In the distance, thunder rumbled as I leaned against the outside wall and dialed Aiden’s cell phone.
Cat Bennett was alive. If we could find her, we could possibly find out what happened to Kira.
And to Dustin.
If.
A half hour later, dark clouds hovered overhead as a stern-looking housekeeper opened the door at a Back Bay brownstone, its front stoop decked out in vertical planters overflowing with lush flowers and dripping with ivy.
“I’m Lucy Valentine,” I said, sneaking a peek behind her into the expansive foyer. “I have an appointment with Tova.” I hoped the housekeeper didn’t leave me out here to verify the meeting because I didn’t want to get caught in a rainstorm. The city needed a good soaking—I didn’t.
I’d spoken with Aiden, but even though we knew Cat was alive, we still had no idea of knowing where. I kept sniffing her sweater, but she was still asleep, giving me no more clues.
I kept thinking about her in that basement. Had she been locked in? Or was she hiding out?
“This way,” the woman said in a heavy accent I couldn’t quite place. Something from Central Europe. Polish, maybe.
Moving noiselessly on thick-soled shoes, she led me through the stunning interior of the home, which looked like a hybrid of a gentleman’s study and a French country drawing room. Dark woods and masculine furniture mixed with toile and lace fabrics. It was an interesting combination, and I liked it.
The noise of my crutch hitting the wooden floor seemed to echo like a jackhammer. I winced as the sound reverberated upward to the wood-beamed rafters.
“I’ll take it from here, Serafina,” a masculine voice said. Trey Fisher trotted down a mahogany staircase wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts.
The housekeeper nodded and turned in the opposite direction that we’d been walking.
“Couldn’t stay away from me, eh?” he asked, his eyes widening. “I get a lot of that.”
“People staying away?” I asked as innocently as I could manage.
His eyebrows dipped. “Not staying away.”
“Oh.” I hid a smile as I turned to look around. “I’m actually here to see Tova, but I’m glad I ran into you.”
“I knew it.” He motioned for me to follow him into the kitchen. “Something to drink?”
“No thanks.” The kitchen was the size of my whole cottage. Beautiful ivory-colored custom cabinets filled the wall space, some with clear glass panels to show off sparkling crystal. A long island was topped with a stunning pale green glass countertop that reminded me of sea glass.
He pulled a juicer out of a cabinet and gathered green leafy veggies, a beet, and two carrots from the cavernous fridge. “Did you find Kira yet?”
“Not yet.” I eyed him. “You haven’t heard from her, have you?”
“Nope.” He grabbed a pear from a fruit basket and a glass from a cabinet.
“You still think she’s hiding out?”
Dropping the beet into the juicer, he used the plunger to push it through. Vibrant red liquid spilled down the chute into the glass. He followed it up with one of the leafy green veggies—some sort of lettuce—and the carrots. “You don’t?”
“No.”
“Then where is she?” he asked.
He fed the pear into the machine, followed by another leafy veg. “You sure you don’t want some of this?” he asked, lifting the glass.
I tried not to gag. “No.”
“It does a body good.”
As much as I hated to admit it—and I did—his body was just shy of spectacular, what with those perfectly-chiseled muscles and all. That, however, didn’t change the fact he was a jerk. “I’m still full from the Froot Loops I had for breakfast. Oh, and the two lemon-filled donuts.” I hadn’t had any such thing—but only because there weren’t any in the house. I’d had peanut butter on toast, but he didn’t need to know that.
He choked a bit as he stared at me over the rim of his glass. “Froot Loops? Do you know what’s in those?”
“Fruit?” I blinked at him.
He shuddered.
I think any attraction he had for me just went out the window. Thank goodness. Maybe now he would drop the macho act and answer me straight.
Light spilled in from double doors leading onto the back deck. “I was watching video clips of Kira and noticed she started wearing a Gucci watch in May. Did you give that to her? A birthday present? Or a Mother’s Day present?”
