Divided in Death

Chapter 5

Roarke got to his feet and moved so smoothly, so subtly between mother and daughter, Eve wondered if anyone noticed that he’d placed himself as Caro’s shield.

“For that matter, Reva, so did I, go behind your back, as it were.”

“You’re not my mother.” She bit the words off as she stepped forward, and Roarke simply shifted his body without seeming to move at all.

“Which would mean, all in all, I had less of a right.” He spoke easily, drawing his cigarette case out of his pocket. The gesture, Eve noted, distracted Reva. If only for a moment. “Do you mind, Caro?” he asked, very pleasant.

“No.” Flustered, she looked around, then rose. “I’ll get an ashtray.”

“Thanks. Of course you could say I did the basic run on Blair as your employer. And that would be true.” He lit the cigarette. “True enough, but not fully true. You’re a friend of mine, as is your mother, so that was another factor.”

Color was riding high in Reva’s cheeks, a full temper strike at the flashpoint, made no less volatile by the fact she was bundled into a petal pink robe and wearing thick gray socks. “If I can’t be trusted to-”

“You I trust, and always have, Reva. Him I didn’t know, so why should I have trusted him? Still, I didn’t go beyond two levels out of respect for your mother.”

“But not for me, not out of respect for me. Either of you,” she said with a furious look at her mother as Caro came back with a small crystal dish. “You were spying on him, checking up on him, and all the while you were making wedding plans, pretending to be happy for me.”

“Reva, I was happy for you,” Caro began.

“You didn’t like him, you never liked him,” Reva spat out. “If you think I didn’t know you-”

“Sorry. If you want to get into a family spat, it’ll have to wait.” Eve made a show of getting out her recorder when Reva whipped around toward her. “Homicide investigations take precedence. You’ve already been read your rights-”

“You agreed to give me ten minutes,” Roarke reminded her. “I’ll take it now.”

Eve shrugged. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Caro, is there somewhere private I could have a few moments with Reva?”

“Yes. You could use my office. I’ll just show you-”

“I know where it is.” Turning her back on Caro, Reva stalked away. The ensuing silence was punctuated by the violent slamming of a door.

“I’m very sorry.” Caro sat again, folded her hands in her lap. “She’s understandably upset.”

“Sure.” Eve glanced at her wrist unit. Ten minutes was all Roarke was going to get.

In Caro’s office, with its streamlined D and C center on top of an antique rosewood desk, Reva stood as rigid as a blindfolded prisoner awaiting execution. “I’m so angry with her, with you. With every fucking thing.”

“Well, there’s a bulletin. Why don’t you sit down, Reva?”

“I don’t want to sit down. I’m not going to sit down. I want to punch something, kick something. Break something.”

“Do what you need to do.” His tone was bored, a verbal shrug that caused embarrassed color to rise up and join the flush of Reva’s temper. “That’s between you and Caro, as these are her things. When you’ve finished your tantrum, you can sit down and we’ll talk like reasonable adults.”

“I’ve always hated that about you.”

“What’s that?” he asked and took a slow drag on his cigarette.

“That control of yours. That ice you use instead of blood in your veins.”

“Ah, that. The lieutenant can tell you there are times when even my astonishing control and marvelously even temper fails. No one snaps our composure quite like someone we love.”

“I didn’t say you had an even temper, marvelous or otherwise,” she said dryly. “There’s no one scarier, or meaner. Or kinder.” Her breath hitched, forcing her to take a gulp of air, or sob. “I know you have to fire me, and that you’re going to try to do it gently. I’m not angry about that. I can’t blame you for that. If it makes things easier, less messy, I’ll resign.”

He took another drag, then tapped the cigarette out in the little crystal dish he’d brought in with him. “Why would I need to fire you?”

“I’ve been charged with murder, for God’s sake. I’m out on bail, the kind of bail that’s going to require me to sell my house and nearly everything else I own. I’m wearing this.”

She shot out a hand, her fingers fisted tight below the dull silver tracking bracelet on her wrist.

“I suppose it’s too much to ask for them to make those things even remotely stylish.”

At the comment, she could only stare at him. “They know if I walk outside to go to the corner deli. They know I’m upset right now because they can read my pulse rate. It’s just a prison without the cage.”

