Whatever was in this box was something Margot wanted protected from snoops.
“Let’s try her birthday,” he suggested.
“I know that, since it’s my own,” she said with a small smile. She sat down on Margot’s desk chair. “August tenth.”
“Eight ten,” Matthew repeated, conscious that he was committing the date to memory as he set the numbers eight, one, and zero on the combination. He tried to pull up the latches. Nothing.
“What else?” he asked. “Any other special anniversaries in her life?”
“Well, she’s never been married, no kids ... ,” Mia said. “I’m not sure if there are any special dates she’d choose.”
“How about one of your parents’ birthdays or their anniversary,” Matthew said.
Mia brightened. “Yes, she’d probably choose their anniversary. It was September first.”
“Was?” he asked without thinking.
“They were killed in a car accident when Margot and I were eighteen,” Mia said softly. “Sometimes I can’t believe eleven years have passed since I’ve seen them, since I’ve heard my mama’s voice, seen my father’s gap-toothed smile.”
Matthew reached over and put his hand atop hers, which were folded on her lap. She flinched, and he pulled away his hand.
What the hell are you thinking? he asked himself for the second time in five minutes.
You don’t make her nervous. She isn’t attracted to you.
She probably hates your guts. For what you’re putting her through. For your accusations. For your refusal to even discuss her theory about Laurie.
He doubted she’d appreciated that. After all, he’d slammed her sister’s name through every kind of mud, and one question about a member of his family, and he’d all but walked away from her on the promenade earlier this afternoon.
He thought he was so defensive because of how tiny his family was. But clearly Mia had a tiny family herself. Her parents were gone, as his were. And she had a twin sister she couldn’t be more distant from.
Perhaps they had more in common than he’d thought.
“I’m not sure what else to suggest,” Mia said. “The only date I can recall Margot getting excited about was the day my divorce was finalized.”
Ah. So she was divorced. Matthew felt an odd sense of relief and then the familiar desire to know more about her. What had happened to her marriage? Mia seemed the type to choose cautiously, yet given her age, she couldn’t have been married very long, unless she’d wed at eighteen.
He couldn’t imagine a man giving her up easily.
“Well, let’s try that date,” Matthew said, more to have something to say than because he thought for a second that someone would choose someone’s divorce date as a combination to a lock.
And, if he was honest, so he’d know when she’d divorced without having to pry.
“December twentieth,” she said.
“Were you separated for a while before that?” he asked, again without thinking.
She glanced out the window. “Yeah, for six months. He pretty much lived in the den, and then he moved out at the end.”
Matthew nodded. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s okay,” she said, glancing at him, those doe eyes again full of an emotion he couldn’t place. “My divorce was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He nodded again. “I wish my mother had believed in that way of thinking. Instead, she stayed married to my father, probably for my and my brother’s sakes, and it was the worst thing she could have done. For herself and for us.”
She held his gaze, her eyes now full of questions.
Questions he had no intention of answering.
So change the subject, Matt. And keep it off your personal lives from now on. The two of you are working together to get to the bottom of Robert’s death. Keep your mind—and other things—on the bottom line, man.
“December twentieth,” he repeated, setting the numbers.
The lock popped open.
Mia’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.
“Guess your sister thought your divorce was the best thing that ever happened to you, too,” Matthew remarked.
Mia bit her lip, then spun around in the desk chair and faced away from him.
Idiot, Matthew thought. Why’d you go and say something like that?
“Mia, look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive—”
She spun back around and faced him, a trace of tears under her eyes. “No, it’s okay. I—it’s just that ...”
She trailed off and covered her face with her hands.
Matthew kneeled by her side. “Mia? What is it?”
“I ... I just had no idea Margot cared so much,” she said, her voice small and broken. “I didn’t know I meant much in her life at all. We hardly spoke ...”
He took her hands away from her face and held them in his. “Then I guess if any good can come out of this, Mia, it’s this. The good things we’ll uncover.”
She looked at him and nodded. “You’re right,” she said through a sniffle. “And I should be grateful I have a second chance to get to know my sister,” she added. “Oh, Matthew, it must be so hard for you—”
“Let’s see what’s in the box,” he interrupted, getting up and moving to the bed. Once again, she was encroaching upon an area he wasn’t willing to talk about, wasn’t willing to think about.
His brother was dead.
His only brother.
Matthew let out a deep breath and flipped open the top of the box.
He withdrew three pieces of white paper, to which were stapled three photos each.
Bingo.
“Three other notes,” he said absently. “And three photos for each one.”
Mia’s gaze dropped to the floor. He could feel her disappointment, feel her fighting back tears.
“I need you to be strong, Mia,” he told her. “Hard as it is. The truth is what we’re after, that’s all.”
She closed her eyes and nodded, then stood and walked over to the bed. She sat down on the other side of the box. “What do the notes say?”