Gulping down the rest of his drink, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “She’s not my mother.”
4 x 4 is 16.
480/2 is 240.
“Her birthday present?” I asked.
“I got her a car.”
Whoa. Seemed a little excessive for a new relationship. “So you didn’t give her a watch?”
“No.”
Damn.
He set his glass in the sink and leaned on the counter. “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday, about jewelry. She sometimes wore a necklace I gave her.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It had this little silver coin thing that dangled.” He shrugged. “She liked it, so I bought it for her for birthday.”
“Are you willing to do a reading?” I asked.
“Sure. I mean, if it helps find her.”
He still didn’t seem all that upset she was missing, and I couldn’t figure out why other than he truly believed she was hiding out to boost interest in her story.
Coming around the island, he leaned a hip against the countertop and held out his hands.
I really didn’t want to touch him.
15-3 is 12. “Think about that necklace.”
“Did you really have Froot Loops?” he asked, holding out his hands.
“Yes.” I rested my palms on top of his and closed my eyes.
“Despite your questionable diet, you have nice skin. I mean, not where it’s all cut up, but the rest of it.”
I opened one eye. “Concentrate on the necklace.”
Coughing, he said, “Okay. Concentrating.” He ohhhmed.
Pulling my hands away, I said, “You’re not even trying.”
With a grin, he said, “I will. I promise. You’re just so beautiful when you’re worked up. And you smell good, too. What is that?”
“Lemon. From the donuts.”
Disapproval crept into his eyes. “Why do you eat that stuff?”
“It’s delicious.”
“The sugar alone…” He made a disgusted face.
“The necklace?” I reminded.
He shoved his hands toward me. “Fine.”
I took hold of them, but after a moment, I knew it was pointless. “I don’t see anything.” I didn’t know if it was because he wasn’t concentrating or if there was another reason—like he hadn’t really given her a necklace.
He kept holding his hands out. “Try the earrings. It was a matching set.”
Exhaling, I pressed my palms to his, letting my eyes drift close. Almost immediately, his fingers closed around my hands tightly, and he gave me a yank, pulling me close to his chest. Pivoting, he pinned me against the island in one smooth move.
“Now, isn’t this nice?” he said, his breath hot in my face.
Angry, repulsed, and a tiny bit scared, I glanced up at him. Through clenched teeth, I said, “You have two seconds to let me go before I knee you so hard you’ll think you put nuts in that juice you just drank.”
My eyes must have told him that I wasn’t the least bit kidding because he immediately released me and took a big step backward.
The sound of womanly laughter filled the kitchen.
I spun around. Tova Dovell Fisher stepped into the kitchen, smiling broadly. Heat flooded my cheeks from pure rage. I wondered how long she’d been listening in. Wondered, too, if she had planned to stop Trey if he’d dared take things further.
“Nuts. That’s a good one,” she said, crossing her arms.
Her “that’s” sounded like “dat’s.” Norma
lly I might find her accent charming, as I adored accents, but right now my patience level had bottomed out.
“Yes,” Trey said. “Hysterical. I will leave you two to your warped senses of humor. I have somewhere to be.”
He grabbed his glass and strode off.
“I wasn’t joking,” I said to her.
“He knows. Personally, I wish you’d done it.” Her bare feet made no sound on the wooden floor as she crossed the kitchen to fill a tea kettle. “Would you like some?”
“No thanks.”
“Something else?”
I shook my head. My stomach churned after that encounter with Trey, and I could still feel his hot breath on my face. Phantom breath.
A long colorful maxi dress swished around her long legs as she moved gracefully, setting out a teacup, a saucer, and a canister of tea leaves before waving for me to follow her. “You’re Lucy?”
I tucked my crutch beneath my arm and followed her. “Yes.” I didn’t verify her name—we both knew who she was. Her face had been plastered across billboards, magazines, and TV commercials for years.