“I know it, Reva. I’m sorry for it. But the cage could be worse, a great deal worse. You’re not to sell your house, or anything else. I’ll lend you the money. Shut up,” he ordered even as she opened her mouth. “You’ll take it because I’m telling you to take it. It’s an investment for me. And when this is cleared up and you’re exonerated, I’ll have it back. Then you’ll work off what I consider a fair interest on the loan.”

She did sit down, dropping onto the little love seat beside him. “You have to fire me.”

“You’re telling me how to run my own business now?” His tone was cold, deliberately so. “However valued an employee you are, I don’t take orders from you.”

She leaned forward, elbows on knees, and covered her face with her hands. “If this is for friendship-”

“Partially, of course. The friendship and affection I have for you and for Caro. It’s also a matter of you being a very important part of Securecomp. And aside from that, I believe you’re innocent, and trust my wife to prove it.”

“She’s almost as scary as you.”

“And she can be more so, in certain areas.”

“How could I be so stupid!” Her voice was wavering again, tears shimmering in it. “How could I be such a fool?”

“You weren’t stupid. You loved him. Love’s supposed to make us fools, or what’s the point of it? Pull yourself together now. We don’t have much time, for believe me, when my cop says ten minutes, she means ten. The extermination program and shield, Reva, the Code Red.”

“Yeah.” She sniffled, wiped her hands over her face to dry it. “We’re close, nearly there. All the data’s on the secured unit in my office-double passcoded and blocked. Backup copies in the vault, encrypted. The latest was hand-delivered to your office yesterday. Also encrypted. Tokimoto can take it over. He’s the best choice. I can brief him on the areas he doesn’t know, or you can. Probably best if you bump LaSalle up to second-in-command on that. She’s as smart as Tokimoto, just not as creative.”

“Did you ever mention the project to your husband?”

She rubbed her eyes, then blinked them. “Why would I?”

“Think carefully, Reva. Any mention of it, however casual?”

“No. I might’ve said something like I had a hot one and that was why I was putting in some extra hours. But nothing specific. It’s Code Red.”

“Did he ask you about it?”

“He can’t ask me about what he doesn’t know,” she responded in a tone tight with impatience. “He was an artist, Roarke. His only interest in my work pertained to how I’d design and implement security for our house, and his work.”

“My wife’s a cop, and couldn’t be less interested in my business. But occasionally, for form anyway, she asks about it. How was your day, what are you working on, that sort of thing.”

“Sure, okay, sure. I’m not getting this.”

“Did he, or anyone else, ask you about this project, Reva?”

She leaned back. Her face was pale again, her voice thin and weary. “I guess he might have. What’s so hot about this one, something like that. I’d’ve told him I couldn’t talk about it. He might’ve teased me about it. He sometimes did that. Top secret, hush-hush. My wife, the secret agent or something.”

Her lip trembled so that she sank her teeth into it, biting back some control. “He got off on espionage, loved spy vids and games. But if he said anything it was just joking. You know how it is. Friends might do the same now and then, but they weren’t really interested.”

“Felicity, for instance?”

“Yeah.” And now those teary eyes opened, went hot. “She was all about art, fashion, socializing. Sneaky bitch. She’d say things like how could I stand being holed up in some lab all day, fiddling with codes and machines. And what was so damn interesting about that? But I never discussed details, not even on the minor projects. It would violate the confidentiality contract.”

“All right.”

“You’re thinking Blair’s dead and I’m in this fix because of the Code Red? That’s just not possible. He didn’t know anything, and nobody without clearance knew I was on it.”

“It may be very possible, Reva.”

Her head jerked around. Before she could speak, there was a brisk knock on the door. “Time’s up,” Eve called out.

She opened the door just as Reva was getting slowly to her feet. Reading Reva’s expression, Eve nodded at Roarke. “I take it you laid the groundwork.”

“He knew she was working on a top-level project, but the details weren’t discussed.”

“This can’t have anything to do with what happened to Blair,” Reva insisted. “If this was a terrorist hit, why wouldn’t they come after me, or you?” she said to Roarke. “Or any active member of the team?”

“Let’s try to find out,” Eve suggested. “Come back in here so we can lay this all out once, for everyone.”

“What does killing Blair accomplish?” Reva hurried out behind Eve. “It doesn’t affect the project.”

“Got you booked on a double homicide, didn’t it? Sit down. When’s the last time either of you were in Bissel’s studio?”

