“Yes, you do. I have been telling you as much,” Arregui said, his voice gone very serious. “Is that why you have been avoiding me? Are you afraid to deal with the consequences of what you did?”
“I’m not afraid. And what happened when I left Barcelona was your fault,” Mari told him, recovering some of his composure.
“I’m just heading back to my apartment. Your university people have seen fit to house me in a very nice place on Manchester Square for the duration of my stay. Would you like to come over there and we can talk about whatever your fickle heart desires?”
He gave Mari the address and hung up, not waiting for a response. That was so like Tomas that Mari almost gave in to the temptation to leave him hanging. It would be easier to go to Cordiline with the information and let the police deal with it. He knew Tomas Arregui, though. If the cops came sniffing around, he would politely dismiss them with apologies and excuses. Maybe he would be more forthcoming with a familiar face, or maybe not, but Mari had to try.
In his head, Jake’s voice said, What if he’s harboring the killer?
“No one knows yet,” Mari mused out loud, earning him the disapproval of the man in the opposite booth, who had already shushed him once when he was on the phone. It was true, though—the police had not issued a statement. Cordiline’s theory was that if they went public with a manhunt, St. Andrews would go underground and they might never find him. There was absolutely no reason for Tomas to be aware of what his nephew had done.
Unless Josep told him, Jake’s voice said.
Mari shoved the rest of his belongings into his messenger bag and set off at a fast walk for Manchester Square. En route, he texted Jake.
I’m going to see Tomas. Something has come up. I think he maybe knows more about the Cemetery Rapist than he’s letting on.
The apartment was in a very handsome block close to the Wallace Collection, and as Tomas opened the door and invited Mari inside, he experienced some annoyance that it was considerably bigger than the tiny set of boxes the college had given Jake. There was a comfortable-looking sofa and a large flat-screen TV in the lounge and, beyond a set of louvred doors, he could see a well-appointed kitchenette. There was no sign that Tomas had another guest.
“What will you drink?” Tomas asked him politely, heading for a maple cabinet and retrieving a bottle of Spanish brandy. “You had quite a taste for this stuff, as I recall.”
“Just a splash, and plenty of soda,” Mari said, though he had no intention of drinking. He just wanted to get this interview over and done. “I need to ask you something, and it’s not easy to talk about.”
“Isabel wanted a divorce at first,” Tomas said, without turning from the cabinet where he was fixing their drinks. His tone was cool, polite, as if they were talking about something as normal as work. “She wanted the house, of course. And if she’d had her way, I would never have seen my children again. It took a great deal of negotiation to change her mind. Naturally, we no longer share a bed—or even a property—but my work always meant that we spent a lot of time apart, as I’m sure you will remember.”
He turned and handed Mari a tall glass, taking a sip from his own and setting it on the low table between them.
“You saved your marriage then.” Mari clutched his drink like it was a talisman to ward off evil. “Good for you. Not so good for her, I’d have thought.”
“She has what she wants—my money and the lifestyle my work can buy her. Isabel is not unhappy. Arantxa persuaded her, for appearance’s sake. It was not as if we were in the first throes of passion when I met you, Marijne.” Tomas swallowed a mouthful of brandy and came over to the sofa, running one hand over Mari’s hair.
He ducked his head, shying from the touch automatically.
“I never even realized that you were married.” Mari took a tentative sip from the glass to keep his hands busy. Tomas always mixed his drinks too strong, but this was fine, quite light with a hint of afterburn from the brandy. He gulped some more for Dutch courage and put it down on the table. “You don’t wear a ring. There were no photographs in your office. It wasn’t until one of the girls in the office mentioned that you spent weekends in the summer with your wife and kids in Garraf that I even thought about it. Have you any idea how that felt? I’m not a homewrecker, Tomas. I would never even have looked at you if I’d guessed that you had a family.”
