More Than a Mission - Caridad Pineiro [44]
A sharp slice of his hand silenced her. “The Sparrow or Elizabeth. So far, we’ve got lots of things linking them, but nothing definitive.”
“You’re right. But it’s hard to ignore everything we do have, isn’t it?”
Aidan agreed despite his unease. “I still want definitive, Lucia. I want to solve this case. I want it for Mitch.”
He didn’t add that he wanted it for himself, because he was too conflicted. But Lucia knew. She might specialize in talking to machines, but she had great people sense, as well.
“Just watch your back,” she noted.
“You help watch it for me.” He motioned to the monitors and with a wave, headed for Elizabeth’s cellar.
He had dressed in sweats. The gym bag he held contained assorted workout gear and the special surveillance equipment he had developed.
Elizabeth was in the front garden when he arrived, picking things from the garden, presumably herbs for what she would cook that day. He waved and called out, “Good morning.”
She walked over, examining him as she did so. “Working out?”
He pointed to the restaurant. “You did say we could use the equipment in the gym before the patrons arrived.”
“I did.” She nervously grasped and ungrasped the handles of her garden basket. “You were right yesterday,” she blurted out.
“Right? About what?”
“The police. I called them this morning and filed a report. Called the insurance company, as well. An adjuster is coming in a few days to check out the damage.”
Another decision that didn’t make sense if she was the Sparrow.
Then he remembered her words to him about how things could never be the same and tried to reassure her, to work his way into her confidence. “Once it’s fixed, it’ll be like new.”
“Right. Like new,” she repeated, although she was clearly not on board.
“Right. So, I’m heading to the cellar. Unless you need help with something.” Or unless you want to pick up where we left off on the bluff, he thought, wondering if that was possibly the way to the truth.
“No, no. I’m fine. I’ve got to decide on the day’s menu. Prep a few things,” she advised and turned toward the door.
He walked beside her and they entered the kitchen. It was empty, but she had clearly already been at work there. A number of bowls and items were laid out in anticipation of the day’s meals. Tomatoes, basil and other herbs, fresh picked from her garden. He could smell their aroma as soon as they entered the room.
When she headed to her prep table, he peeled off and rushed down the cellar stairs. Just to be convincing, he decided to start on the boxing bag first. Grabbing the wrist wraps from his gym bag, he wound them snugly around his hands and wrists, and then began his routine on the bag.
Punch after punch. An assortment of kicks that would send noise up to the kitchen above. He wanted to make sure Elizabeth was aware of what he was doing. Afterward, he unwound the wraps and tossed them beside the bag. Hitting the center of the mat, he did crunch after crunch. As he’d expected, the sudden drop in noise drew her attention.
From his prone position on the mat, he was able to see the door to the cellar open. Her feet—petite feet he made a point to note, thanks to Lucia’s earlier comment—were visible as were her toned calves, but not much else.
She was checking on him, and, seeming satisfied that he was up to just what he’d said, she closed the door.
Perfect. He quickly laid out some of the free weights on the mat, just in case she checked on him again. He needed to be able to grab one of the weights immediately as a cover. “Red Rover, I’m going in,” he advised.
“All’s clear. She’s working in the kitchen.”
He headed to the locker and with the combination Lucia had secured earlier, opened the lock and removed it.
Inside the locker it was much as he had expected. A sweatshirt and sneakers. He picked up the sneakers and noted the size—a six. A T-shirt lay tossed onto the floor above the sneakers. He held it up to his nose, but there was no scent. No fragrance.
Elizabeth didn’t wear any perfume, just the hand lotion. A hint of