“Tell me what’s happened. You look...like hell, frankly.” Mark wandered into the living room after leaving her momentarily for a phone call. He was always on the phone.
She didn’t care what he thought of her or how weak and ridiculous she looked in that moment. “My life is such a mess right now. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“You need a drink.”
“Just water.”
“No way. You need something stronger than that. I insist.” He walked to the bar and began pulling bottles from the shelf. “I’ve been working on my cosmo. Cynthia’s favorite.”
Mia winced. She’d made so much of Mark dating someone new, and here she was, taking advantage of his generosity without so much as an apology. “About all of that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“Forget it,” he said as he measured alcohol into a stainless-steel cocktail tumbler. “I have. It was late. You were upset.” He smiled at her. “We’re friends, Mia.”
Yes, they were friends. Mia needed to remind herself of that. She had problems accepting friendships sometimes. “Mark,” she said as he came over to sit on the end of the couch, handing her a martini glass, “I’m in a lot of trouble.”
He’d poured himself a tumbler of Scotch, and he eased back into his chair, gripping it in his hand. “Then you’ve come to the right place. What’s going on?”
She told him everything, beginning with the body of Samantha Watkinson on the banks of the Charles, her bargain with Gray to assist on the Valentine case, the threatening email, and finally, the bloody shirt in her closet. “It’s like I’m living this nightmare, rediscovering this life that I never knew I’d lived. For a long time I was afraid I’d done something terrible, and then I found that shirt. Now I think that Lena may have witnessed a crime, and someone killed her to silence her.”
“Wow.” He took a sip of his drink, watching her over the rim of the glass. “This is a lot to digest.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She set her drink on the table. She was afraid the alcohol might dull her reflexes. “I come over here and drop all of this on you...”
“It’s fine. You know how much I loved Lena.”
She took a deep breath. “You’re going to think this sounds crazy, but I think it was Joe D’Augostino. I think he killed her.”
Mark shook his head in confusion and said, “Who? Oh, wait, don’t tell me.” He snapped his fingers. “The cop.”
“Yes.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. It was a relief to unload this burden on someone else. “I think he was obsessed with her, and he must’ve had some connection to the murder of the Globe reporter. Jake Smith. I’m not sure of all the details. But I think he’s after me. I think he wants...” She choked, unable to tell him that D’Augostino had come to her apartment to finish what he started last summer.
“Hey, now.” Mark leaned forward to clasp her hand. “You’re safe here, remember? No one knows you’re here.” He emptied the remains of his drink. “What do you need? Money? A place to stay?”
She blinked stupidly, embarrassed that she hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I guess...just a place to stay tonight. Tomorrow I’ll go back to the apartment and get that shirt. We should take it to the police, Mark.”
“Absolutely.” He stood and walked back over to the bar. “Stay here tonight, and we’ll worry about it all tomorrow.”
She released her breath. She was safe here, and tomorrow she’d have a clearer head. She sat back in her seat to rest her head. “I can’t thank you enough.” She took a gulp of her martini.
He still kept a photograph of him and Lena on the end table. It was a small picture in a simple silver frame, but seeing Lena in happier times brought a smile to Mia’s lips. “Where’s this photo from?” she asked, lifting it from the table.
“Paris.” He was opening and closing cabinets at the bar, fixing another drink. “It’s where I asked her to marry me.”
Mia traced her fingertip down Lena’s cheek. Mark had his arm wound protectively around her shoulders, and Lena was proudly displaying the diamond on her left ring finger, her hand placed warmly on the center of his chest. Mia brushed at some dust on the glass and stopped. That wasn’t dust. She narrowed her eyes and brought the photo higher. That shirt...the dragon insignia...
“Can I get you something else?”
Her heart skipped, and she fumbled the frame. Mark was watching her with keen interest, standing perfectly still. “Oh, I’m so jumpy.” She tried to laugh, but it didn’t come out right. “No, nothing. I have my drink still. I’m all set.”
He calmly returned to his seat on the couch, and Mia set the frame back in its place with shaking fingers. You. Her heart crept to her throat and her mind hummed. It must be a coincidence. Maybe Lena had given Joe D’Augostino the same shirt. But no, the insignia on Joe’s shirt had been black, and the insignia in the photograph was the same shade of blue as the insignia on the bloody shirt.
Her blood pooled in her feet. She hadn’t run from her sister’s killer. She’d run straight into his arms.
She darted her gaze around the condo. She could leave. Of course she could. She wasn’t a prisoner here. “You know, I think I may take a walk around the gardens. Just to clear my head.”
He eyed her coldly. “You shouldn’t go out alone. Something bad could happen to you.”
His voice was sharp as broken glass. She shivered. “I’ll be safe, I promise.”
Mark set his drink on the glass coffee table. “I think it’s time to lay our cards on the table.” He sat back in his seat, and this time, his eyes had hardened. “I need to know where Lena is.”
Her heart thumped in place. “I don’t... I can’t...”
“She’s not dead, is she?” He leaned forward. “I know she’s not. I know she came to visit you in the hospital last summer. Some associates of mine saw her. Don’t bother lying to me. It’s the only reason you’re still alive.”
