7. Diem

“Move, move, move.” I slapped the laptop closed while simultaneously snagging Tallus’s arm and shoving him toward the narrow coat closet I’d tagged upon entering the room.

He stumbled over his feet, and I tightened my grip to keep him upright, knowing I would leave marks if I wasn’t careful. But panic trumped my good sense, and I forcibly moved him along.

The voice in the hall grew louder, and I had a sneaking suspicion it was Olivia. I’d heard her talk a few times during my surveillance, and her mousey way of speaking was distinct enough that I doubted I was wrong. Why the fuck was she up here? She was supposed to be busy with the gala.

I shoved Tallus into the closet and moved in after him, closing the door behind us. The space wasn’t meant for more than a single coat or spare set of clothing. It was no bigger than a broom closet, and with both of us jammed inside, there was no room to move. A sickening sense of claustrophobia surrounded me.

“Shit. My hat’s on the desk.”

Tallus snagged my shirt and yanked me against him when I tried to turn around to get it. “Too late, Guns.”

We were fucked.

Swamped in darkness, pressed fully against Tallus with the closet door flush against my back, I worked at settling my pounding heart. Sweat beaded at my temples. The walls pressed in from all sides. I couldn’t move without knocking an elbow into the wall.

This was bad. I had to hang on to control, or everything would fall apart.

I closed my eyes and focused on my other senses. Tallus’s cologne infiltrated my nose. Christ, he smelled good. Under the spicy artificial aroma was something more natural. Maybe focusing on Tallus’s scent was a bad idea. The warmth of his body bled through my thin T-shirt. The labored sound of his breathing moved air against my collarbone. Fuck. It was too overstimulating.

I was at risk of screaming or getting a fucking hard-on. Neither would be helpful.

“Shit,” I hissed. “I left the desk light on too.”

And Olivia’s email was open. We were so screwed. She would know someone had been in her office, and I wasn’t confident we could slip out of the building unnoticed if she instructed her bodyguards to sweep the premises.

“Breathe, D.” Tallus’s whispered words ghosted my neck, and I never wanted to retreat so badly in my life. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m not.”

I was.

Tallus sensing my imbalance was demoralizing.

When he rested his hands on my forearms and rubbed them up and down, I almost came undone. My skin prickled. With nowhere to go and red-hot anxiety spiking my blood pressure, I couldn’t focus. Add Tallus’s concern to the mix, and I was a live wire in a lightning storm. My personal bubble on a good day was bigger than most people’s. While under stress, it grew astronomically.

“Breathe.” Tallus repeated the sentiment over and over, his tone soft enough I let it fill my head. I did my best to listen.

Olivia barreled into the room, slamming her office door behind her. “I didn’t have a choice. Get off my case, okay? Stop fucking calling and bringing it up. We shouldn’t be talking at all… Yeah, I know… I was wrong. I admit it. I never should have gone to his house and stirred shit up. I never should have talked to him. I thought I was helping. I was worried.”

Tallus’s fingers tightened on my arms. He lifted his chin, and we made eye contact. I could barely make out the contours of his face, but a thin crack of light bled through the seam of the door and shone on the lens of his glasses. It was enough to see his wide-eyed expression.

Olivia wasn’t talking anymore, but whoever was on the other end of the line was having their say. The muffled voice was too unclear, but the person was shouting.

“No… No! Beth, stop.” Olivia sniffled, and I got the sense she was crying. “Just stop. Did you talk to the police?” A pause. “Yeah, I know. They talked to him a couple of weeks ago.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “I don’t know what they said… Well, clearly it upset him… It’s his own fault… Is he? Paul’s asking questions too, and my sneaking off isn’t helping.” A longer pause. “I’m trying to help!”

The other person had more to say, but again, it wasn’t clear enough to make out.

“You aren’t to blame… No, this is all on him.” A short pause ensued before she shouted, “I have a husband and two kids too, Beth. I get it. I think about it a hundred times a day. No one will find out, okay. Just stay quiet.”

A rap at Olivia’s office door startled both Tallus and me. I jolted, and Tallus sucked in an audible breath.

