Page 68 of Paternal Instincts
Frustrated at not getting the answers I wanted, I pressed the Stop button on the recording and pocketed my phone. “Sit tight, Miss Prescott. We’re not done yet.”
Leaving the room, I headed to the basement.
I announced myself with a “Please tell me you’ve miraculously discovered the answer to what the hell is going on with my fucked-up case because, at this point, I have bad feelings for about four people,two of them being the parents, but none of them seem to be in actual possession of the abducted child, which makes me think I’m wrong. If our dear old missing mother, who is supposed to be on bed rest, wasn’t so goddamn confident the boy was alive and not in danger, I’d be convinced he was dead in a fucking ditch somewhere.”
Aslan smacked Costa’s shoulder and leaned in, lowering his voice. “PS, when Quaid loses the ability to censor his comments and starts dropping the f-bomb, he’s about ten seconds from a volcanic eruption of a Vesuvius magnitude. Proceed with caution.”
Costapffed and shoved Aslan out of his space. “You act like I don’t know my boy insert-long-space friend.”
Aslan snorted. “Afraid I wouldn’t have heard the pause?”
“Yes, and I don’t need your bullshit.”
“You’re cute.”
“Shut up, Doyle.” To me, Costa said, “Remembering this is my weekend off, you will contain your volcanic explosion. Got it?”
Aslan, not missing a beat, said, “He volcanically exploded all over me last night. Hopefully, he’s drained.”
Costa groaned and sank lower in his chair, but my level-ten sneer brought the smile back, and he pointed, chuckling. “Does that face really work on anyone anymore?”
I sighed and sulked. “No, and it’s pissing me off. I used to control people with this face. I had all the power. No one liked me. They did as I said. It was glorious. Now, I get calledcute.”
Costa shrugged and motioned to Aslan. “He just called me cute. We can be cute together. Take over the world with our cuteness. Be the… What the fuck am I saying?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Aslan. “This is your fault.”
Aslan howled and clapped his hands. “You two are epic. I predict volcanic explosions in your future.” He winked in my direction.
Costa glared at my husband. “You’re disgusting, and I hate you.”
I did my best to smother a smile and keep the sneer in place as I smacked Aslan’s shoulder. “Get out of my chair,husband, before I remove you, and leave poor Costa alone. I need him more than I need you right now.”
“Oh, I see how it is.” Still laughing, Aslan begrudgingly moved. “Next, you’ll be offering to suck his cock.”
I flopped heavily into the vacated chair and nudged Costa’s knee to draw his attention from my husband before he decided to kill him. “Hi, sweetie, honey pie, boy friend with a pause in between.”
“Don’t.”
“Please tell me you have something I can use to solve my case.”
“Maybe. I have good news, bad news, and expected news.”
“Expected news? What does that mean?”
Costa swiveled to face the bank of computers on his desk, clicked a tab on the active screen, and brought up a still-frame video. He let it run. “I visually confirmed your father’s Tuesday evening meeting was with Clementine.”
The bird’s-eye view of the courtyard wasn’t a clear image. The focus was poor, and the distance from the scattered tables made it hard to make out faces. Costa indicated when a man entered the frame and sat at a table to the left of the screen. A minute later, a woman joined him.
Costa hit pause and clicked around, zooming in. More clicking and the picture cleared enough to properly identify Nixon and Clementine.
“Let me watch it.”
“I’ll set it at an increased speed. They’re together for about forty-five minutes, and there’s no sound, so you only get actions, and they’reunimpressive.”
I watched.
Aslan stood behind me, rubbing my tight shoulders and narrating. “They mostly talk. Nothing overly intimate in their behavior. They don’t even lean toward each other or act secretively. A few gestures from him. She’s mostly poised and alert, nodding a few times. Exceeept…” Aslan drew the word out. “There. See it? Nixon touches her hand and leaves it there for a minute.”
“That’s it? One intimate touch.”
