He couldn’t even look at her right now. He knew she was mortified to be under suspicion again. “She’s not the spy.”
“I trust you, Will. You have great instincts. I have all the hope in the world you can exclude her, but we need to find the real spy, if she’s not the one.”
Michael’s softening toward Claire gave him hope. “Agreed. I’ll find out who is really doing this.” He shot a look to Claire and winked. She returned his gesture with a faint quirk of the lips—something resembling a failed attempt to smile.
“Good. I’ll see you when you come in tomorrow. I was successful in the Greek acquisition and flew home yesterday.” His screen went blank. Michael had ended the call and Will’s happiness high as well. Time to get serious and end this business once and for all.
…
A horrible sinking feeling surged through Claire in an intense, nauseating wave. She was the only one working on the canopic jars. She was alone in her apartment at the time the client was approached. This looked awful. No, it was awful.
The only way out of this was to find out who the spy really was. She glanced over at Will. The look on his face held nothing but concern and tender compassion. He trusted her. She needed to validate it.
“I have no way to address this yet,” she said.
“You don’t have to. I know you didn’t do it.”
There was really nothing she could say at this point. She didn’t need to protest her innocence, because he already believed it, and it sounded like Michael was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, too, but she couldn’t leave the country with this suspicion hanging over her time with Will. She couldn’t provide an alibi, because she didn’t have one. After dinner with Heather, she went straight home…
Wait a minute. She picked up her phone and flipped backward through the photos. There were the canopic jars…and the Anubis statue…and the jade necklace and earrings…and the …holy shit. Icy cold dread prickled the back of her neck and arms as a horrible realization hit.
…
Something was wrong with Claire. Maybe hearing his brother’s concerns did it, or maybe it was something else. At least Michael hadn’t been a total dick this time.
He reached over and ran his hand over her thigh and she scooted against him, tucking against his body as if for protection. “We’ll figure out who it is,” he whispered into her hair. When she didn’t respond, he settled down and simply enjoyed having this remarkable woman in his arms.
When they reached the city, she stiffened again, then texted someone. He peeked down at her screen and saw it was a message for Heather. “Wait for me,” was all it said.
Still silent, she stared out the window as if the crushing weight of the world were on her shoulders. God, he wanted to lift that weight, but he just didn’t know what it was. He would like to have thought it had to do with the inevitable end of the best weekend ever, but somehow, he didn’t think so.
The limo stopped and he pulled her even closer. “Can I stay?”
Her body was so stiff and brittle, he felt like it might break. “Heather’s up there and I owe her some girl time, you know?”
No, he didn’t know. It made no sense at all. “Sure.”
Jacob opened the door and she stepped out. Will followed, unable to let her go yet. He took her hand and Jacob walked to the front of the car to give them privacy. They stopped under the awning outside her building. Around them, the city went on as always, but inside Will, everything had stopped. “Can I see you tomorrow? I’m great at packing, you know.”
She gave a half smile. “You’re great at everything. This weekend was amazing. You’re amazing. Thanks.”
Her words had been right, but her tone was not. He took her hand. “Wait. Are you okay?”
For a minute, he thought she was going to open up, but she didn’t; instead, she pulled her hand away. “Yeah. Something came up. I just need to sort it out and everything will be fine. I’m sure it is an easy fix.” She shrugged and gave the most pitiful excuse for a smile he’d ever seen. “I’ll call.”
“Let me know if I can do anything.” He took a step closer, longing for a positive sign. Anything.
And then she pulled him down for a kiss. It was hungry and desperate—totally the opposite of their playful encounter on the plane. She finally released him and walked through the doors of her building without looking back. It hadn’t been a thanks-for-the-fantastic-weekend kiss, it had been a good-bye kiss, and he had no clue why or what to do about it.
At this point, chasing after her or calling her would be counterproductive. All he could do was wait. Will was good at waiting. He’d done a lot of it.
…
Heather was the only friend Claire really had. She’d stood by Heather when her husband walked out and then sat by her side when her nephew had his first chemo treatment. Likewise, Heather was always there for Claire when the nights with Sissy never ended, and then when things needed to be wrapped up and the funeral planned.