Lexie glanced at the larger man, surprised he’d let his wife dictate who he saw and what he did. So much for judging a man by looking at him.
Ed led them toward a flight of stairs and Lexie shot Coop a surprised look.
“The cane’s just in case the leg starts to hurt. It don’t stop me from getting around,” Ed said, as if reading her mind.
She nodded and followed him as they descended lower and lower.
Coop hadn’t been kidding when he said the file rooms were filthy. Dirt and grime that had probably once just been dust covered everything inside the room. Lexie, who’d slept everywhere from tents in Yosemite to outdoor huts in Africa, didn’t mind dirt, but this kind of dust and mold was another story. Her allergies immediately kicked in and her nose began itching within minutes of reaching the depths of the old building.
“Okay, this is it.” Ed stopped at a closed door, pulled out a set of keys and let them inside.
“Door locks behind you, but you’re set on the inside. You can let yourselves out. Take as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” Lexie said.
“Thanks.” Coop slapped the other man on the back. “Don’t be a stranger. Bring Gretchen with you to Jack’s if she won’t let you out of her sight.”
“Best burgers ever,” Lexie said by way of incentive.
Ed grinned. “I might just do that.” He raised a hand in a wave goodbye and walked out.
The door creaked, then slammed shut behind them with a loud thud, leaving them alone in the dimly lit room.
An eerie silence surrounded them, settling on Lexie’s shoulders and she shivered. “I wonder if this is what it feels like when prison doors slam shut behind you.”
“No, that’s worse. The sound of iron slamming shut is harder and more…final. My father took Matt and me when we were kids. He wanted to scare us straight before we did anything wrong.” He paused for a moment. “It worked.”
She shuddered once more. “I can’t even imagine.” Turning her sights to the task ahead of them, Lexie glanced around at the aisles filled with boxes stacked row after row on shelves. “Wow.”
“They should be in chronological order,” Coop said, and started walking past the most recent years.
They passed the 1960s and finally found the decade before. “The robbery took place during a holiday party, so let’s start with December.” He pulled out one huge file box and placed it on the floor, followed by another. Together they covered two years.
By unspoken agreement, they settled on the floor to look through them.
Lexie took the year 1950 while Coop tackled 1951.
He pulled off the lid and began to flip through the cases. “September, October… It’s pretty much in order.”
Lexie followed suit. “Same here,” she said, surprised. “I really thought this would take days. I never imagined this place could be as organized as you see on TV.” Lexie shifted, getting as comfortable as she could on the hard, cold concrete floor.
“It’s not the same as being computerized, but it’s pretty damn good.”
His tone was brusque and businesslike and Lexie couldn’t stand it another minute. She couldn’t be intimate with someone at night and be angry and distant during the day. She wasn’t sure if the travel sites bothered him more or if it had been her description of their relationship to her father. She hadn’t intentionally meant to hurt him with either.
“Listen, about this morning…” She decided to start with the Web sites. “I know you found the Australia travel site on my computer.”
He glanced up, meeting her gaze. “It’s no big deal.”
“Then why did you leave without saying goodbye or even telling me you had someplace to go?” As she spoke, the same pain hit in the pit of her stomach.
“Since we’re not that serious, why should it matter?”
She was about to call him on the petty comment when she caught the twinkle in his gaze.
Now she was just plain confused.
“And I should have let you know I was going to my father’s.” A muscle worked in his jaw and she waited, giving him time. “Look, seeing your travel plans caught me off guard—even though I knew you wouldn’t be staying long.”
She appreciated his honesty. She might think about taking off and traveling, but she never connected those thoughts with leaving him.
She wasn’t ready.
“They aren’t actual plans. I was just looking at places I might want to see one day. Have you ever been out of the country?” she asked cautiously.
He shook his head. “Never had the opportunity.” And he turned back to looking through the files in the box.
Lexie let out a long breath, glad it wasn’t dislike of the notion. But never having had the chance? She found that incredibly sad. “Maybe you need to create your own opportunity,” she suggested.
“Found it!” He pulled a file from the box. “Says Lancaster on the tab.” Excitement fueled his voice.
Their discussion on the back burner, Coop opened the folder and she scooted in close so she could read over his shoulder.
She breathed in his delicious, familiar scent and sexual awareness kicked right in. The urge to run her fingers through his hair while they scanned the words on the page was strong, but she needed to concentrate on what they found. So she refrained.
For now.
“It says here all the party guests were questioned and released. Same for most of the staff who worked that evening,” Coop said.
From his focused tone and energy, he seemed to have no similar yearning to take her right here on the musty file room floor.
“The chauffeur, whose name was listed as Richard Hampton, took longer to locate, but he was eventually questioned and let go. Two waitresses were never found. Neither were the jewels. When the police spoke to the hiring company, they discovered the women had used false identities. And since they were the only open leads and their trail grew cold quickly, the case was shelved here.”
Lexie bit the inside of her cheek, a question occurring to her for the first time. “What was the exact date of the robbery?”
“December 31, 1951.”
Lexie thought long and hard, recalling stories and information she’d heard over the years. Finally, something clicked.
“Yes!” She pumped her fist in the air.
“What is it?”
“I guess I was thinking 1950s, so it never dawned on me that my grandfather had an ironclad alibi. But in August 1951 he was drafted for the Korean War. I remember it was August because it’s around Grandma’s birthday.”