Free The Key by Jennifer Sturman Page A

never mind.”
    “I do mind. You haven’t answered my question.” It was a good thing I was still under-caffeinated, because with more stimulation, my voice would have sounded shrewish rather than just schoolmarmish.
    “Which question?”
    “Why were you curious about Jake Channing.”
    I was increasingly confident that it wasn’t the light. Peter was blushing.
    “Well, he called last night. Which was good, because I could check to make sure you wouldn’t miss anything if I let you sleep in a bit.”
    “You Googled him because he called me?”
    He hesitated. “It’s just that then I scrolled through the caller ID and saw that he’d already called a couple of times, before I even got home.”
    “So?”
    “Rachel. This is embarrassing.”
    “What’s embarrassing?”
    “Are you going to make me say this?”
    “Say what?”
    “Say that I was jealous.”
    “You were jealous?” I asked. “Jealous of what?” I probably should have been touched, or flattered. But instead I was angry.
    “You keep mentioning him. And you’re spending most of your waking hours with him.”
    “I work with him. We have a deal underway. I have to spend time with him.”
    “It’s more than that, Rachel. Gallagher’s dead and you’re getting strange e-mails. And now that you’ve told Jake about Man of the People—I just wanted to make sure that you can trust him. So I thought I’d do a little research.”
    “I can trust him,” I said.
    “Did you know that he worked at Gallagher’s old firm?” Peter asked. “Did he tell you that?”
    “Of course I knew.”
    “And you don’t think there’s a chance he could be in on any of this? You think it’s just a coincidence?”
    “You’re being absurd. Jake joined Winslow, Brown way before Gallagher came over from Ryan Brothers. And if Jake was in on anything with Gallagher—and by the way, we still don’t know if there’s anything to be in on in the first place—Gallagher sure had a strange way of showing it. He was nearly as much of a jerk to him as he was to m—to anyone.”
    “Maybe. But I’m worried that you’re not being as careful as you should be. That you’re letting your feelings get in the way.”
    “What feelings?”
    “Are you going to make me say this, too?”
    I looked at him but didn’t say anything. There was a long moment of silence.
    Then he turned away from me. “Your feelings for Jake,” he said.
    Something inside of me switched off and something else switched on. It was as if I’d been waiting for a reason—any reason—to blow up at Peter, and he’d just handed it to me. When I spoke again, I felt like I was on autopilot or having an out-of-body experience. On some level I fully recognized that I was lashing out at the wrong person, but I couldn’t help it.
    “Jake is my colleague and my friend, Peter. Nothing more.” My autopilot voice was cold. I stood up and began gathering my things. “And I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time. Since before I met you and since before you moved in.”
    “Rachel, I was—I am concerned. I’m only trying to help.”
    “By accusing me of being involved with other men?”
    “I wasn’t accusing you of being involved—”
    “And completely invading my privacy?”
    He took a step back. “How was I invading your privacy?”
    “Investigating my colleagues. Spying on my caller ID.”
    “ Spying on your caller ID?”
    “What would you call it?”
    “First of all, I couldn’t help but see the caller ID when I went to use the phone. And second of all, it happens to be my caller ID, too.”
    “How is it your caller ID?”
    “I live here. Remember?”
    “How can I forget?”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, following me as I crossed the living room.
    “It means I gargled with your aftershave yesterday. Your stuff is everywhere.”
    “That’s because you don’t have a spare second to help me figure out where I can put everything.”
    “I’ve been