Clearly not prepared for that particular question, Liam stalled his response by conveniently checking on his clothes. “They’re not done yet,” she remarked, sounding a tad agitated. He hopped up onto the washer and finally replied, “I just felt it was the right time.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it,” he reiterated.
Not exactly the answer she wanted, but then again, she wasn’t sure what she had expected him to say. “Tomorrow, I’m meeting Simon for lunch,” he suddenly blurted. Remi folded her arms tightly as if to show that she didn’t care. Then Liam announced, “Afterward, I’m going to talk to Detective Weston and that FBI agent.”
Panic immediately filled her voice. “Wait—you’re what?”
“It’s only a matter of time before they know I’m back in Philly, so I’m better off contacting them first.”
A chill ran up her spine causing her to body to quiver while her facial expression turned to one of dread. Liam got back down off the washer and walked over to assure her. “It’ll be okay.”
“And what if you’re wrong?” she countered, her worried eyes peering up at him.
“Then I will deal with it,” he said. She dropped her head while unconvincingly nodding. Liam placed his index finger and thumb underneath her chin, forcing Remi to look up at him. “I’m not concerned; you shouldn’t be either.”
While his blue-green eyes gazed deep into hers, she asked, “How can you be so confident?”
“It’s a gift,” he replied, grinning. She giggled, appreciating his brand of levity but remained plagued with anxiety over it. She glanced at the dryer’s time, and since it only had a minute left, she stepped away from Liam and hit the off button. The clothes were dry, so she pulled everything out and placed them on a nearby table. The first thing she folded was Liam’s shirt. As soon as she tried to hand it to him, he said, “You keep it; I’m sure it looks better on you anyway.”
Her first thought was, doubt it. But then she just thanked him instead of making a big deal out of it, because knowing Liam that would be the last thing he would want. His washer had ten more minutes to go while her other load had completed drying. She promptly removed the clothes, but slowly sorted through them. Giving Liam the impression that she was in no hurry to leave. “Are you still worried about me meeting with the investigators?” he asked. “No,” she replied. “Well, I am, but that’s not what’s bothering me.”
He didn’t say anything. Instead, he waited for her to decide if she wanted to talk about it. Not usually one to get to the heart of things, he made an exception when it came to her. Especially after everything, she had been through, and more so because he was the cause of ninety-nine percent of it. She released a long sigh then eventually spilled. “I had gotten used to staying at your place most of the time that it just feels strange to go back to my place.”
“Remi,” he uttered in a hushed voice, but she interrupted before he could continue speaking.
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad if that’s even possible,” she said. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he assured.
“But it was nice to have a place to get away from everything.”
He nodded, showing he understood.
“But don’t get me wrong, I know it’s your apartment, and I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to use it,” she said then further explained. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful.”
“I would never think that.”
“It’s no biggie; I’ll be okay,” she said, laughing it off as if it were a non-issue. Just like in the morning, a part of him wanted just to allow her to stay whenever she wanted, but he questioned if that was the right thing to do. His relationship with Remi had always been weird, but they have now moved into a dicey area. It wasn’t as if anything specific had changed between them, but for some reason being around one another had amped up tension that he wasn’t aware of before.
Not wanting to come off as some woe-is-me sad loser, she stacked her folded clothes into the basket then began walking towards the exit. Before leaving, she said, “Thanks for the shirt.”
Liam just half-grinned and watched her go. Missing her was a given, but he remained smart in not allowing his head to become muddled. “No emotions, no involvement,” he repeated a couple of times. He then smirked at how absolutely preposterous that sounded now. The entire time he was traveling, he kept trying to locate that cold-hearted man he once was, but to his chagrin, that man was impossible to find. It wasn’t as if he necessarily wanted to go back to being that guy; he was just frustrated that something he had worked so hard at, was gone.
When Remi got back to the apartment, she grabbed a clean mug from the dish drain and fixed a cup of hot tea. As she ripped open a green tea bag, she laughed when she realized the mug in question was the one Liam had given her earlier that morning. “Oh well, I’ll wash it again,” she said, taking it over to the kitchen table where she took a seat. While she watched the steam billow, she thought back to their conversation in the laundry room, and how he is planning to meet with Weston and DeGrazerio. Just like before, a shiver ran up and down her spine, as the idea of him talking to them made her feel nauseous. “Oh Liam, I sure hope you know what you’re doing.”
CHAPTER 9
The next day, during his lunch meeting with Simon, Liam showed him one of the designs he had worked on during his trip. The two discussed what had occurred at the company in the midst of Liam’s absence and about some of the new clients. The meeting had gone as well as expected, and by its conclusion, Simon welcomed Liam back to Braddock and Associates.