“You know as well as I do that’s a lie.” Tomas sat down beside him on the sofa. “You wanted me from the moment you walked into my department. The attraction was mutual, by the way. Although I confess, I was almost fooled. When you came to the interview, I thought you were a woman.”
“I was a woman.” Mari fought the urge to throw his drink over the man.
“Until you changed your mind.”
“Until I wasn’t able to take estrogen anymore, and that’s when you started to be cruel to me. I hated you for that. I still hate you.” Mari picked up the glass and took another, longer drink to settle his nerves. The emotion coursing through him made his voice shake and that annoyed him.
“You were always a sucker for punishment,” Tomas said, ignoring the rest of his reply. “You needed a strong male figure in your life, and I was there for you. If your daddy had whipped you more often, you might not have grown up with so many issues. Still, I’m grateful. I’d never imagined how much of a turn on that would be until you showed me what you needed.”
“That’s bullshit!” Mari managed a huff of mirthless indignation.
“Really? So, if I put you over my knee right now and take my belt to you, it won’t get you hard?” Tomas never took his eyes off Mari’s face and the intense scrutiny made him even more uncomfortable, in spite of his resolve not to let the man bully him.
“It won’t make me love you,” Mari muttered.
“Who said anything about love?” Tomas said, his tone scornful. “Neither of us was looking for that, Marijne. You were looking for a sugar daddy with a big cock. I was looking for Marilyn Monroe. And one day she just happened to strut into my department, in six-inch heels, like she owned the place. Shame she turned out to have actual balls instead of just metaphorical ones.”
Mari put the glass down with a bang and slapped him for that. Gratifyingly, Tomas was so stunned that he shut his mouth.
“I didn’t come here to listen to your fantasies, Señor Arregui. I need to find out where Arantxa’s son is,” Mari said, reaching for the tumbler again because his mouth was suddenly too dry. “I need to talk to him about some…incidents at the university campus.”
Tomas looked quizzical for a moment, a small frown creasing his forehead. “You knew Josep was here?”
“Was?” Mari repeated, not bothering to answer this question. “As in ‘isn’t here anymore’?”
“Josep’s mother asked me to come out and speak with him,” Tomas said in a neutral tone. “She wants him to finish his studies in Barcelona. I agree that it will be better for him there.”
Mari wasn’t certain how he knew it, but something about that statement didn’t ring true for him. Tomas was lying and he couldn’t figure out why. He emptied the glass but was still desperately thirsty.
“I need some water,” he mumbled. His tongue had grown thick and parched and he was beginning to sweat.
When Tomas didn’t offer to get him a drink, he leaned forward and tried to push himself to his feet. The room lurched and he almost fell. As Tomas caught him, steadying him, he realized that the man was on his feet but he hadn’t seen him rise.
“It’s okay. Sit down. I’ll get you something,” he said and walked into the kitchenette, where he banged around in the cupboards and refrigerator for a moment, returning with a tumbler of iced water.
Mari snatched and almost dropped it, gulping it down greedily. The room was spinning and he couldn’t get his balance. Mari blinked hard. He could not be drunk, not from just a shot of brandy. Again, he tried to get up, this time making it as far as the hallway, where his legs stopped cooperating an
d he had to catch hold of the apartment door to keep from falling to his knees. Cold panic trickled down his spine.
“Where are you going, Dr. Gale?” Tomas murmured in his ear, hooking his hands under Mari’s arms and pulling him upright, leaning against him, pinning him to the door. His body seemed too warm, a stripe of heat along the length of Mari’s spine. His breath was hot, billowing across Mari’s cheek.
“Do you remember the first time you invited me up to your flat? You wouldn’t let me screw you up against the wall, the way I wanted to. But you went down on your knees fast enough, didn’t you? You always were a fantastic cocksucker. It was your saving grace.”
“Fuck you!” Mari slurred, forcing his hand along the wall until his uncooperative fingers were fumbling at the door latch. Whatever Tomas had put in his brandy and soda, it had started working fast. His only chance was to somehow get the door open and yell for help.
