Page 40 of Take Her
It didn’t matter. I had actual work to do.
Four hours later I left Corvo and sent Lia’s man a threatening text on my way to visit the café again.
This time, Sable had beat me, and she was already sitting at our table like a queen. When she saw me she pointed to table in front of the empty place setting. “Sit down,” she said, like I was a dog, but then followed it with, “and buckle in.”
“Oh God,” I muttered, doing as I’d been told.
“First off,” she said, reveling in the fact that she had the upper hand, “how was the rest of your night, Romeo?”
I eyed her dourly. “Sable, while I do have a sense of humor, I am possessed of very little patience.”
“Too bad!” She cackled for a good long while before sobering, as I kept staring her down. “Oh, come on, Rhaim. I never get to have anything over you, let me enjoy this.”
My eyes narrowed. “Only because I have a surprise planned for you later.”
She lit on that like a hawk snatching up an unsuspecting hare. “Really? What?”
“Your news first,” I said darkly, while crossing my arms.
“Fine,” she complained, then chuckled to herself and pulled a small tablet out of her bag. “I traced your girl back. It didn’t take long, but I’m still charging you full price,” she said, flipping through screens till she got the one she wanted. “So she was sent overseas to boarding schools ten years ago, right? And after that, every year—not precisely, sometimes eight months, sometimes fourteen, she’d have to change systems. This girl got a tour of the European continent, Rhaim. These places were in Switzerland, Germany, France?—”
“So?” I interrupted her. “Sounds nice.”
Sable’s expression changed. “That’s where you’re wrong. A lot of these places...they were closer to institutions. And she was hospitalized during that time frame. More than once.”
I leaned forward. “What for?”
“Some of these schools were so traditional they still used paper so I couldn’t hack them, but the hospitals I could. Psych stuff, eating disorders, self-harm, that sort of thing.” She flipped through a few more screens, showing off old manors with massive lawns, and the façades of imposing looking hospitals in turn. “When she was in school though she always got good grades. She just had a problem staying in one place—and staying sane—was all.”
“No boyfriends?” I asked with a frown.
“You jealous?” Sable teased, but then shook her head. “No. Why?” She leaned over and scrolled a little bit for me, showing me more of Lia’s photographs. “She’s in some group shots—but she’s never with anyone. No holding hands, no longing looks.”
Not many smiles either, I noted.
But without my drug-muling boyfriend theory—and with the man she’d hired definitely not working for the FBI—I wasn’t sure I liked what was left.
“What’re you thinking?” Sable asked.
I glanced at my watch. “That it’s about time,” I said, looking around expectantly. And I spotted him there—Lia’s PI, in his red late model Camry, coming to a stop across the street. “I need you to do me one more favor, Sable.”
She clapped her hands in delight. “This is like fucking Christmas, Rhaim—I love having you owe me. What?”
I calculated angles, then gestured that she should stand up. I moved to stand by her, occupying her personal space, and her amusement turned to chagrin. “All right, then. Pretend to kiss me.”
Her eyes went wide. “What? No. Rhaim, I’m gold star?—”
“It’s for the benefit of that man in the Camry over there.” I tilted my head his direction, wondering if Sable could make out the bandage plastered across the man’s face to keep his nose set. “I need him to take some pictures for me.”
She looked over her shoulder, and then back at me. “Why?”
Because the only remaining option is that Nero Ferreo’s little girl wants information about me—and to be around me—for some reason.
And nothing good can come of it.
“I’ll triple your fee,” I said, rather than answer her.
She pretended to do math, then huffed, “Fine. I’m not going to pretend to enjoy it, tho?—”