Carla Fredd - The Perfect Man

A crisp, white dress shirt lay on top. Chris felt nothing but sadness that this was as close as he would come to his brother ever again. He didn’t know why it bothered him. They hadn’t been close since they were boys. As adults, they couldn’t have been more different. He lived his life with justice and honor. Marc broke the law when it suited him. It didn’t matter to him who he hurt.

Chris pushed those thoughts aside. What mattered was the job and he would do it properly. He picked up the shirt and checked the pocket. It was empty. Unperturbed, he checked the seams along the bottom, then the cuffs of each sleeve.

“What are you doing?” Renee asked and came to his side.

“Checking to see if Marc had anything sewn into the seams of his shirt,” he said as he guided his fingers along a side seam.

“People do that?” she said, picking up one of the sleeves.

Chris smiled at her amazed tone. “Yes.”

“That’s good to know,” she said.

What the hell? Chris turned and looked at her. A frown wrinkled her brow as she fingered the seams of the sleeve with the focus of a sniper with a target in sight. He couldn’t just let her comment pass. “Why is that good to know?”

“I have a friend who designs computer games and he’s always looking for new twists to add to the games.”

“I see,” he said and moved to put the shirt to the side, but Renee had a sleeve. He let go of the shirt when he realized that she wasn’t going to let it go.

“What kind of things do you find in clothes?”

“Jewelry, drugs, money,” he said and picked up a jacket. “Anything.”

“You don’t think he put the necklace in his clothing, do you?”

“I don’t know. If he didn’t, maybe he hid something that could point us to what he did do with the necklace.”

Renee shook her head. “I just don’t see Marc being the kind of guy to sew something in his clothes. He couldn’t even sew on a button.”

Chris raised his brow. “Marc knew how to sew.”

“What do you mean? He took his clothes to the tailor if a button fell off.”

“I mean we both had to learn to sew a seam and repair our clothes. We didn’t have enough money growing up to throw away anything.”

“So he lied about that, too.”

“Yes, he did.” Chris wished he’d kept his mouth closed. He could see that this information hurt her. It was just one more mess Marc made that he’d have to clean up. Chris moved his hand along the hem of the jacket and felt something hard. The kick of satisfaction had him reaching for his knife again.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.