Afterward, dressed in slim fitted black jeans, a light gray cotton t-shirt, and a black lightweight bomber jacket, a very sharp looking Liam arrived at the Philadelphia Police Headquarters and was immediately greeted by Detective Weston. “Thanks for coming in,” he said, shaking Liam’s hand. DeGrazerio walked up, and though remembered almost everything about Liam, he had forgotten just how imposing Liam’s height, and size was. Slightly taken aback, it put things in a much different perspective. The two men ushered Liam into an interrogation room, where he took a seat at a small metal table while they sat directly across from him. “Okay, Mr. Matthews, what have you been up to this past month?” the agent asked while Weston conspicuously looked on. Liam shrugged then casually tossed out, “Traveling.”
DeGrazerio took an exaggerated sip of his coffee then asked, “Your full name is Warren Liam Matthews the third, correct?”
He quickly replied, “It is, but I prefer Liam, not Warren.”
“Duly noted,” the agent condescendingly remarked. He then waited a few minutes before saying anything else, which Liam assumed was some lame tactic to keep him on edge.
“The night of the warehouse shooting, you and Miss Catalano both stated that you were just hanging out,” he said. “Correct?”
“Yes.”
“It was just pure coincidence that Mr. Schaffer showed up?”
Liam’s demeanor displayed absolutely no deviation of whatsoever, as he remained calm, cool, and collected. It would take a lot more than that to rattle him. “Well, Special Agent DeGrazerio, since Mr. Schaffer was one of the Bank of Philadelphia fugitives, and Remi was one of the survivors, one would assume he was keeping tabs on her, possibly following or watching her, who knows for sure since he’s dead.”
Weston had reservations about Liam, but with Remi being so fond of the young man, he had lightened up a little bit. However, Liam’s smugness and bravado weren’t making it easy for the detective. And the agent, who undoubtedly disliked Liam, pointed out, “You don’t sound too upset about killing him.”
Unable to curb his protectiveness, Liam stated matter of fact, “He threatened to kill Remi; there was no way in hell I was going to let that happen.”
“Did you know Mr. Schaffer prior to the shooting?”
“No.”
The agent tried to get a good read on Liam but found it next to impossible to do so. “You sure?”
Liam replied coldly, “Yes, I’m sure.”
“For the past few weeks, we’ve been trying to figure out why Mr. Schaffer admitted to you and Miss Catalano that he had the diamonds,” the agent said as he stood up and began walking about the room. “I mean why would he go after Miss Catalano instead of just skipping town?”
Liam shrugged, “I have no idea.”
“He was free and clear, no one knew of his involvement in the heist, why not just run?”
Again Liam just sat there, stoic and self-righteous, which annoyed DeGrazerio to no end. “We identified one of the dead guys from Schaffer’s crew,” announced Weston.
Right away Liam thought, what a crock of shit that was. Not the identifying part, but the part about Tom’s so-called crew. Because in Tom’s fucked up way of reality he wished it was his crew but was too stupid and crazy to run one himself. “John Bettencourt,” called out the detective. “Ring a bell?”
Liam shook his head. “Nope.”
Beyond agitated, DeGrazerio slammed a paper coffee cup it into the trashcan then barged out of the room. Weston followed, leaving Liam by himself, who quickly glanced at the mirror, knowing full well they were observing him. So, he sat there, not budging or showing any kind of reaction. He figured, seize the opportunity to piss the agent off even more. But he did think about John, because unlike Tom, who Liam detested immensely, he liked John, and felt he had been a capable mercenary. DeGrazerio and Weston were standing behind the two-way mirror, watching Liam, when the agent declared, “He’s lying!”
Weston scratched his head, unsure if he agreed or not.
“If only we could polygraph him.”
Weston laughed, “On what grounds?”
“He killed a man; that’s enough isn’t it?”
“It was self-defense,” Weston reminded. “He was never charged.”
“There’s got to be something we can get on this guy.”
“We’ve dug as deep as we can, he’s clean.”
DeGrazerio stared through the glass, “No—he’s not.”
“What makes you so sure?” asked Weston.
“We’re still waiting for the analysis on the red velvet bag,” he said. “I’m willing to bet my life that bag is our key.”
With his arms folded, Liam continued just to sit there, completely unfazed by it all. It was about twenty minutes before the two investigators finally came back. “Can I go now?” asked Liam.
“Sure, except we’d like to get a DNA sample from you,” said DeGrazerio. “If that’s okay?”
A skeptical Liam questioned, “What for?”
“Is there a problem?”
Liam looked at both men and asked, “Am I under arrest?”
“No,” replied Weston.
“Am I a person of interest?” Liam asked, directing it solely at DeGrazerio, who reluctantly answered no.
“Then what do you need a DNA sample for?”
“You know most innocent people willingly give a sample because they have nothing to hide,” the agent remarked.
Liam smirked. “Are you implying that I’m hiding something?”
“By law, without a warrant, I can’t force you to give a sample, but if you haven’t committed any crime, then I don’t see why you wouldn’t.”
Weston just stood by watching this tête-à-tête unfold. Feeling confident that the investigators didn’t have anything tying him to the heist, and without grounds for it, it wouldn’t be easy for them to obtain a warrant, so Liam casually stood up and stepped towards the door. Pissed off, DeGrazerio asked, “No sample then?”
