Chapter 7

“What do you think I did, exactly?” Ben said. He couldn’t help grinning, though. Simon was adorable, and the thoroughly unrealistic description was flattering. “We can handle this. I’ll talk to some people tomorrow. Do you have her address?”

“I’ll send it to you.” Stephen poked at his phone. “Here. What else do you need?”

“The names of anyone she might’ve told?”

“I’ll get you a list. Thank you.”

“Not a problem.”

“Still. You came all the way here.” Stephen glanced at his younger brother, framed by a burgundy sofa and antique bookshelves and the lineage of this family townhouse; he did not add on when I know he hates coming home, when I know he’s happy and loved an ocean away from here, when you both came because I asked. “I’ll owe you. The Foundation will owe you. Anything I can do, just name it.”

“Send us a couple bottles of your scotch and call it even?”

Stephen laughed. “Done. Though that’s not enough. Anything you need, anytime, anywhere.” His eyes rested on Simon again.