“The first one says basically the same thing as the one Margot received last night, just with a different date for her next assignment—‘Good job. Your fee is enclosed ... ’”
The color drained from Mia’s face, and Matthew didn’t bother to read the rest. “I guess Margot attached the photos to the corresponding note when she received them after her assignment was completed.”
Mia sighed. “Are the notes all in the same handwriting?”
“Yes,” Matthew confirmed. “Each one is written in the same handwriting and the same as the one we found last night. They’re definitely all written by the same person.”
“So all the notes thank her for a job well done and direct her to another location on a certain date at a certain time?”
Matthew flipped through the brief notes, then nodded. “The first one is for four months ago, and it looks like there’s been one note, one assignment for Margot, a month.”
“The one she got last night is for two weeks from now,” Mia commented.
“That definitely breaks the pattern,” Matthew responded. “I wonder what it means, if anything.”
“Oh, my God, Matthew,” Mia said, her hand flying to her mouth. “Does this mean there’s going to be another murder in two weeks?”
Matthew stared at her, his stomach turning over at the thought. “I don’t know. And I don’t know if it means there have been three other murders, either.”
“Matthew, I think you need to be prepared to accept that the police might be right about Robert’s death, that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the parking lot, got into a drunken brawl and—”
“Aren’t you the one who said we shouldn’t make up scenarios?” Matthew snapped.
She turned and stared out the window, her face set in stone.
“We can check the obituaries in the Center City Gazette o
nline,” Matthew said, unwilling to comfort her, unwilling to apologize every time he said something she didn’t like. They weren’t friends. They were two people trying to solve a murder. There was no place for sensitivity here. “Does Margot have a computer?”
She faced him. “I think she has a laptop,” Mia said. “But I haven’t seen one. She must have taken it with her.”
“We can use mine, then,” Matthew said. “I live just a half mile away from here.”
Mia nodded, then stared out the window again.
Just what he needed. Mia Anderson in his apartment. In his bedroom.
He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. This was going to be a very long night.
Chapter Seven
With the exception of a playpen and an overflowing toy chest in the living room, Mia wouldn’t guess that anyone actually lived in Matthew’s apartment. From the moment he’d unlocked the door to the huge one-bedroom co-op and ushered her inside, she’d been thinking that his place was a lot like Margot’s.
Beige. Cold. No homey touches. No woman’s touch, that was for sure.
The surprise was the playpen and the toys and all the photos of a beautiful baby boy.
“Your nephew—Robbie, isn’t it?” Mia asked, looking at a particularly adorable photograph of the toddler in a Halloween costume.
Matthew glanced at the photo, and the feeling in the room completely changed. He completely changed. A warmth came over him, and for the first time since she’d met him, a smile appeared on his chiseled face.
He loved the boy, that was for sure.
Once again, Mia’s heart went out to Matthew. It was impossible to stay too angry with him, despite all the snapping he liked to do, all the judgments he liked to jump to when he couldn’t tolerate the same from her.
Scenarios? Here was one: it was entirely possible that Margot had had nothing to do with Matthew’s brother’s death. And if Matthew couldn’t get his mind around that, then he wouldn’t really be open to anything they uncovered.
At least Mia had an open mind. She was surprised to learn that about herself, actually. Maybe Margot had been involved with Robert’s death, and maybe she hadn’t. Maybe Margot’s ex-boyfriend, Justin, had flown into a jealous rage and killed Robert, and maybe he hadn’t.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
That was all they had at the moment.
And now, looking at the photos of the sweet, young toddler, Mia realized that Robbie Gray was all Matthew had, period. That he needed more than maybe.
He’d lost his parents, and then his brother, his only sibling.
Mia wondered if there was a woman in his life.
“He’s away at his grandparents’ for a couple of weeks,” Matthew said suddenly, his gaze on one of the photos. “I miss him like crazy.”
Mia smiled gently. “He’s such a beautiful child.”
Matthew nodded. “No kids of your own?”
Kids. Mia had wanted to start a family when she and David had first gotten married, but he’d wanted to wait.
He hadn’t wanted her to ruin her figure.
And then as time went on, Mia didn’t feel their marriage was stable enough, secure enough, to welcome a child. David, of course, had never raised the subject of children. Why wreck your body and get all matronly before you’re even thirty? he’d said. There’s nothing sexy about mothers.
Mia mentally cringed. She’d once loved the man who’d said those things.
“Let’s get started on our research,” Matthew said, reverting back to his stony demeanor.
Mia was glad. The last thing she needed was to feel for him, to wonder about him, to—
Care.
“Mia? You all right?”
She blinked.
He was staring at her quizzically. Get it together, girl. Stay focused.
She offered a smile and a nod, and he led the way into his bedroom.
Mia almost shivered when they entered the huge room. Beige again and cold. There were only three pieces of furniture—a king-size chrome bed, hastily made, a modern chrome-and-wood dresser, and a massive chrome-and-wood desk, which faced the window.
Matthew sat down at his desk chair and clicked on his computer. Mia stood and awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest, unwilling to sit down on his bed.
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the bed.
