Graves was silent on the other end of the line.
“Sir?”
“You’re there now.” It was not a question.
“Yes.”
“He home?”
“No.”
“Take off. Now. We’ll get a warrant and retain him for questioning.”
Petrosky’s heart sank. “But, sir—”
“If we fuck this up, we lose the evidence we need to nail him. We’ll put out an APB on his car and watch him if we see him sneaking around another abandoned building tonight. Now, get out of there before you scare him off.”
Petrosky hung up the phone and shook a cigarette from his pack, his muscles twitching with the desire to leap from the car and hide in the bushes to wait. “Head back to the station.”
Morrison maneuvered out of the neighborhood. Petrosky dragged smoke deep into his lungs and watched the house recede in the rearview mirror.
They had their killer.
Now where the hell was he?
Saturday, November 28th
Thomas lay on the couch, his face drawn and pale.
“You all right?” Robert said. “You haven’t moved since we got here.” He sat in a chair across from Thomas, head cocked, eyes on Thomas’s face.
Thomas shook his head weakly. “I’m not sure. Ever since lunch it’s just been … shit.” He leaned over and vomited into the bucket next to the couch.
Robert averted his eyes until Thomas had finished puking.
“I can’t go tonight,” Thomas said, collapsing back onto the couch. “I feel like death.”
“I’m sorry.” Robert swallowed a smirk. “I wish I could do something.”
Thomas cast his eyes down, defeated. “It took me two weeks and three hundred bucks to get that reservation.” He sighed. “Noelle seemed so excited about it too—Hey!” Robert could almost see the light bulb turn on over Thomas’s head as he looked back up. “Jim? Is there any way you might do me a favor?”
Robert tried not to smirk. “Anything. Just name it.”
Noelle had sounded disappointed on the phone, but she’d insisted on coming over to Thomas’s place. Now she knelt next to the couch.
Robert watched from the kitchen.
“Let me take care of you.” She put her hand on Thomas’s head.
They all think they’re fucking nurses. Robert pictured her in a nurse’s uniform as she bent to pull up the blanket, and his groin throbbed impatiently.
“No, really, there isn’t anything you can do. I just need to get some rest and—” Thomas’s eyes bulged. He retched again.
Noelle winced and stood.
“Seriously, honey, I just want to sleep. Let me know if the place is good enough to take you to in another month, okay? I had to bribe the maître-d to get in before February and I’ll be pissed if we waste the reservation. I’d rather my two favorite people use it.” He smiled thinly. “Just don’t go falling for Jim.” His eyes closed.
Noelle turned toward the kitchen where Robert stood waiting, keys in hand.
“I’ll drive,” he said.
She followed him down the stairs. “I hope Thomas feels better soon.”
“He will.” Robert smiled. Eye drops only make someone ill for so long.
I was a whole different person. A better person. A person I barely recognized with my long, white-blond hair and a chartreuse gown that brushed my legs with silky fingers. A person who held hands with the love of her life and sniffed through a melancholy symphony, relieved that her current life felt so normal, so damn happy, in comparison to whatever the composer had been going through when he wrote the music. And I couldn’t keep my hands off the emerald pendant Dominic had picked out for me as Genevieve worked on my hair. By the time the last note rang out, my eyes were dewy with joy, just from the opportunity to be there, with him.
Holy crap, I was turning into a ball of mush.
We drove back to his house in silence, but not uncomfortable, awkward silence—just the shared I’m-cool-with-you-not-talking silence. I stole fleeting glances at him as he steered the car through the quiet streets. Once, he caught me watching him and smiled and a slow heat rose from my abdomen into my chest. Those eyes. So full of comfort and understanding. Eyes that never seemed to show uncertainty, or anger, or fear. I wondered if he could make me more like that, like him.
Actually, I thought, he already has.
When we arrived at the house, he took off his jacket and shoes in the mudroom and walked into the kitchen. “Would you like some water?” he called over his shoulder.
