Page 50 of Merciless Heir
“So?”
I consider her gauntlet. “So,” I say, “I guess I’m curious why you didn’t tell me you got a lead that the tiara was going to be fenced, as you put it.”
“I did.”
“Not straight away.”
She offers me a tight smile. “I got distracted.”
“Well,” I say softly, “that’s good to know.”
Sadie spins away from me and goes over to a small desk and toys with her phone. She sighs. “I’ve been waiting on word, confirmation on this so-called sale.”
I straighten and cross to her. “You don’t think it’s for sale?”
“I didn’t say that. My gut instinct is whoever is supposedly behind this is merely trying to whip up interest in it.”
She watches me and a coldness spreads. “You’re waiting for me to finger point at you? Like a double bluff?”
“Are you going to do that?”
Am I? It’s not really something I’ve thought about beyond the bare bones. Is she capable of it? Absolutely. Would she fuck me over? That I don’t know. “Call the cops? No.”
The words are out and she nods. “It could be me behind all this, pulling some kind of double bluff con.”
“You could. I’m sure you’re capable of it.”
Her phone lights up. And she reads whatever comes up and puts it down. “I think this is a way for someone to get information and garner interest. Like I said.”
“Then maybe we need to find out more.”
“Maybe we do.” Her gaze melds with mine. “That was word it’s on. How do you feel about Coney Island?”
I just smile.
It’s cold out at the old beachside crumbling attractions that must have been something back in the day. Now things are old and tired and gaudy.
But there’s something about Coney at night during the off-season that gives it something. If I were a romantic, I’d say it added to the tarnished aesthetic that gives it character. But it’s just old and empty.
Mostly empty.
I’m curious about where this is headed. Sadie told me some things on the trip here, in some old car she claims she borrowed.
We’re in an arcade that’s closed for the off-season. It’s dark and cold and perfect for sitting close to share body warmth.
“This isn’t very exciting,” she says.
I cast her a long look. “I don’t know. I can think of ways to make it exciting.”
“We don’t like each other.”
“Who said anything about like, Sadie?” But I don’t say anything more.
She doesn’t fidget, though the tightness to her hands says she wants to. “As I said, this isn’t actually going to be a sale. They usually happen one of two ways; someone has stolen for another person, has a buyer in mind. Or…there’s going to be a big thing made of it.”
And she’s leaning toward the second. “So the latter it is.”
“Probably.” She shifts, and her breath puffs out in a wispy cloud of vapor. “This could take a while.”