“I didn’t say I was considering walking away. I’m committed to helping for these two weeks. Something was going on with my dad, and I’d like to know what. So . . . yes. Let’s set all that aside. Nothing good comes from it.” She held out her arm, and though he hesitated, he finally grasped her hand, giving it a quick shake.
“What do you say we go through Dow’s box?” he said. “And then I’ll drive you back to your hotel?”
“Deal.” She offered him a small smile. “Partner.”
He let out a breathy laugh. “Partner.”
Evan cleared the table while she grabbed the box from where he’d set it by the door when they’d come in. She put it on the cleared table, where only their half-drunk beers now remained. She wasn’t in the mood to drink any more, though. Truth be told, she was exhausted. She’d look through this old junk, and then when she got back to her room, she’d take a hot shower, call Callie to say good night, and fall into bed.
Evan unfolded the box flaps, tucked inside one another, and pushed them back. There were a few pieces of clothing on the top that she picked up and set aside, doing the same with a folded towel and a pair of slippers that looked unworn. Underneath that was a stack of fiction books, mostly spy thrillers, it looked like. She had trouble picturing Dow as much of a reader, but apparently, he had a few more layers than she’d imagined. Or maybe the female friend he’d been staying with had purchased them for him to make him more literary. She handed them to Evan, who flipped through one, stirring up some dust and then coughing. She laughed softly, pulling out a canvas bag at the bottom. It looked mostly empty, squished down by the things that had been on top of it.
She unzipped the bag, pulling back slightly in anticipation of a musty smell and then letting out a small gasp when she saw what was inside.
Cash.
She pulled it out, meeting Evan’s eyes. “How much?” he asked.
She dropped it on the table, spreading it out and then estimating. “About ten grand.”
“The money your dad got for the sale of your mom’s wedding ring.”
He’d given it to Dow. But why? For what? Dow had stuffed it in a bag and stowed it at a friend’s house. And then he’d been killed before he was able to do anything with it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The knock at her hotel-room door the next morning startled her slightly just as she was finishing securing the rubber band in her hair. She knew it was Evan, though, and so she walked to the door and pulled it open. “Morning,” he greeted, pushing off the doorframe where he’d been leaning.
“Good morning to you. Sleep well?”
“Like a baby.”
She almost rolled her eyes but resisted. She was annoyed, though, mostly because she’d slept like crap. Tossing and turning, her mind veering from questions about her father, her mother’s ring, the money they’d found in Dow’s old possessions to Evan and the argument they’d had. She’d also done her fair share of picturing the pretty woman named Aria wrapped around Evan like a pretzel. She rubbed her forehead. What was actually wrong with her?
“Just kidding,” he said as she shut the door and turned. “I slept like crap.”
She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Good. So did I.”
He had a file held under his arm, and he tossed it on the desk before taking the few steps to the bed and sitting on the edge. She’d pulled the sheets up, but it was still mussed and freshly slept in, and dammit, they’d agreed to set all talk of them aside. She’d vowed to set all thoughts of them aside as well. So why, ever since they’d had a fight about it, did the tension seem to vibrate even higher? Why did the sight of him sitting on a bed make her feel flushed and dizzy?
“What’s that?” she asked, her arm flying jerkily toward the desk where he’d put the folder.
“It’s the file Aria brought over last night.”
“Oh.” God, she’d forgotten to even ask about that, and he hadn’t looked inside it after they’d discovered the cash in Dow’s things. They’d spent time talking through why he might have had it, not coming to any conclusions that made a whole lot of sense. She’d been exhausted, though, and so they’d agreed to pick things up in the morning after a full night’s rest, crappy though it turned out to be.
“Remember the man named Lars Knauer I told you about? The case that started my digging?”
“Yeah. Aria found that one, right?”