“Months for me,” Caro responded. “I was there last spring. April? Yes, I’m sure it was April. He wanted to show me the fountain he was working on for Reva’s birthday.”

“I was there last month,” Reva said. “Early August. I went there after work to meet him. We were going to a dinner party at Felicity’s. He cleared me, and I went up, waited a few minutes while he finished changing.”

“Cleared you?” Eve prompted.

“Yeah. He was a maniac about his studio security. Nobody, but nobody got the passcode.”

“You gave me the passcode.”

Reva flushed, cleared her throat. “I accessed it-on that same visit. I just couldn’t resist. And it seemed like the perfect time to field-test a new security scanner we were working on. So I accessed the code, tested it, and got clearance. Then I reset the security, and called up to Blair. I didn’t tell him because it would’ve pissed him off.”

“Did you ever go up there when he wasn’t around?”

“What for?”

“Poke around, see what he was up to.”

“I never spied on him.” She sent a long look toward Caro. “I never spied on him. Maybe I should have, maybe if I had I’d’ve known about him and Felicity long ago. But I respected his space and his privacy, and expected the same from him.”

“Did you know about him and Chloe McCoy?”

“Who?”

“Chloe McCoy, Reva. The pretty young thing who works in his gallery?”

“The little drama queen?” She laughed. “Oh, please. Blair couldn’t possibly have…” She trailed off as the cool, direct gaze had her belly trembling. “No. She’s hardly more than a child. She’s still in college, for God’s sake.” She curled herself into a ball and rocked. “Oh God. Oh God.”

“Baby. Reva.” Caro moved quickly to sit beside her daughter, wrap her arms around her. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry over him.”

“I don’t know if it’s over him, or over me. First Felicity, and now that-that brainless little coed. How many others?”

“It only takes one.”

Reva turned her face into her mother’s neck. “Like mother, like daughter,” Reva murmured. “If what you’re saying is true, Lieutenant, maybe it was some jealous boyfriend who killed them. Somebody who knew they were being cheated on.”

“That doesn’t explain why you were lured there at exactly the right time. It doesn’t explain why the passcodes on the elevator to the studio were changed at nearly the same time Blair Bissel and Felicity Kade were being murdered. It doesn’t explain why the computers at your home, at Bissel’s gallery and studio, and at Felicity Kade’s home-Feeney just verified”-she said to Roarke-”have all been infected with an as-yet-unidentified worm that has corrupted all data thereon.”

“A worm?” She pushed away from Caro. “All those computers, in all those locations? Corrupted. You’re sure?”

“I’ve examined two of them myself,” Roarke told her. “There’s every indication they were infected with the Doomsday worm. We’ll test to be certain, but I know what to look for.”

“It can’t be done by remote. We know it has to be done on site.” Reva sprang up to pace. “It’s a flaw in the system. It has to be uploaded directly into one of the units in a network to infect the network. It requires an operator.”

“That’s right.”

“If the units were infected with the Doomsday, it means someone got through the security. At my house, at the gallery, the studio, at Felicity’s. I can check those systems. I designed and installed all of them. I can run scans to see if they were compromised, and when.”

“If you run the scans, the results are inadmissible,” Eve told her.

“I’ll run them.” Roarke waited until she’d stopped pacing long enough to look at him. “You’ll trust me for that.”

“Damn right, Lieutenant.” Reva came back, sat on the edge of the sofa. “If this is-if what happened has something to do with the project, it means Blair was set up, too. It was all staged, all put together so I’d go running over there, so it would look to me, to everyone as if Blair and Felicity had been lovers. He’s dead because of what he was to me. They’re both dead because of me.”

“You can believe that if you want. Me, I’d rather deal with the truth.”

“But there’s no proof that he was ever unfaithful. It could all be faked. The photographs, the receipts, the discs. He could’ve been kidnapped and taken to Felicity’s. He might’ve been…”

She was running down as the facts, the timelines, the sheer weight of her fantasy began to bear down. “It doesn’t make any sense that way. I know it. But it doesn’t make sense any other way either.”

“It makes sense if Bissel was not only unfaithful with Felicity Kade and Chloe McCoy, but if the terrorists believed he had intel. More sense yet if they had reason to believe it.”

“Because they think I talk to him? But-”

“No. Because he talked to them.”

She jerked back as if Eve had struck her. “That’s not possible.” The words came out in a croak. “You’re saying that Blair had knowledge of, had contact with this radical terrorist group? That he fed them information? That’s ludicrous.”