“Hang on,” Olivia said to the person on the phone. “Come in.”

The office door opened, and a man spoke. “They’re ready for you.”

“Beth, I gotta go… Yeah. I’m sorry too… I know. I’m stressed.”

Olivia sighed. A long period of silence filled the air. I envisioned her staring at the ball cap on the desk. I imagined her noticing the light. Perhaps she was signaling the man to check the closet and we were about to be had.

The office door shut.

Quiet voices retreated down the hallway.

We were alone again.

Neither of us moved. My insides were lava, and my brain was fried.

“I think we’re good.” Tallus’s breath ghosted my neck again.

“Yeah.”

“Did that conversation sound incriminating to you?”

“Yeah.”

“For Olivia or Beth? Or both?”

“Um… Beth?” I couldn’t seem to produce more than one syllable at a time.

“D?”

I grunted.

“You’ve got me crushed to the wall. It might be sexy under different circumstances, and I wouldn’t complain, but I can’t breathe, and I think we’re safe.”

“Right.” I reached around to my lower back and opened the door. Fresh air blew in and touched my overheated cheeks. Dizzy, I stumbled out of the closet.

Since Tallus’s astuteness and lack of a filter threatened to expose my failings, I hustled to the desk. First, I snagged my cap and put it on my head, then I turned off the lamp because we didn’t need a light with a fucking computer, and I was an idiot.

I opened the laptop. “Keep an eye on the hall, would you? In case she comes back.”

Six emails with Noah’s name highlighted were ripe and waiting for me. I clicked the one at the top of the list as Tallus leaned over my shoulder, disregarding my instructions. I was doomed to be surrounded by the cloud of his cologne and his intoxicating natural scent that stirred my blood. I was going to have to feel his breath against my skin.

The claustrophobia of the closet returned. I couldn’t escape it.

The first email was short.

“It’s from Beth,” Tallus said. “That’s who she was on the phone with.”

The email had been sent in mid-February before Olivia had gone to see Noah for the first time. I skimmed the handful of sentences.

I was about to click out of the email and check the next one when Tallus touched my shoulder. “Hang on.”

He held up his phone and snapped a picture of the screen.

Smart. I’d considered printing the email, but a picture was quicker and left no evidence.

The next was from Beth again, but it was in reply to an email sent by Olivia. Tallus took a picture as I read them both.

Olivia hadn’t responded.

“It seems clear we have an affair, but I don’t think it was with Olivia. She sounds like she’s covering for a friend.” Tallus snapped another picture. “What do you think?”

I grunted noncommittally as I opened the third email.

It was forwarded from Beth to Olivia, an email sent from [email protected], and all it said was.

Tallus and I both froze.

“Who’s the elusive bastard?”

I grunted because how the fuck was I supposed to know? “Did you get a picture?”

“Yes.”

Since there was no reply to that one, I continued. The next two emails were from Beth to Olivia. Both contained links to the Toronto Star, one of the city’s more prominent newspapers, and a single line of text:

When I clicked the link, it asked if I wanted to subscribe or log in to view the article.

“Fuck.”

“Go back.”

I clicked back to the email, and Tallus snapped a picture of the link. He did the same with the last email since it directed us to the same site, presumably a different article.

I couldn’t think of any other keywords to search, but it didn’t seem to matter. Something told me this wasn’t a simple affair. It had the surface qualities, so it made sense Faye might think Noah had been cheating, but a gut feeling told me there was more to it.

I slapped the laptop closed. “We gotta get out of here.”

Thankfully, Tallus knew when to shut up and move. We were out of the building and on the street within ten minutes, walking swiftly to where I parked the Jeep. My mind spun on the few details of those emails. I needed to see them again. I wanted to read those articles.

“Send me the pictures,” I said as I rounded the vehicle and got in.

Tallus tossed the shoulder bag and camera props in the back and busied himself on his phone. When he asked for my email address, I rhymed it off.

“Sent.”

“Look up Rowell Housing.” I threw the Jeep in gear and headed back to the office.

