Tuesday, September 21, 3:58 a.m.
The three of them sat in Eric’s living room, watching the muted television. It was tuned to the local twenty-four-hour news station, as it had been for the last day. Mary sat curled in the corner of the sofa, her expression like stone. Albert sat in an armchair, looking like the very angry captain of a starship.
Eric straddled a dining room chair backward, his chin propped on the chair’s carved back, having just been snapped at by Albert to stop pacing and sit his ass down.
“Turn it up,” Mary said flatly and Albert grabbed the remote.
“Top of the news this hour is another fire, this time in a warehouse north of the city,” the anchor said. “News 8 has just learned that not only is it another arson fire, but also police have found another body inside.”
Shock had Eric surging to his feet. “What the fuck?” he yelled.
Albert leaned forward, waving his arm. “Shut up.”
Mary sat up straighter, her expression gone flatter, if that was possible.
“The body has been identified as Barney Tomlinson, the owner of the warehouse,” the anchor said, and a photo of a middle-aged man with a comb-over appeared on screen. “We have Joseph Bradshaw live at the scene. Joseph, what are you hearing?”
The screen switched to the reporter, a fire truck in the background. “The fire is out, but the activity here at the fire site has not slowed. Homicide detectives and medical examiners went into the building twenty minutes ago and have not yet come out. No one is giving any details of the circumstances surrounding Barney Tomlinson’s death, but the presence of Homicide suggests the owner of this warehouse met with foul play.”
“Joseph,” the anchor said, “is anyone indicating a link to the condo fire?”
“Not yet, but the homicide detectives who just went in are the same ones who were on the condo scene—Kane and Sutherland.”
Albert muted the television. “So this is his game,” he said darkly. “He murders and sets us up to take the fall.”
“We destroyed the tape,” Eric said. “We wore masks. Nobody will know it was us.”
Albert’s chuckle was without mirth. “Do you truly think so, mon ami? I give him five minutes, perhaps ten. He’ll send you another text with another link to another video.”
It was less than two minutes. Eric’s personal cell phone buzzed. He checked the text and flicked a glance at Albert. “It says ‘welcome to my employ.’”
“And the video?” Mary asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Eric clicked the link. “It’s us,” he said when the video began playing. “We’re wearing masks.” He watched as the texter’s camera closed in on Mary as she looked back to check on the drugged dog. Then the screen filled with a still shot of Mary’s face, covered by the mask. Successive shots closed in on Mary’s right eye until her iris was all that could be seen, then the video cut to a picture of Mary at the condo. Again the camera closed in, again the close-up of her iris.
Eric didn’t even blink when he saw himself pause to snap a photo of the burning warehouse. “He was there,” he said woodenly and passed the phone to Albert. “He’s basically saying he can put Mary at both scenes through her eyes.”
Albert replayed the video, his jaw going taut. “Where was he? Goddammit.”
“He got Mary when she stopped to see the dog, so he had to have been hiding to our left.” Eric sank onto the sofa, opposite Mary. “This is unbelievable.”
“This isn’t what I planned,” Mary said thinly. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell us, Eric. You had no right to keep this from us.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t help. If you had any idea…” She closed her eyes. “Damn you.”
“Another text,” Albert said, then drew a sharp breath. “It’s Tomlinson. Or what’s left of him.” He passed the phone back and Eric flinched.
Tomlinson lay facedown on his desk. There was a helluva lot of blood.
Eric passed his phone to Mary and waited for her to watch the video. “So now what?”
“We draw him out,” Mary said coldly. “And then we kill the sonofabitch.”
Albert raised a sarcastic brow. “I thought you said you couldn’t kill anyone.”
“I was wrong,” she said. “The game just changed.”
“That’s all well and good,” Eric said, “but as I said before, now what?”
“He had to have had some beef with Tomlinson,” Albert said. “Who knows, maybe he was blackmailing him, too.” Albert got up and paced. “Somehow he found out about us. I can’t figure out how. We never met together, except for here. Never in public. So how did he find out? How did he know Tomlinson? What’s the connection?”