“I’m saying it’s a possibility I’m going to explore. I’m saying person or persons unknown went to a lot of trouble to kill Bissel and Kade and point the finger at you. And if this had been taken as the classic crime of passion it appeared to be, those units wouldn’t have been given more than a cursory look.”

She waited, just a beat, as she watched the possibilities hit home with Reva. “It would be assumed that you, with your knowledge of computers and your temper, destroyed them out of spite. That the changes in security at Bissel’s gallery would be considered a glitch.”

“I can’t-I can’t believe this of him.”

“What you believe or don’t believe is up to you. But if you look deeper, if you start tugging on all the threads, you start to see there’s a lot more here than a couple of murders and a suspect served up to the cops on a shiny, silver platter.”

Reva got up, walked to the wide window that looked out over the river. “I can’t… You want me to believe this, to accept it, and if I do, it means everything was a lie. Right from the beginning, it was a lie. He never loved me. Or he loved me so little, he was seduced by whatever these people offered him. Money, or power, or just the thrill of playing techno-espionage for real instead of on VR. You want me to believe he used me, exploited everything I’ve worked for, the trust and respect I’ve earned in my field.”

“If you look at it straight, it’s about him. It’s not about you.”

Reva only stared out the window. “I loved him, Lieutenant. Maybe from where you’re sitting that’s weak of me, and stupid of me, but I loved him, the way I’ve never loved anyone else. If I accept all this, I have to let go of that, and everything it means to me. I’m not sure prison’s any worse.”

“You don’t have to believe anything, or accept anything. That’s your choice. But unless you want to find out if prison’s any worse, you’ll cooperate. You’ll submit to Truth Testing, level three, tomorrow at oh eight hundred. You’ll agree to full psychiatric eval by the departmental psychiatrist, and you’ll instruct your attorneys to clear all of your records. All of them, and those of your husband. If there are any sealed records-either yours or his-you will authorize us to break them.”

“I don’t have any sealeds,” Reva replied softly.

“You were Secret Service. You’ll have sealeds.”

She turned back, and her eyes were dazed like a woman living in a dream. “You’re right. Sorry. I’ll authorize.”

“And yours,” Eve said to Caro.

“Why hers?” The earlier resentment was forgotten as she leaped to her mother’s defense. “She’s not part of this.”

“She’s connected to you, to the victim, and to the project.”

“If you think she might be in danger, she should have protection.”

“I’ve seen to it, Reva,” Roarke stated, and earned a quick, surprised look from Caro.

“You might have mentioned it,” she mumbled, then sighed. “But I won’t argue. And I’ll take care of the authorization immediately.”

“Good. Meanwhile, both of you think, go back over any conversations you might have had with either victim, or anyone else for that matter, about work. Particularly this Code Red. I’ll be in touch.”

Eve started for the door, but Roarke lingered another moment. “Get some rest, both of you. Take tomorrow if you need it, but I expect you both back to work the following day.” He glanced over at Eve. “Any problem with that, Lieutenant?”

“Not for me. That’s your deal.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Detective”-Caro opened the door-”I hope you get some rest yourselves.”

“We’ll get to it.”

Eve waited until they were in the elevator and heading down before she spoke to Peabody. “That was a good hunch about Caro running Bissel. How’d you come to it?”

“She strikes me as a thorough woman and a thorough mom. She didn’t much like Bissel.”

“I got that part.”

“So, she doesn’t much like him, but she loves her daughter and wants her daughter to have what she wants. Still, she’d want to be sure he was what he said he was. She had to look.”

“And she looked deep enough that you’d figure he was straight.” Eve nodded. “Good catch, even if you did lead up to it with cookies.”

“Hey, they were really good cookies.”

“It earned you the rest of the day. Go home, get some sleep.”

“Seriously?”

“And report to my home office at seven hundred. Sharp.”

“With bells on.”

She looked down at Peabody’s colorful airsneaks. “It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“I can put in a couple more hours if you want to keep pushing.”

“Neither of us is going to do the investigation much good if we’re asleep on our feet. Let’s hit it fresh in the morning.”

“Take my car,” Roarke offered and Peabody’s eyes all but popped out of her head and onto her shoes.

“Really? What is this, be nice to Peabody day?”

“If it’s not it should be. You’ll save me from having to have it picked up, as I’d like to ride with the lieutenant.”

