On Borrowed Time (13 page)

Heathcliff suddenly dropped on top of her feet, and Lindsey scratched his head while she waited for her search. Finally, it popped up with a Latin IP address registry. She cut and pasted the IP address into the search, and sure enough, the country of origin was verified as Brazil. Jack must have been using one of the computers belonging to the Brazilian company he'd been hired by to send his e-mail.

The cybercrimes detective had talked to them about how some criminals use a proxy server to hide their IP and thus their specific location, but there would be no reason for Jack to do that, so she had to assume this address was legit.

She was afraid to look and see how many coffee companies were in Brazil. She had a feeling it would be like trying to locate one particular bean in a silo of coffee beans. Was there anyone in Jack's inner circle who would know?

Surfacing like a submarine from the depths of her brain, the name
Stella McQuaid
rose to the top. Lindsey logged on to the library's website, and from there she went into the newspaper databases.

She found an article written two years before about Stella McQuaid. At that time, she was still working for the consulting firm, New System Technologies, which Jack still worked for in a freelance capacity. She remembered that Jack had thought very highly of Stella. Lindsey wondered if they'd kept in touch. It was too much to hope that the Brazilian coffee company was a freelance gig for this company, but hey, she wouldn't know until she asked.

She glanced at the clock. It was closing in on midnight. She'd have to wait to call Stella's office in the morning. She tried to convince herself that she was okay with that.

She shut down her laptop. She turned off the lights. She wondered what had become of Sully and Robbie and then told herself it didn't matter. She was safe, she told herself. Perfectly safe.

She unlocked her front door and peeked out just to do one more visual sweep for peace of mind. It was a mistake. The sight before her gave her anything but peace. Instead her voice was full of ire when she asked, “What do you think you're doing?”

“I
told you'd she'd get her knickers in a twist about this,” Robbie said.

“Can't be helped,” Sully said with a shrug. “Do you have any eights?”

“Go fish,” Robbie said.

Sully sighed as he took a card off the top of the pile. The two men were sitting on the landing with a pack of cards and a bottle of brandy between them. The only light shone dimly from Charlie's landing below, and the draft that blew through the stairwell caused her to shiver.

“You're playing go fish?” Lindsey asked, knowing full well she was just verifying the obvious.

“Neither of us had enough money for poker,” Robbie said.

“And war seemed inappropriate,” Sully added.

“Could lead to fisticuffs,” Robbie agreed.

“Go home!” Lindsey barked.

They both looked at her in consternation. Sully picked up the brandy and took a sip and then handed it to Robbie, who did the same.

“Nope,” Sully said. “We're staying.”

“But that's completely unacceptable,” Lindsey said. “You can't sit in my hallway all night.”

“It's a free country,” Robbie protested. Lindsey noticed his British accent seemed thicker and he was slurring. “And coming from me, that's saying something.”

“Are you all right?” Lindsey asked. She hunkered down in front of Robbie. One whiff and she knew he was not all right. “You're shnockered.”

“Am I?” he asked. Then he keeled over onto his back with his arms out wide and a snore coming from his mouth.

Lindsey glanced at Sully. “This is your doing, isn't it?”

His bright blue eyes went wide with innocence. “I can't imagine what you mean.”

“Let me take a wild guess,” she said. “Robbie was a bit miffed about my sleeping at your house and was quite determined to even things out by sending you on a wild errand so he could be my shadow tonight.”

Sully prodded Robbie with the toe of his shoe, but the Englishman didn't respond.

“When I tossed you both out,” Lindsey continued, “I'm betting he planned to camp out on the steps and you joined him, bringing brandy and cards to pass the time. How am I doing so far?”

“Sounds reasonable enough.” Sully brushed a bit of imaginary lint off his shirtsleeve.

“But”—Lindsey emphasized the word, hoping Sully caught the double meaning—“you didn't actually drink any of the brandy, did you?”

“It's not really my thing,” he said. “It's more of an Englishman's beverage, don't you think?”