She led me to a cozy sun room, filled with bright light, overstuffed furniture, and lots of muted colors, from the blue-green walls and lavender throw pillows to the yellow rug. It was a welcoming space—one I might have enjoyed under any other circumstance.
Air conditioning hummed as she moved aside textbooks and notebooks. “Please sit. Also, excuse the mess. I’m studying for my citizenship test.”
Her ice-blond hair had been pulled up atop her head in a sloppy knot that she managed to make stylish. Clear bright blue eyes assessed me as I hobbled in.
“When is it?” I asked.
“Next week.” She sat in a ray of sunshine that made her look like an angel.
Fortunately, I knew better than most that looks could be deceiving. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” Her gaze swept over me. “Looks like you’ve had a time of it lately.”
“One too many psychopaths in my life.” One of whom, I suspected, she was married to. I set my crutch on the rug and sat in a floral rocking armchair that I immediately wanted to take home with me. Some of my anger seeped away. “Thanks for agreeing to meet up.”
“No problem. I’ve been reading up on you. Your ability is quite fascinating.”
Absently, I rubbed my cheek, trying to get rid of that feeling of Trey’s hot breath. “It is that.”
She shifted on the sofa, pulling her legs up onto the cushions. “Have you located Kira Fitzpatrick yet?”
“Not yet.”
Three tall white bookshelves stuffed full of books occupied the wall space next to the sofa. Everything from Diana Gabaldon to Homer to Maya Angelou. A basketful of magazines sat on the floor. The New Yorker and Time mingled with Vogue and Allure. A paperback of The Princess Bride was cracked open and face down on the side table, its spine broken.
“I suppose you want to know about my relationship with her,” Tova said.
I liked her directness. “Your name has come up, especially in regard to social media.”
Glossy lips pursed. “You’re looking at the wrong person in that regard.”
Her “the” came out as “da.” “What do you mean?”
“I don’t use social media. I don’t Twit or Facebook or anything. My assistant handles that.”
Twit. I tried not to smile at the bumble. I rocked slowly. “I heard otherwise.”
The kettle whistled in the kitchen and was immediately silenced. She said, “I suggest you consider your source.”
Currently, I wished bad things on my source. “Is it possible your assistant posted hateful things about Kira on your behalf?”
“No. Most likely your source is also the source of most malicious gossip about me: my dearly unbeloved husband. If you have not figured it out, he is not the most trustworthy.”
I glanced toward the doorway, wondering about the suddenly-silent kettle. “Yet you married him.”
“Tequila,” she said, shaking her head.
“That’s what he said.”
“Another lie. He brought me to Vegas with the sole intention of matrimony. I, on the other hand, shouldn’t have drunk so much.”
“Why?” I asked. “I mean, why would he lie about it?” I knew why she’d turned to the tequila. I’d have done the same in the company of Trey for an extended period of time.
“He’s an opportunist, that’s why. He wanted headlines to keep his name in the limelight. Marrying me gave them to him. It took me nearly a month to realize his scam.”
I recalled the tabloid blast. “Why not an annulment?”
She smiled, a sly devious smile. “Oh, he’s asked. Begged.” Her eyes glittered with satisfaction. “I wasn’t in the mood to comply after being duped by him. Now he’s paying the price with this lengthy divorce. I don’t even care if it costs me money in the end.”
If she was willing to stay married to Trey this long, she took her revenge seriously. How had Kira factored into her plans? “Were you upset about him dating Kira?”
“Not the least bit. I felt badly for her, actually.”
“Why’s that?”
Looking toward the garden, she seemed lost in thought for a moment. Finally, she said, “As I mentioned, he’s an opportunist. And a narcissist. He doesn’t care for anyone but himself. His wants, his needs, his desires. I knew what he wanted from her, and it pained me to see him defraud another woman, especially when there was a child involved. I told her my suspicions, but…” She trailed off.
“But?” I prompted.
“It seemed she knew.”
“She knew?”