“Well, any little thing I can do.”

He gave her the code, and watched with amusement as she sauntered off. Then indulged herself with a little boogie dance around the hot red sportster.

“You know she’s not going to drive back to her place, not right away.” Watching Peabody’s happy dance, Eve fisted her hands on her hips. “She’s going to take it out on the freeway or the turnpike, open up that ridiculous engine, and end up somewhere in New Jersey, explaining to some traffic droid that she’s a cop, and on some bogus assignment. Then she’ll carom back to the city, get pulled over again, and give them the same story.”

“Carom?”

“That’s the sound that toy of yours makes. Carom. Then when McNab gets off shift, he’ll talk her into letting him take it out, and they’ll get pulled over again, have to flash their badges. And if any of the traffic droids interface, you’re going to get tagged and have to explain why a vehicle registered to you is being used by a couple of idiotic city detectives.”

“Sounds like fun for everyone. In you go, Lieutenant. I’ll drive.”

She didn’t argue. Lack of sleep had dulled her reflexes, and traffic was starting to heat up.

“You were hard on her,” he commented as he nudged the police unit away from the curb.

“If you’ve got a problem with my technique, file a damn complaint.”

“I don’t. She needed you to be hard on her. And when she gets her feet under her again, she’ll respect that. She’ll also push back.”

Eve stretched out as best she could, and shut her eyes. “That doesn’t worry me.”

“It wouldn’t. I think you’ll like her better when she starts to push.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like her.”

“No, but you think she’s weak and she’s not.” He skimmed a hand, lightly, over Eve’s hair. “You think she’s foolish, and she isn’t. What she is, is shaken, on every level, and grieving for a man she knows, at the core, isn’t worthy of that grief. So she grieves instead for the illusion. And that, I think, might be even more wrenching.”

“If you ended up naked and dead with another woman, I’d do the rumba on your corpse.”

“You can’t do the rumba.”

“I’d take lessons first.”

He laughed, rubbed a hand over her thigh. “You might very well, not that you’ll ever get the chance. But you’d also grieve.”

“Wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” she mumbled, half asleep. “You cheating fuckwit putz.”

“You’d weep in the dark and call my name.”

“Call your name all right: How are things in hell, you dickless bastard? and I’d laugh and laugh. That’s how I’d call your name.”

“Christ Jesus, Eve, I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” And she smirked in her sleep. “Then I’d put all your precious shoes in the recycler, take your fancy suits and burn them in a celebrational fire, and kick Summerset out of my house on his bony ass. After which I’d have a party where we’d drink all your expensive wine and whiskey. And after that I’d hire two, no three, of the top LCs in the business to come over and pleasure me.”

When she noticed the car was stopped, she blinked her eyes open and saw he was staring at her. “What?”

“It just occurs to me that you’ve given this matter a great deal of thought.”

“No, not really.” She rolled some of the stiffness out of her shoulders and yawned. “It all just came to me in one big lump. Where’d I leave off?”

“Being pleasured by three LCs. I assume you’d need three in order to be pleasured in the style to which you’ve become accustomed in the last couple years.”

“Yeah, you’d think that. Okay, after the orgy, I’d start on your toys. First, I’d…” She broke off, narrowed her eyes as she focused out the car window. “Funny, that doesn’t look like Central.”

“You can work from home, and plan my memorial from here as well. After we both get some sleep.”

He got out, came around, and opened her door because she hadn’t budged. “I haven’t updated my report, or checked in with the commander.”

“Which can be done from here, as well.” He simply reached in, gathered her up, and slung her over his shoulder.

“You think this is all macho and sexy, right?”

“I think it’s expedient.”

She decided to play possum when he walked in the house. At least that way she wouldn’t have to speak to Summerset. But when she heard the irritating sound of his voice she wished she could screw up her ears as handily as she could her eyes.

“Is she injured?”

“No.” Roarke shifted his balance as he started up the stairs. “Just tired.”

“You look tired yourself.”

“I am. Hold any transmissions that aren’t emergencies for the next few hours, will you? And anything that’s not priority for an hour beyond that.”

“I will.”

“I’ll need to speak with you about several matters after that. Put up full security, and stay in the house until I do.”

“Very well.”

Because she’d opened one eye, she saw Summerset’s concerned frown before Roarke turned at the top of the stairs.

