Free Dirty Little Lies by Julie Leto Page B

shook his head. “I was a few years ahead and at Oxford when the whole scandal broke.”
    “Didn’t Father work on the case in some capacity?”
    “Indirectly.”
    She shed her sunglasses and scarf, worn more for their stylishness than for protection against the mild summer weather. “Checked his notes?”
    Their father had kept copious diaries, files, and dossiers on all his cases, all encrypted, of course. And all decoded on an as-needed basis by either Brynn or Ian. Immediately after his return from the hospital last night, Ian had consulted the records and archives. “He met with Bradley Hightower’s father, but only to give his advice regarding relocation. The entire Hightower family moved to Paris only a few weeks after the state attorney opted not to press charges.”
    Brynn’s nose crinkled the way it always did when she was thinking hard. “I didn’t know the girls, either, but I don’t suppose that’s any surprise, considering their background.”
    “The Manning father once worked as the Bennetts’ yacht captain. He was harbormaster for some time, as well.”
    “The mother?”
    “Housewife. They did not, as we should say politely, run in our circles.”
    “Funny,” Brynn said with a chuckle. “When we lived here as children, Boston always felt so very small compared to London. Now I realize how many separate worlds exist here.”
    A soft knock at the door announced Max’s arrival. He came in with two steaming mugs of coffee. While Ian was eternally grateful for the caffeine jolt, he’d hoped to see Max balancing three cups. With one for himself, he’d be more inclined to stay.
    “I’m headed back to the hospital,” Max explained. “The next shift of hospital employees comes on in twenty minutes. I want to make sure our bases are covered.”
    Brynn accepted the coffee and rewarded Max’s generosity with a kiss to his cheek. “Good to see you, Max.”
    Max smiled rather uncomfortably and backed out of the room. “Enjoy your visit, you two. Try not to kill one another while I’m gone.”
    Ian arched a brow as Max shut the door behind him. “Bring me up to speed,” Brynn ordered.
    “I have the case under control, Brynn.” Ian shifted in his seat. He didn’t want to pick a fight, but he also didn’t need his sister interfering in his investigation.
    Brynn sipped her coffee, her eyes locked with his over the rim of her mug.
    “I didn’t mean to imply you didn’t, Ian. I seem to recall a time when you and I could at least discuss work without invading the other’s turf.”
    Ian tapped his finger on the file hiding the note. “That all changed when you returned to the States. You had Europe, I had North America. Seemed a fair enough arrangement.”
    “You’re still smarting about Marisela?”
    “Hard not to when I have to stare her in the face every day.”
    “You shouldn’t have fired her. If you’d been thinking more clearly, I wouldn’t have had to intervene. Besides, I’ve had her with me for the past two and a half months,” Brynn reminded him. “You’re the one who recalled her for the fund-raiser at Houghton House?”
    “I needed a female agent,” he answered simply.
    “And you got one who’s already tangled with the shooter and lived to provide us the only information we have. Look, Ian, I’m sorry I had to step in during Marisela’s first case, but you left her…and me…no choice.”
    Ian took a hearty swig of his coffee. He’d made mistakes on that former case—mistakes he would not make again. “Let’s move on to the case at hand.”
    Brynn cocked an eyebrow, but capitulated to his suggestion. “Here’s what I know so far. An assassin took a shot at Craig Bennett during the fund-raiser, but Marisela spotted the barrel of the gun and fired.”
    “She likely caused the shot meant for Bennett to go wild,” Ian added. “He was seriously injured, but he’ll live.”
    “He still has his brain matter, so I’m sure he considers himself