“I think you got even for being sent on a wild-goose chase, that's what I think,” she said. “Also, you should be ashamed of yourself. Look at him. He's a drunken mess!”

“Oh, I don't know. I think he's kind of cute when he's not flapping his lips.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Come on, help me carry him in.”

“What?” Sully squawked.

“Well, he's got to sleep it off somewhere,” she said.

“I'll give him a ride home,” Sully said.

“You're going to carry a man down three flights of stairs?” she asked. She gave him a dubious look.

“I was thinking I'd roll him,” he said.

“No.”

“I'm sure he'd bounce.”

“No.”

“He'd better have one heck of a headache tomorrow,” Sully said.

“I'm sure he will,” she said.

She bent over and hoisted Robbie into a seated position. Sully took one arm and draped it over his shoulder while Lindsey took the other. Together they hauled the Englishman into her apartment and dumped him on the sofa.

“What if he's faking it?” Sully asked.

Lindsey held up the bottle of brandy to the light. It was more than half gone.

“Somehow I doubt it,” she said.

“Still, he's an actor,” Sully said. “This could just be a ruse to get into your apartment and be alone with you.”

As if he heard them speaking, Robbie let out a grunt and a snore and turned over onto his side into the back of the couch. Heathcliff hopped up beside him and lay down next to him.

Sully frowned at the dog. “Hey, help a guy out.”

Heathcliff put his head down on his paws.

“Robbie gave him pizza crust,” she explained.

“I think I should stay just in case someone tries to break in,” Sully said. “This one is going to be of no use to you.”

“No one is going to try and break in,” she said. “Why would they? It's like Grand Central Station around here.”

She put her hand on Sully's arm and guided him to the door. “Thanks for looking out for me, but I'm good.”

“But I—” he began, but she cut him off.

“Good night, Sully,” she said. She closed the door on his frowning face.

Back in the living room, Robbie snored on. Lindsey was quite certain he wasn't faking it, as he didn't move when she put a quilt on him. He'd been known to catch her off guard with a surprise kiss before. Never would there be a better opportunity, but he slept right through it, for which she was relieved. She was not up for any more relationship shenanigans, not when she was so worried about her brother.

She headed to the bedroom with Heathcliff at her side. Amazingly enough, even though he wasn't in shape enough to defend a wet noodle, she felt better just having Robbie in the apartment. His presence, well, maybe his snoring made the shadows stay in the shadows and Lindsey was grateful.

*   *   *

“M
y head,” Robbie moaned. “I think that bloody pirate split me with an ax when I wasn't looking.”

“No, you're in one piece,” Lindsey said. “I promise.”

She'd cooked up a breakfast of toast and tea, which Robbie was gingerly nibbling. She'd also given him some pain pills for his head, but she had a feeling only lots of water and a nap would set him right.

“I'd say you two are even now, wouldn't you?” she asked.

Robbie glowered. “I don't know. How's he feeling this morning?”

“Vindicated?” she asked. “After all, you did send him out into the cold.”

“Not far enough,” he said. “I should have sent him to Long Island.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes and poured him some more tea.

“So tell me,” Robbie said. “Because truly, I can't feel any worse than I do now—do I stand a chance with you at all?”

“Are you still married?” she asked.

“It's just a piece of paper,” he protested. “You know Kitty and I are just business partners.”

“Not to me,” she said. “I don't date married men.”

“What if I were free?” he asked. He lowered his head and was cradling it in his hands as if holding it together to keep it from separating. “What then, my lovely librarian, would I stand a chance with you then?”

His normally mischievous green eyes were studying her so intently that Lindsey felt her breath catch. Even with a pitiful hangover, Robbie was a force to be reckoned with. It was as if he emitted his own electromagnetic field and no one was immune. Not even Lindsey.

She had always used his marriage as a buffer for her attraction to him. There could never be a them because she was not about to date anyone who was already spoken for, whether it was in name only or not. The thought of him being available was singularly disturbing because she really didn't know if she could resist his charm.

“I really can't answer that since it isn't the case, now is it?” she asked, skillfully dodging the question, or so she thought.

