Providence

Jared shrugged. “It could. It could just be meant to signify your birthday. It could be an area code, or a flight number…some type of location?”

I thought about the safe in my mother’s office, the files it contained, the photos…I couldn’t make a connection with anything we’d looked over to the number. Shoving myself off the counter, I slammed the paper on the table and walked to the couch, fal ing over the arm onto my back with a frustrated cry.

“Nina,” Jared said, his voice beside me, “we’l figure this out. Try not to make yourself sick over it.”

“There’s nothing in the safe; I’ve already poured over my father’s office and searched al of his cabinets, there’s nothing!” I covered my face with my hands.

Jared kneeled beside me and pul ed my hands away from my eyes. “We’l go back tomorrow, look in Jack’s office and take another look at the files in the safe. Why don’t we rent a movie, hang out on the couch…spend some time together?”

“Ugh,” I said, sitting up. “Did I put Jack’s keys in his drawer? I don’t think I did. What did I do with them?” I asked, patting my pants pockets.

Jared grinned. “They’re in my jacket pocket. We can take them back tomorrow.”

I sat for a moment, my eyes unfocused, deep in thought.

Jared touched my shoulder. “Nina?”

I scrambled to the coat rack and shoved my hands in his jacket pockets. “They’re not here!”

Jared eyed me warily. “They’re in the inside pocket. What’s going on?”

“Eight twenty-five!” I yanked the ring of keys from his jacket and thumbed through them. When I found what I was looking for, I held it away from the rest, showing it to Jared. “See? Eight twenty-five!”

Jared looked at the key and then back at me, his eyes animated. “What does it open?”

“I don’t know,” I said, looking at the key, “but it can’t be a coincidence, right?”

“I doubt it,” Jared said, his face twisting into a frown.

“What?”

Jared took the keys from me. “I want you to let me take care of this. I’ve humored you. You’re upset about the way Jack died, I get it. But things could go downhil pretty quickly if we find what they’re looking for. I don’t want you anywhere near me when they figure out what we’ve done.”

“You’ve humored me?” I asked, insulted. “I’m not going to get in your way, I almost have this figured out, I….”

“Did you listen to a thing I’ve said?” he snapped. After a brief moment, Jared closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I know you need this to be over. You just don’t understand what we’re dealing with, here. I can’t let my emotions get in the way of my job, Nina. I’ve already let this go too far.

God knows the last thing I want is for you to be angry with me, but you’ve got to let me handle this.”

“But—,”

“No, Nina. It’s too dangerous,” he said firmly.

My eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t asking permission.”

“This isn’t about me tel ing you what to do. This is about your safety.” He hugged me to him and I reached for the keys, pul ing them from his grip. I knew that if he hadn’t al owed me to do it, I would never have gotten the keys from his hand. I hoped that meant a part of him wanted my help.

“I’m going to take another look at Jack’s office.”

I turned to open the door, but I was frozen. Jared held me by my waist. Before I could protest, he exhaled a long, resigned sigh.

“Give me a minute. I’l go with you,” he said, obviously annoyed.

I waited at the door until Jared finished packing our lunch, and then he grabbed my hand on the way out.

Half-way to my parents’ home he stil hadn’t spoken.

“I’m sorry,” I said, placing my hand on his. “I don’t want you to be mad, but this is something I need to do.”

Jared sighed. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I’m beginning to regret tel ing you anything.”

Those words stung me. “I don’t want to get hurt, either. We won’t have to keep looking over our shoulders if we end this. We can just live our lives normal y. Together.”

Jared squeezed my hand as he pul ed into the drive.

On a rug in Cynthia’s office I thumbed through papers, looking for anything with numbers. I highlighted anything with an eight, two, or five anywhere near each other.

Two and a half hours later, I had several piles of papers, and nothing that included the numbers we were looking for. I sat up straight to stretch my aching back.

“Let’s take a break,” Jared said. He pul ed the highlighter from my fingers and handed me the plastic container with my lunch sealed inside.

I stretched my legs over Jared’s lap and chewed happily on his amazing stir fry, marveling at what an exceptional cook he was. Jared pul ed off my boot and began rubbing my foot, and I leaned my head back.

“This is taking forever,” I groaned.

“We could cal it a day. I could take you out to dinner,” he offered.

I frowned. “You’re not taking this very seriously.”

Jared let out one shocked puff of air. “On the contrary, I think I’m taking this more seriously than you are. You don’t seem to understand how dangerous this is for you.”

“What could happen to me? My boyfriend also happens to be my guardian angel,” I said, leaning over to kiss him.

“What in the hel is going on here?”

I looked over to the door where Cynthia stood, her hands on her hips.

“Hel o, Mother,” I said. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“So is this search and seizure or burglary?” she said, crossing her arms.

“It’s good to see you, too,” I said, rol ing my eyes in response. “We’re trying to find something with an eight twenty-five on it.”

“Eight twenty-five?” Cynthia asked, looking at Jared, who stopped chewing for a moment under her glare.

He swal owed the lump of food in his mouth before giving report. “I intercepted Dawson. They’re finished with the pleasantries, Mrs. Grey. They want the evidence Jack col ected on them and they think Nina knows where it is.”

“I wonder why that is, Jared? It couldn’t be because they’ve seen you two together.”

“It’s possible,” Jared replied, impervious.

“What does Charles Dawson have to do with the number?” Cynthia asked, closing in on the mess on the floor.

“He doesn’t,” Jared said dismissively, looking over the papers again. I was a little surprised by his impassive attitude at Cynthia’s presence when just over a week ago he balked at just the mention of being in the same room with her.

Cynthia seemed to accept his ambiguity, probably because she was used to being left in the dark by my father. “I trust you’l take care of Mr.

Dawson, Jared. That simply won’t do.”

“It’s already been taken care of, Mrs. Grey.”

Cynthia nodded in approval. I was shocked that she spoke so candidly of violence.

“Keep me updated,” she said, walking out the door.

“That was weird,” I said, shaking my head.

Jared looked up from the paper. “What, sweetheart?”