inches from his face and scrutinized every part of it without uttering a word. After some time, he glanced up at me.
“May I ask you something?” he said.
“Anything.”
“Is this for a case you’re working on?”
“It is. Can I count on you to be discreet?” I said.
“You don’t even need to ask.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” I said.
“What is it you would like me to do?”
“Is there anything you can tell me about it?” I said.
“Well, it appears to be made of parchment of some kind.”
He took his fingers and grazed them across the top.
“And this ripped part at the top here,” he said, “it’s called a deckle edge.”
“Do you have any idea who makes it or where it came from?” I said.
“I don’t carry this in the store, but I may be able to find it. Leave me a piece of it and I’ll see what I can find out for you.”
CHAPTER 25
I stood in front of the wall at my office and pinned up 3/4 of the last note Sinnerman left for me to his profile board. I stared at it and tried to focus on what my next move would be, but all I could think about was Giovanni. Every time he was around it clouded my judgment, and now, with him nowhere in sight, it was even worse. My concentration was off.
The night before I’d spent a lot of time wrapped up in my thoughts about Giovanni’s request to work together. Under most circumstances, I didn’t want help, and I never asked for it. It was odd to me that I considered allowing someone in my world when I knew so little of his.
When my grandfather was alive he taught me the importance of what he liked to call “the power of observation.” He said most people reveal themselves when they don’t think anyone else is watching, and in those moments you can truly unravel their essence and learn what they’re made of and why they do the things they do. I’d taken his advice to heart.
In my life I’d formed my own circle of trust, and the circle was small. To let someone in required time and plenty of observation on my part. I’d made it a point never to show my cards until they showed theirs. I watched and I waited until they exposed themselves to me. This method was flawless until the day Giovanni Luciana stepped into my life, and I found I wanted to show my hand before he even decided to call or wager.
CHAPTER 26
Sam Reids stood behind a paisley curtain in a window of an office that was desolate except for a chair he’d brought in to sit on when he didn’t want to stand. Sloane had a puzzled look on her face, and he wondered why and what her thoughts were in that moment. Is she thinking of me… he thought to himself. A warm sensation flushed up and down his arms at the very thought of it.
Sam adjusted his binoculars and directed his attention to the most recent addition to the board, the pink slip of paper. Clever girl, he thought, keeping that one all to herself. He knew it wouldn’t lead her any closer to him. Still, he enjoyed looking at the visual remnants of his crimes attached to the cork board on her wall. It gave him a sense of pride, a sense that he belonged in some odd way. Like he mattered, even if her motive was to ultimately end his life. He was sure in time she’d come to see things in a different way.
Sloane wasn’t like most women; she was fearless, like he was. Maybe that was the reason he’d grown so fond of her. Of all his adversaries, she proved the most worthy. It was fun to leave her little crumbs and tidbits here and there and then to sit back and watch her find them. He wanted to test her, to see if they rattled her, and he was surprised when they didn’t. She reminded him of a curious puppy after a certain scent. The question was, would she get a good whiff of it? He didn’t think so, although to underestimate her wouldn’t be wise, so he kept tabs on her just like he was doing now from an office across the street from her own.
The game he played with Sloane had been fun, but now Sam
“May I ask you something?” he said.
“Anything.”
“Is this for a case you’re working on?”
“It is. Can I count on you to be discreet?” I said.
“You don’t even need to ask.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” I said.
“What is it you would like me to do?”
“Is there anything you can tell me about it?” I said.
“Well, it appears to be made of parchment of some kind.”
He took his fingers and grazed them across the top.
“And this ripped part at the top here,” he said, “it’s called a deckle edge.”
“Do you have any idea who makes it or where it came from?” I said.
“I don’t carry this in the store, but I may be able to find it. Leave me a piece of it and I’ll see what I can find out for you.”
CHAPTER 25
I stood in front of the wall at my office and pinned up 3/4 of the last note Sinnerman left for me to his profile board. I stared at it and tried to focus on what my next move would be, but all I could think about was Giovanni. Every time he was around it clouded my judgment, and now, with him nowhere in sight, it was even worse. My concentration was off.
The night before I’d spent a lot of time wrapped up in my thoughts about Giovanni’s request to work together. Under most circumstances, I didn’t want help, and I never asked for it. It was odd to me that I considered allowing someone in my world when I knew so little of his.
When my grandfather was alive he taught me the importance of what he liked to call “the power of observation.” He said most people reveal themselves when they don’t think anyone else is watching, and in those moments you can truly unravel their essence and learn what they’re made of and why they do the things they do. I’d taken his advice to heart.
In my life I’d formed my own circle of trust, and the circle was small. To let someone in required time and plenty of observation on my part. I’d made it a point never to show my cards until they showed theirs. I watched and I waited until they exposed themselves to me. This method was flawless until the day Giovanni Luciana stepped into my life, and I found I wanted to show my hand before he even decided to call or wager.
CHAPTER 26
Sam Reids stood behind a paisley curtain in a window of an office that was desolate except for a chair he’d brought in to sit on when he didn’t want to stand. Sloane had a puzzled look on her face, and he wondered why and what her thoughts were in that moment. Is she thinking of me… he thought to himself. A warm sensation flushed up and down his arms at the very thought of it.
Sam adjusted his binoculars and directed his attention to the most recent addition to the board, the pink slip of paper. Clever girl, he thought, keeping that one all to herself. He knew it wouldn’t lead her any closer to him. Still, he enjoyed looking at the visual remnants of his crimes attached to the cork board on her wall. It gave him a sense of pride, a sense that he belonged in some odd way. Like he mattered, even if her motive was to ultimately end his life. He was sure in time she’d come to see things in a different way.
Sloane wasn’t like most women; she was fearless, like he was. Maybe that was the reason he’d grown so fond of her. Of all his adversaries, she proved the most worthy. It was fun to leave her little crumbs and tidbits here and there and then to sit back and watch her find them. He wanted to test her, to see if they rattled her, and he was surprised when they didn’t. She reminded him of a curious puppy after a certain scent. The question was, would she get a good whiff of it? He didn’t think so, although to underestimate her wouldn’t be wise, so he kept tabs on her just like he was doing now from an office across the street from her own.
The game he played with Sloane had been fun, but now Sam
Similar Books