His green eyes flashed and his grin was wicked when he caught her hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles, which made her shiver.

“Then I have hope,” he said.

Lindsey tugged her hand away and said, “No, you don't, because you're
married
.”

A fist pounded on her door, and the fire went out of Robbie's eyes and he groaned, clutching his head.

“I'll bet it's the sodding seahorse here to gloat,” he said.

Lindsey left him and went to open the door. Not surprisingly, Sully stood on the other side. He looked Lindsey over and then glanced past her to where Robbie was sitting at the table, the picture of misery.

“So all went well last night?” he asked. He looked pretty satisfied with himself.

“All went just fine,” Lindsey assured him. She tossed her hair over her shoulders, placed her hand over her chest and gave a deep sigh. “I feel like a new woman. I had no idea it could be so life altering, so earth shattering—”

Her words were cut off by a low growl coming from Sully's throat.

“Ha! Serves you right,” she said. “Now give the poor man a lift home. I have to get to work. Oh, and lock up after yourselves.”

L
indsey hurried down the stairs with Heathcliff bounding after her. They stopped in at Nancy's, where Heathcliff would spend the day. Nancy attempted to pry information about Sully and Robbie out of Lindsey, but she resisted saying anything except that Sully would be giving Robbie a lift home.

When Nancy lifted her eyebrows in surprise, Lindsey did not elaborate. She had more important matters than her personal life to think about today, and she wasn't going to give any grist to the gossip mill. Just like her, they'd all have to wait and see how it played out.

She got her bike out of the garage and tossed her handbag into the basket in back before pushing off and pedaling toward town. The wind was brisk and she tucked her nose into her knit scarf. The tips of her ears were chilled, however, and she was relieved when the library came into view and she knew she was mere moments from a cup of hot coffee.

She locked up her bike and hurried through the back door, deactivating the alarm as she went. She was the first one to arrive today, which meant the opening procedures were all on her.

She stashed her purse in her desk and turned on her computer and then started a large pot of coffee. Next she began to turn on the lights and the computers for the rest of the building. While she was turning on the lights, Ann Marie arrived and began to unload the book drop and check in the materials that had been returned while they were closed.

Lindsey glanced at the clock. She had just enough time to pour a cup of coffee before she unlocked the front doors. She was manning the reference desk this morning until their library assistant, Jessica Gallo, came in to take over. Ms. Cole and Beth were due in any moment.

Lindsey took her coffee cup out to the reference desk. Today was not a day to be faced without java. She knew Ms. Cole would feel behooved to point out that her predecessor, Mr. Tupper, never let them drink beverages on the floor, and Lindsey would have to remind her that she wasn't Mr. Tupper and she wasn't giving up her coffee.

She left the small circular desk in the middle of the adult area and went to open the doors. Ms. Cole appeared behind the circulation desk from the back room, and Ann Marie gave Lindsey a nod that she was ready.

Lindsey unlocked the sliding doors and checked that the door counter was on zero. An automatic counter, it ticked every time someone came into or departed from the building. The staff took the total number each day and divided it in half to ascertain the number of people coming into the library that day.

Statistics were the town's way of summing up the library's worth with a number. How many people used the library? How many people checked out books? How many people came to the programs? How many people used the computers? All these numbers.

Did it really quantify the value of a place where information was free, where thoughts and ideas were stored and shared? Lindsey didn't think so, and she didn't believe the people who loved the library thought so either. Still, the town needed to justify their paychecks, and this was what they'd come up with.

She stepped back onto the rubber mat, and the automatic doors swung open. In rushed Beth looking harried as she raced by.

“Morning, boss,” Beth said as she shot toward the children's area, dragging a rolling plastic bucket full of books and craft supplies behind her.

“Hi, Beth,” Lindsey said.

A few customers shuffled in. An older gentleman set out for the day's newspapers that Ann Marie had just put on the racks; two more younger men headed right for the Internet computers. A third, an older woman, approached the circulation desk with an overdue notice in her hand and fire in her eye.

