Whichever the case, it was too late now.
“Escaped the funeral early?” he asked, sliding onto the stool beside her the way one might sidle up to a venomous snake.
“I stayed for the whole service, and at least an hour of the reception after,” she replied, but there was no defensive barb in her voice. For her to have even gone for one minute of it was already far more than she owed, and she knew that Felix knew it. “Swann’s there now, holding court. The good Scotch is out.”
“Ah,” he said, envious. “I hope you got some.”
“Oh, I did.” She smiled. “He wishes you could have been there tonight.”
“Yeah, sorry.” Felix grimaced. “I just thought it would be best if I didn’t go.”
Nell picked up her glass. “No apology needed. I get it. Better than anyone.”
He ordered a beer for himself, and they took a few awkward sips in silence. At least they were talking—not fighting—this time, he thought, heartened.
Felix turned on his stool to face her. Ainsley had said at her presentation that the news Haberson had won the contract to take over security for the library wasn’t public yet, but he could tell Nell about the security video, since she’d been the one to give it to him.
“I watched it,” he said. “The footage from the robbery.”
“And?” Nell asked, her eyes suddenly laser-like in their focus, like how they’d been every time they’d started a new project together.
“I went over everything three times. Cross-referenced every camera and speaker, and went through every line of data.” He sighed uneasily. “The police are right. It’s inconclusive.”
She frowned. “What does it show?”
Felix pulled his phone out. “Better if you just watch.”
Nell gave him a curious look, and then leaned in as he hit play.
As the video rolled, he tried not to notice, but he could feel the light touch of air on his cheek each time she breathed. Saw her flinch as the guard went down, disappearing into the dark shadows on the floor. He could smell the faint floral trace of her shampoo—it was the same one she’d used back when they’d been together. He’d always loved the scent of it.
The clip ended, and Felix pulled back abruptly, before Nell noticed how close they’d been sitting.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “I can’t see how the burglar got in or out of the Map Division. But the only way there is through the lobby.”
“I know,” he agreed. “That’s why the cops aren’t able to do anything useful with it.”
“And you couldn’t find anything more about how he covered his tracks?” she asked. “Like, I don’t know, hidden in the code, or however it works?”
Felix shook his head. “I tried everything I could think of. There’s just nothing. No gaps in the film, no looped footage, no tampering, nothing. It’s just . . . inconclusive.” He looked down at his phone. “But after having seen this and considering those prices we found—whatever’s going on, it’s sophisticated. This could be very dangerous, Nell. I really think you should tell the police sooner rather than later.”
“I will, I will,” Nell replied.
“When?” he urged, a familiar tone slipping into his voice. With a Young, unless you agreed on a firm date to stop working on something, “soon” meant “when I’m satisfied.” It had taken him years, and no shortage of last-minute arguments the night before a paper at UCLA or the NYPL was due, to learn this lesson—but the stakes were much higher this time. And so was the danger.
She smiled, and he wondered which old project of theirs she was remembering. “Actually, the day the library was burgled, Irene Pérez Montilla told me she thought Dr. Young was secretly working on a big project just before he passed away. Something that would help the library secure extra funding, due to its rarity or prestige. I offered to look through his personal things for her while the library did the same with his office, to buy myself some time to figure out if it really was this map. I’m supposed to meet her on Sunday, to tell her what I managed to find.”