“Yes, thanks.” I kicked off my shoes and ducked into the half bath. I unzipped my dress, shimmied out of my nylons, and unhooked my bra, laying everything on the sink.
When only the emerald necklace remained, I padded into the kitchen. Dominic’s back was to me. I ran my hands up his back to his shoulders and kissed his arm through his shirt.
He turned, two glasses of sparkling water in his hands.
The edges of his mouth curved into a smile. He abandoned the water and wrapped his left arm around me as I arched into him. He reached between my legs. I was already wet.
I love you, I thought. Maybe tonight I would tell him.
Noelle had only agreed to go with Jim because Thomas was so bummed out about wasting the reservation. But without Thomas there, the whole restaurant felt a little awkward and business-like. Jim was reserved and kinda boring, a gentlemanly cliché, holding doors and pulling back chairs and talking about appropriately mundane work topics. But it wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated, especially after a couple of daiquiris, and the tinkling notes of the in-house pianist filled any gaps in their conversation. With Thomas she wouldn’t have needed the piano; he’d surely have been ready with some weird story about his elementary school or a parallel between politicians and Wolverine. The only thing that made Jim’s eyes light up was talking about Hannah.
“So how long have you and Hannah known each other?” Jim said over after-dinner coffee.
Noelle washed down molten chocolate cake with a sip of her Kahlua and cream. The booze warmed her insides. “A year or so. She was my first friend when I moved here.” Her only friend, really.
“Are you two close?”
She nodded.
“Thomas and I are pretty close friends, too.” He lowered his voice. “Plus, I hoped you’d put in a good word … you know, if she ever drops that other guy.”
Poor guy. He really does care for her. But he doesn’t stand a chance now that Dominic’s in the picture. Noelle smiled and hoped it looked more like kindness than pity. “Will do.”
Jim drove them out of the restaurant lot, Noelle’s after-dinner drinks still sloshing hotly in her stomach.
“Should we go back to Thomas’s and check on him?” she asked.
Jim nodded at the clock on his dashboard. “It’s a little early yet. Maybe we should find something to do for an hour or two so he can get a little more rest.”
She looked at the clock. He was right. They had only been gone for two hours and Thomas had just been dozing off when they left. Not that she couldn’t go snuggle up beside him and spend a few hours smelling the sour stench from the bucket on the floor. Eh, later. She shook her head against the fuzziness that was settling in her vision.
Jim kept his eyes on the road. “Want to take a drive? I found a cool overlook not too far from here. One of those scenic view type places. I wanted to bring Hannah up here back when I still had a chance, but …”
Sympathy tugged at Noelle’s chest as she imagined how hard it might be for her to lose Thomas. She looked at the clock again and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
“Great!” Jim squinted at an upcoming red light and turned down a side street. “Faster this way,” he said.
The neighborhood homes glowed under bluish-white light from the street lamps. They emerged onto another, dimmer, main street and turned left. “Maybe you can take Thomas up here when he feels better.” He grinned, cutting the wheel right onto a sparse
ly lighted road where the homes were set far back from the street. Above them, the moon shone through a film of murky clouds. “Thomas is always looking for weird, out-of-the-way places. I think they remind him of the lab where they hid the Hulk … or maybe planet Krypton.”
Along the road, the evergreen trees had thickened into a solid wall of iced needles, the ground beneath them heavy and black. She smiled but it felt forced. “You’re probably right about that. But you’ll have to draw me a map so I can find it again.”
Uncertainty pricked at the edge of her subconscious but she brushed it away. Thomas really would love it out here. Hopefully he’ll be feeling better when we get back.
Noelle took her cell from the purse at her feet. The battery flashed red. One percent. She let it thunk back into the bag.
They emerged from the woods and into a small clearing that ended in a chain link fence at the edge of a cliff. A small lake surrounded by tiny cottages twinkled below the edge of the precipice. The moon tucked itself behind a cloud and winked back again, turning the scene into a sleepy, sparkling town straight out of a children’s book.