Eric felt an icy chill slink down his back. “Could he have this place bugged?”
Albert stopped pacing, his expression grim. “As crazy as that sounds, maybe.”
“But he still had to know about us,” Mary insisted. “He’s not going to just pick out rich boys at random and bug their apartments.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Hear that, asshole? We’re talkin’ about you!”
“Sshh,” Albert hissed. “You’ll wake the neighbors.” Then he stilled, his gaze swinging around to collide with Eric’s. “Eric.”
Eric had the same thought in the same instant. “The neighbors. These walls are thin. Somebody heard us talking. Which one?”
“The walls aren’t that thin,” Mary scoffed, but Albert looked away, rolling his eyes.
“One of the neighbors complained one night when we were…” Eric felt his cheeks heating. “You know.”
“Oh.” Mary shrugged. “Same thing happened to us. Joel and I…” She stopped suddenly, her lips pressing tight as tears filled her eyes. “Dammit,” she whispered. “For just a second I forgot. How could I forget?”
“It’s part of grief,” Albert said quietly. “You live in the dorm. A quad, right?”
“Yes. We all get our own rooms.”
“Did you and Joel discuss this in your room?” he asked.
Mary shook her head, hard, then slowed. “Maybe, once or twice. But softly.”
“Those walls are thinner than these,” Eric said. “That’s why we never did anything in Albert’s dorm room. Your roommates could have heard. But how do they connect to Tomlinson?”
“We need to find out more about Tomlinson.” Albert pointed to Eric’s laptop. “You got into his company server. What did you find?”
“Only what I was looking for—the maintenance files on the alarm system.”
“I Googled him while you were trying to hack into his server,” Albert said. “I found a few general things. Tomlinson played golf in a charity tournament last year, but his business was bad—lots of layoffs. His wife is divorcing him. You’re better at the computer, so dig deeper. Find out everything you can.” Albert grabbed his jacket.
“Where are you going?” Eric asked.
“Back to my dorm. It’ll be daylight soon. I’m going to change and shave and then go have a talk with Mrs. Tomlinson and find out what her husband was up to.”
Mary stood up. “You can’t just waltz into her house and talk to her.”
“As a reporter, I can.”
Eric rose slowly. “Albert, wait. What if she checks up on you? You don’t exactly fade into the woodwork. Especially with your accent.”
Albert’s smile was grim. “What accent?” he asked in a perfect Minnesotan tone.
Eric stared, his mouth open. “You… Which is real?”
Albert met his eyes, his gaze cold. “Does it matter anymore?” he asked. “Start digging on Tomlinson. We need everything we can get.”
Well. As always, they were an interesting bunch. So Mary wants to kill me? Right back atcha, girl. And Albert, not really French? Say it isn’t so. He’d seen that one coming a mile away. For a nerd, Eric was really very stupid.
He sat back in his easy chair and frowned. But Albert going to talk to Louise Tomlinson? He needed to think
about that one. Louise didn’t know anything to tell. He’d made sure of that. What harm could Albert do?
Conversely, how can I use this to dig their graves a little deeper? And how long can I keep the leash tethered so tightly? He didn’t plan on watching them so closely forever. When their useful life was over… their lives would be over.
Besides, he might have a bigger worry at the moment. He rewound the recording he’d made of the nine o’clock news. It was a grainy video, taken by a cell phone. A search-and-rescue dog and its handler stood on the bank of the lake, a few hundred yards from the dock at the condo. He knew that shoreline like the back of his hand. The only way to that patch of open beach was by boat, but he saw no boat in the video.
He might have assumed that patch of beach was how the girl had come to be in the burning building to start with, but if so, the boat would still be there, would it not? Which could mean someone had been with her, someone who had not died in the condo.
Which could mean trouble for me. He needed to know what the police knew. If a witness existed, that person needed to die.
Tuesday, September 21, 5:30 a.m.
