Page 87 of Stolen Ones

‘So how’d the date go?’ Alison asked, turning to face her.

‘Huh?’

‘Giraffe and curry.’

‘Food was okay but the conversation was shit,’ Stacey said.

‘And yet you have this lurking smile on your face,’ Alison observed.

Stacey tipped her head. ‘How exactly does a smile lurk?’

‘It’s hovering around your mouth.’ Alison slapped her forehead. ‘Aah, Devon is back tonight and you’re already anticipating the—’

‘Alison, shut it,’ she said, allowing the smile to break free. And indeed that was the reason for it. No matter what the day brought, Devon would be waiting for her when she got home. And she couldn’t wait. Geoffrey had been a very poor substitute.

‘You’re clearly bored so do you want something to do?’ she asked Alison, who was busy drumming her fingers on the desk while staring at an empty screen. She’d just had a conversation with the boss which had done nothing to lighten her workload.

‘Oh, how I’d love to be listening in on their conversation,’ Alison said.

‘Yep, but there are laws against that,’ Stacey said. The camera to interview room one had been switched off while Harte consulted with his lawyer for the second time.

‘I don’t want to listen to his words. I want to listen to his body.’

‘And if you happened to just lip-read something he said, we could be looking at a mistrial.’

‘Details. Details. Details.’

‘I’ve got jobs you—’

‘Not authorised, Stace,’ Alison reminded her.

‘Details. Details. Details,’ Stacey threw back at her even though she knew it was true. Alison was assisting them on a consultancy basis about his behaviour, and it was tempting to try and use her as another pair of hands.

‘Anything I can help with?’ Penn offered.

‘Took your time offering there, buddy. You okay?’ she asked, looking closer. There was a line of tension running along his jawbone. Penn was the first person to offer to help anyone, and the fact that he hadn’t meant something was distracting him.

‘I’m good, thanks, Stace.’

‘Jasper okay?’ she asked.

The tension line tightened. ‘Yeah, he’s good.’

‘Hey, if there’s anything wrong with my cooking buddy, I’ll—’

‘He’s fine. Just leave it.’

The second sentence cancelled out any truth in his assurance that all was well.

‘Okay, but if you wanna talk about—’

‘He snuck out of Billy’s, and he likes a girl,’ Penn blurted out.

Stacey waited.

Penn stared at her meaningfully as though she should get it.

‘Sorry, Penn. You’re gonna have to help me out here. What do you mean he snuck out? Did he go alone? Did Billy’s mum not know?’