She leaned forward. “It … I mean, wow.” If only Thomas were here.
She didn’t register that Jim had moved until she felt his hand on her shoulder. Crystals of fear began at his fingertips and radiated through her, chilling her blood, encasing her lungs in ice. His face, suddenly so close to hers, thrummed with an anxious energy that bounced around her like a thousand bits of hail. His eyes, that just hours ago had been so friendly, glittered darkly with madness or … evil.
“Jim?”
His hand slithered down her back. His fingers wound tight around her arm, digging into her flesh.
Noelle screamed, the trees and moon her only audience.
Saturday, November 28th
Petrosky knocked before he could change his mind. Biting, midnight wind whistled from the lake and around the monstrous concrete building. There were no sounds coming from inside the house.
Either these walls are really thick, or no one’s home.
“Wait for me, Boss!” Morrison ran up the steps.
“I thought you were waiting in the car before you got fired.”
“I figured you could use the moral support. Plus, there’s always Cali.”
“You mean California?”
The door opened. A tall, dark-haired man, presumably Dominic Harwick, looked the detectives up and down. He wore only a pair of silk pajama pants, his bare, washboard abs glinting in the porch light. Another gym rat, like Morrison. Petrosky sighed.
“Can I help you?” Harwick stifled a yawn.
Petrosky showed his badge. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, but we’re looking for a man who works for your company.”
“Officers, I have thousands of employees. Surely you don’t think I can keep track of—”
“We believe Hannah Montgomery knows him personally and this was the forwarding address given at her apartment. Is she available?”
“She’s resting.” Harwick paused, then opened the door wider. “Come in and I will get her.” He glanced down at their shoes, thick with snow.
Petrosky knocked the snow off on the stoop, Morrison followed suit, and they squeaked into the biggest living room Petrosky had ever seen.
“Can I offer you gentlemen something? Coffee perhaps?”
“No thank you, sir.”
Harwick gestured to a set of enormous leather couches. “Make yourselves comfortable. I will be right back.” He walked to the back of the room and disappeared through an archway at the far corner.
Morrison goggled. “Holy shit, this place is crazy!”
“Looks like Hannah is moving up. A few months ago she was dating our suspect and now—”
Petrosky stopped talking as a striking blond in a blue silk robe emerged from the back hallway. She strode to the couch and sat across from them, posture erect.
“Evening, ma’am,” Morrison said.
“Evening.”
Petrosky did a double take. “Ms. Montgomery?” Some detective he was. His head swam. Maybe it was the shot of Jack he’d had when Morrison got out of the car to piss, but he didn’t think so. This wasn’t normal. She wasn’t normal. People don’t just change, not like that. If there was a magic formula to boost someone’s self-esteem and quell anxiety overnight, McCallum would be out of a fucking job.
“Oh, yeah.” She touched a blond curl. Her face shone. “I changed my hair.” She looked at Petrosky. “What can I do for you?”
“James Clark is wanted for questioning. Do you have any idea where he might be?”
Now her face paled. “Is this about the murders? Jake?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She twisted the hem of her robe in her fist. “I … oh my god, no, I mean, I haven’t seen him. Jesus.”
“Is everything okay here?” Harwick marched toward them and Petrosky’s hackles rose.
“Yes, sir,” Morrison said.
“When was the last time you spoke to him?” Petrosky asked her. “If you have any idea where he might be, any information at all … it’s important that we locate him.”
She twisted her robe harder, the fabric tightening against her thigh like a coiled snake. Harwick sat beside her and put his hand on her knee, gently stroking her with his thumb until she dropped the hem of her robe. Her shoulders relaxed. “I have no idea where he is.” Her voice was soft, but crisp, without a trace of the anxiety they had just witnessed.
