Page 67 of Lion & Lamb

He had been expecting a tip-off call from Garage Dude. He’d also kept an eye on the front entrance. If Maya Rain darted out for a prework latte, he wanted to know about it. But that commanded only a small part of his attention. The rest of his brain was busy running through the scenarios and possibilities of the Archie Hughes murder—mostly to distract himself from the scenarios and possibilities with Maya Rain.

And then Cooper glimpsed something in his peripheral vision that forced him to sit up behind the wheel and take a closer look.

There—in the alley. A side entrance to the building meant for employees, deliveries, and trash pickup. There stood Maya Rain, carefully dressed for a day in the nanny trenches and still managing to look obscenely beautiful.

Cooper rubbed his eyes. He’d slept so little that he felt like hammered garbage. Yet Maya, who’d also been up late, appeared perfectly refreshed, ready for anything. He’d have to ask her for her beauty secrets one of these days.

But first, he wanted to ask Maya what she was doing standing in the alley next to her condo.

“You should be down in the garage, climbing into your sensible Subaru like a good nanny,” Cooper muttered to himself. “What—or who—are you waiting for?”

Cooper realized that this was a perfect opportunity to look at her,reallylook at her, in an unguarded moment. What did her face reveal when she thought no one was paying attention?

But from his vantage point parked on the east side of Eighteenth Street, he couldn’t make out her features. Not in much detail.

He reached under his seat for the hard case resting there. Years ago, in a completely different universe, his then-wife had made a then-outrageous purchase for him: high-end Canon binoculars. “Doesn’t every private snoop need a quality set of snooping goggles?” she’d said at the time, a little woozy with vodka martinis and still very much in love. Cooper couldn’t believe it; he’d promised to treasure them always. A bittersweet memory. Like so many from back then.

Cooper flipped open the case and saw the shape of the high-end binoculars in dark gray padding, but no binoculars.What?A thief would have smashed the window and then stolen the case too, for maximum resale value. So what had happened to them?

If Cooper had to guess, he’d say they were at the bottom of Cooper Jr.’s underwear drawer. The boy did love to “borrow” his dad’s PI gadgets. “Memo to self,” Cooper muttered, even though he wasn’t actively recording. “Discuss with son how ‘borrowing’ works.”

Cooper squinted. Didn’t help. Then inspiration struck. He pulled out his phone, hit the camera app, pointed the lens out his window, then used his fingers to zoom in on his target. Not perfect, by any means. But better than squinting.

He tapped theRECORDbutton, telling himself this was just him being a professional investigator, not a creep.

Maya’s face was as placid as the top of a cool lake. If she had troubled thoughts, she wasn’t allowing the tension to bubble to the surface.

And then Cooper’s view was obscured by something large, pale, and blurry.

He lowered the phone, rubbed his eyes, and took a better look. A late-model white Ford Bronco was slowly making its way down the alley. Something pricked at his brain—heknewthis car. But from where?

There was something on the rear panel, a sticker of some sort. Cooper pointed his phone camera at the Bronco and used his thumb and finger to enlarge the image.

It was an FOP sticker—Fraternal Order of Police. And the black license plate frame had a discreet motto running across the top and bottom:

OUR DAY BEGINS

WHEN YOUR DAY ENDS

Cooper couldn’t believe it. This was Mickey Bernstein’s car.

Chapter69

COOPER’S MINDwas reeling with the possibilities even as Maya slid into the Bronco’s passenger seat, pulled the belt over her shoulder, and clicked it in place. All without paying much mind to what she was doing, as if she’d done it dozens of times before.

Maya and Mickey the detective? Now, that was a pairing he never would have predicted.

Sure, he could imagine Bernstein making a few clumsy moves on the hot nanny, figuring she was anonymous enough not to matter. But this was something different. And it was not the usual business of a cop picking up a witness either. For one thing, that would never involve just one detective. No, this was friendly, familiar. Which meant they were allies…right? Or maybe Maya knew something, and Tricky Mickey was coaxing it out of her with false promises of police protection—all of it off the books, because Bernstein was working his own angle.

Cooper hurriedly opened the city streets app on his phone to see where this alley led so he could pick up their trail. He couldn’t pursue Bernstein directly down the alley; the veteran cop would spot him in a microsecond.

The app offered some good news: The alley ended at a side street that would take you north to Sansom Street or south to Walnut. But the bad news: He didn’t know which direction Bernstein might be headed. That depended on where he was taking her.

A left turn onto Walnut could mean he was headed to the Roundhouse at Eighth and Arch for something official—or something meant toseemofficial.

A right turn could mean Bernstein was giving her a lift to the Main Line for work…or perhaps taking her to the Sables’ head office at the Linc.

And if Cooper chose wrong, he would lose them.

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