“Do you want to get back together with him?” I asked her.
She looked down at her hands. “Sometimes. But I’m afraid that he’s calling me because he thinks I’ll keep him sober. I don’t want that responsibility. I don’t want to be the only thing that stands between him and trouble. At the same time, he’s wonderful when he really is sober. He’s so sweet and smart and funny. And I know he loves me. I’m just not sure that’s really enough to make us work.”
Thomas and I looked at each other and then at Meredith. Then back at each other. This was quite a problem.
Listening to Meredith talk about her ex made me think that my own problems weren’t really problems at all. They were little blips of inconvenience. I could be in love with a guy like Meredith’s ex. Charlie was at least a functional, sober human being. Complicated? Sure. But who isn’t? Maybe I should just be grateful that I’d enjoyed the time I’d had with Charlie and leave it at that.
Thomas, Meredith, and I talked about her options and what she wanted and needed for almost two hours and got no closer to a solution. We did get closer to one another though, and it made me feel better to know that I had friends.
13
Charlie
“I’ve got good news and I’ve got very bad news, which one do you want first?” I asked Richard when we met over coffee the morning after my disastrous evening with Eva. Richard raised a single eyebrow in response.
“Whichever one is more expensive,” he replied. His voice was tart. “You should really know that by now. Please don’t play games. I’m in no mood.”
“In this case the expense is going to be dependent on emergent risk, so it’s hard to say.” I was absolutely dreading this conversation. How do you tell someone their sister had been murdered? Richard was a hard-bitten sonofabitch but it was hard to believe that he’d be unmoved by the news.
Richard groaned. “Jesus Christ. Just spit it out. I’ve got a meeting in ten minutes. Fucking Skylark Security again. Their CEO is a thundering asshole.” His hands were twitching in the direction of his phone. As he fidgeted, the little diamonds in his cufflinks caught the light and his ostentatious gold Rolex gleamed. Richard was wearing his wealth conspicuously on his wrists this morning. I wondered if it was me or the Skylark CEO he was aiming to intimidate with it.
I took a deep breath before answering.
“The good news, if we’re going to call it that, is that I’ve secured the only copy of your sister’s autopsy photos and reports. The very bad news is that her cause of death was in no way related to a heart attack. She was murdered.”
Richard’s hands, and his expression, froze. A moment later, impossibly, he relaxed. He ran a faux-casual hand through his salt and pepper hair and looked around himself to make sure we weren’t being overheard.
“You are in possession of the only copy of the autopsy report?” He asked.
“Yes,” I replied. That was his first question?! Nothing about the fact that his sister was murdered?
“Burn it.” Richard’s voice was icy.
“But—” I stuttered.
“Burn it,” Richard repeated. “Actually, is that it?” he asked, pointing at the folder I was holding. I nodded and he grabbed it and stuffed it in his briefcase. “Copies?”
“None,” I replied. I wanted to elaborate but he’d already snatched up his phone and began looking at something that I couldn’t imagine could somehow be more important that revelation about his mentally and medically fragile sister being strangled.
“She was suffocated,” I finally forced myself to say. “And she’d been obviously restrained with something on her wrists and ankles. The ligature marks suggest—”
“Stop,” Richard barked. His face had turned an unpleasant reddish-purple and his voice was strained. “I can’t discuss this with you, and you need to stop. Stop talking about this. Stop thinking about this. Complete your collection of the medical records and then report back to me that it’s done.”
We stared at one another for a long, incredibly tense moment. I held my breath. The number of things I wanted to ask, to say, to insist that we discuss, all rose and fell in the back of my throat. I was hired to do a job. Part of that job was knowing when not to ask questions. Even if you thought, or had reason to suspect, that your client was involved in something… bad. Even if it was something very, very bad. Especially then.
“Very well.” I couldn’t have sounded happy, but Richard nodded anyway as if pleased.
“How much did it cost to obtain the autopsy report before it could be re-reviewed?”
I shrugged. I forced myself to shake my head and sound casual and blasé. “Less than it should have, considering. Fifty thousand.”
Richard smiled. It actually looked genuine, too. “That’s really excellent. This is why I like you, Charlie. How much longer before you have everything?”
“A few more days. Maybe a week. Maybe faster depending on how easy it is to locate the last few records.”
“Good. Your budget for the project is adequate?” Classic Richard. Always willing to throw money at a problem. He wasn’t talking about my process service fees either. He meant the money for, well, bribes mostly. I had more than two hundred and fifty grand in the ‘special’ retainer account for my ‘expenses’.
“Absolutely.”
“What happened to your hand?” Richard asked, nodding toward my bandaged left appendage.
“Just a kitchen burn.” I didn’t really feel like elaborating.
“You don’t have a cook?” Richard said as if confused why I would be burning myself in a kitchen. I raised my eyebrows and he smirked. “Yeah whatever. I’m spoiled. But it’s safer. The world doesn’t need me cooking. It’s a public health hazard.”