Austin Dent sat on his bed hugging his knees to his chest. His mom would be coming home from her job soon. She worked hard, his mom. He hated the worry he’d put in her eyes.
He hated that he couldn’t forget the fear in Tracey’s eyes when they’d both smelled smoke. Or the look on that guard’s face when he’d been shot, the way he’d crumpled to the ground. But mostly he hated that somewhere out there a killer walked free.
Austin’s hands clenched into fists. I have to do something. But he was afraid.
I owe it to Tracey. I promised I’d protect her. She was there because of me.
But what did he owe his mother? If he told, he’d put both their lives in danger. That man shot that guard in cold blood. He couldn’t lead the guy straight to their lives.
But I can’t do nothing. I can’t live this way, wondering if he’s going to shoot me, too.
If he called from a phone nearby, the cops would trace it. Everybody in town knew he went to school down in Minneapolis. A smart cop would connect the dots in no time.
So he’d have to contact the cops from Minneapolis. Kenny will help me. He’d text Kenny, tell him what to write in the letter and Kenny could mail it from downtown. That way the cops would know about the shooter, but nobody would know he’d told.
It could work. It would have to.
Tuesday, September 21, 5:45 a.m.
Olivia blinked hard as she drove the road to her house. The last forty-eight were catching up to her. She was going to walk Mojo, then fall into bed….
She slowed as her front porch came into view. A familiar form slowly rose from her front steps and her tired brain wanted to scream foul. Carefully she pulled around the red pickup truck he’d parked on her curb and drove into her garage. For a moment she just sat in her car, her forehead resting on the steering wheel.
Then her door opened and she could feel the warmth of his body as he crouched next to her. “Olivia?”
“I’m all right, David,” she said, not looking at him. “You promised not to bother me.”
“I know. I lied.”
“What do you want from me?”
“A chance to explain. Please.” His hand dipped under her braid, closing over her neck. His palm was warm, his fingers strong as they began massaging her skull.
A little whimper escaped her throat. She was so tired and his hand felt so good. Focus, girl. She grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away. “What’s to explain?”
“A lot. Come on.” He urged her from the car, pulling her to her feet. “You’re about to fall flat on your face.”
“I was about to go to sleep.”
“Then I won’t take long.” She let him lead her to her front door, not complaining when he took the keys from her hand and unlocked her front door. Mojo came bounding, crouching into a snarl when he saw David.
“Down,” Olivia commanded and Mojo instantly dropped to his stomach, eyeing David suspiciously. Smart dog. Good dog.
David closed the door behind them, walking around the dog as if he weren’t there. Mojo craned his neck, watching. Cursing her own weakness, Olivia did the same. David looked as good going as coming. She followed him into her kitchen, Mojo at her heels.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Standing in front of her open fridge, he looked over his shoulder. “Making us breakfast. Your eggs are about to expire.”
“Sorry?” she said, shaking her head, then tilting it sideways on a silent sigh when he bent over to check out her vegetable bin. Too nice. Way too nice. And so not fair that all the sexy ones are jerks.
Abruptly he straightened, pointing to the bar stools at her counter. “Sit, please.”
Mojo sat obediently, wagging his tail, looking up at David adoringly.
“Traitor,” she muttered to the dog. “I want you to leave, David.”
He deposited all the cooking materials on her counter, ignoring her.
“I’m not hungry. Stop that,” she snapped when he broke eggs into her mixing bowl with the finesse of a chef. “What the hell are you doing?”
His jaw clenched. “I cook when I’m tense.”
“You’re tense.” She made a scoffing sound. “Please.”
“No, I’m actually scared to death.” He looked up, met her eyes. “I’m not lying.”
He looked utterly serious and she felt her resolve weakening. “Hell of a line,” she said. “I must be the most gullible woman alive. Come on, Mojo.”
Her dog hesitated, staring up at David. Biting back a really vile oath, she tugged on Mojo’s collar. “I said, come.” Finally he followed, looking back over his shoulder as if to ask why the new guy wasn’t coming. Olivia stood on her patio, tapping her foot impatiently. Finally Mojo padded back and she let him into the house. David was still there, inspecting a clear carton of mushrooms with a grimace.
