Living with the Dead
Page 24

"Robyn. Sorry. From here on, I will try to keep my opinions to myself and if I slip, you can tell me to shut up. And if I don't help you, if I mislead you or I'm a nuisance, you can tell me to get lost and I will. I just..." He shifted on the desk. "I need to help her, Finn. She's – "
Finn held up a hand. "For the next twenty-four hours, we'll see how it goes. Then you can tell me your story. For now – "
"Just shut up, do what I'm told and try to dig my way out of this hole."
Finn nodded.
 
ROBYN
 
Robyn awoke to the smell of breakfast sausage. Caught between sleeping and waking, she lifted her head with Damon's name on her lips; hot breakfasts had been his specialty. One bleary look around the motel room reminded her where she was.
Fighting the impulse to lie back down and pull up the covers, she tracked the smell to take-out boxes on the dinette, pushed aside to clear a spot for Hope's laptop. Hope sat with her back to Robyn as she read the screen. There was no sign of Karl. The bedside clock said it was past nine. So much for her resolution to jump into the investigation first thing in the morning.
Hope was so engrossed in her reading that she didn't hear Robyn approach. The file on the laptop display looked like records with dates and blocks of text. But before Robyn could get close enough to read it, Hope glanced up.
Hope closed the file window and stood. "Karl grabbed breakfast. It should still be warm."
"He's out already?"
Hope handed Robyn a coffee. "Just walking around the block, getting a feel for the neighborhood and stretching his legs."
 
A rap at the door.
"And there he is."
Hope checked the peephole before opening the locks. Karl greeted Robyn, then set his take-out coffee on the nightstand.
Hope's gaze followed him. "Everything okay?"
He nodded. "There's a convenience store around the corner and some restaurants a block over." He took a sheaf of pamphlets from his pocket. "I picked up take-out menus from the ones that were open." He turned to Robyn. "They all deliver. While I'm sure you're tired of being cooped up in here, you should stick to delivery for lunch. Keep the doors locked and only open them if you're expecting an order."
She glanced at Hope, who was dumping her leftover coffee in the bathroom sink. "You're heading out?"
"Just for a few hours," Hope said. "We'll be back after lunch."
"I'd like to go with you. Help out."
"You're safer here," Karl said, taking out his keys.
"I – "
"Hope and I need to attract as little attention as possible. It's better if you stay here."
She hadn't thought of that. "Then what can I do here?"
Hope and Karl exchanged a look.
"I want to do something."
"We have Internet access," Hope said. "There are a few things you could look up."
Scraps to make her feel useful. "Whatever will help. Just tell me – "
Hope's cell rang and she snatched it from the table, as if grateful for the interruption.
"Lucas, hey," she answered. A pause. "Yep, I got it last night. Thank Savannah for me. It's a match."
A string of uh-huhs. Hope grabbed her notepad and started jotting things down. Robyn tried to see it from where she sat, but Hope's writing was an illegible scribbled shorthand. She always joked it was so no rival could steal her notes, but Robyn knew she'd always written that way, her brain speeding ahead, pen scrambling to keep up. Like everything else in Hope's life, function came before form.
Karl seemed to be able to read it, though, murmuring questions for Hope to ask. Robyn had been able to read Damon's scrawl, too.
"Is that like a scheduled surrender?" Hope was saying.
Hope must be talking to her lawyer friend. Or wasn't it Karl's friend? It didn't matter. Damon's friends had been Robyn's, too. Or so she'd thought, until she'd been uninvited from a New Year's party two weeks before she left Philly.
She shook her head, scattering the memories.
"I'll call you later, then," Hope was saying. "I really do appreciate this."
Pause.
"Yes." Her gaze shot to Karl. "He's right here."
Her fingertips caressed the desktop, face averted as she listened. Then she handed the phone to Karl, gaze following as he took it outside.
"Did you say something about a scheduled surrender?" Robyn asked.
It took Hope a moment to answer. "That would buy us more time, but it won't work in a murder case. He's setting up a short-term scheduled surrender, if we don't find something by six."
Her gaze tripped to the window, as if trying to see Karl's silhouette through the drawn drapes.
"So we have – " Robyn checked her watch. " – just over eight hours. Show me what I can do."
 
HOPE
 
Karl had driven three blocks in silence before Hope spoke.
"I wish you wouldn't do that."
He made a noise in his throat, as if waiting to hear which infraction she was referring to before committing himself to a response.
"Sneaking around asking Lucas for updates on Jaz. It would be easier if you'd just give him your number, you know."
"I wasn't sneaking. I could hardly discuss it in front of Robyn – "
 
"And what was your excuse the last time? Or the time before that? Did you honestly expect me to think Lucas is just calling to chat?"
Another block of silence.
Karl cleared his throat. "About Jasper – "
"Is he dead?"
"No."
"Escaped?"
"No."
"In imminent danger of escaping?"
"No."
"Then I don't care."
She turned to the window, nails biting her palms. Did Karl really think she'd want to know how Jaz was doing? Did he think she'd care?
Last year, after their disastrous first attempt to shift from friends to lovers, she'd tried taking the rebound remedy. If there was one word to describe Jasper Haig, it was fun. He bounced through life with enthusiasm, and he'd pursued Hope with gusto, not caring how big a fool he made of himself. In short, Jaz was everything Karl was not – and exactly what she'd needed... or so it seemed at the time.