Leaning forward, she sighed. “She told me she appreciated my concern, but she knew what she was doing. What could I do? I washed my hands of it.”
“You said you knew what he wanted from her. What was that?”
“He’d been freelancing as a sportscaster for the TV station a long time. He wanted to be the lead sports anchor. From there he wants to go national. She is a stepping stone for him, as I was.”
Putting pieces together, I tipped my head. “He was promoted last week.”
Serafina came in, carrying a tray with the teacup and saucer Tova had set out earlier. The case of the silenced tea kettle had been solved. She set the cup and saucer on the side table.
“Thank you, Sera,” Tova said, smiling warmly at the housekeeper, who quickly ducked out of the room. She picked up our conversation. “Yes, he was promoted. Thanks to his girlfriend pulling strings. I predicted a few more weeks before he broke it off with her. Except now she’s missing…and he’s reveling in being a free man without a messy breakup.”
I didn’t doubt a word Tova had said. It all rang true. So, if Kira had known he was using her, what game was she playing? It made no sense to me. Had she been blinded by Trey’s sexy eyes and six-pack abs? I hated thinking so—she seemed too smart to be fooled by him.
I said, “I have to ask where you were last Thursday night.”
“I’ve been out of town all week. I left last Sunday and landed last night from a photo shoot in Tahiti.”
Unless she had minions to carry out her dirty work, then I’d say that was a fairly solid alibi.
“Also,” she said, “we were on a remote island with no cell phone or Internet coverage. I’ll have my assistant email you the details so the police can verify everything.”
There went my scorned-woman theory.
Still, she could have minions… “If you’re not making the online comments, then who?” I asked.
“Who do you think likes all the attention? Who wants this case to drag on and on because it will get him more screen time? Who’s acting like he was the victim?”
I recalled Trey sniveling on TV this morning, and how his readings had all been dismal failures. No wonder he wanted this case to drag out.
He didn’t want Kira to be found.
My anger rose again, and I found myself clenching my fists.
“He lied to
you earlier,” she said, sipping her tea. “I overheard him telling you he knew nothing about the watch she wore, but he knows.”
“Did he give it to her?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No. He’s too cheap. Even the car he supposedly bought for her is one he borrowed from our home fleet. It’s leased in my name as well as his. My lawyer has been fighting that one for a while now.”
“Wait, wait,” I said, scooting to the edge of my chair. “The car isn’t hers?”
“No.”
This explained why Aiden was having a hard time tracking down a registration. My head spun with all this new information. “Okay, first things first, the watch. What do you know about it?”
“They had a big fight about it. I overheard the whole thing.”
“When?” I asked.
“Last weekend.”
Ah, so this was the fight Morgan had heard about.
Tova said, “Trey didn’t like that she was wearing a gift from another man, and she yelled that he was only angry because another man was more thoughtful than he was. He accused her of sleeping with him, and she yelled that he was just insecure because she was waiting to sleep with him.”
“Trey? She wasn’t sleeping with him?”
Eyes wide with mirth, she shook her head. “Nope. Holding out.”
Well, color me shocked. I wanted to laugh. Morgan had said Kira was particular, and it seemed as though she put her boyfriends to the test before letting them fully into her life.
“I had the feeling she wore that watch to make him angry,” Tova added. “I liked that about her.”
“Do you know who gave it to her?”
“I don’t know his name, but he lives next door to her. Trey hated the guy because he was always around.”
Morgan Creighton.
I wanted to do a happy dance right there in the sunroom, broken foot and all. A reading from Morgan could lead me straight to Kira.
I said, “Would you be willing to do a reading on Kira’s car?”
“Will it help find her?”
“Possibly.”
She set her tea down. “Trey would hate it.”
“Yes.”
Smiling, she said, “Let’s do it.”
I wasn’t above using her revenge to suit my needs. She made room on the sofa, and I hopped over to sit next to her. I gave her a quick rundown on how readings worked.