“Not without a warrant,” Liam argued then tossed in for good measure, “Would you like to ask me anything else?”
The two investigators exchanged glances then DeGrazerio warned, “We’ll be in touch.”
“Good day gentlemen,” Liam said before brazenly strutting out of the room.
Once inside his truck, he released an exaggerated sigh. Not worried per se, he just needs to find out exactly what kind of evidence the investigators have and why they want his DNA.
With her anxiety level at maximum peak, Remi frantically paced back and forth in Liam’s living room. The entire time all she could think of was Liam arrested and thrown in jail. The moment she heard him unlocking the door, her relief was palpable. So much so, that the second he arrived home, she cried out, “Thank God!”
Surprised to see her, he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I was afraid you might have been arrested.”
“Not today,” he said, half-grinning as he began searching the kitchen cabinets for something potent to drink. Much to his disappointment, the cabinets were sans alcohol. As he sighed in frustration, Remi pushed for details. “Well, what happened?”
“Detective Weston and that agent questioned my connection to Tom.”
“What did you tell them?”
“I claimed I didn’t know him.”
“Did they believe you?”
Liam slouched while resting his back against the refrigerator. He then looked Remi in the eyes and replied, “No.”
She gasped. “How do you know that?”
“Because they wanted me to provide a DNA sample.”
“Shit!” she exclaimed, stepping towards him. “Did you give them one?”
Running his hand through his sun-bleached hair, he plucked out a single strand and held it between his thumb and index finger. As he rolled it between his fingers, he replied, “No, but I’m sure my DNA is all over that interrogation room.”
“You lost me,” she said. He was about to explain when all of a sudden, he stated, “Let’s get out of here.”
“And go where?” she questioned as he opened the wall safe still hidden behind his grandfather’s painting. He then pulled out a 9mm semiautomatic and eight boxes of bullets. “I need to vent,” he said, locking the safe back up. “The gun range?” she asked. He nodded. Remi smirked, as she couldn’t resist the idea of showing him just how well she could shoot now. “I’m just going to run to next door and grab mine,” she said giddily. “You want to shoot?” he questioned.
“Yup, I’ve been hitting the range quite a lot since you left.”
His mouth formed a delighted smile, as he said, “Well, aren’t you full of surprises.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” she winked before entering her apartment. Liam genuinely laughed, as he appreciated Remi’s light-hearted quip. When she emerged lugging a gun case, Liam offered to carry it, but she politely declined. However, she did allow him to open her side of the truck, something he often did, the gentleman side never ceased to amaze her.
On the drive there, Remi begged Liam to tell her more about the meeting with the investigators. At first, he said no, but needing to get it off his chest, he agreed to tell her. “I think they want me to believe that they have something on me.”
Remi slightly turned so she could see his face while he spoke.
“And it’s possible them asking for a DNA sample is just a scare tactic.”
Though not sure if the tactic was scaring Liam, it sure as hell was scaring her.
“But maybe they really do have evidence tying me to the heist.”
Those words had rolled off of his tongue so nonchalantly that she was astounded how cavalier he was about it. “What could they possibly have that they wouldn’t have gotten months ago?” she asked. Liam shrugged. “Don’t know, but if there is something, I need to figure out what that something is.”
His facial expression never changed, as he stayed focused on the road, while she, on the other hand, was freaking out inside. “Okay, you didn’t give a sample, can they make you do it?” she asked.
“Well, if they didn’t already extract it from my hair or skin that was left in that room, then yes they can make me,” he said. “But not without a warrant.”
Remi let out a huge sigh of relief. “Don’t be relieved just yet,” he said. “If they prove probable cause, they’ll get the warrant.”
He nodded. “Odds are it will take a while unless there’s sufficient evidence against me.”
On the verge of tears, she questioned, “Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?”
“That’s why I need to know what they have so I know what I’m up against.”
She quickly pointed out, “If they have something.”
“Right—if.”
After that, they both had been conspicuously quiet until they pulled into the range parking lot. That’s when as soon as Liam turned off the engine, Remi boldly suggested, “I know this is probably out of the realm of possibility, but maybe your mom can help.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she instantly thought what a dumb thing to say. Apparently, Liam’s disdain for his mother would trump all logic in this case. He forcefully yanked the key out of the ignition, unbuckled the seatbelt then shifted to face her. “Before you go postal, I was just rambling,” she explained then offered up an apology. “I’m not mad,” he assured much to her relief. But that was all he said. It was almost as if it pained him to hear his mom and the word help in the same sentence. He then just casually went about getting out of the truck and waited for Remi to join him.
Inside, they signed in and got situated in two lanes next to each other. “Don’t take offense,” he said as Remi slipped on her protective glasses. She side-eyed him while delaying putting on the earmuffs to hear what he had to say. “But do you need help or do you have this under control?” he asked. With a composed grin, she replied. “I’ve got this.”
UNMASKED: Sequel to Behind the Mask Page 12