by C. J. Thomas
“So he’s reckless. He doesn’t care whether he puts other people in danger.”
“He’s rich. Self-centered.”
Frank frowned. “Still, it’s a pretty big step, going from DUI to murder.”
“Yeah, that’s a stretch. There’s nothing in there relating to violence? Accusations from girlfriends? Complaints from employees? Even his personal staff?”
“Nothing that I can see,” Frank replied. He sounded as frustrated as I felt.
“Great. A dead end.” I wanted to bury my head in my arms. I was surer than ever that Haynes was my man. I didn’t know how to tie him to the crime, was all.
Building a case was more than finding one or two accusations and stringing them together. It took time, evidence, and a lot of people willing to speak up.
There was nobody to get to speak up, since there were no crimes we could relate to murder.
Shit, there wasn’t even anything linking him to Emelia. A few pictures on a computer didn’t mean anything. He could explain them all away—with the high-powered lawyers he had, along with an entire public relations department, I didn’t doubt he could manage it.
Julia’s face kept coming to mind. The way she looked when I found her at the apartment—scared, small, helpless.
Then I thought about Emelia. Dead. Glassy-eyed.
What did they have in common? Emelia might have been digging into Austin’s company—as an environmentalist, it made sense. More sense than the two of them being in love, for sure.
Julia was digging around on Austin, too. If she hadn’t yet, she would be before long.
Her apartment was already vandalized.
If she didn’t stop digging around, she might be next. I saw her as the body in the bed instead of Emelia.
The thought made me shudder and I dug even deeper into Austin’s files in hopes of putting the puzzle pieces together before things got any worse for Julia.
141
Julia
I STOOD, stretching, shaking the feeling back into my hands after a marathon writing session. My fingers were a little stiff from all the typing, but I hadn’t been able to stop once I’d gotten on a roll.
I loved being in the zone like that—when everything else fell away, and I could work smoothly. The words seemed to flow through me when I reached that place—sometimes, I’d look at the screen after being in that special zone and not know where the words had come from.
I read it over, smiling to myself as I went. It was good. Just the right balance of emotion, outrage on behalf of the victim, and truth. The truth led to the possibility of a murder, rather than a suicide.
It was good. It was very good. I resisted the urge to pat myself on the back, but just barely.
My phone rang, distracting me from my self-congratulation. I picked up quickly, full of guilt. It was the second time that day I started making excuses before I said hello. “I’m so sorry, I meant to call you earlier but I got caught up with work and stuff. I’m okay here, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“Okay, jeez. I texted you a few times, too,” Mia said.
“I know, I know. I’m the worst. Forgive me.”
“You’re forgiven. I’m just glad you’re all right. Are you at the office?”
“No, still at Dan’s.”
“Shut up!”
“Okay.” I went silent, and Mia giggled.
“Fine, don’t shut up. What happened? Why did you end up staying?”
“I don’t know why I stayed. It seemed like the natural thing to do. Do you think I made a mistake?” I chewed my lip, suddenly worried.
“No, I don’t. You stay wherever you feel the safest. If that means staying there, go for it.”
“I do feel safe here, even when Dan’s at work.”
“That’s good, at least.” I heard a slight tremor in Mia’s voice.
“What is it, sweetie? You sound upset.”
She laughed softly. “My best friend is on the run, and I’m not supposed to be upset?”
It was my turn to laugh. “On the run? Don’t you think you’re being just a little over-dramatic?”
“Please, don’t make fun of me,” Mia whispered.
I stopped laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make fun, honestly. I don’t want to make you feel bad for caring. But, Mia, I’m not on the run. I’m laying low for a little bit, that’s all. I’m freaked out by my apartment.”
“Right—you can’t live your life right now. That worries me. I can’t help it.”
“I’m sorry you’re worried. I don’t want you to be.” What a mess it had all become, and so quickly.
“Do you know yet who did it?”
“I don’t, but I get the feeling Dan’s working on it. He’s a good cop, you know? He’ll figure it out in no time. Besides,” I giggled, “he’ll want me to leave here eventually. It’s in his best interest to help me.”
That made Mia laugh, at least, before we got down to the serious business of talking about the night I spent with Dan. There was a lot of high-pitched squealing, a lot of giggling, and by the time we got off the phone, I could tell Mia was feeling better. Just as I had hoped she would.
I didn’t feel much better, though. In fact, thanks to the ideas she put in my head, I felt worse than ever. I just couldn’t let her know it.
I couldn’t lose sight of the big picture. Somebody was after me. It was so easy to forget while I was still sort of in the afterglow of great sex and sitting around in Dan’s amazing house. I had to watch my back. I needed to protect myself.
When making a list of possible enemies, people who could be responsible for breaking into my apartment, only one name came up.
Austin Haynes.
How could he know I was looking into him, though? Maybe it was the way I mentioned Emelia when we ran into him at the party. If he knew I was writing about her death, and he was involved, he might just stop at nothing to shut me up.
I shivered, hating to think about it but knowing it was the only thing that made any sense.
