The Black Sheep and The English Rose. Donna Kauffman
when he turned and placed the glass on the countertop. Instead, she came to stand directly beside him. “I pick things up pretty quickly, however.”
“That much, I knew.”
Now it was her turn to smile. “So,” she said, “where did a former assistant district attorney/current adrenaline junkie part-time jewel thief learn how to process fingerprints? I won’t ask where you got all the expensive toys.”
“My partner, Mac, used to be a detective with the NYPD. As for the electronic gadgets, that’s also Mac’s specialty.” He brushed lightly over one set of prints, then carefully placed a piece of specially treated, clear tape over the powder. “The computer system is Rafe. If you want to know anything about anything, or anyone, he’s the guy. Given enough time, he can uncover anything. If he can’t find it, it’s not out there to be found.”
She leaned over to examine his actions more closely, and a waft of spicy lavender scent tickled his nose, among other things. “Which makes you the bankroll guy, I’m guessing,” she said.
He wasn’t insulted by the remark. Mostly because it was true. “Initially, yes. The company funds itself now.”
“Big buck clients?”
“Smart investments. We don’t charge for our services.”
That gave her pause. Good. He discovered he liked shaking her up, being unpredictable. Lord knew she was often that for him.
“Interesting way to run a company that’s not a charitable foundation.”
“Yes, I thought so myself.” Smiling, he went back to work. He motioned her to follow him over to another small table, where he peeled off the fingerprint tape and processed it.
“You have access, I assume, to some kind of fingerprint database.”
“We do.”
“So, if John’s shower and champagne companion is in that database, that means she’s not likely to be your run-of-the mill Susie Secretary.”
“Or Dora Desk Clerk,” he teased, making her roll her lovely green eyes. “Highly doubtful that’s the case anyway. I don’t think Reese would stop in the midst of a full-scale deal meltdown to have a little fling with the hotel receptionist. Whoever was in that shower with him is, at the very least, involved in some aspect of his world. Whether it’s the part that’s a little shaky on legalities, I don’t know. But the timing of this meeting certainly suggests it is.”
He scanned the image into the computer, then sat back and keyed in the information to start the system searching. Once it was running, he swung around in his chair to look at her. Not surprisingly, she was presently looking over the various tools and equipment lining tables, walls, and a large lab center. Knowing Felicity, she either had a photographic memory, or some kind of recording chip buried in her earring. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her, anyway. In fact, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to revamp the entire setup down here after this was over. He’d have Mac rewire the entire security system. Mac had been bugging him to update to a newer technology anyway.
He glanced at the computer screen, then turned his attention fully back to her, and contemplated the fact that he was already planning a complete security overhaul designed specifically to keep out the very woman he’d invited in. He could say it was all about keeping his enemies closer, but that was a lie he wouldn’t even pretend to tell himself.
“So, if we find this woman, then what?” she asked, still wandering around. She wasn’t poking into anything, or even touching anything, but he doubted she was missing much anyway.
“We dig up as much information on her as possible. Then we find her.”
Felicity looked over at him. “Find her. In a city of millions.”
“You track things a lot smaller than people.”
“But there aren’t generally a million or so of them running around. And we have to do this before the piece leaves the country. Either you have access to a lot more data than even I could imagine, or you know more than you’re letting on.”
“I’m pretty well connected.”
She held his gaze for a moment longer, looking as if she wanted to say something, then went back to wandering around his office and lab space. “You say you don’t use this place often? A lot of gear here for the occasional user. Nice toys, too,” she added, with a quizzical glance in his direction, as she walked past the pinball machine.
“Helps me think. It’s a left brain-right brain thing.”
“Not a stunted childhood thing?” she asked, smiling this time.
He smiled back. “Oh, no, that, too. Definitely didn’t get enough toys growing up. But then, who does?” He gestured to the rest. “As to that stuff, well, we have the means to own some pretty nice gear. So, it’s not a bad thing to have it when you need it.”
She glanced over at him, a smile playing around her mouth. “There’s a sentiment I can agree with.”
His body stirred.
She nodded toward the computer. “I think we have something.”
Surprised, he turned to look at the monitor and discovered she was right. “Usually takes longer.” A lot longer. He chalked it up to luck and rolled his chair back over to the screen and began to scroll through the information. Felicity came to stand behind him and read over his shoulder.
“Julia Forsythe,” Finn said, reading out loud.
“American,” she said as he continued to scroll. “Interesting.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Nothing specific, just that I haven’t discovered too many of you Yanks in this line of work, that’s all. At least at such an advanced level.” She smiled at him. “You being the exception, of course.”
He didn’t bother to correct her assumption, thinking she was baiting him for precisely that purpose. “My experience is that it doesn’t seem to hold to gender or race.” Now he smiled. “A thief is a thief.”
She didn’t respond to his baiting either. And he found himself regretting they would never fully be able to just be themselves with each other. Too much was at stake, for people who mattered. Well, in his case anyway.
He turned away to another computer and began typing in the pertinent information. She was still standing at the other monitor, scanning through what little info there was on the hit.
“One prior arrest. Grand theft. A felony,” she said, making a humming noise, but no other comment. “Charges were dropped.”
“The arrest was enough to get her prints in the system. That’s all we needed.”
“You’re not going to find much then, are you?”
“I’m not researching her criminal history.”
Felicity looked up at that. “Oh?”
“As you said, not much there to look into, and what is there isn’t exactly a surprise, on the surface anyway.”
“Says here, last known address is San Francisco.”
“Still is,” he said.
She walked over to stand behind him. “My, my. You are rather connected, aren’t you?” She leaned down to peer more closely over his shoulder as additional information about one Julia Dawn Forsythe, age thirty-three, single, scrolled onto the screen in front of him now. “Impressive.”
It was that, he thought. Knowing what their setup was capable of didn’t mean he still didn’t enjoy watching it in action every now and again. He’d sent the information back to their home system, with an alert to Mac, who’d set up a direct link into Rafe’s database, which extended well into realms it probably shouldn’t. Finn didn’t