Page 81 of Missing Justice

Chapter Fifteen

“Ha!” Taylor said. “Good one. Or did I not just hear you say you wanted to break into the Gardener’s home?”

“You heard me, sweet cheeks. Rosalind isn’t likely to volunteer that she’s running an illegal adoption center out of her home, so we’ll check it out ourselves. See if there’s any meat to this theory.” He whipped the key out of the ignition and dangled it at her. “Unless you’d rather wait in the car.”

If he understood Taylor at all, there was no way on God’s green earth she’d sit by and let him search the Gardener place alone. FBI agent—even if on suspension—or not, her competitive edge ran just as sharp as his. She’d want to see for herself what secrets the Gardeners kept.

She eyeballed the keys in his hand. “You’re crazy if you think you’re leaving me out here.”

Yep. Just like he thought. “Alright then, Special Agent Sinclair, let’s see what we’ve got.”

Out of the glove box he snagged a soft leather pouch that fit nicely in his back pocket. His lock-picking tools. Next came a couple pairs of latex gloves. He handed one set to Taylor and shoved the other in his pocket with his tools.

“Handy,” she cracked.

“I like to be prepared.”

“Right. Because who knows when you’ll be required to break into someone’s house.”

“Exactly.”

After hopping out, he locked the car and held his hand out to Taylor, who grabbed on as he led her across the street.

Shielding her eyes against the sun with her free hand, she scanned the upper floors of the building. “Oh, look. Third floor. The corner unit has a for sale sign.” At the curb, she pulled him to a stop and tugged on his sleeve. “Oh, honey. I love this building. Please, baby, let’s go look at the unit for sale.”

Taking her cue and for the benefit of the two women strolling with their toddlers, he lifted his hand to block the sun and stared up at the top floor.

“It’s a great neighborhood,” one of the moms offered.

“See!” Taylor gushed. “It’s perfect for us.”

“Eh,” Matt said, again enjoying playing the role of Taylor’s better half. “Why not? If it’ll make you happy.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she purred, “it will. And you know what happens when I’m happy.”

The not-so-subtle innuendo wasn’t lost on him. Or the moms. They wandered by, giggling at Taylor’s hijinks, and Matt narrowed his eyes. “Go easy, killer, or I’m gonna be walking around with a chubby.”

“Ha!” she said. “I think I’d enjoy that.”

“And, you know, it wouldn’t kill you to try to blend. I know you’re not used to ditching rules, but seriously, let’s not call unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

He led her to the entrance, found the door indeed locked and pushed one of the buzzers. 1A.

No answer. He tried another—nada—then stabbed at the next one. Sooner or later, he’d get a response. 2D.

“Hello?”

Bingo. “Hi. My name is Brian Foggerty. My wife and I are here to look at the unit for sale, but the realtor—”

Bzzzttt.A buzzer sounded followed by the immediate click of a lock disengaging. Huh. If he’d known it was going to be that easy…

“He didn’t even let you finish,” Taylor huffed. “For the love of God, we could be serial killers and he just buzzed us in. People really need to be more careful with their personal safety.”

Was she really complaining about this?

“Yeah, well, it worked for us.”

He swung the door open and waved her through.