He shrugged. “It’s the last place anyone thinks to look.”
It was certainly a place that would have appealed to Lucian’s warped sense of humor. I cleared more wiring snakes, then walked across to the remnants of the bathroom. Surprisingly, the glass wall had held up well, as had the toilet, which had been positioned behind it.
“Try the tank first,” Jak said. “It’s been plumbed in, so anywhere else would have caused an obstruction.”
I unscrewed the flush button, then lifted the lid off the tank. And there, attached to the plunger, was a small plastic-wrapped envelope.
“Bingo,” I said softly, and pulled it free. I handed Jak the lid, then unwrapped the envelope, slicing it open with a fingertip, then carefully unfolding the piece of paper inside.
It read “-37.76759373693766, 144.88306045532227.”
“Coordinates,” Jak said, looking over my shoulder. “Latitude and longitude, I’d guess.”
“If you’re right, then for what? is the next big question.” I flipped the bit of paper over, but there was nothing else written on it.
“Why don’t I Google it and find out?” He reached into his pocket and frowned. “What the hell…?”
He drew out his hand and held it out, palm up. A collection of broken bits of metal and plastic sat within it. The remains of his phone, I knew without asking. I closed my eyes and cursed again. In the rush to get out of the way of the blast, I’d totally forgotten anything metal not touching flesh would be shredded. Which meant not only his phone, but mine too and my keys.
“Sorry, that’s my fault.”
His gaze jumped to mine, and after a moment, he said, “That change thing?”
“Yeah. Metal not touching flesh doesn’t get re-formed.”
“Meaning we’ll have to go somewhere else to decipher the clue.” He paused, and a sudden, somewhat cheeky smile touched his lips. “My place is nice and close. And I probably still have some of your clothes hanging around.”
I blinked. “Why the hell would you still have those?”
He shrugged. “Couldn’t be bothered throwing them out. And it wasn’t like they were taking up a whole lot of space.”
“I bet that must have pleased the hell out of the girlfriends that followed me.”
“It wasn’t a problem because there weren’t any. Only bed partners.”
I snorted. “You seriously expect me to believe —”
“Yes, because it’s true.” His gaze held mine. “My work may be the most important thing in my life, then and now, but you were, believe it or not, the next best thing.”
“Being the next best isn’t exactly a compliment,” I noted dryly. “And it doesn’t exactly explain why you’ve had no girlfriends since.”
“Ours wasn’t the first relationship I wrecked over a story, but it was the last. I decided it was better for everyone if I just didn’t go there.”
I stared at him for a minute. “Good god, was that a touch of remorse in your voice?”
“More an acknowledgment that forming attachments to get a story probably isn’t the best way to go about things.”
Which was probably as close to a sorry as I was ever likely to get. I folded the piece of paper and slipped it into my pocket. “You could have decided that before you printed the story about my mom and destroyed what we had.”
“No, I couldn’t have.”
Because it had taken that destruction for him to see the light – although I had no doubt the threats from Uncle Rhoan, Aunt Riley, and Ilianna had also played a part. They’d certainly prevented him from printing the remaining part of the story. “I can see you becoming a very lonely old man.”
“Not lonely, because there has never been a lack of partners. Just alone.”
Meaning he’d faired better in the after-relationship sex stakes than I had. At least until Lucian and Azriel had come along to liven things up.
“Your place, then.” I paused. “Are you parked somewhere very close? And do you still keep your spare key taped under the rear wheel arch?”