“Mm, I think you will do just that.” Tomas yanked him away and turned him in the opposite direction, confounding his hopes. “I haven’t shown you the bedroom yet. You’ll want to lie down in a moment. You’re going to enjoy the cocktail I mixed for you to the fullest, believe me. And I will enjoy sending your hot-tempered lover the type of photos you’re so fond of sending to other people’s wives.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
At half-past-three in the afternoon, following the unsuccessful morning raid on the Cemetery Rapist suspect’s flat, Jake got a call from Cordiline. There was also a message on his phone from Mari, saying he had skipped work.
“We’re working on tracking St. Andrews down, but it might help speed things up if you could tell us what he was last doing before he packed up and skipped out,” Cordiline was telling him.
“Sure,” Jake said. “I’ll meet you there. You know the drill, though. No promises. I’ll see if I can pick up any memories, but it’s not guaranteed.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Just do your best.”
Jake hung up and grabbed his jacket. Conveniently, Cordiline had sent a car to pick him up and take him right to the flat.
There was still a cordon of police incident tape across the balcony on either side of the door but the uniformed officer on duty outside waved Jake through when he arrived, and he soon found himself in a deserted flat.
“St. Andrews must have figured we were on to him,” Cordiline said with a scowl. “He cleared out most of his stuff before we arrived but there’s some odds and ends left.”
“Okay. Keep everyone out, if you would.”
“I already told them,” Cordiline said. “We’ve got the place to ourselves.”
Jake gave him a sidelong look but didn’t reply. He got to work, making his slow and careful way around the mostly empty apartment and handling the few items their suspect had left behind. There wasn’t much, but Jake was extra thorough. After twenty minutes of drawing blanks, Jake was about ready to give up. He took a moment to focus, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. The whole concept of being able to control his ability was still so new that he felt foolish trying. Still, giving up was not in his nature. He visualized energy flowing through him, making him stronger, and, weirdly, he did feel different. Calmer. More confident. He ran his hand over the back of a kitchen chair and got sucked into a memory so fast he was dizzied for a moment.
He focused on the man standing across from him and was so confused he wasn’t sure what was going on.
Tomas Arregui was yelling at him, apparently furious about something, but he was speaking another language and Jake couldn’t understand a word, nor could he understand the words coming from his own mouth. That confused him less than seeing Mari’s ex here at all. What the fuck was he doing here?
They shouted at each other for a few minutes until Arregui slammed his hand on the table and made a cutting motion with his hand that ended the argument. His words grew soft, though no less intense, and Jake turned and went to the bedroom. He took down a battered case from the wardrobe and started filling it.
Jake blinked and was standing back in the present. Cordiline was watching him intently.
“You got something?”
“Yeah… Don’t get your hopes up. I didn’t see him making travel reservations or anything. But—this is going to sound real weird—there was a man here arguing with him, and it was someone I’ve met before. Someone Mari knows.”
“If you tell me that Dr. Gale has been investigating suspects on his own again, I am going to be very annoyed,” Cordiline told him.
“No, not as far as I’m aware, anyway,” Jake said. A slow chill was starting to creep over him. “I think…” He paused then made up his mind. What he’d seen wasn’t definitive of anything, but his gut was telling him he was right.
“The man’s name is Tomas Arregui. He’s allegedly here to discuss some research. I met him at the university. He was in this apartment. He argued with the suspect in what sounded like Spanish then St. Andrews started packing. We need to find Arregui. Fast. Before he gets the kid out of the country.”
And before Mari figures out Arregui has a connection to the suspect, if he hasn’t already figured it out. A ball of ice dropped into the pit of Jake’s stomach.
Cordiline knew better than to argue and he was already on the phone as they headed back to his car, instructing his team to find an address for Arregui, and if possible to bring him in for questioning. For good measure, he requested that Arregui’s and St. Andrews’ details be sent out to the Transport Police at all of the London area airports and international rail terminals. When he finished the call, he fired a dark look at Jake.