Mrs. Bane was the world's worst library borrower. She took out too much and could never manage to get it back on time. Naturally, Ms. Cole took this personally.

When Lindsey had first started, she had tried to mediate the situation, but it had come to her attention that both Ms. Cole and Mrs. Bane enjoyed their little go-rounds. They never raised their voices or swore, and as far as she knew, no one had taken a swing at the other as yet; rather they really enjoyed the art of the veiled insult. Lindsey didn't want to impede their joy and so she left them to it.

“I suppose if I had a
job
working here, I would remember to bring my things back,” Mrs. Bane said. She managed to make the word
job
sound like the equivalent of cleaning toilets.

“Don't fret, not everyone has the
intelligence
to have a marketable skill set,” Ms. Cole returned.

Mrs. Bane let out a huff of indignant air, and Lindsey turned away before they caught her smiling.

She had taken her cell phone with her to the reference desk. Since there were no customers waiting, she decided to try calling her brother's old office in Boston. She picked up her coffee and paced over to the window, where she could look out at the street, the park and the bay beyond.

It took three transfers and five minutes of Muzak before she reached Stella's office.

“Stella McQuaid's office, this is Tracy, may I help you?” a pleasant voice answered.

“Yes, please, my name is Lindsey Norris and I'm calling to speak with Stella,” she said.

“I'm sorry, I don't have you listed on her schedule,” Tracy said. “If you'd like to leave your name and number and what this is regarding, I can have her call you back.”

“No, I really need to speak with her for just a moment,” Lindsey insisted.

Tracy's voice became firm and a teeny bit irritated. “I'm sorry but Ms. McQuaid is very busy.”

“I appreciate that, but if you could just tell her that Lindsey Norris is on the phone and—”

“I'm sorry, Ms. Norris, I can't interrupt her right now but I'll be happy to—excuse me, hold on, please.”

Splat!
Lindsey felt as if she'd just run into the proverbial brick wall. By the time Stella got her message, assuming she even made the name connection between Lindsey and Jack, it could be hours or possibly days from now. Lindsey didn't think she was panicking to think that every second counted right now.

“Lindsey Norris? Jack Norris's sister?” a new voice spoke into the phone.

“Yes, yes, that's me,” Lindsey answered.

“Where the hell is he?” the woman barked.

“Stella?”

“Yes, sorry, Stella McQuaid here. You're Jack's sister?”

“Yes, Lindsey Norris. Honestly, Stella, I was hoping you knew where Jack might be,” Lindsey said. She didn't like that Stella's anxiety was ratcheting hers up. She'd been hoping the woman would calm her down.

“He hasn't been in contact in days,” Stella said. “I know Jack is unpredictable, but even for him, this is irresponsible.”

“He was here in Briar Creek,” Lindsey said. Then she realized she was on a cell phone, which was not a secure line, and decided she needed to talk to Stella from her office. “Listen, can you call me back on my landline?”

“Good thinking,” Stella said. “Give me the number.”

Lindsey rattled off the numbers and hung up. She hurried around the circulation desk, noticing that Ms. Cole and Mrs. Bane were still going nose to nose.

“Ann Marie, if anyone needs reference help, I'll be right back,” she said. “I have a call I have to take.”

Ann Marie nodded and turned back to watch the battle of barbs between Mrs. Bane and Ms. Cole.

Lindsey paused and whispered, “What's the score?”

“The lemon seven, Mrs. Bane six,” Ann Marie said.

Lindsey nodded. She figured Ms. Cole was due to win this round as Mrs. Bane had trounced her last time.

She hurried on to her office. She stepped through the door right as the phone started to ring.

“Hel—”

She didn't even get her greeting out before Stella started talking. Lindsey had never met the woman, but she was getting the feeling that Stella took her business very, very seriously.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Stella asked.

Lindsey paused. How much did she want to tell this woman? She wasn't certain she wanted to tell her anything. She had called looking for information, not to be grilled.

