1
Abe
Philadelphia, PA
Two private detectives stood in front of me holding a cornucopia of Hawaiian shirts.
“What is this and why?” I asked.
Delilah deposited the clothing on my desk while Freya reached into a tote bag that said “#1 CAT MOM” and revealed sunscreen, flip-flops, and a stack of dog-eared paperbacks.
“Clothes for your upcoming, and much-needed, vacation. Beach wear, beach shoes, and my favorite trashy beach-reads.” Freya held up a book titled Wed to the Pirate Captain. “You need this book in your life, Abe.”
“Already read it,” I said, brow arched.
She snorted. “What else do you need? Delilah and I have nominated ourselves to head the Abe Vacation Committee.”
“A jacket perhaps?” I suggested. “I’ll be vacationing in London. In October.”
“Nothing but gorgeous gray skies and a low-level continuous drizzle,” Henry said. “You’ll be getting the true London experience.”
“A wise man once said you dress for the weather you want,” Freya said. “Throw on your sunglasses and slop on that sunscreen. You’ll feel like you’re on a tropical adventure in no time.”
Behind her giant glasses, her green eyes were bright with good humor. I’d taught Freya Evandale at the FBI’s training academy at Quantico before she dropped out, then hired her as my first employee here at Codex because of her sheer brilliance. But that meant we’d known each other for years—she fancied herself to be my annoying, younger sister.
“Are you really in charge of my vacation committee?” I asked Delilah. She’d moved to the desk next to Henry and was immediately buried in her notes. She and Henry were working an urgent case. Codex had been hired by the Lawrence White Library near Washington, D.C., to retrieve a stolen first-edition of The Black Stallion with an estimated worth of over twenty five thousand dollars. Using their fake-married cover, the Thornhills, they had gone undercover to gain the trust of a D.C.-area book club we suspected of having stolen the manuscript.
Together, as the Thornhills, Henry and Delilah had an impressive close rate. People trusted married couples, and the pair had a natural charm that worked to their benefit while undercover.
What also helped was their real-life engagement. Their wedding was a mere four months from now.
Allowing them to continue working here after they’d confessed their romantic relationship hadn’t been a decision I’d come to lightly. We were a small office working in high-stress and sometimes dangerous situations. I’d been a federal agent with the FBI for eleven years, overseeing teams that worked in white collar crime. I’d witnessed the risk of distraction, the ways conflict in teams could lead to agents being hurt or much worse. And yet Henry and Delilah were unstoppable. Which was a strange contradiction to what I knew to be true about love and marriage—and the many ways you could be abandoned.
“Hmmm,” Delilah hummed with the hint of a smile. “I believe Freya nominated me, although I haven’t accepted the position. I did get you those flip-flops though.”
“An abundance of thanks.” I picked up the sandal gingerly, examining all angles of it. “Also, what help will you need from me on The Black Stallion case while I’m gone? I want you to promise me constant, daily updates. I’ll have full access to my email and will be available by phone every minute of the day.”
“None whatsoever,” she said. “I’m guessing your last real vacation was during the Industrial Revolution?”
“Give or take twenty-one years ago,” I said mildly.
“So you’ll be resting, rejuvenating or whatever the fuck else you do for vacation,” she said. My lips tightened, and I attempted a glower her way. She didn’t back down. After Freya, Delilah Barrett had worked at Codex the longest. A former police detective with a bloodhound’s investigative instinct, she was level-headed and cool under pressure. And could spot a lie a mile away.
I held my palms up, placating. “Of course.”
“What do you do on vacation?” Henry asked. “I picture you dressed in a suit, staring at your laptop and waiting for emails.”
His depiction was eerily precise. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. On the whole, wide swaths of free time didn’t excite me, and my hobbies were few and far between. I liked a long, hard run. A captivating book. A good glass of whiskey. A little history and culture sprinkled in. But these were activities for when work was done.
And work was never done.
To Henry, I said, “Sight-see. Visit historical monuments and museums. Eat at expensive restaurants. Perhaps see the opera.”
Henry and Delilah watched me, waiting.
“And I wait for emails on my phone, not my laptop,” I admitted. “I’m not an amateur.”
“No, sir, you are not,” Delilah agreed. “Which luxurious hotel are you staying in?”
I nodded at our former librarian and fellow history buff. “The Langham.”
Henry brightened. “Perfect pick. You’ll be close to all the best things to do as a tourist. You can even get some Sherlock Holmes sight-seeing in.”
I kept my face impassive. “Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” he continued. “And I can give you a list of the best bookstores in the city. Bring Freya back another stack of paperbacks.”
“Please and thank you.” Freya grinned. “And I should mention that these Hawaiian shirts I bought for you are real lady slayers.”
“Am I to be slaying women on this trip?”
She spread her arms wide. “What else—or who else—are you going to do on vacation?”
I hid a smile while straightening my tie. Freya was going to start sounding like my mother soon. Or even worse, like Jeanette, my stepmom. Combined, the two maternal figures in my life were like hawks when it came to my dating life, and my lack of romantic entanglements their prey. My last serious relationship had been more than five years ago—a woman named Caroline who I’d dated for a year. My obsession with work (her words) and inability to have fun (also her words) were the death-knell for that relationship.
It hadn’t been the first time I’d been accused by girlfriends and lovers of exhibiting a serious dearth of frivolity. And yet, like hobbies and free time, spontaneous fun was never a natural fit for me either. A string of one-night stands had been my only experience with love these past five years—and ever since founding Codex I’d had only one driving motivation in my life.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Capturing Bernard Allerton no longer felt like a driving motivation but rather something more vengeful.
Maybe I did have a problem with obsession.
“A reminder that while my employees are off dating each other like contestants on a reality show, my personal life shall remain personal,” I finally said.
“Dry spell, huh?” Freya shot back. She held out her palm for Delilah to high-five it.
“The level of professionalism in this office is disintegrating at a shocking rate.” I made a show of pulling up my emails to conceal my amusement. The sudden sight of my messages, and the secret I was keeping from my team, sparked a tendril of guilt in my chest. All of this was compounded by the guilt I felt at leaving them with cases and deadlines while I’d be off—presumably—gallivanting through one of the world’s most beautiful cities.