Two blocks later, Tallus spoke. “Rowell Housing is a family-owned and operated property management company founded in twenty eighteen by Sean Rowell, who is one fugly-looking dude. Yeesh. You see this guy?”

Tallus held his phone out with Sean Rowell’s face filling the screen. I barely spared him a glance. He wasn’t who concerned me. Besides, in case Tallus missed it, I wasn’t winning any beauty contests either, so I didn’t feel like berating another man for his unfortunate looks. We couldn’t all be as pretty as Tallus.

“Location?”

Tallus lowered the phone and plugged away, clucking his tongue as he searched their website. “Their office is located in a plaza on Ellesmere Road. They’re closed today.”

“Look up Sean Rowell or Beth Rowell. See if you can pin a home address.”

It was unlikely, but it would keep him busy so I could think. We’d learned more than I expected, and it wasn’t tying up into a neat bow.

I’d half hoped I could shake free of Tallus once we got back to the office—he’d successfully completed the task of getting us into the building—but I was not so lucky. He ignored the hint when I asked him where he’d parked and if I could drop him off at his car.

The next thing I knew, he was on my heels, following me up the stairs and down the mildew-scented hallway. He’d found a few social media profiles for Beth Rowell and gave me a running commentary on her life when all I’d ask for was a home address.

“She went on a smoothie kick two months ago and posted daily pictures of her concoctions. They start out healthy enough, but the ingredients read more like a dessert menu by the end. Listen to this one…”

I tuned him out as I unlocked the door and aimed for my desk, tossing the ball cap aside and scratching my scalp. The hat fit too snugly and made my head sweaty. I liked the fedora better. It was worn in and didn’t make me itch.

Before I got to work, I found gum and popped two pieces.

Tallus, uninvited, dragged a chair over and sat opposite me, still engrossed in his phone. With him occupied, I pulled up my own search engine. In under five minutes, while listening to Tallus yammer on about Beth’s hot yoga and spin classes, I located the Rowells’ home address and wrote it down. I would have to plan to do some reconnaissance on Beth, look deeper into her profile, and see what I could find, but first…

I opened the photos Tallus had sent to my email and was copying the web addresses for the two newspaper articles onto a pad of paper when Tallus exclaimed, “I’ve got it. She lives on Fenside Drive, about ten houses down from a public school. Cute place. See.” He turned his phone.

“I know.” I tapped the notepad where I’d written the address down.

Tallus gawped. “How’d you do that so fast?”

“YouTube. Obviously.” It was a joke, and I was as shocked to hear it fall from my mouth as Tallus must have been to hear it.

His brows rose as he stared from the notepad to me and back, then a breathtaking smile filled his face. His hazel eyes lit up behind his glasses. The man had killer cheekbones when he smiled. Hell, he had killer everything.

“That was a joke. I’m impressed. I didn’t think you were capable. I’m going to write that in my diary tonight. Dear Diary, Diem pretended to be funny today. It was a phenomenon. I called the press. Seemed unusual enough to warrant some attention.”

I deadpanned.

Tallus, clearly amused with himself, tossed his phone aside and leaned back, resting an ankle over a knee, arms crossed over his chest. He’d shed his fashionable jacket when we came in, but he still looked like a million bucks in the gray knitted sweater with the white shirt collar poking through the top. “What now, Guns? Do we go knock on Beth’s door and interrogate her?”

“We’re not the police, and you’re not going anywhere near her.” I glanced back at the computer. “First, I want to find out what these articles are about. Alone.” I peeked at Tallus, but he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. “By myself.”

He kept smirking and sitting and looking like a wet dream. I needed him to go away.

“In solitary.”

“I hear you, D. I’m ignoring you.”

“I can call you when I close the case and get paid. All I have for cash right now is a down payment.” I shifted my weight in the desk chair, but he still looked too settled. “Um… thank you for your help today.”

“I get the distinct feeling you’re politely asking me to leave.”

“I am.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Um… I would prefer if—”

“Let me see the articles at least. I’m curious. You can’t lead me this far, then boot me out the door before we get to the good stuff.”

“It’s not… I would… Okay. Fine.”

