But Diego wasn’t scared of anybody. So when The Bookkeeper asked him now, “Did you find the girl who got away from the massage parlor?” he replied in a flippant manner, “Last night.”
“She’s no longer a problem?”
“Only to the angels. Or the devil.”
“The body?”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Diego, the only thing more annoying than an idiot is a smart-ass.”
Diego raised his middle finger at the phone.
“Someone else is calling in, so I must go. Be ready.”
Diego slid his hand into his pants pocket and fondled the straight razor for which he was famous. Although The Bookkeeper had already disconnected, Diego said, “I stay ready.”
Chapter 5
Engrossed in her program, Emily gave Honor and Coburn no notice as they passed through the living room.
When they reached Honor’s bedroom, she jerked her arm free from his grip and rubbed her bruised biceps. “I don’t want to get shot, and I certainly wouldn’t risk Emily’s life or run away and leave her behind. The manhandling is unnecessary.”
“That’s for me to decide.” He nodded toward the computer on the writing desk. “Was that your husband’s computer?”
“We both used it.”
“Boot it up.”
“There’s nothing on it except my personal emails, school records of my students, and lesson plans for each month.”
He just stood there, looking dark and dangerous, until she went to the desk and sat down. It seemed to take an eternity for the computer to boot. She stared into the monitor, looking at the blurred reflection of herself, but all the while aware of him, standing close, emanating odors of the swamp, his body heat, and a distinct threat of violence.
From the corner of her eye, she looked at his hand. It was relaxed, resting against his thigh. Even so, she knew it could squeeze the life from her body if he put it around her throat. The thought of it wrapped around Emily’s sweet, soft neck made her ill.
“Thank you, Mr. Coburn,” she whispered.
Several seconds elapsed before he asked, “For what?”
“For not harming Emily.”
He didn’t say anything.
“And for keeping the pistol out of her sight. I appreciate that.”
Another few seconds ticked past. “Nothing to be gained by scaring the kid.” The computer asked for a password. Honor quickly typed hers in. It showed up as black dots in the box.
“Wait,” he said before she could hit Enter. “Backspace and type it again. Slowly this time.”
She pecked out the letters again.
“What does the
“Rosemary.”
“H, r, Gillette. Not a very original password. Easy to guess.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Let’s see.”
He reached over her shoulder and began maneuvering the mouse. He navigated through her emails, even those that had been deleted, and all her documents, which contained nothing that would interest him unless he was in second grade.
At one point, she asked politely, “Would you like to sit down?”
“I’m fine.”
He might be, but she wasn’t. He was leaning over her, occasionally making contact with her back and shoulder, his arm brushing hers as he scooted the mouse around.
Finally he was satisfied that the files he’d opened were useless to him. “Did Eddie have a password?”
“We used the same one, as well as the same email address.”
“I didn’t see any emails to or from him.”
“They’ve all been deleted.”
“Why?”
“They were taking up space on the computer.”
He didn’t say anything, but she felt a tug on her ponytail and realized that he was winding it around his fist. When he had a tight grip, he turned her head toward him. She closed her eyes, but she could feel the pressure of his gaze on the top of her head.
“Open your eyes.”
Given her recent thoughts on the strength of his hands, she did as he ordered because she was afraid not to. She was on eye level with his waist. The proximity of her face to his body, and the intimacy it suggested, was disconcerting, as she supposed he intended. He wanted there to be no doubt as to who was in charge.
But perhaps she could turn this to her advantage. Her nose was inches from the outline of the pistol beneath his T-shirt. Her hands were free. Could she-
No. Even before she had finished formulating the thought, she cast it aside. Eddie had taught her how to shoot a handgun, but she’d never been comfortable handling any firearm. She couldn’t secure the pistol and fire it before Coburn knocked it aside or yanked it from her. Any attempt to do so would only anger him. And then what? She didn’t hazard to guess.
Using her fisted ponytail as leverage, he tilted her head back until she was looking up into his face. “Why did you delete your husband’s emails?”
“He’s been gone for two years. Why would I keep them?”
“They could have had important information in them.”
“They didn’t.”
“She says, sounding real sure about it.”
“I am,” she snapped. “Eddie wouldn’t have been so careless as to put important information in an email.”
He held her stare as though gauging the strength of her argument. “Do you do your banking on this computer?”
“No.”
“Pay any accounts?”
She shook her head as much as his hold on her hair would allow. “Neither of us used it for personal business.”
“What about his work computer?”
“It belonged to the police department.”
“It wasn’t given to you?”
“No. I suppose another officer has use of it now.”
He studied her face for another long moment, and must have determined that she was telling the truth. He released her hair and backed away. Relieved, she stood up and moved away from him and toward the door. “I’m just going to check on Emily.”
“Stay where you are.”
