A Breath Away

“Certainly a bigger issue. I’ll get it installed. We can probably consider this a fairly definitive test.”

“I can’t think of a better situation.”

“He’s the best.”

Curious, Jade angled her head. “You really think so?”

“Near as I can figure.”

“You met him?”

“Slick.”

“In spades. What did you find out research-wise?”

“More than you, I bet.”

“Cute.”

“You wanna put fifty on it?”

Recalling Tremaine’s evasive answers and, worse, her reaction to him, she shook her head. “Not particularly.”

“I think he considers me a rival for your affections.”

“How do you figure that?” she asked casually, though sweat prickled at the small of her back.

“Just got that sense.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Ten minutes.”

She rolled her eyes. The man was a master. How could she forget? He’d taught her, after all.

There was no telling what Frank had gotten from Tremaine in ten minutes—added to what he’d researched. When he saw them together, he’d really get a troubling picture.

She’d already briefed her partner on the suspected cause of their client’s shooting, so he’d dug much further back in Tremaine’s life.

“Let’s hear the dirt,” she said.

“He’s an orphan.”

Despite preparing to be cynical, her heart stuttered. Guess the old money, vineyards and real estate he’d told Lucas about were part of his cover. “No kidding?”

“Mom dropped him off at a Catholic orphanage when he was six months old. Father’s identity unknown—blank on the birth certificate. Tremaine was his mother’s last name, and she died three months after dropping him off with the nuns.”

She swallowed.

“Around the age of fifteen, an old family friend came to visit him. Tremaine met with him in private, then told the nuns that the man hadn’t known his family, that he’d been mistaken about his identity.

“A few months later, he started sneaking out of the convent. He got caught a couple of times, and the nuns sent him to confession and counseling. At first, they figured he was out looking for drugs or alcohol, but others don’t think so.”

“Who’d you get this from?”

“One of the nuns.”

Being raised Catholic, though she’d been lapsed for many years, Jade had a hard time picturing anybody grilling nuns. “She just offered all this up?”

“I smiled nicely.”

“Ha.”

“And memorized a Bible verse she wanted me to learn.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Micah 2:1. It’s a warning about devising wickedness. Truth is, without the black cape and funny hat, she was kinda cute.”

“Stop.” Jade held up her hand. “Oh, please stop.”

Frank cleared his throat. “Anyway, I got the info. You wanna hear it, or not?”

“He was sneaking out at night.”

“Right. Nobody really knows what he was doing during all these late-night outings—except maybe the priest in the confessional booth—since Tremaine refused to tell anyone. But then the forays stopped. Supposedly.”

“Supposedly?”

“My opinion. I think he just stopped getting caught.”

“Our thief was born.”

“Makes sense. For the next year he was the model student. The day he turned eighteen, he packed his suitcase and headed out for parts unknown. The mail the nuns tried to send him came back.”

Again, an odd, sinking feeling rolled through her stomach. Like her—until she’d found Lucas—Tremaine had been alone in the world. “He never went back?”

“Oh, he went back. Brought a big freakin’ check that entirely renovated the orphanage—big-screen TVs, PCs, video-game units, board games, building blocks, playground equipment, solid-wood bunk beds, freshly painted walls. The works.”

“Profits from an excellent thief.”

Frank shrugged. “Maybe. He refused to let them credit him as the benefactor.”

Just as he’d refused to defend himself earlier. She shook aside her emotions and concentrated on facts. “So he wanted a low profile.”

“But why go back at all?”

“They’d raised him,” she said.