“How is Dr. Gale linked to this guy?”
“They worked together in Catalonia,” Jake answered. It wasn’t a lie. If Jake’s hunch was correct, he wanted Cordiline to help him find Arregui as soon as possible, not waste time wondering if Jake was jealous over an ex.
Cordiline’s phone rang and he took the call.
While he was talking, Jake’s phone pinged and he fished it from his jacket pocket. The ball of ice in his gut spread icy tendrils outward as he read Mari’s message.
“We need to go. Now, John,” he said. “Mari’s gone to meet Arregui.”
Cordiline juggled the phone against his shoulder while he scribbled something down on his notebook and thanked the caller. “We have an address for him.”
Jake started to head toward Cordiline’s car with him and the inspector stopped. “Maybe you should head home and I’ll ring you if we find anything, Chivis.”
The tone, and the fact that he hadn’t called him Jake, told him Cordiline suspected he was holding out on him. Jake shook his head. “Let me go with you. If Mari has already figured out the connection between Arregui and St. Andrews… I’ve got a bad feeling. I need to come with you.”
Cordiline heaved a sigh. “I get a bad feeling every time your boyfriend gets involved with one of my cases.”
“Can we discuss this while you’re driving?” As he spoke, he pulled out his phone to give Mari a call. The line rang out and went straight to voice mail.
“Pick up, Mari,” he said, trying not to let his voice shake. “Just let me know you’re okay.”
Traffic could be heavy in London at the best of times and four-thirty p.m. was far from the best of times. Jake drummed his fingers against the door frame as they crawled up Oxford Street.
“It would be quicker to run,” he grumbled.
A message notification popped up on the screen of his phone just as he was contemplating reaching for the door and jumping out. He opened it when he saw that Mari was the sender, frowning at the contents. It was a picture, and he had to turn the phone around twice before he realized what he was looking at.
His lover was in full screen, lying on a sofa or a bed with his arms raised and his hands above his head. At first, he thought Mari was baiting him with selfies, something he’d never needed to resort to as, most times, a straightforward invitation to come around and put Mari over his knee was enough to get Jake r
unning. There was something about the slack-jawed set of his features and the blankness in his eyes that made Jake’s hot blood run colder, though.
His hands were visible and the camera must have been above him somewhere. He had obviously not taken the picture himself.
Jake’s phone pinged and when he saw it was a second message, he almost didn’t want to open it. Cordiline must have seen the look on his face because he leaned across to peer at the screen while they were sitting at a red light.
“Lover boy?” he queried. “Very nice. Good abdominal definition. Did you take that?”
The ice in the pit of Jake’s stomach turned to lead and he thought he might be sick. He vividly recalled Mari’s less-than sheepish tone as he’d admitted to sending Tomas Arregui’s wife pictures of them in bed together, after Tomas had dumped him and humiliated him.
His phone pinged at him again but Jake didn’t open it. “We need to get to Arregui’s flat as soon as possible. Like now!”
The DI floored the gas in his beat-up VW Passat as the lights changed. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“The picture was just sent to me, from Mari’s phone. But he didn’t take the photo.”
Cordiline was silent for a moment before he said, “Jake, are you sure—”
Jake cut him off before he could finish the thought. “He texted to tell me he was going to Arregui’s apartment, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wanted to hop in bed with his ex, and he certainly wouldn’t be careless enough to let the bastard get ahold of his phone to document it. He did not end up in that bed willingly. I’ll lay any money on that.”
Cordiline swore colorfully and pulled out into faster moving traffic. He hit a switch on the dash and the windshields, front and rear, were illuminated in flickering blue light.
“I don’t get to use them much,” he said as a gap opened up ahead and they roared through it.
Jake forced himself to sit still as Cordiline wove through traffic as fast as he could. He kept his teeth clenched and his lips pressed together so he didn’t snap at him to drive faster.
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