Seemingly placated by our conversation, Richard rose to go. He was positively chipper, which I found extremely disturbing given the circumstances. He turned suddenly and looked at me again as if remembering something spontaneously. It was a show. I’d seen him pull the same trick a thousand times with others. It was a technique I employed regularly myself, and to great effect. A savvy business person always withholds the trump card, or the most important question, for the end. Making it look casual just helped to unbalance the other person. I tensed.
“The nurse that I referred you to for the records, was she helpful?” Richard asked.
Talking about Eva with Richard was the last thing I wanted to do. I forced my features into an expressionless, neutral mask.
“Yes. She was able to direct me to most of the records.” I smiled tightly when I finished speaking so he wouldn’t think I was nervous.
Richard matched my expression and tone exactly. “Good. I assume she’s the one that interpreted the autopsy report for you as well?”
How he managed to determine that little factoid was unknown, but it made no sense to lie. I supposed it was logical I’d go to her. I tried not to panic.
“Yes.” At least my voice came out steady.
“Did she bandage up that hand, too?” He asked.
I shrugged noncommittally. Our professional boundaries had never extended to what went on in my home. I wasn’t about to shift that today. He frowned but didn’t press the issue.
“Is there any type of security risk with her?” The glint in his eyes told me that this was where his real interest lay. “Will she go to the police over what she saw?”
I frowned. “No. Absolutely not.”
“You’re completely sure?” By the way Richard was staring at me, I wondered if I was blushing or something. Was I really such an open book about this woman? After a few heartbeats, he continued, “I don’t want her going to the police with her suspicions about Edith. It could be messy. You know I’m hoping for a quiet conclusion to this entire unfortunate episode.
In reality I had no idea what a ‘quiet conclusion’ to his sister’s presumptive murder would even look like. The phrase ‘unfortunate episode’ was also a curious euphemism for murder. But I knew better than to ask any
questions. Richard wouldn’t tell me anyway. He only volunteered information when he wanted me to do something. I thought on his question carefully before I answered.
“I don’t see why there would be any risk of bad publicity or law enforcement activity. Eva has absolutely no proof of anything. Plus, she signed the standard family NDA and employment agreement. She knows the family preferences on not calling law enforcement.”
Richard continued to stare intensely at me for long enough that I wondered if he was having me followed or something. I knew he wasn’t having me followed because I was the one he hired to do his following. Besides, Eva wouldn’t go to the police over the soon-to-be-burned autopsy report, because not only did she not know they didn’t already have it, but because I’m relatively certain she expected me to do so. That’s what normal people did when they thought crimes had been committed, after all.
Even if Eva did feel compelled to alert the police to her suspicions about Edith, it would mean nothing but that she’d get fired. She had no proof, and Edith had been cremated. Unless she had taken pictures of the report with her own phone. Which she had ample opportunity to do while I was failing to make her a goddamn latte. I was an idiot. A sloppy, stupid, horny idiot. I should have thought of that… but it was Eva. She was Dylan’s sister. She was trustworthy no matter what. Right? I could feel a headache coming on.
“Hmm. Ok. Well be sure to remind Eva that she’s bound by that NDA not to blab about anything she might have seen in the records pertaining to my sister. You know better than to get curious or righteous. I’m not sure she’s got the same good sense. Or the same incentive.”
“If you feel it’s warranted, I’ll make that crystal clear to her.” That conversation was going to be awful.
Richard smiled. “Thank you.”
“Speaking of lovely women, how’s your mom doing?” He smiled like he actually gave a shit, but his technique had slipped. Richard usually had more subtlety than this.
“She’s recovering just fine. Her surgery went as well as these things can go.” At least this was the truth. My mom was actually already up and walking. I was amazed by her progress.
“The surgeon we flew in from Berne is the best in the world at these type of emergency reconstructions. Don’t worry. The Swiss know what they’re doing with physical injuries. They’re very methodical folks and the work is always excellent.”
I smiled tightly. “I know she’s in very good hands.”
“Call me when you wrap everything up,” Richard was already drifting back toward the door. “And don’t forget to talk to Eva. You’ve always got the expense account if you need it.”
“I will,” I said mostly to myself. Richard was already out of earshot. Through the window, I watched him head across the street and into the Durant Industries skyscraper. He owned that building. Not only did he own that building, he owned me, my mom’s continued health, half the police in this town, a US senator, and to some extent, Eva. We were all just pawns in whatever high stakes game he was playing.
Could Richard have arranged his sister’s murder? Why would he do that? The truth was that I had no idea what the man was capable of. I only knew what my orders were and that I had to follow them.
14
Eva
Charlie showed up the next day while I was busy working. Like it was no big deal at all to show up unannounced, he casually walked in while I was finishing up preparing the medication that accompanied Alexander’s morning snack time (we called it ‘tea’ but served him Ensure instead). When I laid eyes on him, I nearly dropped the tray I was carrying.
“Do you have a moment?” He asked me, ignoring both Thomas’ wide-eyed stare and my ineloquent, gaping jaw. We didn’t even exchange the usual pleasantries, I just nodded and followed him out into the hallway.
As soon as we were alone, I pounced on him with a bear hug and pushed his back to the wall. He smelled like soap and the smoky, sweet smell of himself.
