Hidden Riches

said dully. She watched, light-headed, as two officers escorted a babbling and cuffed Winesap out of the shop. She hadn’t needed to lower her head between her knees, but she remained sitting. It was an even bet as to whether or not her legs would support her. “He was going to write me a check.” A laugh bubbled out, lightly tinted with hysteria. “Jesus Christ, I wonder if I’d have asked him for two forms of ID.”
    “Here.” Jed shoved a cup into her hands.
    “What is it?”
    “That tea you drink—with a little brandy.”
    “Good idea.” She knocked it back like water and felt it warm her jittery stomach. “I guess you guys got all you needed.”
    “We got plenty.” He wanted to touch his fingertips to her hair, but he was afraid she’d cringe away. “You did good, Nancy.”
    “Yeah, I did.” She lifted her eyes then, made herself meet his. “I guess on some level we didn’t make such a bad team.”
    He stared down at her for a long time. “It’s been hard on you.”
    “I come from pretty tough stock, Skimmerhorn. Conroys don’t fold easily.”
    “You were brilliant.” Brent swept in to lift Dora out of the chair by her elbows. He kissed her, hard. “A stand-up job, Dora. You want a job on the force, you’ve got my recommendation.”
    “Thanks. But I’m putting my magnifying glass and coupe in mothballs.”
    “Come again?”
    “Nancy Drew,” Jed muttered, and felt his heart sag. “I’m going down to Interrogation with Brent. Are you going to be all right?”
    “I’m going to be fine. Terrific, in fact.” Her smile was blinding, but she lowered herself carefully to the arm of the chair. “It’s still tough for me to believe that pathetic little man engineered all this, and killed DiCarlo.”
    Brent opened his mouth, then shut it again at a swift, warning look from Jed. “We have enough on the tape to pry the rest out of him.” Because they felt useless, Jed jammed his hands in his pockets. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
    “I said I would. Go be a cop.” She softened the words with a smile. “It looks good on you.” She pushed a hand through her hair. Jed watched as the strands fell beautifully back into place. “I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a call, let me know what the result of the interrogation is.”
    “You’ll get a full report,” Brent promised her.
    “In the morning.” Steadier, she rose again. “I’m going upstairs and sleep around the clock. If you’re finished in here, I’ll lock up behind you.”
    She followed them to the door. When he reached it Jed turned, closed his hand over hers on the knob. He couldn’t help it. “I’d like to talk to you tomorrow, when you’re feeling up to it.”
    She nearly gave in. Very nearly. There was as much hurt in his eyes as she was holding inside her. But a fast break was a clean one. “My schedule’s a little tight, Jed. I’ve booked an early-morning flight to Aruba. I’ve got to pack.”
    There was nothing in her voice, nothing in her face that offered the slightest opening. “You move fast.”
    “It seemed best all around. I’ll send you a postcard.” Because she hated the bitter aftertaste of the statement, she turned her hand under his and gave it a quick squeeze. “Give ’em hell, Captain.”
    She closed the door quickly and turned the lock.
     
    “Why didn’t you tell her we’ve asked LAPD to move on Finley?” Brent demanded when Jed stood on the sidewalk.
    He hurt, all over, as if someone had pounded him ruthlessly and methodically with foam-covered fists. “Do you think that would have made her sleep any better?”
    “No,” Brent murmured to Jed’s retreating back. “Guess not.”
     
    And she was telling herself that sleep was exactly what she needed. She hadn’t had a decent night of it in more than a week. Dora pulled the shade on the front door, then drummed up the energy to lift the coffee-and-tea tray.
    Once she got to Aruba, she promised herself, she’d do nothing but sleep. She’d sleep in bed, on the beach, in the ocean. She’d bake this aching depression out of her body and mind with the Caribbean sunshine, beat those midwinter blues and come back tanned and revitalized.
    She set the tray on her desk to carefully lock the storeroom door and engage the security alarm before heading up to her apartment.
    It was habit more than desire that had her taking the tray into the kitchen to wash. When she turned from the sink, she was standing face-to-face