A Breath Away. Wendy Etherington

old family friend came to visit him. Tremaine met with him in private, then told the nuns that the man hadn’t known his family, that he’d been mistaken about his identity.

      “A few months later, he started sneaking out of the convent. He got caught a couple of times, and the nuns sent him to confession and counseling. At first, they figured he was out looking for drugs or alcohol, but others don’t think so.”

      “Who’d you get this from?”

      “One of the nuns.”

      Being raised Catholic, though she’d been lapsed for many years, Jade had a hard time picturing anybody grilling nuns. “She just offered all this up?”

      “I smiled nicely.”

      “Ha.”

      “And memorized a Bible verse she wanted me to learn.”

      “You’re kidding.”

      “Nope. Micah 2:1. It’s a warning about devising wickedness. Truth is, without the black cape and funny hat, she was kinda cute.”

      “Stop.” Jade held up her hand. “Oh, please stop.”

      Frank cleared his throat. “Anyway, I got the info. You wanna hear it, or not?”

      “He was sneaking out at night.”

      “Right. Nobody really knows what he was doing during all these late-night outings—except maybe the priest in the confessional booth—since Tremaine refused to tell anyone. But then the forays stopped. Supposedly.”

      “Supposedly?”

      “My opinion. I think he just stopped getting caught.”

      “Our thief was born.”

      “Makes sense. For the next year he was the model student. The day he turned eighteen, he packed his suitcase and headed out for parts unknown. The mail the nuns tried to send him came back.”

      Again, an odd, sinking feeling rolled through her stomach. Like her—until she’d found Lucas—Tremaine had been alone in the world. “He never went back?”

      “Oh, he went back. Brought a big freakin’ check that entirely renovated the orphanage—big-screen TVs, PCs, video-game units, board games, building blocks, playground equipment, solid-wood bunk beds, freshly painted walls. The works.”

      “Profits from an excellent thief.”

      Frank shrugged. “Maybe. He refused to let them credit him as the benefactor.”

      Just as he’d refused to defend himself earlier. She shook aside her emotions and concentrated on facts. “So he wanted a low profile.”

      “But why go back at all?”

      “They’d raised him,” she said.

      “Plenty of people are raised without being grateful.”

      Or aren’t as appreciative as they should be. At least until it’s too late. “A question to be probed.”

      “You’ve been around him longer. What do you think?”

      Oh, boy. “Could be guilt or genuine affection.”

      “You lean toward…?”

      She recalled the soft, persuasive feel of his lips on hers, the smile of invitation—and the blank look in his eyes when she’d questioned whether or not his money was tainted. For once, she went with her heart. “Affection. But where does the NSA come in?”

      “No idea there. Not surprisingly, no one will go on record. There are just the rumors we’ve all heard before—he turned evidence against a bigger, thieving fish. As far as personal impressions go, a couple of agents acknowledged they worked with him, but they found him competent and secretive—just what you’d expect.”

      “You called the NSA directly?”

      “No. Tipping our connection didn’t seem wise at the moment. I talked to trusted, but retired, people.”

      Jade leaned back against the door. “So, who’s this old family friend?”

      “No idea. The good sisters claimed not to know, either.”

      “Claimed?”

      “Their loyalty is with Tremaine.”

      “So we need to talk to him.”

      “You think he’s really going to tell us what we need to know?”

      “It’s his life. He’d better.”

      She turned the doorknob, determined to face the inevitable sooner than later.

      “Jade?”

      Turning, she met Frank’s gaze.

      “Are you okay with this?”

      “Of course.”

      “What about Lucas?”

      She fought against the hurt lingering near her heart. Why didn’t he just trust her to take care of things? “Did he call you?”

      “He left me a message. He’s worried about you.”

      I am, too. “I cut him out of this case. He’s mad.”

      “He could help.”

      She clenched her fists. “You’re not serious.”

      “He knows about the art world, the clientele. He’s known Tremaine longer. Maybe he could give us a perspective we aren’t seeing.”

      “He’s my cousin.”

      “Doesn’t mean he should be eliminated as an expert.”

      Though her instincts protested, she tried to focus on Frank’s words. She trusted him like no one else. “I need to think about that.”

      “Don’t think long. I imagine this case is gonna move quick.”

      Another knock rattled the door.

      When Jade opened it, David stuck his head inside. “The police are about to release the scene back to the restaurant. Do we want to check it out?”

      “They’re offering to let us?”

      “Apparently Tremaine’s name brings out the manners.”

      “Yeah.” Mentally, Jade shifted priorities in her head. She figured they’d have to sneak by the police scene restrictions. “Yeah, we want to see it.” She turned to her partner, who now stood behind her. “You and Mo stay here with Tremaine. David and I will go.”

      “Fine by me.” He rubbed his hands together. “I want to install that security system.”

      “Are we going to get a big bill from the Marriott for seriously altering their room?”

      “Humph. They’ll never know we were here.”

      As Frank stalked from the room, Jade followed, shaking her head. Questioning a man’s home improvement/computer skills was like questioning the strength of his libido.

      In the living room, she found their client beside Mo, both of them sitting at the dining room table amongst the surveillance and computer equipment.

      “See this button here?” Mo was saying as he held up a particularly sophisticated tracking device. “Press it and you get a GPS position, so—”

      “Feel free to give away all our secrets,” Jade said. As if Tremaine needed another specialty.

      The men rose.

      “Well, boss, he’s one of us, right?” Mo said, his massive size contrasting sharply with his contrite expression. “I figured—”

      “No, he’s not.” Her gaze flicked to Tremaine, who—naturally—smiled. “He’s a client, not a member of this team.”