She stood there for a moment longer, watching them—really watching them—as if trying to decide whether they were worth the risk she was about to take. Then slowly, she moved toward the cabinet by the wall and pulled open a drawer.
Brendan's eyes followed her every movement.
Juliette leaned forward slightly, her fingers interlocked, her attention sharp.
Emma pulled out a small black notebook. Worn at the edges. Not new. Not decorative. Used.
She walked back and dropped it on the table between them.
"This," she said, "is as close as you're getting to that list."
Brendan reached for it, but Emma's hand came down over it first.
"Careful," she warned. "You don't just flip through that like it's nothing."
His gaze lifted to hers. "Then tell me how to read it."
That seemed to satisfy her—just slightly.
She removed her hand.
Brendan opened it slowly.