Harwick must be one hell of a goddamn guy. Not that it took much to be more stable than her ex. Montgomery looked at Harwick, expectant, as if waiting for him to make everything all better. Petrosky’s eyes narrowed. Then again, being too dependent was how abusive relationships got started. And she was vulnerable to that abusive bullshit, if her relationship with Campbell was any indication.
Petrosky eyed Harwick. Harwick watched Montgomery, hand still on her leg.
Protective, or possessive?
Montgomery shot to her feet and Petrosky reared back on the couch. “Wait! Noelle might know. She was going out with Thomas tonight.”
She padded into the kitchen and returned with her cell phone at her ear. “—it’s really important. Okay, bye.” She sat and leaned against Harwick, phone in hand. “I had to leave a message.”
Petrosky held out his business card as he and Morrison stood. “If you think of anything else—”
Harwick took the card. “Detectives, if he shows up for work on Monday, I will have security bring him down and detain him. Do you have any reason to think he would show up here?”
Petrosky hesitated.
“No, sir,” Morrison said.
Montgomery put her head against Harwick’s shoulder.
It’s more than happiness, Petrosky thought. She knows she’s safe.
If only I could have given Julie that kind of security.
But feeling safe doesn’t actually mean you are safe.
Petrosky’s stomach churned, acid rising until it felt like it was burning a hole straight through to his heart.
Harwick led them to the front door. “Thank you for your diligence. I hope you find him soon.”
Suave motherfucker. “I hope so too, sir.”
The door clicked shut. Petrosky paused on the porch, listening for anything amiss—a scream from inside or a subtle thud. But there was only the wind, howling around his ears. Maybe Harwick really was a decent guy. Maybe she really was secure and content and happy.
Morrison snickered as they climbed into the car. “It really is amazing what a rich guy can do for a woman.”
Petrosky jerked his cigarette pack from the console. “No wonder my ex-wife left.”
“I thought she married a construction worker.”
“Thanks a lot, dude.”
Sunday, November 29th
My back was still tingling the next day, as if Dominic’s fingers had etched their imprint on my skin. I barely noticed the stiff chair in Tammy’s office, or the way h
er lips were pursed with displeasure. Thus far, we’d covered the usual rigmarole about how I was feeling about Jake’s death, how work was going, and what else was new. What was new was that things were generally … okay. It felt good to say that out loud and actually mean it. I’d been a little worried when I’d gotten Noelle’s voicemail again this morning, but Dominic had assured me she was fine. She’d probably just slept over at Thomas’s. It was silly to worry before you had something to worry about, he’d told me. Tammy might have said that to me in the past, but when Dominic said it, I believed him.
“Are you sure you’ve been okay? You missed your last appointment.” There was a hint of disapproval in Tammy’s voice.
I prepared myself for the guilt. I felt none.
“I feel like things are going a lot better,” I said, instead of apologizing. “I’ve definitely been feeling better overall. More optimistic, I guess.”
Tammy made a note in the file in front of her. “How about your sleep?”
“Better, at least sometimes.”
“What about the rest of the time?”
I shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Some nights I sleep better than I ever have. Some nights I have bad dreams and wake Dominic. He seems to have a calming effect on me, though.” And he actually knows about my past and understands me, unlike you.
Tammy nodded thoughtfully. If something ever happened to my shrink, someone could make her life-sized bobble head twin and it would be just as effective as she was now.
“It is possible that his presence makes you feel safer. It is also possible that the days you sleep better are the result of less outside stress, maybe fewer work issues. Is this increase in quality sleep usually on the weekends?”
I furrowed my brows. Was it? No, some days I showed up to work in the middle of the week, ready to take on the world. And sometimes, I had to sleep in on Sunday because I’d tossed and turned all night long. I shook my head.
Tammy put a finger to her lips. “Before attributing these improvements in sleeping patterns to another person, perhaps you should look in your journal, at your sleep recording exercise. I don’t want you giving all the credit to someone else.”
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