“Come along, Joe.” Portia strolled out of the room, chatting about the rides Quinn had gone on, most especially Space Mountain.
“I wanted to go on that one, but Ma said…“ Joe’s voice faded as they got farther from the room.
“Know something, babe?”
“What, Mark?” He broke his half of the cinnamon stick in two and held a half to my mouth. I ate it from his fingers, then sucked them clean. His eyes became heavy-lidded, and he breathed a soft, “Ohhh.” I liked I could put that look on his face. He saw my satisfaction and shook himself out of it. “Not the time, Mark. Now, you were saying?”
“The kid’s had a rough life, but he lucked out in one thing.”
“And that would be?”
“Having Portia for his grandmother.” I was about to say more when my cell phone rang. Why was Matheson calling me now? He was good, but he couldn’t have tracked down all the information I needed in an hour and a half. I rose and stepped away from the desk. “Excuse me. I need to take this.”