It was him. It had to be.
What could I do about it?
“Margo,” I whispered. I had to tell Margo—not for myself, but for her sake. If anything happened to her, and I knew all along how dangerous Austin was, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.
I called her, hoping she’d be free in spite of the late hour. The entire work day had flown by and it was already past five o’clock.
“Hey, you. Twice in two days. To what do I owe this honor?” Margo chuckled.
“Are you free tonight?” I winced as I said it, knowing Dan would hate if I left without him. I didn’t particularly want to leave—I was still shaken up—but if meeting Margo in person was what it took, I would do it.
“Sure. I could grab a drink in a little while if you want.”
“Sounds great. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“Ooh, you sound just like Nancy Drew. Hollywood’s second-favorite gossip columnist is becoming quite the junior detective.” She giggled.
“Second to you, of course,” I grinned.
“Naturally.”
142
Julia
I HAD no choice but to change into the clothes I’d been wearing the day before. Why hadn’t I packed more than just comfy clothes? I hadn’t been thinking straight, obviously, and was in a hurry to get the heck out of the apartment.
Minutes later, I was in a cab, headed to a bar frequented by writers. The newspaper folks didn’t think too highly of us tabloid journalists, but we managed to stay civil as long as we kept to ourselves.
I texted Dan while in the cab. Going to meet up with Margo for a drink. Will pick up my car after that—I feel like an amputee without it. Come back to your place? I bit my lip nervously as I sent the message, hoping he would give me the answer I was looking for.
My phone buzzed almost immediately. I wish you’d waited for me. I don’t love the idea of you going out alone.
I scowled. Sorry,
Dad, but I have business. Besides, I might get something from her about Austin.
His reply was less suffocating. Tread lightly. See you later. Text me when you’re on your way.
I slid the phone into my purse with a huge smile. He didn’t mind that I was going back to spend another night with him. That was a good sign. My pulse picked up speed just thinking about another night of fun.
I took his advice to heart, too, even as I had a million and one dirty thoughts about him. I needed to choose my words wisely. I couldn’t spook Margo into clamming up on me. If she thought I was attacking somebody she cared about, she might cut me off.
The first thing she noticed when I entered the bar was the one thing I was afraid she’d notice. “Honey, not to be harsh or anything . . . but weren’t you wearing that when I saw you yesterday?”
We women noticed things like that. “Yeah, I did. It’s a long story.” I ordered a double whiskey. It was going to be one of those nights, I could tell.
“You can tell me, you know. Right? You know that?”
“I know I can.” I sighed, playing with a napkin.
Should I tell her? If I did, and I then told her I thought Austin was dangerous, she might think I was deliberately accusing him. There was no winning, I realized.
I had to say something. “I had a burglary yesterday.”
She gasped, clutching my arm. “Oh, my God! Are you all right? Did they take anything? Do you know who did it?”
I shook my head. “I’m fine, honestly. Just shaken up. They didn’t take anything, which was weird, right?” She nodded, brow furrowed. “I’m wearing this because I was in such a hurry to get out of there for the night, I only packed pajamas.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Here I am, making light of the situation.”
I shrugged. “You didn’t know.”
“And did they catch the person? Is there any evidence at all?”
“None that I’m aware of. They didn’t steal anything, not even my jewelry, so there’s nothing to trace at the pawn shops. I honestly think it’s just going to be one of those things they never solve.”
“Oh, Julia. That’s terrible. When are you going back?”
“I’m not sure. I guess I have to pick up more clothes or do some shopping.”
Her eyes lit up. “Oh, go shopping. You deserve it!” I giggled, my spirits lightening for a moment before I remembered what I needed to discuss with her.
“That’s part of the reason why I wanted to meet up with you tonight,” I said.
“To tell me about your burglary?”
“That, and what I think really happened. Please, hear me out, okay? I know that what I’m going to say won’t sound very nice.”
“Okay. Shoot.” She leaned across the little table, her long red hair loose around her face. It hung over one side, casting half her face in shadow.
“I think that whoever tossed my apartment was sending me a message. The police agree with me. If they didn’t take anything, what was the point?”
She nodded slowly. “I can see that. Who’s got it out for you?”
“That’s the thing. Normally, I have a few stories in the mix. Sal took away all but one. He has me focusing on just one story right now.”
A look of understanding crossed her face. “Emelia’s story.”
“Right.”
“So you think somebody tied in to her death did this to you?” She didn’t look convinced. “There’s still nothing in the reports saying it was anything but suicide.”
I had to tell her. Even if she got a story to the newsstands, I would beat her to it. Mine was nearly finished.
“I don’t think Emelia killed herself. I think somebody killed her.”
A beat of silence. Margo blinked once, twice. “Where is this coming from? What do you know that I don’t know?”
“A lot, sweetie. I’m sorry to keep it from you—it’s just so big, I didn’t know what to do.”
“What is it, then?”