Mia opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She swallowed. “Oh, my God. You attacked me.”
“I had no choice. You came to me last summer after you found that gun. Just like you did tonight. You told me D’Augostino had killed Lena. I told you I’d handle things—just give me the gun. But you were going to go to the police.” He clenched his fists against his thighs. “I couldn’t allow that.”
Her stomach started to twist. “What do you mean—?”
“I suggested we take a walk. There was no duress. I was going to kill you and take that gun.” He sighed. “I had to. It could have implicated me in the death of Jake Smith. I figured I’d make it look like a mugging, right? I didn’t want to shoot you, because then ballistics could match the bullets in you to the bullets in the Smith case. But I heard someone approach that night.” He smiled. “That’s why you’re alive. Because a homeless man scared me off. Gave me a lot of sleepless nights, though. You being alive, I mean.” He chuckled to himself, and Mia felt a chill up her spine. “I should’ve just shot you.”
“You killed Jake Smith,” she whispered. “Why?”
“It’s just business,” he said, taking a sip of his Scotch. “The whys don’t matter. What matters is that I always suspected Lena knew about it. I threw the shirt and gun away, but then she started acting funny around me, and I wondered if she’d found them. Then she disappeared, and I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe I got lucky. Then you showed up one night, flashing that gun and talking about that cop and how you thought he was involved.” He leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees. “You want to know what I think? I think Lena faked her death.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because she knew I was going to kill her.”
The words passed through her skin like shards of ice. How could she have been so blind? “I analyze psychopaths for a living,” she murmured, “and I failed to see through you.”
“Twice,” he said. “You came running to me twice. But I’m not a psychopath, I promise.” He raised one hand and chuckled. “I jus
t have some business interests to protect. And all of this.” He gestured to the surrounding space. “You understand.”
“I trusted you.” She clenched her hands, and she turned her gaze to the photograph of them smiling beneath the Eiffel Tower. “I thought you loved Lena.”
“I did at one time.” His voice was hard and smooth. “Then things went south. She got awfully cozy with that cop.” He spat the word cop. “But the one thing I do know is that she cared about you. Cares. And that she would come running if you were ever in trouble. Say, in jail.”
Her thoughts felt scattered, and she was having some trouble focusing on him in front of her. “So you framed me to draw Lena out of hiding.”
“You know what I thought, Mia? I thought, if only I could get the police to reexamine her file. You know, bring Valentine back.”
“So you killed that poor girl and made it look like a copycat.”
He pointed at her. “I didn’t kill her, but I hired someone. I just wanted to plant that gun with your fingerprints all over it.”
“You wanted me to go to jail for that.” She was thoroughly cold now but eerily calm. Her anxiety had vanished. Wasn’t this what she’d dreamed of—the moment she confronted the man who’d attacked her? Now she had her answers, but she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to walk out of that penthouse with them. “So what now, Mark? I called Gray before I left my apartment, you know. He has a key. He may already have your shirt, covered in Jake Smith’s blood.”
“The police can’t touch me,” he said. “You or Lena stole my shirt to use in commission of a crime. Then when you regained your memory and realized what you’d done, you came running to me. I gave you a drink, told you everything was going to be okay, and when I left you alone for a minute, you stepped out onto the terrace and jumped to your death.” He said it so calmly, completely in control. “I called the police, frantic. But it was too late.”
She rubbed her eyes as his figure blurred. “When Lena comes back—”
“She won’t. Not if you’re dead. And if she does, I’ll find her before the police do. Besides, if she shows her face here again, she’ll have to admit that boyfriend of hers helped her to fake her death. A cop faking a crime. Scandalous.” He shook his head. “He’ll lose everything. She’d only take that kind of chance to free you from jail.”
Mia tried unsuccessfully to swallow the tightness in her throat. She thought back to Gray’s warning the first time they spoke, when he’d told her that people would inevitably disappoint her. Now she saw how right he was. Lena, Mark and Joe—each of them had deceived her, and she’d failed to realize it. She was too trusting, and now she would face the consequences alone.
The room started spinning. Mia stumbled to her feet and promptly fell to her knees. “You bastard. You drugged me.”
“It’s easier that way. And if you fall asleep—even better.” The room turned around her as Mark rose from the couch. “Come on, Mia. Let’s get going.” He flashed a gun that he’d pulled out of his pocket. “Falling is quick and you won’t feel a thing.”
He reached out toward her and she lunged forward, knocking her shoulder into his stomach and pushing them both to the floor. He wouldn’t shoot her—that would be too hard to explain. At least, she was counting on Mark being levelheaded enough to realize that as she clawed at his hand, trying to wrest the gun from his grip. “You bastard!” she shrieked, feeling the rage she’d accumulated bubbling to the surface. The gun fired into the wall. She dug her nails into his neck and drew blood. “Explain that to the police!”
He grabbed ahold of her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her neck. All she could see were his wild blue eyes staring into hers, and her breath stalled from the pressure of the barrel of the gun against the side of her neck. “You think I won’t shoot you?”
“You’d lose everything if you did. You can’t explain that away.”