“That's not why I called,” she said. Stella started to talk, but this time Lindsey went right over her. “No. I'm asking the questions. What do you know about who my brother was working for and in what capacity? Also, if you could confirm that he was working for a company in Brazil, that would be a big help as well.”

“I'm sorry,” Stella's voice was crisp. “I'm not at liberty to share confidential business information.”

“Then this call is useless to me,” Lindsey said. Now she was getting mad. She knew this woman knew something, and damn it, she wanted to know what.

“I feel the same,” Stella snapped.

They were both stubbornly silent for a few moments. Lindsey almost gave in, but not knowing what exactly she was dealing with kept her silent.

“All right, fine,” Stella caved in. “I can tell you this. Jack was working on a strategic plan for a company in South America.”

“What company?” Lindsey pressed.

“How can that matter?”

“Because he didn't just leave here,” Lindsey paused. “He was taken.”

“What?”

“And that was after a dead body was found in my library, which I think had something to do with Jack, but he was snatched before I could confirm,” Lindsey said. “Now please tell me who he was working for.”

“No,” Stella said.

“Hey, I shared,” Lindsey protested.

“And I'll share with you as soon as I get there,” Stella said. “I'm leaving Boston now. I should be there in a few hours.”

“Do you really think that's nec—” Lindsey began, but Stella cut her off.

“Yes. Where is a good place to stay in town?”

“The Beachfront Bed and Breakfast is about the only place to stay,” Lindsey said.

“Excellent,” Stella said. “I'll be in touch.”

She hung up with a click.

*   *   *

L
indsey tried to work. She reviewed her quarterly budget three times, but the numbers meant nothing to her. Her eyes kept tracking to the clock and then the door. She knew it was ridiculous, but Stella McQuaid had sounded so frighteningly competent that she half expected her to just appear out of thin air.

She managed to get through the budget and was saving it into an Excel spreadsheet when a sharp rap sounded on her office door.

“Come in,” Lindsey called.

A petite woman strode into the room, and Lindsey knew without a doubt that this was Stella McQuaid. Her dark brown hair was styled in a big donut-shaped bun on the back of her head. Her charcoal gray suit was impeccably cut over a crisp white blouse. Her platform shoes gave her an added five inches of height, which given how tiny she was, still made Lindsey feel like an Amazon standing next to her.

“Lindsey?” the woman asked.

“Yes. Stella?” Lindsey said as she held out her hand.

“Nice to meet you.” Stella's hand was cold but her grip was firm and dry.

“Have a seat,” Lindsey said. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you,” Stella said. “We ate on the train.”

“We?” Lindsey asked.

“Tom Jarvis,” Stella said and gestured behind her. A man in jeans and a weathered leather jacket entered the room. “He's in charge of security for our company.”

“Security?” Lindsey asked.

“Our people go into many developing nations where there are unstable forces,” Stella said. “Tom and his crew monitor them and go in to assist should it be required.”

“Was it required for my brother?” Lindsey asked.

Tom had a short military-style haircut, a rugged build and a pair of brown eyes that missed nothing. He ran a hand over his close-cropped gray hair.

“We were just about to go in, when Jack disappeared,” Tom said. “Jack was one of our more experienced consultants.”

“Meaning he's been in some hot spots before?” Lindsey guessed.

Tom nodded with a rueful twist of his lips. “I've always told him if he wants to give up crunching numbers, he can work in my crew.”

Stella rolled her eyes. “Back to the point.”

“Jack disappeared,” Tom said. “We never received a distress call, but one minute he was there and the next he wasn't.”

Lindsey studied the two of them. They looked as worried as she felt, which did nothing to calm her nerves. She decided she had to trust them.

“Jack was here,” she said. She went on to tell them everything. Stella listened, watching her with a scrutiny that made Lindsey want to pace but there was no place to go in the tiny room. Tom nodded a few times as if what she was saying was pretty much what he'd figured. They didn't flinch when she mentioned the dead body in the library.

When she got to the part about the woman taking the phone from Jack and telling Lindsey that they were lovers and her jealous husband was after them, Stella looked mad enough to chew through an aluminum can.