Hydrogen

2. Leah

2

LEAH

“I don’t even know you,” I told Dog Guy.

He held out a hand and then thought better of it. “Hay…uh…Haygood. Uh, Kevin Haygood.”

“Fine, Kevin, I’ll borrow a shirt. But you need to keep that monster on a leash.”

I crossed my arms over my chest as Kevin led me across the park, but everyone still stared at me. I couldn’t totally blame them—I would have stared at me too.

“I’m really sorry about Brian,” Kevin said. “Normally, he gets out a lot more, but I’ve been working overtime this past month and he’s been cooped up in the apartment all day.”

“Maybe you should consider getting a dog walker?”

“I had a dog walker. She lasted three days, then texted me to say she was moving to South Carolina. Now I’m trying to walk Brian on my lunch breaks, and he’s so happy to get out that he misbehaves.”

What was Kevin’s job? If I had to guess, I’d have said barista. Or waiter. Perhaps grad student on a break?

Kevin stopped on the sidewalk and stripped off his shirt despite my earlier protestations, then used it to wipe Brian’s feet. Okay, I had to admit his abs weren’t bad. Could he be a gym instructor?

“Did he just strip?” Dan asked in my ear. “Take a good look, sweetie. Hey, you’re going into Garner’s building.”

When Dan said Garner, she was referring to Terrence Garner, a thirty-seven-year-old computer repair guy who, as far as we could tell, didn’t do much actual repairing. When Tanner had called to enquire about getting a hard drive replaced in his laptop, Garner claimed to be fully booked for the next month, but he didn’t visit clients—didn’t even own a car—and although he received the occasional package through the mail, we hadn’t seen anyone dropping off a computer to be fixed.

And yet somehow, he managed to pay his rent.

Garner spent his days hanging out in his apartment in downtown Richmond and—possibly—the occasional evening conning elderly marks out of their life savings. The cops had identified eight victims of the fraudster Blackwood was hunting, all elderly, all living alone, three male, five female, and there were probably more. We’d nicknamed him “The Rat” because a favourite tactic was to gain entrance to their homes by claiming the landlord had sent him to check out a rodent infestation in the building. The first four thefts had happened last winter, and then the Rat had taken a few months off before returning to his cruel ways over the summer.

His last victim, a seventy-nine-year-old retiree named Molly Sanderson, had lost three thousand dollars in cash and several valuable necklaces. One in particular was an heirloom that had been in her family for generations. I’d seen pictures of it—emeralds and pearls set in a delicate web of gold. Molly had worn it on her wedding day, and her daughter wanted to follow the family tradition when she tied the knot herself next year. Her fiancé had hired Blackwood to get it back.

So far, we had few leads, but the owner of a local pawn shop who Dan used as an informant from time to time told her that Garner had attempted to sell a necklace that matched the description of Molly’s, and when the store owner asked for proof of ownership, Garner had gotten twitchy and left.

But if Garner was the Rat, he’d been careful apart from that one misstep. There was no sign of the jewellery in his apartment—we knew that because Dan had snuck in for a look around while Garner went to the grocery store—and nothing had surfaced on the black market. All we could do was watch him.

The initial plan had been for Blackwood to install bugs in his home, but firstly, Garner was a minimalist, a neat freak, and secondly, he appeared to have a cleaning fetish. Dan had gagged on the lemon scent that permeated his apartment, and every item he owned was lined up in a painful arrangement of right angles. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. Dan had vetoed the bugs in case he found them, and we’d tried to rent an apartment in the building instead, but they were all occupied. Hence my vigil in the park on an unseasonably chilly fall day.

I trailed Kevin into the building, which was nicer on the inside than it looked from the outside. Not fancy, but clean and welcoming. Three couches formed a U-shape around a low table, and a noticeboard was covered in flyers advertising yoga classes and items for sale and a local photography competition. Brian left damp footprints on the white tile all the way to the elevator, and Kevin frowned when he noticed them.

“Some of my neighbours aren’t keen on dogs,” he muttered.

Hardly surprising if they were all like Brian.

“Really? I can’t imagine why.”

The elevator rose upward, and when I glanced at the panel, I saw the third-floor button was lit. A knot of apprehension formed in my stomach. Garner lived in 303. And when Kevin stopped outside his door and fished around in his pocket for the keys, that knot tightened around my guts and left me nauseous. Because I knew what was about to happen.

“You live in 302?” I said, mainly for Dan’s benefit.

Kevin glanced up at the silver numbers on the door while Dan squealed in my ear.

“Sure do,” he said.

“Jackpot!” Dan would be dancing around her office now, probably with a hot guy and a glass of champagne. “Leah, find a way to spend time in that apartment. I don’t care how you do it.”