“How about self-defense? You came after me.” He growled and then let go of her, practically throwing her to the ground.
Mia crawled backward, desperate to place as much distance as she could between them. She stopped when she hit the wall. Mark struggled to catch his breath, all the while glaring at her. She knew she was as good as dead, but some part of her hoped against hope that Gray would figure out where she’d gone and come after her. Not likely. Knowing where she’d go for help would require him knowing her, and he didn’t. Not at all.
She was quickly losing her ability to focus, and her limbs were growing heavy. She started to rise and then fell back again. As she crawled away, she heard Mark chuckling to himself. “Go ahead, sweetheart. You can’t get far.”
She clambered toward the wet bar on hands and knees, sliding across the cherry floors. There was no way she could reach the door in this condition. She rounded the corner of the bar and tried to stand again, but her legs were as good as useless. What kind of tranquilizer had he given her? Whatever it was, it hadn’t taken much.
“Come on, Mia. Enough is enough.”
She heard him put his tumbler down on the glass. The lush. At least he was a few sheets to the wind. She reached up to grab the only thing she could see, her heart thundering in her chest as his footsteps drew nearer. It was an ice pick. Wait. Wait. She repeated the word with each breath. But she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on to consciousness.
“Ready to go?”
He reached down, and she thrust the weapon at his hand. There was a shriek and a flash of blood as she tore into his flesh. He recoiled and cursed, pulling his wounded hand against his chest. “Bad move, Mia,” he snarled. “Now it’s self-defense.”
He had no trouble wresting the ice pick from her loose fingers, and he stood hovering over her. “It’s not personal. I was going to let you live.” He raised the ice pick over her chest and she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the end. She could barely move. She had no fight left.
“Police! Drop your weapon!”
Gray? Mia fought to keep her eyes open.
Mark flinched and looked to the side. Then he simultaneously dropped the ice pick and reached for the gun in his pocket.
“Gray! Look out!” It was a man’s voice, not hers.
There was a shot and the sound of someone dropping to the floor. Mia struggled to process the faces and shapes that moved before her then. Too much activity. She closed her eyes, unable to handle it all.
Someone was holding her hand. “Mia. Sweetheart. Are you all right?”
Gray. She couldn’t open her eyes, but she could hear his voice, far, far away. “Squeeze my hand, honey. Let me know you’re okay.”
She wrapped her fingers tighter around his and squeezed. “You came,” she whispered. But she didn’t hear his response before she plunged into darkness.
Chapter 20
Gray pulled his vehicle up to the curb outside of Mia’s apartment. “Don’t move,” he said, unfastening his seat belt.
Mia rolled her eyes. “I’m not an invalid.”
“Do you always need to argue with me?” He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I said, don’t move.”
She sat back in her seat and waited until he’d come over to open the passenger-side door. Then she accepted his arm, and he helped her out of the vehicle. She looked as if she was still shaky on her feet. “I could carry you, if you want....”
Mia laughed and straightened herself. “I can walk. You’ve already done so much.”
“You do realize I’m staying with you, right? I took a few days off work, and I’ll be sleeping on your couch and waiting on you hand and foot. I’ll even learn how to make that monkey tea you like so much.”
She raised her gently arched eyebrows. “You’re too much. But I don’t want you sleeping on my couch.” She tucked her arm into his elbow. “I’m keeping you closer than that.”
He hoped so. He’d had to leave her hospital room last night, but he’d returned as soon as visiting hours began that morning. Even though Mark Lewis was dead, Gray didn’t want to
leave Mia alone. Now he realized that his protectiveness couldn’t be traced to a specific threat but to a feeling that he could no longer ignore. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer and kissed her gently on the lips. “I love you, Mia.”
She slid her arms over his shoulders in one smooth, delicious movement. “I love you, Lieutenant Bartlett.” Her lips were soft and sweet. “You believed in my innocence when even I had trouble believing in it.”
He brushed his hand over her long auburn waves. “I knew you’d never hurt anyone. It’s not in your nature. But I should have been more open about our relationship. I disappointed you.”
She pulled closer to him with wide, earnest eyes. “You’ve never disappointed me.”
“I should have answered your call. I should have—”
She rested her index finger against his mouth, stilling his lips. “Gray. You’ve never disappointed me.” Then she pulled back and stroked her fingers around his collar, straightening his shirt. “Let’s go inside.”
The apartment looked the way it had yesterday when he and D’Augostino had been here, except now the bloody shirt was gone, and Gray had done what he could to remove any evidence of yesterday’s chaos and the sweep for other evidence. “I made the bed,” he said as he helped her inside. “You can go take a nap if you’d like.”
Fortunately, Mia had sustained only minor bumps and bruises from her struggle with Mark, but he’d used a heavy dose of a horse tranquilizer on her, and she was still groggy. The doctor she’d seen at the hospital wanted her to remain overnight for observation, but she’d been discharged without any instructions other than to rest. “A nap sounds really nice, actually.” She smiled at him. He’d never get tired of that smile. “Let me make you lunch first.”
“No, I’ll make it—”
“I insist,” she said, and pointed to a chair. “You saved my life. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
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