Except that he had, now that she thought about it. The notes. The little gifts. The teasing flirtation. The long looks when he thought she wasn’t watching. She hadn’t taken any of it seriously, though.
Or maybe she’d just been too scared to. She was scared right now. Scared of this thing that simmered between them. She was scared of taking a next step with him. Because what if it didn’t work out? He’d said their friendship was the most important thing, and with that she agreed.
But as scared as she was about taking the next step, she was equally scared about not taking the next step. What if it did work out? What if she had someone . . . forever? Like Lucy had JD? What if Thorne and I could have something like that?
What if they fucked it all up? Argh. She wanted to yank her hair out.
Lucy came over to sit on the floor beside her, resting her head against Gwyn’s other thigh. ‘I’m worn out,’ she murmured. ‘And I have to pump again. When this is all done, can I use your room?’
Gwyn stroked Tweety’s head with one hand and her friend’s hair with the other. ‘Of course you can.’
Lucy sighed happily, as much a glutton for having her head stroked as Tweety was. But her next words were serious. ‘Are you okay?’
Gwyn might lie to anyone else, but she couldn’t lie to Lucy. ‘No.’
‘He told you how he felt?’ she murmured, so quietly that Gwyn had to lean in to hear her.
‘Yes,’ Gwyn whispered back.
‘And?’
Gwyn glanced around the room to be sure no one was listening to them, relieved to see that the others were having their own conversations about the plans on the walls. She bent her head to Lucy’s. ‘And . . . I’m considering the angles.’
Lucy rubbed her cheek against Gwyn’s thigh comfortingly. ‘Don’t consider too long, okay? And before you do anything, run it by me, if you don’t mind. I have to be forewarned if there’ll be pieces to pick up. For both of you.’
That Lucy actually thought she might tell Thorne ‘no’ was . . . unsettling. And a little liberating, if she was being honest. But mostly it was sobering, because a ‘no’ would have consequences that impacted them all.
‘All right,’ Gwyn promised, then turned her focus to the group surrounding Thorne, whose handsome face was intense as he took everything in.
Frederick took point for leading them through the plans. ‘We divvied up the work. I’ll give you the CliffsNotes version, okay?’
‘I think that’s about all I can cope with,’ Thorne murmured, which wasn’t true. His eyes were narrowed and sharp, his concentration absolute. He did that. Dropped into a situation and gave it one hundred percent of his focus.
At the very beginning of their friendship, Gwyn had wondered if he applied that same complete focus to his lovers. But she hadn’t had to wonder about it long. The long line of Thorne’s women had been happy to brag about his expertise in the bedroom. It had made her grind her teeth. It still did, she realized, and she forced her jaw to relax.
At least everyone but Lucy would believe she was just worried about the situation. Which Frederick seemed to have well in hand.
‘So, the leads so far,’ he said, ‘are Bernice Brown, who called you through the switchboard; the connection to the murder of Richard Linden; your arrival at and abduction from the bar; and the setup of the crime scene in your bedroom.’ He pointed to the various chart pads. ‘Also of interest is the victim herself, Patricia Linden Segal, her relationship to her husband, the judge, and her movements – and interactions – in the days before her abduction . . . because we assume she didn’t willingly show up at your house, strip herself naked, and offer herself up like a sacrifice in your bed.’
‘I think that’s a fair assumption,’ Thorne said grimly. ‘I haven’t really been able to wrap my mind around Patricia’s being there. And the fact that she’s dead. I have only a vague recollection of her from high school. She was two years younger than us, so we didn’t hang with each other. I didn’t know her. And now she’s dead. It hasn’t sunk in enough for me to even feel bad for her and her family.’
But that would come, Gwyn knew. It was a sadness, a regret that Thorne battled with every case he took, with every client, whether they admitted to guilt or maintained their innocence. He represented each one with equal rigor, because they were entitled to a fair trial or the best plea he could negotiate.
But regardless of guilt or innocence, every one of his clients left victims. Some were victims of the crime of which they were accused, but others were their own family members, who often struggled without them while they did their time.
That someone had drawn Patricia Linden Segal into their plot against Thorne was beyond cruel – to her family and to Thorne himself. He would have to live with knowing the Segals mourned her loss because someone had wanted to hurt him.
‘We’ll dig until we get to the bottom of why she’s dead,’ Clay promised. ‘Stevie, Paige and I are going to investigate Mrs Segal and her husband. I mean, her husband is a judge. What if this isn’t about you at all? What if it’s about him? What if someone’s trying to get revenge on him or threaten him in some way? You could be the collateral damage rather than the target.’
It was clear from Thorne’s expression that he hadn’t even considered that. ‘Oh,’ he murmured. ‘Good point.’
Clay’s smile was equal parts feral and gentle. ‘We thought so. We’re going to look into her husband, any vendettas against him, any unpopular cases. We’re also going to track Mrs Segal’s movements over the past two weeks, talk to her friends, that kind of thing.’
‘I’ve got the bar,’ Sam said. ‘I’ll find out when you got there and who you left with. I know the owner from my days on the force. He’s not a bad guy. Hopefully he’ll cooperate.’
‘I’m going to interview Bernice Brown,’ Frederick said. ‘I’ll find out what happened last night. I’ve already contacted her. Told her that you were hospitalized unexpectedly and that I’ll be taking on her case until you’ve recuperated. She sends her best.’
Thorne’s brows shot up. ‘She didn’t mention the call?’
Frederick shook his head. ‘Nope. I’ve also requested the transcripts and call records from the switchboard.’
‘You think someone else called me pretending to be Bernice?’ Thorne asked.
Frederick shrugged. ‘Maybe. I’ll find out.’
‘Ruby and I are going to work the setting-up of the crime scene,’ Lucy said. ‘We have contacts in CSU who owe us favors. I’m keeping JD away from our activities.’ She made a face. ‘He’d want to help, but I don’t want him to get trouble from Hyatt. He’s technically not supposed to be working your case because we’re friends. He’ll help us anyway, but we figure if the information is coming from a couple different places, it’ll be less likely to point to him.’
‘Together again,’ Ruby said with a quirk of her lips. She’d reported to Lucy for several years when both women worked at the morgue. ‘And this time you can get the coffee.’
Lucy laughed. ‘I brought you coffee when I was the boss.’
‘Oh, right.’ Grinning, Ruby waved her hand, her long red nails sparkling as they caught the light. ‘Then nothing’s changed. Same old, same old.’
‘Except that it’s decaf now,’ Sam cautioned.
Ruby blew out a breath. ‘I know, I know. Don’t rub it in.’
Jamie smiled at Ruby indulgently. He really was a kind man. Gwyn had always thought so. Now, knowing what he and Phil had been to Thorne when he was a scared kid, accused of murder? She better understood Thorne’s devotion to the two. ‘It’s not for much longer,’ he told Ruby.
‘The hell it’s not,’ Lucy called. ‘If she decides to breastfeed, she can cut out all the good stuff for a good while longer. Speaking of which, hurry this along, because I have to pump.’
Jamie rolled his eyes. ‘Go pump. This isn’t your part.’
‘The hell it’s not,’ Lucy repeated. ‘It’s about Thorne, so it’s all my part.’