Page 36 of One Last Secret

“Have you finished?” I say tersely.

He gives me a sideways look, then says, “Sure. No point in arguing with a stone wall.”

I know I’m being unfair. I know it was hard for him to see me hurt. Even if the fleeting romantic thoughts I have for himearlier are foolishness borne of adrenaline, heisa friend, and he’s said he cares for me.

I sigh. “I’m sorry, Sean. Truly, I am. If I could allow myself to step back, I would, but I can’t. It’s a compulsion in me.”

“It’s a mental illness is what it is.”

"Maybe so," I allow, "but I can't stop it any more than you can help the fact that you're here. You've put your life on hold to help me find my sister. I'm so grateful for it, and I am so lucky to have found you, but you're not doing this for me. If you were, you would have pulled away a long time ago."

“I am absolutely doing this for you,” he says.

I look at him, and he chuckles bitterly. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re paying me well, that’s all.”

His words pierce far more deeply than I care to admit to myself. I look away and stare ahead at the road, waiting for the pain to subside before it causes me to say something I’ll regret.

It’s just as well. I can’t afford foolishness.

“I am paying youverywell,” I agree. “So let’s have no more argument about how much I can and can’t afford to involve myself in the case.”

We fall silent after that and remain that way until we reach the modest apartment building that Lisa Reinhardt calls home. The building is situated near Monterey’s downtown, and the traffic is quite crowded.

Sean parks across the street, and we enter the building. “The problem with you being here,” he tells me, “is that she’ll recognize you. So I can’t use my cover of being a journalist.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Because I only thought of it just now.”

“Then that wasn’t the only problem.”

“Not the only one. I just keep hoping you’ll listen to reason one day.”

He leads me to the third floor of the nine-story mid-rise. “Hers is the second on the left.”

“How did you get her home address?”

He laughs. “Any ten-year-old with internet access can find a person’s home address.”

“Well,that’sdisturbing.”

“All the things that have happened to you, and public records are what you find disturbing.”

The conversation stops because we are in front of her door now. Sean lifts his hand to knock, but I notice something and lift my hand. “Wait.”

“What is it?”

“The door. It’s open.”

“What?”

I push gently. The door moves easily. It was nearly closed, but not shut enough for the knob to latch.

Sean frowns and draws his handgun. “Stay outside.”

“No.”

“Mary, for the love of—”

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