Патрик Карман

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it. Wanna see?”

      Barry rolled his chair right next to hers. He still wore the same light cottony sea-breezy scent and whether it was from the soap he used or a fragrance he applied, Megan knew it was chosen to be on the pleasant side of neutral.

      Or maybe it was just fabric softener.

      “Scroll.”

      Megan scrolled. Barry whistled and pointed. “Click that one.”

      Megan clicked. A garishly dark-colored over-the-top warning page appeared on her monitor.

      “Click past that.”

      “Now wait a minute—it says my computer will be traced and the police will flag it.”

      “You are the police.”

      “All the more reason—”

      “Come on, Megan.” He barely whispered it.

      His breath teased the hairs on her neck. She shivered and clicked, then leaned back and let Barry take control of the computer mouse. “That’s one of those conspiracy theory Web sites.”

      “Hmm.” He was clicking faster than Megan could read.

      “You know, Sterling isn’t that unusual a name. You probably have the wrong one.”

      “Maybe.” Barry sat back and checked his watch. “Well, this is all very fascinating, but I want to check out Sterling International in person and see if I can find the groom. Since we don’t have a street address, I’m going to go to the post office where this box is located and check out the area.”

      Megan closed her eyes. She should just wave him away. But she didn’t. “Hang on and let me try something.”

      She could feel Gina staring at her, but didn’t glance up.

      And then she could feel Barry looking at her. Not watching her screen, but looking at her. She didn’t glance up for him, either.

      Megan had to search several commercial property lists before she found what she was looking for, but she finally did get an address for Sterling International.

      She wrote it down on one of the True Blue for You notepads she gave out when she spoke at schools. “Try this. It’s from census archives. It might not be any good, but at least it’s something.”

      “Thanks, sweet cheeks.” And he kissed her. Right on the cheek.

      Megan stopped breathing so she could fully experience the brief encounter with Barry’s lips. There wasn’t a lot to experience.

      Barry, already on his feet, bestowed her one-dimpled smile on her and Megan braced herself.

      So did Barry. With an amused shake of his head, he stood, waiting for a response.

      Megan reluctantly waggled her fingers at him and he responded with a two-fingered salute before striding through the squad room.

      It was probably going to be their new routine. Megan sighed and noticed Gina watching her.

      “Oh, be quiet,” she muttered.

      “Did I say anything?” Eyebrows raised, Gina continued typing.

      Megan stared at the index cards in her open drawer and sighed. She was hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Rather than banging her head on her desk, Megan withdrew a blank card and wrote, “Give in.” If nothing else worked, she might as well keep her options open.

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