Page 60 of The Diamond in the Rough

If it came down to it, I’d rather that than go back.

“And she found nothing?”

I nodded again in response to Raj’s question.

“Hart!” Mason called from down the hall.

Hart, who had been speaking in quick, low tones with Ward, looked up. “What, Doc?”

“Come be useful,” the orc called back.

Hart stood up—he’d been bending to confer with Ward—and strode out of the room. I didn’t miss the slightly confused look he gave Raj, who was obviously ignoring him.

After Hart passed, Raj stood, then looked over at Ward. “Hart has briefed me on what happened four years ago,” he said. “But we don’t have access to the RPD files anymore. I can put in a request if it becomes necessary, but do you have files from that case?”

Ward frowned, then reached over and grabbed Mason’s laptop, sliding it across the table using a cloth that Mason had put under it—probably to protect the gorgeous woodwork. He flicked his finger across the trackpad, clicking periodically. “Mason saves everything,” he said. “He’ll have backups of the original website, notes from our conversations with Hart, all of that.” He clicked a few more times. “Yep, here we go.” He spun the computer, and Raj leaned over the table to look at the files.

“Okay,” Mason’s voice said as he came in. “Hot chocolate.” In one hand he held a stack of cork coasters, and he put one on the table in front of Ward, then put one of the two mugs in his other hand—held by the handles—on it.

“Here, kid.” I turned, finding Hart holding a small tray with three mugs of cocoa and a plate of shortbread cookies.

I wasn’t in any condition to deal with accidental memories, so I pulled my glove back on before taking my mug from the tray. Mason reached down, putting a coaster in front of me, and another one beside the chair next to me, and one beside Ward, then went back to where he’d been sitting with the last and his own mug.

I could see steam rising from the surface of the cocoa, so I set it down gently on the coaster, wondering if I dared to touch my lips to it without testing it with a finger first. Not because of the beverage, but because of the mug. I didn’t know for certain if either Mason or Hart had inadvertently handled it, and I also didn’t know if my current state would make me even more susceptible to memoriesthan my new normal—or if it might actually numb me to them.

I wasn’t sure which option I’d prefer right now. To be able to keep working on the case, or to be able to close myself off from everyone and everything, at least until this whole thing got sorted out.

I pulled my gloves off, both of them this time, and carefully touched a fingertip to the handle of my mug. Nothing.

I let out a slow breath, then wrapped my hands around it, nerves having made my fingers cold, even in the thin fabric of the gloves. I was careful not to let my wrists touch the table.

“Do you mind if I use this?” Raj asked Mason, looking up momentarily from the computer.

Mason made a gesture that I assumed must mean assent, since Raj went back to clicking and typing.

“The mailing address is different,” the big shifter said suddenly. “And the phone number. Whoever is maintaining the fiction of Tranquil Brook isn’t trying to use the original location or number as cover. They’ve put a P.O. Box and new number on the website.”

“What area code?” Hart asked, already pulling out his tablet.

“Nine-four-eight,” Raj answered.

“So Hampton Roads.”

“Doesn’t mean a lot,” came Raj’s reply. “Easy enough to put any area code on a cell.”

Mason grunted.

“Problem is,” Hart drawled. “New Kent is in eight-oh-four.”

They all looked up at him.

“Meaning what?” Ward asked.

“Tranquil Brook is in New Kent County,” he replied. “That’s who we had to work with on that case. Hampton Roads is a different county—close, mind you. Real close. But they were thinking distance, not county lines.”

“So what does thattellus?” Ward wanted to know, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.

“It tells us someone is sloppy,” Raj replied, passing the laptop back to Mason. “Will you send me those files?”