Page 8 of Conrad

Nothing, especially not some uptight lawyer, would stand between her and the truth of who had killed Sarah Livingston.

And beyond that, who had killed Edward Hudson.

But she’d get to that.

“Those are protected files, Miss Pepper.”

Her voice softened. “The files never belonged to Kyle or the firm. They were from Sarah Livingston’s laptop. She gave them to Kyle for safekeeping. And he gave them to me.”

“And you lost them.” He took a sip of wine.

“No. When I opened the drive, it had a formatting error. He must have saved over information and corrupted the drive. I just need access to his cloud. Or his computer?—”

He shook his head, cut his voice down. “Not here.”

She stared at him, and maybe it was the last month of hunting for Kyle—and then discovering his dead body, so that had been awesome—or even the nightmares, waking her in the dead of night, replaying running for her life across a frozen lake—but she was just over it. Tired of lies and missing leads and injustice, and the simmer in her gut just lit up.

He lifted his drink, and a woman walked by, and Penelope used the moment to trip into him.

Red wine splashed across his chin, down his shirt.

Oops.

“What the—” He backed away from her, shaking the wine from his hand, grabbing up a napkin to blot his shirt. “What is wrong with you?”

“Everything okay here?” Conrad walked up carrying a glass of wine and a plate of appetizers.

He could carry the room the way he sauntered up, almost like a dare. Anton glared at her, then spun and strode away.

Conrad glanced after him, frowned.

“He’s getting away,” she said, not really meaning that, but, well, meaningexactlythat because he just might head home, and she’d lose any hope of talking him into?—

“Getting away?” Conrad raised an eyebrow. “Who is that?”

“Anton Beckett, from B & B Law Firm.”

He wore a blank look.

“Kyle Brunley’s firm. Beckett and he were partners.”

Conrad’s expression sharpened with recognition. “Kyle Brunley, the guy who tried to kidnap you at my sister’s wedding.”

“Yes. Maybe. I dunno.”

“I was there. I’m going to say that’s a hard yes.” His mouth tightened. Looked a little fierce and lit a strange tiny spark in her.

She lifted a shoulder. “He’s dead, so really, we’ll never know.”

“Jack told me.”

“The problem is that the jump drive he gave me before . . . well, before everything went down is corrupted. So I never got the information he intended to give me. But I know”—she put a hand to her chest for emphasis—“that he stored it on his computer. Which of course is backed up to his cloud. I’ve already searched his house, and his computer isn’t there, so?—”

“Yousearchedhis house?”

“I was worried, okay? And if it weren’t for me, maybe no one would have found his body.”

His eyes widened.

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