by Lia Lee
Michelle went quiet and, for a while, they just watched Evie adding layer after layer to the “picture” she was drawing.
“She has amazing artistic sense,” William said.
“Don’t be a jerk,” Michelle laughed.
“I’m not. Much. I’ve moved a lot of art in my time. Some of it doesn’t look as good as this. Some of it looked quite so literally like trash that it’s gotten tossed in the bin by the cleaning crew at the museum.”
“Yeah, I feel that. We have to take a lot of art history and contemporary art classes just to do graphic design, and not all of it is worth the paper or whatever it’s made from.” Michelle shrugged. “Okay, are you sticking around? It’s my turn to make dinner, so…”
“I’ll stay so you can do that. I’ve committed this much time.” William brushed his fingers against Evie’s hair. “Peanut? Is her…” He tilted his head to Evie. “Is he around?”
Michelle sucked in her cheeks. “I mean, I guess you could say he’s around. There’s no ring on Anne’s finger though.”
William didn’t have to look for a tell to know that Michelle was hiding something. Michelle didn’t have tells; she didn’t have any compulsion about lying her face off. At any given moment, she could be hedging her words, telling you the cold hard facts, or boldfaced lying. He didn’t envy the person who fell in love with Michelle. Things were complicated enough with Anne and her strict code of ethics.
“That must be difficult, without a fellow around to help out,” William said.
Michelle shrugged. “Mom managed.”
Then she disappeared into the kitchen without further comment. William thought, though, that the memories of Anne’s absent father probably made it harder regarding Evie’s father not being in their lives. He doubted Anne was looking for a substitute like William, unfortunately.
***
Anne entered the house to the sounds of pounding steps and delighted screams. She shut the door just as Evie came squealing past, and then, her heart jumped into her throat when William came up behind Evie, swept her into his arms, and blew a raspberry on her cheek.
Anne would have sooner expected to see proof of alien life than William running around in his undershirt and wrinkled trousers, hugging a wriggly toddler and making rude noises against her cheek. The sight made it hard for Anne to breathe. As odd as it was, Evie fit perfectly in William’s arms, and Anne had never seen him smile so widely. Never.
“Mommy!” Evie yelled.
“Hullo, mummy,” William said. He shifted Evie, so she rested on his hip.
“Hello,” Anne said stiffly. “Where’s Michelle? Why are you here?”
“Michelle’s in her room studying,” William answered. “Everyone’s had dinner. Laundry is done. Michelle’s doing, not mine, and this one is, I hope, getting worn down a bit before you have to put her to bed. I wasn’t sure what your schedule was.”
Anne set her bag down, the strange feeling in her chest seeming to expand. Her hands and feet were beginning to tingle. He was inside her house, playing with her daughter, and it was fine. Evie looked happy.
“Look, Anne,” William said quietly. “I came by to drop off your dress and maybe talk. This sort of happened, and I thought I’d stick around until you got home, just in case anyone needed anything. It’s always easier to have another set of hands around, yeah? She’s fine.”
Anne didn’t know what to say. She was grateful, of course. She’d gotten Kristie’s texts after getting out of a meeting with all of the detectives discussing their case and how they were to proceed, but she had assumed from the last text, “it’s covered,” that Michelle had made it home. Not that Kristie had left Evie with a stranger.
William might be Evie’s father, but he was also a stranger, to both Kristie and to Evie.
“I cannot believe Kristie would leave my daughter with a man neither her nor Evie has ever met,” Anne said so quietly that William leaned forward.
“I’d like to think that was just a bit of good intuition,” William said. “Though, I understand why you’d be concerned.”
Anne stepped outside, swore a few times, and then reentered. William was still there, holding Evie and waiting for Anne’s reaction.
“Give her to me,” Anne ordered.
William replied without even the hint of a snarky comment. Anne kissed the top of Evie’s head and rubbed her back.
“Willum stay,” Evie said.
“No, I think your mum would like me to go now,” William said softly. He touched Evie’s shoulder gently. “Your dress is on the wall. I’ll see you Saturday?”
“You will. I…” Anne pressed her face into Evie’s neck and felt tears starting to prick her eyes. “Thank you, Will.”
“Don’t mention it, love.”
When William was gone, Anne ached. It rolled over her body from her insides out. Pain born of regret and bad luck, and her own stubbornness. If William hadn’t been arrested, would he be there with Evie every day? Would Evie have had her father to hold her and play with her, and give her everything that Anne couldn’t?
Anne had learned at a young age how to get by. But getting by wasn’t thriving. It wasn’t happiness. She just wasn’t sure that she could have that and still do what was best for Evie and Michelle.
Chapter Ten
Anne stepped into the limo waiting for her and looked at William dubiously. He’d styled his hair back, causing him to look more severe, and much more handsome. Still, she had to admit she preferred his hair the way he usually wore it, with minimum styling and a bit wild. She mentioned none of this. She simply took a seat, opened up a file that she’d brought with her, and started talking about the suspects they would be surveilling that night. Mostly men, all rich as sin, and not one that Anne would’ve been able to easily interact with if it were not for the gala.