“Excellent.” Tallus winked, and it hit me right in the balls.

I fumbled through creating a subscription for the Toronto Star. It required a credit card, so I dug my wallet from a back pocket and punched it in. A few more details, and I was set. When I tried the link again, it redirected me to a past edition of the newspaper. It did not, however, highlight a particular article. Figuring I’d done it wrong, I typed the link in again but got the same results.

“Shit.”

“What?”

“Hang on.”

I tried the second link. Same deal. Aggravated, I collapsed back in my creaky faux leather chair and crossed my arms to think. Tallus, likely not impressed at being ignored, slid his seat around to my side of the desk and got in my space again, wafting cologne and body heat and taking over the computer.

We did not complement one another. Tallus had zero issues with personal space, and I couldn’t get enough. Although Tallus’s invasion hit me differently than regular people, it was no less uncomfortable.

Tallus browsed the newspaper displayed on the screen, scrolling slowly through the articles. Tabbing over, he did the same with the first one I’d opened. The man was a tongue-clicker when he thought. It was both irritating and intriguing.

“How are we supposed to know what Beth was showing Olivia?” he asked.

I didn’t have a fucking clue, and if Tallus didn’t vacate the premises, I wouldn’t be able to puzzle it out either since I couldn’t think rationally with him around.

Undeterred, Tallus continued to browse them both as though I wasn’t there and hadn’t been trying to do the same thing. He flipped between tabs, clicking his tongue. Flipping and clicking. Flipping and clicking.

“There must be a common topic. Not national news, not world crisis, not sports, or politics, or stuff like that. Something… smaller. Something personal that shows up in both papers.”

“What are the dates?” I asked. It might not be relevant, but I didn’t know what else to say or how else to participate in my own job.

Tallus scrolled to the top. “April sixteenth, and…” He tabbed over. “February nineteenth. That’s a decent enough gap to be significant, don’t you think? I mean, news-wise, right? Whatever Beth’s pointing out should be obvious. The problem is these papers are no small things. The Toronto Star is robust. God, I’d kill for a latte right now.”

I didn’t have the means of making coffee let alone anything fancier. The best I could offer Tallus was a beer or bourbon. Since he didn’t seem serious about the drink, I offered nothing. Plus, alcohol was a surefire way to fuck up again. I didn’t trust myself to drink in front of Tallus anymore, and since I couldn’t engage sexually without at least a solid buzz, it meant we were safe from heading down that road again.

Of course, that assumed Tallus was interested in a repeat. Which he wasn’t. I’d put a month’s rent on it.

I needed to focus. April and February. Did those dates matter?

I checked my work planner. “Faye said Olivia first came to her house at the end of February. I don’t know if it’s significant.”

“Hang on.” Tallus retrieved his phone and opened the gallery, pulling up the photos he’d taken. He enlarged one of the ones with a link to the newspaper, zeroing in on the top corner. He flipped to the other. “These two emails were both sent to Olivia in early May. When did Noah die?”

“Early May.”

Tallus flipped to the other emails, checking the dates. He paused on the one from the unknown party.

“Who do you think Elusive Bastard is?”

“No clue.”

Tallus read the email out loud. “‘They don’t know. Tell Noah to calm the fuck down. I’m handling it.’ Who’s ‘they?’”

“No clue.”

“And what is he handling?”

“No clue.”

Tallus chuckled. “What do you have a clue about, D?”

I shook my head.

“You’re an odd duck.”

“I know.”

And I needed to work.

Alone.

It took a song and dance, but I finally got Tallus out of the office with promises I would update him if I learned anything. I would do nothing of the sort. When the case was finished, I would pay him for his services as promised. I didn’t need a partner. I didn’t need complications.

But I did miss his energy the second he was gone.

And his mischievous, flirty smile.

And the banter.

And his intoxicating scent.

And those hazel fucking eyes behind those sexy-as-sin glasses.

What I needed was a Tallus substitute who didn’t know my name and would vanish before morning, but no one on Spark came close to filling the bill.

Fuck my life.

This feeling would pass. I knew it would, but it was taking its sweet-ass time.