joy and rapture. He had. He twisted that sucker open and wandered over to the west window to drink it, leaving Davy to stew by himself at the table. Sunset had faded, mauve shading to smoky gray beneath the rectangle of cobalt. Beyond the meadow rippling in front of the house, the pine and fir forest looked dense and impenetrable.
It reminded him of when he was a kid, bedding down at night. Shivering at the dangers Dad said lurked out there. There was a real monster on the loose tonight. Thinking about Liv. His neck prickled, like a ghost had touched him.
Maybe one had.
Kev had helped him today. For some reason, that thought made him feel less alone. He knew better than to share it with Davy, though.
“I want to see the e-mails that stalker sent to Liv,” he said.
Davy laid his head on the table, and bonked his forehead heavily against the rough slabs of wood. “See? This is how it always begins.”
“He used the word ‘explosive’ in his note. That was what made me think of a bomb. I want to see the other letters. I want to feel their vibe.”
“You’re not a cop,” Davy said. “You’re not her bodyguard. Or her boyfriend. Wanting to bone her does not give you the right to stick your nose or any other protruding body part into that family’s problems.”
Sean took the final swallow, and tossed the bottle, sinking it into the trash basket. “You and Con got all over my ass this morning for being so self-serving and frivolous. I get interested in the welfare of somebody else, and you jump all over my ass again. I can’t please you guys. I might as well not try. Have you got a set of beacons on you?”
Davy’s face hardened with suspicion. “Why?”
“She needs to be tracked. She needs twenty-four hour coverage, with a four man team, until they nail this guy. Her people are idiots.”
“So knock on the door of Endicott House,” Davy said. “Lay out your proposal. See how warmly they welcome your suggestions.”
Sean paced the kitchen. “Do you have the beacons?” he repeated.
“They’d have the cops on you the instant they laid eyes on you.”
Sean shrugged. “Who says they have to lay eyes on me?”
“I’m having a stress flashback.” Davy bonked his head on the table. “My brother has decided to break into the house of the richest guy in the county and seduce his sexpot daughter, under his nose.”
“I’m not going to seduce her,” Sean said crabbily. “I’d go through the front door and talk to her right in front of her mother if I could, but those people think I’m festering sewage sludge.”
“No. They think you’re dangerous, mentally unhinged festering sewage sludge,” Davy corrected. “If they catch you, your ass is grass.”
“If you didn’t have a set of beacons, you would have said so by now. So stop yapping at me and hand them over.”
Davy got up, kicked his chair out of the way and grabbed a bag that sat next to the kitchen table. He yanked out a ziplock bag full of sheets of cardboard, each with radio transmitter beacons attached to it.
He flung them onto the table. “Here. Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks,” Sean said.
“Don’t thank me til we find out if you end up in prison.” He plucked out a strip of foil packets and tossed them on top of the beacons. “Take those.”
Sean stared down at the condoms. “Hey. You’ve got the wrong idea. I don’t plan on fucking her. I just want to—”
“Plan? Of course not. You never plan. You lack the part of the human brain that governs planning.”
“I resent that remark,” Sean said. “I just don’t want Liv to get offed by this prick just because her parents have the brains of slugs.”
“Take them.” Davy’s voice grated. “I’m not asking you to be responsible, because that would be a contradiction in terms. I’m just asking you to face reality. I know you, Sean. If you sneak into that girl’s bedroom, you’ll end up fucking her. It’s a mathematical certainty.”
Sean stared at him, dismayed. “Chill, Davy. You’re scaring me.”
Davy’s grim expression did not change. “Put them in your pocket.”
Sean folded the condoms up and tucked them into his jeans. “Anything to calm you down,” he said. “See? It’s done. Better now?”
Davy turned around, and stood in the dark, fists clenched.
Sean stared at his brother’s back, barely visible in the dimness. “This feels strange,” he said quietly. “Usually I’m the one freaking out, and you and Con are the ones talking me down. What’s up?”
Davy’s eyes glinted in the shadows of the room. “Did it ever occur to you that this day on the calendar really rots for me and Con, too?”
Sean held his breath, and willed his knotted guts to relax. “It’s crossed my mind,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m not much help with that.”
Davy’s laugh was dry. “Sure you are. It’s one mother of a distraction, chasing around after you, trying to keep you from getting killed or maimed or imprisoned, or whatever. Who has time to mope?”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Sean said dubiously. “Do you have low blood sugar, or what? You should eat. I’d cook you something, but you’ve trashed the kitchen all to shit. Grab yourself a burger on the way home. Is Margot waiting dinner for you?”
“Nah.” Davy’s voice was hollow. “I’ll just, uh, crash here tonight.”
Sean froze, playing and replaying his brother’s comment in his head. “You mean you’re voluntarily sleeping more than a millimeter away from Margot’s voluptuous body? What is up with that?”
Davy’s shoulders lifted, and dropped.
“What’s going on?” Sean demanded. “You asshole. She’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Don’t tell me you’re fucking this up. Did you fight? Did she throw you out? What did you do?”
“Nothing,” Davy said testily. “And no, she didn’t. And it’s none of your business. We both just need some, ah, breathing room.”
Now he was alarmed. Davy usually had to be pried away from his bride Margot’s side with the use of a crowbar and a pair of oversized bolt cutters. When the McClouds fell in love, they fell hard.
“Breathing room is a piss-poor idea,” Sean said. “Awful things happen when women have too much breathing room.”
“What the hell do you know about it?” Davy demanded. “You’ve never been married, you snot-nosed punk.”
Sean didn’t bother responding to that. “So is she pissed at you?”
Davy
