“She’s pretty young to own a business,” Ren said, mentally adding a point in her favor.
“The guy down the block said she’s worked there since high school. In fact, she’s turned it around from near-bankruptcy. The old man who owned it left it to her. She’s kept up with the times—added a coffee bar and two Internet stations. And she’s got a couple of book clubs that meet there.” Bo made a sardonic sound. “The men’s group is called The Unturned Gentlemen.”
Ren added another point in her favor—literacy was a pet project of his. “Okay, she’s a good person and a decent businesswoman, but I still can’t believe she’s Jewel’s sister.”
Bo scowled. Ren ignored him and rocked back, holding the photo. In the light from the window behind, he could see things he hadn’t noticed before. Her smile, for one. It was a kind, gentle smile that made him inclined to smile back.
Ren focused on her eyes. Jewel’s had been bright green, full of flashing sauciness and humor. If he squinted, Ren thought he could see humor in this woman’s eyes, too. “What color are her eyes?”
“How the hell should I know?”
The downright angry tone could not be overlooked. “What is your problem?”
“You, man. You are my problem,” Bo said, marching to the table. He ripped the photograph out of Ren’s hand. “Here you are, poised to destroy this woman’s life, and you don’t think she’s pretty. Well, f—”
Ren raised his hand in warning. He studied his friend as he might a criminal with a gun. Keeping his tone calm, Ren said, “I was just surprised that I couldn’t see any similarities between the sisters.”
Bo’s shoulders relaxed visibly. “It’s not a very good picture. She was talking to that guy when I took it.” He put the photo on the table and pointed at a good-looking man standing at the edge of the photograph. “She even gave him a hug, and I heard her tell him she loved him.”
A funny, totally unexpected twinge caught Ren in the solar plexus. “Her boyfriend?”
Bo shook his head. “No. I got his plate through the store window. His name is Daniel Paginnini. He works in the Building.” Ren had met enough congressional insiders to know that meant the Capitol. “I’d say he and Sara are old friends. She’s got a lot of friends.”
Ren detected an odd inflection in Bo’s tone, but he let it go, although he was curious why Bo was so defensive of the woman. Ren picked up a shot of her holding the baby. Her back was to the camera, but her upper arms looked firm.
“Does she work out?” he asked. Jewel had been in peak physical condition, he recalled, her long, lean body as finely honed as an athlete’s. When he’d asked about her sleek muscles, she’d said, “My job keeps me in shape.” When he’d inquired about her job, she changed the subject by putting her mouth on a part of his anatomy that drained the blood supply from his brain, waylaying any questions he might have asked.
“Yeah,” Bo said snidely. “She lifts weights. I’d say forty pounds, about a hundred reps a day.”
“What?”
“The kid, man. She’s a single mom.” Bo shoved another photo in Ren’s face. All Ren could see of the child was a mop of curls and a pudgy fist clamped around a soft blanket. He missed the first part of Bo’s heated litany. “…gets up at dawn and works around this ugly house in Rancho Carmel until it’s time to go to the store, then she runs her business and chases the kid all over the place until after the noon rush. Then, she lets one of the hookers take over while she takes the kid to the park…”
The word took a couple of seconds to register. “Did you say ‘one of the hookers’?”
“Yeah.”
“How many are there? And what are they doing in a bookstore?”
“Two. The big one’s black. The little one’s white. And they’re her friends. As far as I can see, they’re there every day.”
Ren sat back, letting out a caustic laugh. “Oh, that’s a wonderful environment for a child.”
Bo leaned forward, his lips curled in a snarl. “I knew you were going to say that. Like you have any business pointing fingers.”
Ren’s mouth dropped open. “Okay. That does it. What the hell’s going on with you?”
Bo pulled out a second stool and hopped up to sit at the table. He dropped his chin into his palm and muttered, “I like her.”
“The aunt? Or the hooker?”
Bo glared. “Sara.”
Perplexed, Ren reached for the photograph again. He’d never seen Bo behave in this manner. When involved in a case, Bo rigorously maintained a hard-nosed impartiality.
“Have you actually talked to her? Since that first time?”
“Yeah, yesterday.”
Ren’s solar plexus took another hit. They’d agreed that Bo’s surveillance would be from a distance. “Was that necessary?”
Bo sunk lower in the chair. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“Whose idea was it?”
“The hooker’s.”
Ren smiled at the embarrassment he heard in Bo’s tone. Bo was a professional, one of the best. Ren could imagine Bo’s chagrin if someone had blown his cover.
“The big one or the little one?”
Ren almost missed the mumbled answer. “The little one, huh? Hmm. What happened?”
“She remembered me, okay? I can’t tell you the last time that happened. Maybe I need to work on my disguises—they get old, you know.”
Ren nodded, trying to keep from smiling.
“I didn’t think anybody noticed me Wednesday when I went back to take the pictures, but yesterday, right after Sara and Keneesha—the black hooker—returned from the park, I eased in behind a couple of shoppers—and wham. The little one—Claudie—nailed me. I thought she was gonna demand a strip search.”
Ren diplomatically covered his grin with his hand. “There’s an image.”
Bo shuddered as though recalling a harrowing experience. “It was so sudden. One minute I was standing in the Mystery section listening to Sara explain about some drumming group when—boom—Claudie grabs my arm and spins me around, feet apart, back against the wall. My hand was going for my piece—”
“You were carrying? Around m—a baby?” he corrected.
Bo scowled. “No. But old habits are hard to break, and she knew what I was doing. Believe me. I saw it in her eyes. She knows people. And she pegged me.” He sat back, shaking his head.
“What’d she say?” Ren was surprised when a smile crossed Bo’s lips.
“She said, ‘What’s this guy doing back again?’ And then Sara and the other one came up, and Sara told her, ‘We really need to work on your people skills, Claudie. Let the customer go.’”
Bo sat up straight. “You’ll never guess what happened next.”
“What?” Ren croaked.
“Sara invited me to join her gentleman’s reading group. Meets every other Wednesday at the store. So I figure I can keep an eye on things until you decide what you’re going to do about this.” Bo nudged the computer sheet toward Ren. “Have a look.”
Ren’s stomach contracted at the implication he read in Bo’s words and tone. His heart thudded loudly in his ear as he skimmed the page. “O-positive,” he said softly. “Same as mine.”
“Yeah,