Page 95 of The Chase
“How would you like to join us for drinks? It’s a Thursday tradition. It’s me and Abby, Shane, Dan and Brandon.”
“I think I’ll go home.” All this stress was starting to catch up with me, and I hadn’t exactly gotten much sleep last night, merely a few hours in between my “Tobias time.”
Vaguely, I wondered if he’d texted me.
After Logan had snatched my phone I’d probably never know.
“One drink?” said Elena. “You look like you need it.”
“I do,” I admitted. “I need a bloody big glass of wine.”
* * *
Within the hour we’d locked up our offices and together with Elena, Abby, Shane, Danny and Brandon, made our way over to Covent Garden.
We settled at a corner table of the Coach and Horses pub. It didn’t take long to realize this was a great decision.
The place had a modern, roomy feel, those black-and-white prints of old London covering the walls added a nice touch to the leather seating, private booths and dark wooden trim around the bar.
I stuck to just one glass of chardonnay, and began to relax a little.
The evening enabled me to get to know them all so much better. It was fun to hear Abby talk about how much she enjoyed journaling, Shane’s love of Manchester United, and Brandon’s obsession with Sherlock Holmes. Danny’s enthusiasm for exploring London’s historic sites was an inspiration and his passion invigorated mine.
The night out had been just what I’d needed to forget.
Huddled in my warm parka with my hood pulled up and warmed by the wine, I headed out of the pub and made my way toward Covent Garden tube station, dodging the other pedestrians.
Luckily, my old iPhone worked just fine and I popped in my earbuds and fired up my iTunes and people watched as the stations flew by.
I was still upset with Logan for stealing my new phone and her ulterior motive was glaring. This wasn’t about her protecting her boss—she was acting out of jealousy.
Still, in my own way I wanted to protect him, too.
18
After taking a leisurely hot shower, I wrapped a towel around my wet hair and pulled on my silk pajamas and threw myself into cleaning. This was the best way I knew to burn off nervous energy and hopefully get Tobias out of my system too.
I tackled the kitchen first and spaced out when I moved on to rearranging my spice rack. There was something comforting about normalcy and this also seemed to focus a part of my brain that problem solved.
I couldn’t wait to visit The Courtauld Institute’s library. The Witt’s vaults held an impressive collection of well-worn books that could very well hold the clues we’d need, secrets that might connect all the stolen paintings. I felt like I was born for this kind of work.
The doorbell rang.
A quick glance in the bathroom mirror proved I was in no state to see anyone. I pulled off my towel and ran my fingers through my wayward damp locks. If it was Tobias, I’d probably put him off for good and get this heart-wrenching pain behind me.
The walk to my front door seemed endless and with each step I regretted not dabbing my face with makeup. It didn’t matter about my pj’s, for goodness’ sake, Tobias had already seen me naked.
Nervousness welled in my belly and my step quickened, all I could think of was having another chance to talk with him and get to explain what happened to his phone.
I flung open the door—
An ID was flashed in my face.
I stared beyond it at the pale, middle-aged woman, her salt-and-pepper hair highlighted by her face with etched hard lines around her mouth. Her formal trouser suit was covered by a long woolen coat. “Ms. Leighton?”
“Yes.”
Her steely blue gaze moved past me into my flat. “I’m from Scotland Yard, ma’am. Inspector Ford. May I come in?”