Oh, how did I know that was coming?

I mentally drafted my resignation letter as I followed Kevin into his man cave. The place was a nice size, but it looked even bigger without furniture. Had he just moved in? The only things in the living area were a dining table and a single chair, Brian’s bed, and a whole collection of doggy toys.

“Kind of empty, huh?” he said. “We only moved in two weeks ago.”

Yup, called it.

“You didn’t consider picking a furnished place?”

“It’s a corporate rental.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers?”

“Something like that. HR mentioned furniture, and I guess I should chase that up, but I spend most of my time at the office, and…” He suddenly brightened. “I have coffee. You want coffee?” Before I could answer, he gave his head a little shake. “What am I thinking? I’m sure you just want to clean up and get out of here.”

I unclenched my jaw enough to speak. “Actually, coffee would be great.”

“You’re serious? I mean, sure. How do you take it?”

Cappuccino with a shot of caramel syrup, extra froth, and a generous helping of chocolate sprinkles. Did Kevin have milk? Did he even have a refrigerator?

“Uh, black is fine.”

“I’ll show you where the bathroom is and find you shampoo and a towel.”

“I don’t need a shower. I’ll just wipe the worst off.”

Kevin’s grimace suggested that perhaps a washcloth wouldn’t cut it. “What about the green stuff in your hair?”

I caught sight of myself in the mirror as he pushed open the bathroom door, and I nearly screamed. At this moment, I could land a part in a horror movie and skip right through make-up. And the slime wasn’t the worst of it. Or even the colour—for the first time in my life, I’d gone brunette, and I hated it. But after my ex had called me an airhead blonde in our break-up fight, I didn’t want to risk the same thing happening again.

“Is that a beetle in my hair?” Ohmigosh, it was. “Get it off!”

Kevin sprang forward, riffled through the duckweed for the offending creepy-crawly, and flicked it into the toilet. My freaking hero.

“Sorry. So sorry.” He grabbed a towel from the rail and shoved it into my hands. “Use whatever shampoo you can find, and I’ll leave you clean clothes right outside the door. Don’t worry about the mess. I need to wash Brian afterward, so it’ll only get worse.”

“I think most of his dirt’s on me.”

Plus some slobber and a good amount of hair.

Kevin looked me up and down again, more slowly this time, which absolutely shouldn’t have made my belly flutter the way it did because he was definitely not my type. In fact, I couldn’t see how he was anybody’s type.

“Yeah. Reckon it is.”

I shoved the door shut, forcing him to take a couple of hasty steps backward, and sank down onto the edge of the bathtub. All I could hear was Dan laughing in my ear, and I had a strong urge to flush her along with the beetle.

“This isn’t funny,” I hissed.

“Sweetie, I’ve spent most of my day reviewing budgets and planning caseloads. This is the comic relief. Honestly, I snorted coffee over my screen when I saw the pictures.”

“I quit.”

“Resignation not accepted. Anyhow, this is a crazy stroke of luck. If you can gain access to the apartment, we can install wall microphones and listen to Garner.”

“How exactly am I supposed to do that?” I asked, keeping my voice to a whisper. “I don’t know the guy at all.”

“He gave you the perfect opening—you can offer to walk the dog.”

“What if he’s an axe murderer?”

“Do you see any axes lying around the place? Chill, we’ll do a background check.”

“But I don’t know the first thing about dogs either.”

“I’ll get Georgia to give you a crash course this evening. I will call her literally right this second.”

“What if I told the guy I have a friend who actually is a dog walker?”

“Leah, Leah… The plan we already have is perfect. He likes you.”

“He feels sorry for me.”

“He offered you coffee, sweetie.”

“Refer to my first answer.”

Dan’s voice softened slightly. “If you really don’t want to, we can try to sell him on the idea of somebody else. But you’d be great at it.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Which is why you’d be so great. You’re completely believable. Plus there’s no guarantee he’d go for the alternate, and then we’d be stuck with the outdoor surveillance again.”

I hated sitting in the park. I really hated sitting in the park. Whoever called it the great outdoors was lying. Probably some marketing executive who needed a slogan to sell tents or hiking shoes or bear spray or whatever.

Would hanging out in an empty apartment be that bad? It wasn’t as if I’d need to speak to Kevin other than to agree on dates and times. He’d be at work. Plus if I did this for Dan and Kevin offered to pay me, I’d definitely be keeping the extra money. Call it the equivalent of hazardous-duty pay. Looking after Brian would certainly qualify me for the bonus.

Should I go with Dan’s plan? I only had a few minutes to decide.