“Relax, love,” William said, rubbing her shoulders. “You’re a vision. Everything will go smoothly. All you have to do is be friendly and keep your ears pricked, alright?”
She looked down. She couldn’t bring herself to correct William about what was bothering her. She still wasn’t over seeing William and Evie together. This wasn’t the time to start this conversation though.
“I’ve got it,” Anne snapped.
William pulled his hands back and folded them in his lap. “How are the girls doing?”
“Fine.”
“Please don’t be angry with me. I just thought that—”
“I’m not angry with you, William. I’m incredibly pissed at Kristie, but you didn’t—and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this—do anything wrong.” Anne sighed heavily and straightened the fabric of her skirt. “When you’re a parent, things are more complicated. Can we talk about it later? We have a job to do.”
“I understand. Or I think I do, not being a parent myself.”
Was he trying to goad her into talking? Or did he not suspect? She had a hard time believing he didn’t after spending a whole afternoon with Evie. William had a way of prying someone’s dearest secrets out before they even knew what they’d given up. Still…
Anne didn’t have time to dwell on it. They arrived at the gala, a large benefit raising money for children’s medical bills, and William took her hand to help her out of the car. The clicks of multiple cameras and phones serenaded them as Anne took William’s arm and walked into the immense ballroom. Anne had seen a few in her time working on the Vegas beat, but this ballroom seemed to be three times larger than any other on the Strip. Maybe it was the floor-to-ceiling decorations, including a number of acrobats twirling and dancing along scaffolding that had been painted in gold. A fountain had been placed in the center of the room that sparkled pink as it bubbled forth. The men and women glided across the floor as though floating to their destinations.
Anne’s eyes widened so much that they began to water. There were so many things designed to catch the eye that she couldn’t possibly take it all in, and that was saying something for a woman who had lived in L
as Vegas all of her life. Even the women’s dresses were a spectacle. They were as ornate as Anne’s was simple, but somehow not as gaudy as dresses with similar sparkle that Anne had seen while patrolling the Strip. The only bit of shiny Anne was wearing were her mother’s diamond earrings and one pin, among many, in her hair that crowned the meticulous up-do that Michelle had arranged for her. Unlike the simple twist-bun she often wore, the hairstyle seemed to elongate her face and make her seem softer, rather than harsher.
“How much did all of this cost?” Anne wondered aloud.
“No telling.” William looked up and around them. “Most of these galas spend enough money to cure the disease they’re scrounging for.”
“Ugh.” Anne resisted making a face. They were here to work, not judge. She put on a pleasant expression and took William’s lead.
They made the rounds together, and William introduced her by the name Anne Pruit. There were couples young and old here, and a few singles clustered together. William spoke to all of them with an easy smile and a ready wit. Anne spoke less but put on the persona of a simple girl dazzled by the gala (which wasn’t too far from the truth) and only spoke when she had to answer for the sake of politeness. Apart from a time or two when she played up her naïve role so well that William had to cough to cover a laugh.
“You’re good at this,” he said, handing her a drink.
“It’s my job.”
William shrugged his head to one side. “There are other jobs that would require skills like this.”
“I’m not looking to be recruited.”
“Fair enough.” William leaned in closer to her and lowered his voice as he pointed across the room. “We’re going to listen in on them a bit, if we can. That’s Clary Egerton. Went to school with her for a time.”
“Catching up with old friends?” Anne raised her brow. Clary was a tall woman, whose poise disguised her actual height and strength. Her hair, a reddish-gold, was arranged impeccably, but even with the lift from the twists and pins, it came midway down her back. Her father was only a few inches taller than she was and had the same red hair, albeit with streaks of gray at the temples.
“Hard to go that far. Her father’s the man that put a hit out on me. I was still in Europe at the time, and my reach had inadvertently crossed over into some of his territory. Given who my father is, he couldn’t believe that it was a coincidence.” William shook his head. “Maybe it wasn’t, or perhaps my father would’ve issued me a warning. He was keen on object lessons though, so I suspect he wanted to teach me some abstract lesson about business or war, or both.”
“Is your father here? He might be connected to the murder,” Anne suggested.
William shook his head. “I don’t think so. He’s not so clumsy. I do, however, believe he’s the one who had me followed. Him or Egerton.”
“Could be both.” Anne tilted her head to the side, admiring the cut of Clary’s dress.
“Possibly.” William knocked back his drink and stepped forward. Anne put hers back on a tray passing by without drinking it.
“Let me hover over there for a few minutes. They won’t know me, so I can talk to that woman over there and pick up whatever conversation they’re having before you come to get me.”
William bobbed his head and grinned. “See, your mind is too good to be wasted on the police force.”
“You just told me that I’m too smart to be a detective,” Anne drawled.
“Solving petty crimes, you are.”
“Murder isn’t petty.”
“It is when the murders you’re solving are of thugs and hookers.” William picked up another champagne glass from a waiter. “It doesn’t really matter if you put this one away. There will be another to take his place within a few weeks, if that.”
“If it doesn’t matter,” Anne said crossly, “why are you even helping me?”
“Because I’d prefer not to be finding one of those cute little crisscross marks on your cold, dead hand.” William’s voice was breezy, but he looked away to sip his champagne. He was rubbing his thumb over the scar.