Mia felt her cheeks color. She sat.
“I’ll do a search for recent deaths in Center City and the surrounding towns on those particular dates,” Matthew said. He pulled the notes from the metal box out of his knapsack and glanced at them, then clicked at the keys.
Mia glanced at the photos lining the dresser. One of a man, a woman, and a baby—his brother’s family, Mia assumed. Another of an older couple—most likely his parents. And two of Robbie.
None of women.
“Mia, look at this!” Matthew exclaimed, and she jumped up and leaned over his shoulder. “Three other men were killed in bar parking lots, one stabbed, one shot, one hit over the head several times with a lug wrench, and—”
And one stabbed several times in the back, Mia mentally finished for him.
“Are you all right?” she asked him.
He hesitated for just a second, then nodded once, his gaze not leaving the screen. “Four murders on the dates of Margot’s assignments.”
Mia gasped. The impact of what Matthew had found had suddenly hit her.
There had been three other murders.
Four altogether.
“Matthew, were those other murders at the locations where Margot was instructed to go?”
Matthew scanned the screen. “Yes. Although one was in an alleyway near the bar.”
Mia’s knees gave out, and she dropped fast to the floor. Matthew was beside her in a moment.
“Mia, are you all right? Do you need some water?”
She closed her eyes and nodded, and when he left her, she felt the loss of his presence so strongly.
Margot, what have you gotten yourself mixed up in? What is this all about?
Matthew hurried back into the room with a glass of water. “C’mon, let me help you to the bed. You should sit propped up against the headboard.”
Mia felt so weak, so devoid of energy and thought, that she let him lead her to his bed, let him help her sit down, let him lift her feet onto the bed. She felt his hands at the back of her head, making sure her head rested gently against the headboard.
“I’m just so scared for her,” Mia said so quietly she barely heard the words herself. “I don’t know what this all means.”
He sat down next to her. “I’m going to throw your own words back at you, Mia. We can’t jump to any conclusions or make up scenarios. Let’s wait till we have facts before we make any leaps.”
Mia nodded. “Just because it looks bad for her doesn’t mean it necessarily is.”
Matthew smiled, and Mia knew he didn’t believe what she had just said. He was being kind again.
Dammit.
But she was grateful. She needed to hang on to something, even if it was flimsy.
She just had to remember one thing. Her sister, her identical twin sister, was not a killer. Mia knew that as surely as she knew herself.
So what the hell was going on? Why had Margot been sent to entice four men into cheating, only to have those four men end up dead?
Who had hired her?
Who had killed those men?
And what was Margot’s connection to the four victims?
To the person who hired her?
“My head is throbbing,” Mia said. “Do you have any aspirin?”
Matthew was gone and back with two tablets in five seconds. She took the pills with a long drink of water and leaned her head back against the headboard and closed her eyes.
“Are you okay to continue?” Matthew asked. “Or should I take you home?”
Mia opened her eyes. “I’m fine. Really, Matthew. The shock is wearing off a little, and now all I’m left with are
questions. Lots of questions.”
“Well, maybe we’ll find some answers the more we dig,” he said. He regarded her for a moment, then stood and sat back down at his desk and returned his attention to the computer. “This is interesting,” he said, scrolling down the screen. “Two of the victims were robbed, and two weren’t.”
“That doesn’t help us much,” Mia said. “It doesn’t set up a pattern.”
Matthew expelled a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Dammit. Who the hell hired Margot?”
“Maybe we should try to come up with a list of potential suspects,” Mia said, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to face Matthew. She felt a lot less vulnerable with her feet firmly on the floor.
Matthew grabbed a legal pad and pen. “Okay, let’s start with Justin, Margot’s ex. He hated what she did for a living, gave her an ultimatum, and she chose the job over him. Maybe he got angry enough, jealous enough, and snapped.”
“But why would he send anonymous notes directing her to meet strange men?” Mia asked. “If he was so jealous, how could he stand it? What would be the point?”
“To get rid of the competition,” Matthew supplied.
“The men.”
He nodded.
“So he’s angry at her, angry at the men he’s never met for taking her away from him, for ‘getting’ her, so he hires her to meet them and then kills them?” Mia asked. “That sounds really farfetched, doesn’t it?”
“Especially because it doesn’t explain why he would choose these four particular men,” Matthew said.
Mia stared at him. “You’re right. Why were these four men singled out?”
“Well, all we know is that someone hired Margot, a decoy, to specifically entice these men into cheating on a specific date at a specific time and—”
“Wait a minute,” Mia interrupted. “Do we know that? The notes instructed Margot to go to a specific bar at a specific time, but none of the notes mentioned a specific man or gave any sort of physical description of a man to entice.”
Matthew stared at her. “You’re absolutely right. Photos of Margot with the man and the cash fee come after the note directing her to the assignment. And the notes say absolutely nothing about which man is the target.”
“So how does she even know who to entice?” Mia asked. “I mean, how did she know that she was supposed to find out whether or not Robert would go for her or not?”
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