“It’s been a while since you shopped,” he said.
“I’ve been busy.” She slid onto a bar stool. “Say your piece and then leave.”
He dropped his gaze to the cutting board, chopping the few vegetables that hadn’t gone bad. “I said someone else’s name that night. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry. But I need to know if I did anything else.”
She frowned at him, Brie’s and Paige’s words coming back. I wonder what he thought he’d said. Or done. “Like what?”
“Like, get rough. Or ask for something you didn’t want to do.”
And? So it really hadn’t been a statement of disregard. “No,” she said softly. “What did you think you did, David?”
He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands, bowing his head. “I didn’t know. At first I thought you were just embarrassed, but you never called and months went by. I wondered if I’d done something to… turn you off.”
“You did. You said another woman’s name when I was giving you a great orgasm.”
He lifted his face, his eyes tense. “Other than that.”
“That was enough. But to set your mind at ease, no, you didn’t push me or try to force me to do anything I didn’t want to do.”
His shoulders sagged. “Good.” He turned from her, pouring the eggs into a pan.
He was still nervous, she realized. Unbelievable, but apparently true. She made coffee, then turned to watch him cook. “Why didn’t you call?”
He shrugged. “I’d go from fear of what I’d done to fear that you had someone else back home to fear that what I had done hadn’t been… good enough.”
“You’re kidding,” she said and thought she saw a glimmer of a smile curve his lips.
“Okay, maybe not that last part. But I did worry.” He did something with his wrist and the omelet in the pan slid and flipped. “And I did try to forget about you.”
“You did?”
“You were here, I was there. Then Evie called, asking for help with her leaky roof.”
> Seven months ago. “She said you dropped everything and came to help.”
“She thinks I’m some white knight, so don’t tarnish my armor. The truth is, I dropped everything and came right away because it was what I’d been waiting for.”
She frowned slightly. “What you’d been waiting for? What does that mean?”
He wasn’t looking at her and she suddenly wished he would, that she could see his eyes. “Do you believe in signs, Olivia? Fate? Miracles?”
“Once, I’d have said no. But now, yes, I do.”
His glance was sharp. “What changed your mind?”
Olivia’s answer took no thought at all. She knew the moment she’d begun believing in miracles. “Meeting Mia when I did. I needed her and she needed me. I’d just come out of a bad relationship and a week later found out that our father, the father I’d never known, was dead. Mia was already in love with Reed. I was so jealous. She asked me if I was involved with anyone and I told her no. I didn’t want to admit I was a failure.”
“I can understand that feeling,” he said ruefully.
She thought of the name he’d groaned, knew that Dana was happily married to someone else. If there had ever been a relationship between Dana and David, there wasn’t now. “I guess you can. Anyway, you remember when Mia was shot by that guy?”
“He was an arsonist,” David said, slanting her another glance. “Ironic, huh?”
Or fate. “Yes, very. The guy shot her just a few days after I met her, took out her kidney. She’d only had one.”
“And nobody was a match. I remember. We all got tested.” David turned to stare at her, his eyes narrowed. “Then all of the sudden, Mia got a mystery donor. She never told us who it was. We all thought it was anonymous.” He leaned closer until he was inches from her face. “It was you, wasn’t it? You saved her life.”
Olivia’s cheeks warmed. “Your omelet’s burning.”
He turned back to the stove. “It was a damn nice thing to do, Olivia. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I didn’t do it to be proud. I did it because she needed me. Nobody ever really had before. So to answer your question, yes, I believe in fate.”
He shut off the burner. “Evie needed me, too. I wanted to help her, of course, but I’d been looking for some kind of sign. I’d told myself it was just one weekend, that you’d probably found someone else, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Evie’s leaky roof was the sign I’d been hoping for. ‘Go to Minnesota,’ in blinking neon. I wanted to see you again, and find out if you did have someone else. And to find out what I’d done.”