Page 98 of Conrad

“It’s not early. And I like my first workout to be before breakfast.” He gestured to a French press on the counter. “You’ll find cream and sugar in the containers.”

She fixed herself a cup of coffee in a mug that saidCoffee, the official power play,and slid onto a stool.

“Scrambled? Or over easy?” He held up a couple eggs.

“Scrambled.”

He broke them into the sizzling pan.

“It’s like sitting up at the counter in the kitchen, having Edward’s mom cook for me. She used to make me pancakes with chocolate chip faces.”

“I’m fresh out of chocolate chips, but I could whip up a cake for you.” He looked over and winked.

And there was nothing remotely fake about the way her heart just took off, soared inside her. Yes, she could very much love this man.

Might already be halfway there.

“So, I did a search and found Walsh’s address on his formation documents for S & W Management,” she said. “I pulled up his house on maps and did a walk around. It’s a pretty old house. And it looks like he’s in the middle of the remodel project. I went onto the city website, and he’s pulled a permit for a bathroom and kitchen remodel.”

He plated the eggs. “So, you’re still thinking a B & E?”

“No. I have a better idea.”

“One that doesn’t end with us in the clink?” He handed her the plate. “I also did a check—he has a security system. It’s not a fancy one, just an internet company. I think if we take out his internet, we at least have a chance of getting in before we get detected.” He grimaced. “I can’t believe I’m saying any of this.”

“So, you’re still in.”

“If it means keeping you out of jail, or worse, a coffin, yes.” He took a sip of coffee, then set the mug back down. “But the first hint of sirens, we’re gone, okay?”

“Okay.”

He dove into his eggs.

She’d sort of lost her appetite. The last,verylast, thing she wanted was for him to end up compromising his career. “Maybe this is a bad idea. . . .”

“We’re not going to steal anything, right?”

“In theory.”

He sighed. “Fact is, what’s been going through my mind is simply that Walsh might be in trouble. Who knows that he’s not lying dead in his home right now?” He drained his orange juice, then he slid off the stool, put his dishes in the washer, and headed to his office.

She, too, finished. “What are you doing?”

He returned with his tablet, the digital map pulled up. “Okay, he lives on a dead-end street, so there won’t be much traffic. I think we do a drive-by and then figure out how to get in.”

“Perfect.” She took the paper. “If my hunch is right, this might be easier than we think.”

He eyed her, but then swept up his keys and jacket, pulled on a wool hat, and donned his gloves. Led her down the stairs to his garage. He opened the garage door, and there sat her pitiful car, the front driver’s window destroyed.

He surveyed the wreckage. “Yikes.”

“Yeah.” She’d pulled on her jacket, her boots, hat, gloves. And now seeing the damage sent a shudder through her.

“I don’t suppose you called the police?”

“And let them take the car into the impound? No. Besides, my dad is freaked out enough.”

“He’s not the only one.” He glanced at her.

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