Page 28 of Guilty as Sin
Were they supposed to have come from the shop? “One slightly trampy red thong looks much like another,” she said. “I think blue’s more your color. Also, those aren’t big enough. Love handles are never a good look. Go for the fit, not the label.”
He stared at her. She stared back at him. “Or as they’re in an envelope,” she said slowly, “I’m guessing they were a present. An anonymous present? And you thought I’d sent them. All I can say is, buddy—you might want to check your delusions. I don’t think I’d have had to waste my postage.”
“Because I’d have…”
“Because if you really thought I’d sent you my underwear, you wouldn’t be eyeing me suspiciously and trying to trip me up in my evil lies. You’d be slapping on some Old Spice and getting over here so fast, your feet would barely hit the ground.”
“No,” he said. When she sighed, he added, that hint of a smile crinkling the lines around his eyes, “I don’t wear Old Spice.”
“Yeah. Well.” She pulled two mugs down from the rack, sloshed coffee into both of them, slapped his down in front of him, and said, “As a student of human nature, you just failed. Milk and sugar?”
This time, he grinned. “No. I don’t seem to go for the sweet stuff.”
She poured some goat milk into her own mug, leaned against the cabinet, crossed her ankles, and said, “So let’s hear how your deductive powers drew you to me. And donottell me it’s because I sell underwear. Please tell me you have more subtlety than that. I have so few illusions left.”
He took a sip of coffee and said, “It’s not really appropriate to share.”
“Uh-huh. I’m not that easily shocked, and I’m in critical need of entertainment right now. Tell me.”
“It was the photos she sent. They could be you.” He stopped, his cup in midair, and muttered, “Blackstone, you wanker.”
“Excuse me?”
He looked at her again. “Just occurred to me. They may not be of the… person who sent them.”
She came around the counter, nudged Tobias gently with her foot, and when he shifted over, climbed onto the other stool. “Tell me. Show me. You’re saying they’re me?”
Oh, no. Lily.Some new campaign to discredit her sister. Any discomfort Paige had felt about her deception vanished. This wasnasty.She needed to handle this. Right now.
Jace pulled a clunky black laptop out of the backpack and said, “It takes a bit to boot up. Meanwhile…” He handed her two sheets of folded paper. “This is the second thing I got. In the mail. It’s a story. Call this Part Two. Part One, I burnt.”
She scanned the sheets, then read over them more slowly before she said, “Somebody’s got an active imagination. Somebody reads erotica. A profiler could probably tell you whether the writer’s male or female, but I can’t. Just because it’s a woman in the story doesn’t mean the writer’s a woman. Anybody hitting on you at the hardware store, inviting you to do some male bonding? The underwear could be a double bluff.”
He looked at her, and she sobered and said, “Sorry. Too casual. If you were a woman, showing me this kind of evidence? I’d say you’ve got a stalker. And that you need to take that seriously.”
“She called me as well. She had my mobile number.” He turned the computer around so the screen faced her, then leaned over and clicked the touchpad. “The third part of the story. Got it this morning, in this envelope.”
Wait.“This morning? Got it where? And shecalledyou?”
“On my porch. The letters came through the mail. This didn’t. That’s when it got real. Before, she called, said something that sounded like a wrong number, than rang off. But I think it was her.”
“Can I see the record of the call?”
He stared at her, shrugged, pulled out his phone, and held it out to her. She looked at it, memorized the number, and tucked the knowledge away.
“Not that it proves anything to you,” he said when he took it back. “But then, I don’t need to prove anything to you.”
She said, “Uh-huh.” Absently, because she was reading. When she finished, she sighed and said, “This mutt’s playing with you.”
“Mutt?”
“Sorry. The person. And they’re too close. Your phone number, your address. You said you got pictures, too? And you thought they were me?”
He twisted the laptop again, clicked some more. “Three photos.” His eyes met hers. “Sure you’re OK with this?”
“Yes.”Not Lily. Please.She looked through the three images, and when she was done, said, trying to ignore the twist in her stomach, “Those could be… me. I don’t think so, but they could be. No identifying marks, no moles, no tattoos. All I can say for sure is that this is a young woman, one who hasn’t had a baby. Could be older, with a boob job, but I don’t think so. And this one—” She clicked again to the third picture. “I can’t say. This isn’t a view I stare at a whole lot. It’s probably the most identifiable, though. That’s what I call a close-up. The others? Yeah, she’s got curves, but you could take them anywhere. A locker room. A bathroom. The first two could be—” She caught herself just in time. “Me, and the third one could be somebody else. Has to be a selfie or taken during sex, but that doesn’t mean the other ones are.”
“A locker room. A bathroom. Or a fitting room,” he said softly.
