Page 34 of Go First
“Already flagged her,” Marcus replied.“According to the university librarian, she often works in her office over the weekends.I suggest we show early tomorrow.”
“And we need to re-interview a couple of Harper’s staff,” Kate added.“Roberts was too polished.Almost scripted.And that security guard… did you see his tattoo?”
Marcus grunted agreement.“The five dots.Either a gang or a jail sentence, or both.”
They reached the porch.Kate hesitated with her keys, then glanced at him.“Wanna poke your head in, say hi to my mom?She adores you, you know.”
He shook his head, stepping back toward the drive.“Another time.I’m beat, and I smell like I rolled in something.See ya!”
She laughed at his departing form, and then turned the key in the lock.But the smile froze on her face as a movement caught the corner of her eye.A rustle followed as a figure burst from the bushes to her right.
Startled, she screamed.
Marcus was back there instantly, instincts snapping him forward.He caught the man by the arm, spun him hard against the siding, one hand already reaching for cuffs.
“What the fuck, fella?”
Kate blinked, heart hammering—then recognition flooded her.
“Wait!Marcus, wait—it’s Mike!”
Her neighbor froze, wide-eyed, a bottle of wine slipping from his grip and shattering on the path.
“Who’s Mike?”asked Marcus.
“Oh God,” Kate muttered.“Mike, I—I’m so sorry.”
Mike’s face was a mix of alarm and hurt.“I thought… we had dinner tonight?”
Kate’s stomach dropped.She’d intended to cancel, then forgotten completely, tangled up in crime scenes and confessions.“We did.We did, I just—oh, Mike, I should’ve called.I’m sorry.”
Marcus eased his grip, muttering an apology of his own.Mike flexed his wrist, shaking off the sting, then bent to stare at the broken glass.“Well, that was a good Rioja.I couldn’t get an answer,” he went on.“And you weren’t picking up your phone.So I was going to try one of the neighbors to see if I borrow a pen and leave you a note, but nobody answered when I knocked, so...”
Kate tried for a sympathetic laugh, but the sound came out strained.“Come inside.Please.At least let me get you a drink.”
Mike nodded, still cautious, then noticed Marcus’s Yankees cap hanging from his back pocket.“Wait—you’re not home watching the game?”
“Game?”Marcus repeated, blankly.Then it dawned on him.“Ah, shit, man, this job.I forgot!”
“You forgot the Yankees facing down the Redsox.Are you even a man?”
Marcus grinned.“I’ve got an excuse, pal.What’s yours?”
Mike raised his brows.“Well, I thought I had a dinner date.”
Kate groaned inwardly.She pushed the door open and gestured them both inside.“Fine.Both of you.Beers in the fridge.Make yourselves at home while I shower.I smell worse than Marcus.”
Upstairs, under the hiss of hot water, Kate cursed herself.She’d treated Mike abominably, left him standing in the shadows like a prowler.She hadn’t moved forward on telling her mom about leaving, either.Always the job, always the late nights, always putting her personal life last.No wonder Murray Harper had spooked her so badly.She was just like him—a lonely workaholic, married to the grind.The only difference was, he’d had a whole empire, a private island to retire to.She just had case files and sleepless nights.
And why had she invited Marcus in? It had all just got messy and confusing now.She barely knew Mike, but beyond that short bit of baseball banter, she couldn’t imagine him and Marcus having anything in common.
She hurried through her shower, envisaging the stiff silence she’d find downstairs—Marcus probably sulking into his beer, Mike humiliated and wordless.
But when she padded back down, hair damp, pulling her sweater over her head, she stopped short.
On the sofa, Marcus and Mike sat side by side, bottles clinking together, eyes glued to the flat screen.The Yankees had just hit a double.Both men whooped in unison.
“Red Sox can’t pitch worth a damn,” Marcus crowed.