Page 53 of The Love Bandits

I’ll fill her in on some stuff, at least. I have no intention of telling her that I wanted to climb Jake Not-Jeffries like a tree and refuse to come down until the fire department showed up. While I like Rosie a lot, it would be a betrayal of the laws of best-friendship to tell her any of that before I tell Claire.

“Where are we going?” she asks, already stepping out of the doorway. This is something I enjoy about Rosie—she’s always up for anything, no questions asked.

A delivery of penis balloons?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

A late night trip to a stranger’s apartment?

Whose car are we taking?

“We’re going to collect a thief’s belongings,” I answer.

“Uh…youneglected to tell me these apartments are dope,” Rosie says, glancing around Jake’s front room, taking in the open kitchen.

“Are you scoping this place out for yourself?” I ask, feeling on the edge of laughing. Just on the edge, though, because I’m self-conscious about having brought her here. Jake said he’d prefer it if I didn’t look at whatever’s under the floorboards. It goes without saying he was hoping no one else would look at it either.

Rosie can keep a secret, but she isn’t exactly…discreet.

Or interested in listening to directions.

Still, I’m glad I asked her to come. It felt good to talk to someone else about everything that had gone down at Smith House—and Rosie was appropriately shocked by the episode with the necklace. She asked how much it’s worth, and all the color drained out of her face when I told her.

I’m inclined to agree with Jake—the biggest suspects are Anthony, Nina, and Mrs. Rosings herself. Emma too, if she was really at the house.

“I mean…Jake’s not coming back here, right?” Rosie asks, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

I laugh. “I regret to inform you it’s an Airbnb.”

“Bummer. But there was a sign on the bulletin board in the hallway. Someone named Joy’s looking for a roommate. Maybe we can stop by on our way out.”

I stifle another laugh at the thought of whirlwind-made-human Rosie moving in with Joy. “I met Joy when I was here on Monday. She’s an elderly woman who makes tea.”

She shrugs and heads into the kitchen. “I like old people. If she brings the tea, I’ll make the crumpets. Plus, I’m guessing there’s a lower probability she’ll have loud animal sex in her room.”

“Don’t be ageist.”

“Fair point. But I’m guessing I’d mind less if the loud animal sex didn’t involve my brother.”

“Fair point,” I say with a laugh. “Still, I’m guessing she wouldn’t want visitors at 11:30 p.m. on a Saturday.”

Rosie thinks about this, then nods, pulling the purple streak in her hair. “I’ll call her tomorrow.” She tugs open the refrigerator door and glances inside. “Do you want a beer? I think I need one.”

“Nope,” I say, though I’m grateful she’s distracted. “I’m going to go grab Jake’s clothes. Why don’t you take a look around the kitchen? See if it passes muster.”

She might not need to bake the way Claire does—as an extension of her neuroses—but she enjoys it.

She doesn’t fight me on the idea, so I head into Jake’s bedroom, feeling a strong case of déjà-vu.

First, I stop at the drawer on the bottom left and gather up the sketchbooks, including the hollowed-out one, which has a different weight. I avoid the temptation to look through them, my heart thumping as I listen to Rosie padding around in the kitchen.

Then I head over to the bed and lift the upper half, finding the loose board. I wrench it up away from the others, making a squeaking sound.

I glance out the doorway to check on Rosie, but there’s no sign of her. So I reach in and quickly grab what’s inside, tugging it out before I let the board and the bed back down.

My heart’s still thumping fast, my mind frozen in indecision. The bag is lighter than I thought it would be, and if there’s a weapon inside, it’s an incredibly subtle one. No metal. Actually, whatever’s inside is soft, like a balled-up sweater, and light.

But why would he care this much about rescuing a sweater or a pair of socks or whatever?

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