“Are you ok?” I asked urgently in his ear. “I was worried about you when I left the other night.”
He froze for a moment and then melted into the hug and wrapped his arms tightly around me. He sighed into our embrace and held me for a long second. Our breathing synched up instantly and nothing had ever felt so natural.
His answer to my question was less natural. “I’m ok, I mean, I’m fine,” he said hesitantly. “You told me not to call... I was just trying to respect that.”
I pulled back enough to look at him. His face was guarded, but his voice said that he was extremely pleased and surprised by my hug. The brown of his eyes was warm and inviting. I ran my hand along the side of his jaw and he inclined his face into it like a cat looking for affection. He had a bit of a five o’clock shadow at ten a.m. Maybe he’d forgotten to shave this morning?
It was my time to admit to sending mixed messages.
“Look,” I told him, “I don’t know what I’m doing. About anything. I know you might not have room in your life for me right now. You might not want a relationship, but I’m just not a one-night stand type of girl. I want you for real. If you don’t feel that way, I get it. You have stuff on your mind. I get that you’re going through some tough stuff right now. But I’m here if you want me like I want you.”
His lips parted in surprise and I wanted nothing more than to kiss him and convince him it was all true. But I didn’t. I waited for him to answer. I still felt like I’d taken advantage of his emotional turmoil two days ago. Maybe he didn’t really want me like I wanted him. I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself if he’d come to his senses and realized he wasn’t really interested in me.
After a breathless moment, he raised a hand up to sandwich my own between his palm and the side of his face. He closed his eyes.
“I want you.” His voice made it sound like the admission cost him a lot. “I know that I really shouldn’t, but I want you so much it hurts.”
My hopes rose and fell simultaneously.
“You shouldn’t want me because of Dylan?” I asked.
He sighed and cracked open his eyes to look down at me. “He’s going to kill me if he finds out.”
I shook my head. Meredith and Thomas were right. It was time to grow up and handle this maturely. “We’re adults. We can do whatever we want to do. You don’t need his permission to date me. You need mine. He’s not going to hand you the key to my chastity belt or something. I don’t know about you, but I’m glad we don’t live in that world.”
Charlie was quiet for a moment. Then he smiled sadly.
“You don’t understand,” he finally said. “You’re right about everything you said, but Dylan’s my best friend, and he’s very protective of you. If I hurt you in any way, even by accident, he’ll murder me. He’ll actually murder me.”
“You think I don’t understand that he’s overprotective of me?” I asked. My face must have been totally disbelieving. “I know. Believe me. I know.” The first time I got my heart broken in high school, Dylan drove home from college and slashed the fifteen-year-old guy’s tires. At least, I think it was Dylan. It could have been my dad. Or, more likely, they could have done it together as some form of bizarre, father-son bonding.
“I think you don’t understand how real the threat of Dylan making my death look like an accident would be if you tell him I treated you poorly.”
This conversation was getting ridiculous. Dylan wasn’t capable of murder. Blood grossed him out. Still, I understood Charlie’s fear, even if it was misplaced. He didn’t want to lose his friend.
“Do you intend to treat me so poorly I’d need to tell him about it? Hit me? Hurt me? Abandon me on the side of the road somewhere dangerous?”
He widened his eyes in apparent horror. “God, of course not!”
“Do you think I would intentionally lie to Dylan and say that you did something bad to me?”
“No!”
“Then you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
I leaned forward and kissed hi
m, not caring who might walk down the hallway then and see us. He didn’t fight me in the slightest. Instead, he pushed forward until my back was against the other side of the hallway.
“If I die, it’s all your fault,” he whispered between kisses over my pulse point. “I don’t think I can resist you.”
“I can’t resist you either. And don’t worry. I won’t hurt you,” I promised. “And even if I did, I know how to patch you up again.”
Charlie’s hands had found their way to my waist, and his unburned hand dipped under the elastic of my scrubs to grip my ass brazenly. I felt the bulge of his erection through his dress pants, and I rubbed my palm over it with hesitant, but highly interested hands. He moaned low in his throat in response. My fingers itched to get him out of that suit.
“This hallway isn’t private, is it?” Charlie asked, pulling back when a little noise in another part of the mansion made us both jump. Alexander Jr. was probably just watching basketball somewhere, but I didn’t want to take the chance that Rita might suddenly show up.
I shook my head. “No, it definitely isn’t private. But my rooms aren’t far away.”
“You won’t get in trouble if you disappear for a little while?” His voice was breathy and low.
I thought about it for a fraction of a second before lust completely overrode my higher brain function. “Thomas has it handled. I’ve got my walkie talkie,” I finally said. We were close enough to my lunch break. “I’ll be ok going AWOL for an hour.”
I stuck my head back into the room to tell Thomas I was taking an early lunch and then closed it again before he could react. Grabbing Charlie’s hand in mine, I led him quickly down the winding hallways and up a flight of stairs. He followed obediently, and we were almost running through the mansion by the time we rounded the final corner. We giggled like children when I fumbled with the lock. My room, with it’s pretty four poster bed and warm wood floors, had never looked so inviting in it as when Charlie stood in the center of it.
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