“No.” Not until Tobias had found Ghost and talked to him first, anyway.
Sullivan accepted that with good grace. “You don’t want to get him in trouble. I get it. I don’t want to get him in trouble either.”
Tobias narrowed his eyes, and Sullivan lifted his hands in an I come in peace sort of gesture. “Hey, I’m unaffiliated, I swear. I’m not turning anyone over to anyone else, and I’m not planning to make anyone do anything they don’t want to do. I just want my client to stop being terrified that someone he loves is dead.”
Tobias swallowed. He got a small taste of that feeling every time Ghost took off. He glanced around him, hoping against all sense that Ghost would show up and tell Sullivan to get lost, saving Tobias from making this decision. But of course, Ghost wasn’t here. Tobias wished he could learn to stop expecting otherwise.
“I don’t know where he is,” Tobias admitted quietly.
Equally quiet, Sullivan asked, “You think he took off? Or that something happened to him?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“That sounds frightening. I’ll keep my eye out for him as I work, huh? Maybe we’ll get lucky and I’ll stumble across him.”
Tobias found himself nodding. Maybe Sullivan could be useful. Maybe his case had something to do with Ghost’s absence, and talking to him would help Ghost. A private detective had to be safer than a cop. They couldn’t arrest people, which might be enough to keep Ghost from killing him when Tobias found him. Maybe.
“I haven’t heard from him in a while, but his phone is inside. He never leaves his phone anywhere, but it’s on the counter—” He could feel his words speeding up; he clamped his mouth closed.
After a moment, Sullivan asked, “What’s your name?”
“Tobias Benton.”
“Nice to meet you, Tobias Benton. And your friend’s name?”
“Ghost.”
“Okay, Tobias, here’s what we’re gonna do. I’ve been given strict orders not to get arrested today, so I’m gonna turn my back in a second. During that time, you can do whatever you think is best for you and Ghost. When I turn back around, you’ll either be gone or—to my everlasting surprise—I’ll find that the window by the door has been broken, and that you’re very concerned about the suspicious circumstances. Like you said, he might be hurt, so we’ll have to go in to see, and if the cops have to be called, you can say whatever you like about how the window got broken. Since I didn’t witness anything, that’s on you. Sound cool?”
Tobias exhaled, unable to fight the burgeoning sensation of gratitude welling up inside him. Sullivan knew what to do, and Tobias couldn’t begrudge him for removing himself from the breaking part of the breaking and entering.
“Okay,” Tobias said.
“Please don’t hit me with your rock while I’m not looking.” Sullivan turned his back. He began whistling, something that sounded familiar—oh, it was the theme song from Jeopardy.
“You’re hilarious,” Tobias muttered, his gratitude vanishing, and broke the window.
Chapter Four
The sound of shattering glass made Sullivan jump. When he turned around, there was a fist-sized hole in the window pane, and Tobias Benton was staring at it with a conflicted expression.
Sullivan took the opportunity to stare at him a little in turn.
Tobias had sensitive, almost romantic features—a somber brow over big, thoughtful blue eyes; a straight nose; a hard, all-American jaw; and a sweet mouth with a full lower lip. He had nice shoulders—broad and strong under his well-fitted polo shirt, and ridiculously good posture. Paired with those tousled light-brown curls, he resembled an angel from a Renaissance painting. Not the insipid baby cupids, but one of those beautiful, tormented paragons who carried swords on behalf of God and wore silver armor as they led the heavenly host into battle, even while grieving over the necessity of war.
Okay, maybe Sullivan had a streak of the dramatic, but the point was that Tobias gave off a distinct aroma of somber wholesome goodness.
Deadpan, Sullivan said, “Look, a broken window. I do believe a crime has occurred.”
Tobias gave him an admonishing look, and Sullivan hopped the railing, flashing a bolstering smile.
“Buck up, Goody Benton. You’re not going to jail.” Sullivan studied Tobias’s handiwork and dislodged a couple more shards with his elbow to make the hole larger. The windows were the solid, insulation-friendly kind with two panels, one of which slid open horizontally and had a screen installed. “As far as these things go, ‘I haven’t heard from my friend and I thought he might be hurt’ is a pretty good excuse for breaking and entering.”
“I’m not worried about jail,” Tobias said quietly. “Ghost won’t like it.”
“No one likes replacing windows.” Sullivan reached through and fumbled with the latch, bitching at the thing under his breath when it proved resistant. “Besides, ‘I hadn’t heard from you and I thought you might be hurt’ isn’t a bad excuse to give him either.” He tugged the screen out of the way and boosted himself up, concentrating on getting through the open window without crushing his balls on the sill.
He landed on carpet and took a quick glance around. He was in a dining nook, standing beside a small octagonal breakfast table sandwiched between two chairs. From here he could see most of the public space in the condo: nice furniture, upscale appliances in the kitchen, flat screen TV, a key and a phone on the counter. The place smelled musty, but there was no scent of rot or blood.
He heard the soft thud of Tobias landing behind him.
“Ghost?” Tobias called, halfhearted, like he already knew he wouldn’t get an answer.
Sullivan picked up the key and went to the front door. The tumblers rolled over—it was the right key. He relocked the deadbolt before heading back to the kitchen to return it to the counter. “The fact that he left his key points to the idea that he took off on his own. Better than something happening to him, yeah?”
“Maybe.”
