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Authors: Heather Graham
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Zach clarified.
Aidan leaned forward. “They’re good. They’re dressed a little morbidly for my taste, but the singer’s got a great voice.”
Zach nodded, still looking intently at Aidan.
“What?”
“You okay?” Zach’s voice was concerned.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re scowling.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are,” Zach said.
“Hey,” Jeremy said, joining the conversation. “Don’t let the fact that you dealt with a pack of hyenas today stay with you. Whether that bone washed up or not, it would have taken an idiot not to look into it.”
Aidan nodded, then lowered his head, smiling. One for all and all for one. His brothers. Hell, not everyone had that. He was lucky.
“Yeah.”
Jeremy and Zach were both studying him. “I’ll get on the computer first thing in the morning,” Zach said. “Start looking into missing persons.”
Aidan shook his head in self-deprecation. “Hey, this might just be me being neurotic, you know,” he said. “And it’s not like we have a client.”
“I’ll go by the police station,” Jeremy offered. “I’ve gotten to know some of the officers through the Children’s House campaign. I can see if they’ve got anything to suggest. There are still hundreds of people listed as missing from the hurricane, but I’ll concentrate on the more recent cases.”
Aidan nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep on pestering Jon Abel for the time being.”
“As for the house, Aidan,” Jeremy said quietly, “I know you think we’re biting off more than we can handle, but there’s something about the place…Anyway, you don’t have to deal with it if you don’t want to. Zach and I can talk to the carpenters and whoever.”
Aidan shook his head. “It’s my responsibility, too—if we decide we’re keeping it…Oh hell, one way or the other, we know we’re going to do some restoration. First things first. We need a structural engineer. I’m not taking anyone’s word for the soundness of the place, not until we’ve had a pro out,” Aidan said.
“First things first,” Zach agreed.
Aidan leaned back, watching the band again. After a few minutes, he found himself studying an old man who was watching the musicians—and the room—instead. He had a complexion that was more golden than black or brown, and features that indicated a heritage made up of some combination of white, black and Cherokee. There was strength in that face. And sorrow. He was leaning against a pillar to the right of the stage, and something about his relaxed pose suggested that he came here often.
“Know how you can tell these guys are better than most of the bands in town? Because the locals come out to see them,” Jeremy commented, drawing Aidan’s attention away from the stranger. Then he frowned and tensed suddenly.
“What?” Aidan demanded.
“Your medical examiner’s over there, sitting with a bunch cops, including that Hal Vincent guy. He cleans up well. He’s looking a little less like some mad scientist.”
“Jon Abel? Here?” Aidan asked, definitely surprised. He’d figured the guy for a loner, the kind who went home at the end of the day and played in his basement lab.
But Abel was indeed sitting at a table with a group of cops. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, and looked younger than he had earlier in the day. He was wearing contact lenses, apparently, and had actually drawn a comb through his hair. He seemed to be enjoying his time off. No wonder he didn’t want more work than was already pouring in from a city that was still in the process of making a precarious comeback.
“Don’t look now,” Jeremy said, nodding to indicate the side door, “but here comes another one of your pals.”
“My pals?” Aidan asked, confused, then turned to look, despite his brother’s warning.
Jonas was walking in with Matty, his wife of many years.
Sure, the band was good and the locals hung out here. But it was also downright strange, Aidan thought,
Aidan leaned forward. “They’re good. They’re dressed a little morbidly for my taste, but the singer’s got a great voice.”
Zach nodded, still looking intently at Aidan.
“What?”
“You okay?” Zach’s voice was concerned.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re scowling.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are,” Zach said.
“Hey,” Jeremy said, joining the conversation. “Don’t let the fact that you dealt with a pack of hyenas today stay with you. Whether that bone washed up or not, it would have taken an idiot not to look into it.”
Aidan nodded, then lowered his head, smiling. One for all and all for one. His brothers. Hell, not everyone had that. He was lucky.
“Yeah.”
Jeremy and Zach were both studying him. “I’ll get on the computer first thing in the morning,” Zach said. “Start looking into missing persons.”
Aidan shook his head in self-deprecation. “Hey, this might just be me being neurotic, you know,” he said. “And it’s not like we have a client.”
“I’ll go by the police station,” Jeremy offered. “I’ve gotten to know some of the officers through the Children’s House campaign. I can see if they’ve got anything to suggest. There are still hundreds of people listed as missing from the hurricane, but I’ll concentrate on the more recent cases.”
Aidan nodded. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “I’ll keep on pestering Jon Abel for the time being.”
“As for the house, Aidan,” Jeremy said quietly, “I know you think we’re biting off more than we can handle, but there’s something about the place…Anyway, you don’t have to deal with it if you don’t want to. Zach and I can talk to the carpenters and whoever.”
Aidan shook his head. “It’s my responsibility, too—if we decide we’re keeping it…Oh hell, one way or the other, we know we’re going to do some restoration. First things first. We need a structural engineer. I’m not taking anyone’s word for the soundness of the place, not until we’ve had a pro out,” Aidan said.
“First things first,” Zach agreed.
Aidan leaned back, watching the band again. After a few minutes, he found himself studying an old man who was watching the musicians—and the room—instead. He had a complexion that was more golden than black or brown, and features that indicated a heritage made up of some combination of white, black and Cherokee. There was strength in that face. And sorrow. He was leaning against a pillar to the right of the stage, and something about his relaxed pose suggested that he came here often.
“Know how you can tell these guys are better than most of the bands in town? Because the locals come out to see them,” Jeremy commented, drawing Aidan’s attention away from the stranger. Then he frowned and tensed suddenly.
“What?” Aidan demanded.
“Your medical examiner’s over there, sitting with a bunch cops, including that Hal Vincent guy. He cleans up well. He’s looking a little less like some mad scientist.”
“Jon Abel? Here?” Aidan asked, definitely surprised. He’d figured the guy for a loner, the kind who went home at the end of the day and played in his basement lab.
But Abel was indeed sitting at a table with a group of cops. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, and looked younger than he had earlier in the day. He was wearing contact lenses, apparently, and had actually drawn a comb through his hair. He seemed to be enjoying his time off. No wonder he didn’t want more work than was already pouring in from a city that was still in the process of making a precarious comeback.
“Don’t look now,” Jeremy said, nodding to indicate the side door, “but here comes another one of your pals.”
“My pals?” Aidan asked, confused, then turned to look, despite his brother’s warning.
Jonas was walking in with Matty, his wife of many years.
Sure, the band was good and the locals hung out here. But it was also downright strange, Aidan thought,
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