wiped her face with the back of her hand, pushed away from him and got to her feet. “I think I believe you about all of it.” If she cooperated, they could head in the right direction—away from the nightmare.
“Good.” He rose from the crouch and shoved his hands into his pockets.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you. Sorry I hit you,” she said. “And I’m sorry for the trouble my brother caused you.” She wiped her face again, smearing mascara, making her eyes appear even more bruised. Her sorrow tugged at his heart.
“Elliot did what he did, and it’s not your fault.”
“But I have to try to fix this.” She sniffed and straightened her shoulders, chin up, eyes flashing rather than melting now. “I’m going to help you search. We’ll find the stuff he took and get you off the hook. If I can do that much, I’ll feel better.”
Whoa. She really did seem to believe his story. Even better, she didn’t say anything about going to the FBI. Nick didn’t think contacting them would be helpful, especially if any agents had ended up on the Esposito payroll again. Things could get even worse for him if it appeared he’d squealed to the Feebies and word of that got back to Bert.
“It’ll be better if you stay away from me completely, out of the line of fire.” Her eyes widened, and he hastily added, “So to speak.”
She swallowed and shook her head. “No. We’ll get this done faster if we both look. There are a few places I have in mind where Elliot used to stash pot and skin mags back in high school. We’ll start there.” She turned to get back into the car, a bundle of determination.
Reluctantly, Nick slid behind the wheel. He’d gone on this date in order to weasel out what she knew, but he’d come away from it with an ally. Wanted or unwanted, Ames was a part of this now.
Jesus, what if he hadn’t pushed her to tell the truth? At least now maybe they had some notice, a few hours before whoever Esposito sent showed up at his door—or hers.
“I’m afraid we’re not going to find anything here.” Even Ames was finally ready to admit defeat a few hours later as she wiggled out from under the sagging front porch. Dirt streaked her sweaty face and arms, and her damp hair was frizzy. Her clothes were ruined, but she didn’t freak out about it like most of the women Nick knew back in the city would have. She rubbed more dirt from her hands onto her skirt and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, leaving another smear on her forehead. Streaks of dirt covered her knees too. Funny, he’d never considered knees cute before. “I’ve checked all the hiding places he used as a teen and even under the porch where he used to hide his box of treasures when he was little. See?”
She shook a rusty tin box, and something inside rattled.
Nick took it from her and studied the tiny lock. It sounded as if there were marbles rolling around in there. He looked at her. “Do you mind if I…?”
“Go ahead.”
He broke off the small lock and lifted the lid. Marbles, as he’d guessed. Also some gold coins with pirate heads on them, tokens from some long-gone arcade, no doubt. A photo of a brown-and-white dog leaping for a stick a small boy held. The boy was Elliot. He could tell from the mischievous grin, which hadn’t changed a bit over the years. There was also a piece of notebook paper, folded into a tight little square. A corner ripped as Nick unfolded it.
Ames pressed close to his side. He could smell her perfume or deodorant mingled with the scent of her warm flesh. “Oh,” she breathed as she read the faded words printed with pencil in sloppy block letters. Last Will and Testament of Elliot R. Jensen.
Nick passed the paper to Ames. This was private stuff, the memories of her brother, of their shared past.
“According to this, he left me his penknife.” Her voice was thick again. “That was his favorite thing in the entire world. He whittled sticks and hunks of wood that were supposed to be animals but looked like blobs.” She read on and laughed. “He left our cousin Rob a curse. He hated Rob.”
Suddenly Nick felt the pain too at the vision of Elliot as a goofy kid with his whole future before