“He in on this Code Red?”

“He knows a great deal about a great deal. Anyone looking at me would look at him.” He booted the door closed behind him, then walked over to dump her on the bed.

“I guess you do look tired.” She angled her head as she studied his face. “You hardly ever do.”

“Been a long day, all around. Boots off.”

“I can get my own boots off.” She brushed his hands away. “Deal with your own.”

“Ah yes, a pair of my precious shoes, soon doomed to the recycler.”

She had to admit, he had a great smirk. “If you don’t watch your step, pal.”

She stripped off the boots, the jacket, her weapon harness, then crawled into bed.

“You’d sleep better without the clothes.”

“You get ideas when I’m naked.”

“Darling Eve, I get ideas when you’re wearing riot armor. All I’m after is a bit of sleep, I promise you.”

She wiggled out of the jeans, the shirt, then gave him a mock scowl when he slid in beside her, drew her against him. “Don’t even think about engaging thrusters.”

“Quiet.” He kissed the top of her head, snuggled her in. “Go to sleep.”

Because she was warm, comfortable, and her head was perfectly pillowed on his shoulder, she did. A moment after he felt her float off, he followed.

How could things have gone so wrong? How could it have fallen apart when it was all so perfect, so meticulously planned? And executed, he reminded himself as he huddled in the dark.

He’d done everything right. Absolutely everything. And now he was hiding behind locked doors and shaded windows, in fear for his life.

His life.

There’d been a mistake. That had to be it. Something had gone wrong, somewhere. But it made no sense.

He calmed himself with slow sips of whiskey. He hadn’t made a mistake. He’d gone into the brownstone at exactly the right time. His skin sealed, his clothes protected by the thin, clear lab suit, and his hair covered with a zero-contamination skullcap. There would be no trace of him inside the house.

He’d checked the house droid to verify it had been shut down for the night. Then he’d gone upstairs. God, how his heart had pounded. He’d been afraid, almost afraid, he amended, that they’d be able to hear the wild beat of it over the music, over their own moans as they’d fucked.

He’d had the stunner in his hand, the knife in the sheath on his belt. He’d liked the way the sheath had bumped against his thigh. Anticipation.

He’d moved quickly, just as planned. Just as he’d practiced. One shot between the shoulder-blades, and the first half of the target was done. Maybe, just maybe he’d hesitated a fraction of a second then. Maybe, just maybe he’d watched Felicity’s eyes, and had caught the shock in them an instant before he’d rammed the stunner between those beautiful breasts.

But he hadn’t hesitated after that. He hadn’t.

The knife now, drawing steel out of leather with a sexy little swish. Then the killing. His first kills.

He had to admit he’d liked it. More, much more than he’d expected. The feel of the knife driving into flesh, and the warm wash of blood.

So primal. So basic.

And so, well, easy, he mused as the whiskey soothed his nerves. So easy once you got started.

He’d set the stage then, and he’d been very, very careful. So careful, so precise, he’d been barely finished when Reva had arrived, when his alarm had beeped quietly to signal she’d begun to disengage the security.

But he’d stayed calm, he’d stayed cool. Silent as a shadow, he thought with some pride, as he’d waited for her to come into the room.

Had he grinned when she’d marched to the bed, spewing temper? Maybe he had, but it hadn’t affected his performance.

One quick spray of the anesthetic, and she’d been out.

He’d added a few touches there. Genius, really. Dragging her into the bath to get her fingerprint on the sink, smearing a bit of blood on her shirt. And he thought the knife stabbed into the mattress spoke for itself.

It was so Reva, after all.

He’d left the front door ajar, just as planned, when he left. She should’ve been out long enough for security to find her on the routine check. All right, all right, maybe that had been a small miscalculation. He hadn’t sprayed enough, or he’d wasted a little time with the extra touches.

But even that shouldn’t matter. She was charged. Blair Bissel and Felicity Kade were dead, and she was the only suspect.

He should’ve been away by now. His accounts bursting with fresh money. Instead, he was a marked man.

He had to get away. He had to protect himself. He wasn’t even safe here. Not completely safe. But he could fix that. He could fix that, he realized, and sat up as the clouds of fear and self-pity began to clear. And solve some of the financial squeeze at the same time.

Then he’d deal with the rest.

A little more time to think, and he’d deal with it all.

Steadier, he rose to pour more whiskey, and to plan his next steps.