Page 32 of Operation Heartbeat

A dark brow hitched upward, giving Con a devilish look. “To the cryptogram?”

She nodded and dabbed her lips with the napkin. “Can I see the photo again?”

He passed her the phone. This time their fingers only brushed, without the tug of war.

“This painting was hanging in the New York City Met at the time that the suspect was in town.”

“Okay?”

She shifted her gaze to his. “Wasn’t there just a bombing near the Met?”

He ran his fingers over his short hair. “Of course. You know that.”

“So why would he only take a picture of that painting?” Her question hung in the air for a long beat. “I think he’s feeding us information as he wants us to receive it. Which is scary as hell.”

“It’s also very likely.”

“What interests him about old Henry?” she asked aloud.

She blinked and held the phone at arm’s length.

“What are you doing?” Con asked.

“Either my eyes are going wonky from staring at screens too long or… No! I’m right. Look!” She held up the device in front of his face. “One of Henry’s eyes is off the tiniest bit. See?”

“I guess so. But maybe that’s just how the artist painted it.”

“No,” she said slowly.

Then it hit her. She quickly sent the photo to the laptop and enlarged it.

“My god,” Con whispered close to her ear as he hovered over her shoulder to see the screen.

She thumped a hand on the table. “I knew it! This appears to be a photograph of the original painting—but it isn’t. It’s been altered.” She created a square around the eye and blew it up larger to reveal a bunch of smaller photos making up one larger composite. Just like the answers to the cryptogram had been in the names of each file, each puzzle had an answer.

She issued a squeal. “Each picture tells a story. It’s a puzzle within a puzzle.” She looked up at him, excitement thrumming through her. “Con. Each of these photos could have metadata.”

He swiped an arm over the table, shoving their empty plates to the other side. When she set her fingers to the keyboard, they were shaking so much that she made several typos.

Long fingers stretched over the back of her hand. “Sophie. Calm down. Take your time.”

She bit into her bottom lip and tried to focus on the puzzle instead of Con’s touch…but her body gave her away by breaking out in goose bumps.

* * * * *

Con’s gut clenched when he looked down at Sophie’s arm and noticed that her skin had erupted in goose bumps.

Every guy knew what happened when a woman got goose bumps—her nipples got hard too.

He yanked his hand away, but he could still feel those small bumps. To dispel the sensation, he hooked his hand around his nape and rubbed.

He had to get some fresh air. He’d step outside for a minute.

He didn’t even take a step before realizing what a mistake that would be. Just seeing the pool through the glass door was a reminder of stripping off his and Sophie’s clothes and throwing them both into the sun-warmed water.

She had to be wearing the perfume again.

Taking a deep sniff of the air, he tried to detect any trace of it on her. He couldn’t pick it up, so he leaned over her, pretending to stare at the screen while surreptitiously sniffing her hair.

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