral center.”
Jacob snorted and crunched the point off a chip. “Then they haven’t been paying attention.”
Simon braced his elbows on the table and pressed his knuckles against his mouth. He was still wearing his sunglasses, which left the only clues to his mood the tight line of his mouth behind his fingers and the pinched groove in the skin between his eyebrows.
“Why did you think that Dev had stolen Clayton’s code?” he asked.