I took a deep breath, looking around to be sure we didn’t have an audience. “There were pills on her table but nothing in her system. Only a certain poison, which I can’t name because it hasn’t been released yet.”
“This is your source, giving you this information?”
I nodded. “I can’t betray him by giving away too much information. But those are facts from the toxicology screening. Let’s pair that up with the photos from Emelia’s laptop.”
Margo’s face darkened. “I don’t like where you’re going with this.”
“So you know where I’m going, then? God, I don’t even want to say it.”
“Don’t, then.” She glared at me. “Don’t.”
“Margo, I’m sorry, but every lead has to be followed. You know that. You can’t let your feelings for him get in the way right now—especially when you’re so close. What if it was him? What if he hurts you? I would never forgive myself if I knew the specifics of Emelia’s death and then I lost you.”
She smiled, but only slightly. “I appreciate that, even if it doesn’t sound like I do. You can’t expect me to be happy about this.”
“I don’t. I know it’s a lot to take in.”
She shook her head, staring off into the distance. “Why can’t I just find a good, decent man? Why does it have to be this way?”
Her hands were shaking and I had the impression she was fighting back tears. I took her hands in my own. “You will find the right man. I’m sure of it. It’s just not Austin. I’m so sorry to have to be the one to lay this on you.”
“Oh, it’s not that I didn’t have my doubts about him already.” Her face darkened.
“What do you mean?”
She stared at me intensely. “Julia, you have to back off on this.”
I was taken aback. “Back off? Here I was, thinking we could work together on a big story.”
She shook her head. “Normally, I’d jump at the chance. You know I would. But like I said, I was already starting to question him before you came to me with this. That was why I reacted the way I did, when you showed me the photos.” She took a sip of her wine. “I’d known they were together, but not that they had photographic proof. He made it sound like they were nothing. I started asking myself, what else is he lying about?” One of her eyes was still shadowed by a curtain of hair, but the other was wide.
“Jeez. I can see why you were shaken up.”
“I didn’t know what to do. But now, you tell me your apartment was vandalized, and you have inside information on Emelia. It all adds up. You have to stay safe. Back away from the story. It’s the only way.”
My eyes narrowed. “You’re not just saying that to beat me to the story, are you?”
She looked genuinely hurt. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know. I’m only teasing you. The thing is, I want the truth out there. People need to know. It’s the only way we can get justice for Emelia.”
Margo took my hands this time. “Julia, Austin’s not somebody to mess around with. He has the resources to do anything he wants. Anything he wants.” She stared again, her eyes burning into me. “He can make you disappear if he wants to.”
I shivered involuntarily at what she was trying to tell me. I thought of what it would be like to disappear, the way she was describing.
Would he have me killed, too?
Just like he did to Emelia?
143
Julia
MARGO’S WARNING really got to me.
Of all people, she would know what Austin was capable of. I didn’t think I wanted to know exactly how she came by that information, of course. Had she overheard something? Maybe done a little snooping around while he wasn’t looking?
I wouldn’t have put it past her—I knew what it was like to go the extra mile for a story. One time, I’d climbed onto the fire escape of a hotel just to listen at the window of an up-and-coming actor as he ordered prostitutes from a high-priced call girl agency.
That was in my early days, when I was wil
ling to fight and scrap and hang out for hours outside a hotel room, praying rusted old fire escapes would hold up.
Would she date Austin just to get information on him? My head buzzed with the implications of such a thing. I’d known Margo to do just about whatever it took to get her leads. But that was too much, even for her. Besides, she’d looked so happy at the party. Like a woman in love . . . or, at least, like one in lust.
We hung around and chatted for another twenty minutes or so, with me pretending to be lighthearted and gossipy while my head spun with conflicting thoughts. I should keep pursuing Austin. I should drop him, and the story, like a bad habit.
I was almost finished my first article, and it was some of the best writing I’d ever done. I could always rewrite. Sal would be pissed. Sal was always pissed about something.
All the while, I watched Margo. Should I believe her when she said Austin wasn’t a man to be trifled with? Was he as dangerous as she claimed? Or was she bluffing, fooling me into stepping off so she could swoop in? Was she that determined to get the scoop, even if it meant betraying the man she’d just giggled helplessly over one day earlier while we’d lunched together?
Thinking about it made my head hurt and I must have looked as pained as I felt since Margo gave me a worried look. “Are you feeling all right?”
I jumped at the chance to put an end to the strain. “No, not really. It’s been a trying day and I’m exhausted.” The second time in three days I’d used that old chestnut—first it was to go home during the big premier part, instead of going home with Dan.
I made my excuses, throwing some money down and getting my things together. I had to get back to him. I had to go somewhere I could think, and Dan would help me untangle the mass of conflict in my head.
Only when I stepped outside, grateful for fresh air, did I pause. Was it smart to go straight back to his place, or should I stop at home? I was only a few minutes from there. It wouldn’t take long to get some things together—better clothes, for starters. I needed to get out of that same old outfit. Plus, I wanted my car.
That settled it, and when I tumbled into a cab, I gave the driver my home address.