“You’re collaborating with the police because you’re afraid I might die?” Anne whispered.
“Why don’t you get over there and do your job, pet?”
Anne wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or annoyed. William’s protective streaks tended to do that to her. Putting that aside for the moment, Anne went to introduce herself as Anne Pruit to the elderly woman standing near Clary Egerton and her father. Jeffers and DeWinter were in a car outside recording whatever she picked up, so she wasn’t too concerned about hearing every word, but she was able to handle simultaneously talking to one person while listening to another. A skill she had learned over the years of dealing with both a teenager and an infant.
“Last time I was in Vegas, I don’t think we had anything quite as lovely as this,” Mr. Egerton said.
“Yes, dear, it is such a good cause. I hope that they can properly fund her hernia surgery,” the old woman, Mrs. Evans, told Anne.
This went on for some time, with neither saying anything of importance. William was on the other side of the room. It looked as though someone had caught his arm and had him pinned to her. A woman even older than Evans. William had her sympathies, but she wished he’d just extricate himself and get over here. He hadn’t consented to wearing a wire (not that she’d imagined he ever would), and she would need him to recount whatever he’d discovered.
“That dress is amazing on you,” Clary said.
It took a moment for Anne to realize that Clary was talking to her. The sleek woman cradled a glass in one hand as she shifted her hip to the side and smiled warmly. Her high cheekbones made her all the more glamorous, and Anne felt a little dull in her presence.
“Thank you! My boyfriend picked it out, actually. I don’t usually go to fancy parties like this!” Anne said in a voice just a shade higher than her own.
“You’re not missing much.” Her accent was as thick as William’s but much more proper. “It’s the same group of gossiping geriatrics practically every time. It’s good to see new blood in here. I think I’d rather go visit a cabaret show, how about you? I heard they had a parody of Fifty Shades, you know? Whips: The Musical, how funny would that be?”
Anne smiled. She liked her, even if her father seemed to be both boring and terrible. After sharing an unending story about foot warts, he was discussing tax loopholes.
“Maybe I can get Will to take me there after we’ve put on a good show here.”
“Will?” Clary’s curiosity took her over, and she threw a glance around the room. “William Spencer? Has he really shown up here?”
“He has. He’s over there.” Anne pointed.
Clary’s eyes lit up, and she licked her lips. Anne clenched her jaw and swallowed hard. What was that look? She looked like a cat about to pounce.
“He didn’t say how he knew you,” Anne fished. “Were you two classmates? Or… more?”
Clary laughed. “Our fathers are enemies. You know how it is with old men and their little empires.”
“Well, I don’t, but William tells me.”
“Does he?” Clary smiled coyly.
“He does,” Anne insisted, starting to feel as though Clary knew something about William that she did not. Though, her air of smugness was familiar. Maybe that was a class taught at William’s old boarding school.
Maybe they had been more than schoolmates.
“Oh! Try these.” Clary grabbed several hors d'oeuvres from a passing waiter. “Mac and cheese cupcakes! America is fabulous!”
“Mm!” Anne made an obscene noise as her teeth sunk into the crispy exterior of the “cupcake.” This was good enough that both Michelle and Evie might eat it. A thought for Thanksgiving when Evie would only eat mashed potatoes and canned cranberry sauce.
The gala became just a bit more bearable as Anne listened to Clary share a few stories from boarding school. Mr. Egerton didn’t get any more interesting, but she hope
d, probably in vain, that he was speaking in some kind of incredibly dull code that the boys in the surveillance van would be able to figure out.
William sent her a few curious looks as he made his way around the room, and after a while came over to Anne’s side.
“What are you doing over here with the enemy?” William asked as he strolled up.
“I’m stealing your girlfriend, William,” Clary said with a grin. “She’s too good for you. We’re gonna run off and eat cupcakes together forever.”
“The first time I’ve seen you in years, and you’re snaking my woman?” William shook his head.
Clary extended her hand like a princess, and William took it and gave a little bow. They both laughed. It was so peculiar that Anne could only stare at their intertwined hands. Clary was barely a millimeter shorter than William, and her hands were nearly the same size. For all her sleek prettiness, Anne suspected that Clary could handle herself.
“Are you snaking me, or William?” Anne asked finally.
“Ugh. I would never.” Clary retracted her hand.
“I’d imagine not, since your daddy is so intent on trying to send me back to prison,” William said flatly.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Clary smiled with a little too much glee.
William gave a nod, then tilted his head back as Mr. Egerton turned around.
“William! It’s been too long,” the man said in a gravelly voice.
“Of course, Harrold. When was the last time, hm?” William’s smile was tight.
Egerton clapped his hands together and let out a bark of a laugh. “The Airedale Auction, I believe?”
“It’s possible. I do know how to spot a deal.” William tilted his head to the side. “Do you still have that ancient Etruscan statue I, er, acquired for you?”
“It is a centerpiece of my collection.” Egerton looked to Clary. “This man has always had an impeccable eye. His mind’s a steel trap for the most obscure datum regarding valuable relics and artifacts sourced around most of the continent and a good bit of Asia.”