Whiskey Beach - By Nora Roberts Page 0,162

didn’t say anything about that.”

“A woman in love is a mind reader.”

God, he hoped not, though she’d already showed that aptitude too often for comfort. “If we tried the lure, and if it worked, there’s no need for both of us to be here.”

“Fine. Where will you be while I video him from the passage?” Expression placid, she popped a berry into her mouth. “I’d need to be able to contact you as soon as it’s done.”

“Being a smart-ass before dawn’s annoying.”

“So is any attempt to protect the little woman. I’m not little, and I think I’ve already demonstrated I can handle myself.”

“I didn’t know I loved you when I first started talking about doing this. I hadn’t—wasn’t able—to open up to everything I feel for you. And it changes everything.” He laid a hand over hers. “Everything. I want the answers. I want the truth about what happened to Lindsay, to Gran, about everything that’s happened since I came back to Whiskey Beach. I want them on what happened two hundred years ago. But I could let it go, every bit of it, if I thought finding those answers could hurt you.”

“I know you mean that, and it just . . .” She turned her hand under his so their fingers linked. “It just fills me. But I need the answers, too, Eli. For us. So let’s trust each other to take care of each other, and find them together.”

“If you stayed at Maureen’s, I could signal you when and if he comes in. Then you could call the cops. They’d move in while he was here. Caught in the act.”

“And if I’m with you, I can contact the police from right here, while you run your famous video camera.”

“You just want to play in the secret passage.”

“Well, who wouldn’t? He hurt you, Eli. He hurt my friend. He would have hurt me. I’m not going to sit at Maureen’s. Together, or not at all.”

“That sounds like an ultimatum.”

“Because it is.” She lifted her shoulders, let them fall in the most casual gesture. “We can fight about it. You can get mad, I can be insulted. I just don’t see the point, especially on such a gorgeous morning when we’re in love. The point I see, Eli, is I’ve got your back. And I know you’ve got mine.”

What the hell was he supposed to do with that? “It might not work.”

“Negative thinking’s unproductive. Plus, past history and pattern say it will work. This could be over, Eli, or at the very least he could be in police custody, charged with breaking and entering, maybe destruction of property, by tonight. And he’d be questioned on all the rest.”

She leaned forward. “When that happens, Wolfe’s going to have his first taste of crow.”

“You had that ace up your sleeve,” Eli replied.

“It’s karma time, Eli.”

“All right. But we’re going to work this out, account for every contingency.”

She poured them both a second cup of coffee. “Let’s strategize.”

While they talked, the sun broke over the horizon, splashing gold over the night-dark sea.

Just another day, Eli thought when Abra dashed out for her morning class. Or it would seem so to anyone watching the movements, the comings, the goings, of Bluff House.

He walked the dog, crossing the beach at a light jog and in full view of Sandcastle. To please Barbie as much as to form a picture, he spent a little time throwing the ball for her, letting her splash into the water, swim out again.

Back home, she sprawled on the sunny terrace, and Eli went in to call his sister.

“Boydon Madhouse, and how are you, Eli?”

“Pretty good.” He held the phone an inch from his ear as shrill shrieks threatened to break his eardrum. “What the hell is that?”

“Selina strongly objects to being in time-out.” Tricia raised her own voice, and Eli made it two inches. “And the longer Sellie screams and misbehaves, the longer she’ll be in time-out.”

“What did she do?”

“Decided she didn’t want her strawberries at breakfast.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t seem—”

“So she threw them at me, which is why she’s in time-out. I have to change my shirt, which further means she’ll be late for day care and I’ll be late for the office.”

“Okay. This is a bad time. I’ll call you later.”

“We’re going to be late anyway, and I have to cool off so I don’t give my beloved child a strawberry facial. What’s up?”

“I dug up some old household and business ledgers. Really old, going back to the

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