Page 21 of Hard Wired

“I’m just here for a house call on the security system. I doubt I’ll have time for that.”

“A shame. I was planning on making crawfish étouffée for dinner, if you happen to stay.” Maureen took the pile of vegetables from Sylvie’s cutting board.

“Crawfish étouffée?”

The woman nodded, eyes knowing. “That’s right. I order my mudbugs from a supplier in New Orleans. They ship ’em on dry ice for me.”

“And you just so happen to be making them tonight?”

“Just so happens.”

Sylvie couldn’t help laughing. “I’ll think about it.” She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had real étouffée.

Maureen held out a plate of vegetables, cheese, bread, and hummus. “Could you make sure Dominic eats some of this? He’s so bad about skipping meals.”

“I am not going to do that.” But she did accept the plate that Maureen practically shoved into her hands. The woman took her by the shoulders and steered her into a hallway.

“He’s just right down there. Go on, hun. Don’t be shy.”

Sylvie looked behind her, but Maureen had already disappeared.

Classical music came from the closed door at the end of the hall.

She did need to talk to Crane. He was the client, after all. She’d check in with him briefly, then take her laptop to connect to the panel.

I can do this. I’m cool. I’m fine.

He didn’t hear her knock. She pushed open the door, plate of food held out in front of her.

“I’m not hungry, Maureen. I told you.” Dominic was sprawled over a huge sectional sofa, reading a dog-eared book.

The room was just as fancy as the rest of the house. Decorative moldings on the walls and ceiling, expensive light fixtures. There was a grand piano on a raised platform at one end of the room, a wall of musical instruments behind it, and large windows overlooking the back patio and the ocean.

“You didn’t tell me anything. And I’m not Maureen.”

Crane looked over at her, eyes widening. He dropped the book, scrambling upright. He wore soft-looking stone-washed jeans and a plain white tee. His face was clean-shaven compared to the first time they’d met, but his hair was equally messy.

“Sylvie. I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I know. Max told me you asked for anybody else. But I’m afraid there’s only me.”

“I was just trying to do you a favor. I figured you’d rather avoid me after last time.”

He reached over to the stereo and turned down the volume on the Debussy Nocturne he’d been listening to. Sylvie knew her classical music.

“Why? What happened last time?”

His eyebrow lifted.

She crossed the room, handing him the plate of food. “Been dying for your call inviting me back. Moody emo guys wearing ankle jewelry are my jam.”

“That’s an improvement over what you called me last time. I guess I’ll take it.” He plopped back onto the couch and set the plate on the coffee table.

Sylvie felt herself smiling. She’d caught him off guard. Crane was nowhere near as smooth as a few weeks ago. He looked anxious and unsettled.

I’m totally winning, she thought.

But the more she studied him, the more she wondered if there was some other reason for his change in demeanor. Redness rimmed his eyes, like he hadn’t slept.

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