Текст книги "Crush "

Автор книги: Kim Karr

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 27 страниц)

“Finally ready to do this as a team?” Miles asked, taking a seat in the chair my father always sat in.

I sat up straight. “Yeah, I am, but why do you want to help me?” I asked them both.

“That’s what friends do,” Declan said.

“I want to see justice served,” Miles replied.

“Right. A little too emotional,” I joked, then laughed.

“So what’s the plan?” Declan asked.

“Flush the Priest out.”

“How?”

I looked toward Miles. “You must know some cops looking for him.”

The grin on Miles’s face was wide. “Oh, they’re looking for him. The guys on the beat tell me they’ve definitely been hearing rumblings of emerging underground activity and they’re looking to squash it. It seems Blue Hill’s downfall is leaving the city wide open and they’re worried.”

My brows popped. “Any of them say whether it’s coming from the men in Patrick’s old crowd? The former Dorchester Heights Gang members?”

Miles crossed his leg over his knee. “Nope. The gang was small and no one has names. The only name they’ve heard on the streets is the Priest.”

Declan kicked back and put his arms behind his neck. “Let me ask my old man. He’ll remember who was involved.”

“You sure he’ll tell you?” I asked as I stood. “He’s been out of it for so long.”

“He’ll tell me.”

I gave him a nod.

“Get me the names, I’ll slide them over to the BPD and let them look into it.”

We all nodded.

Declan shifted in his seat. “Moving forward. I just don’t get why Patrick would have his own son killed unless he stood to benefit somehow. I mean, I know he’s a heartless bastard, but he kept Tommy as his number two for all this time, even through all of his fuck-ups. So why now?”

Miles shook his head in agreement. “I’m with you. Why? It’s true we all know Patrick didn’t keep Tommy around for his brains. He fucked up time after time, each train wreck worse than the last, so how is it Tommy stealing money and selling drugs under Patrick’s nose is any bigger of a crime?”

“A life for a life,” I muttered.

“What’d you say?” Miles asked, his ears perking.

“A life for a life. It’s the code on the street.”

Declan shot to his feet. “That’s it. Patrick had to have given up his son as retribution.”

I started to pace. “But for whose death?”

“That’s what we have to find out. If we find out who has Patrick by the balls, who Patrick gave his son up for, we’ll be one step closer to uncovering this entire mess.”

“You think it could be the Priest?” Miles asked.

“I do, except he has to be relatively new in town. I don’t see him having the pull to get Patrick to agree to off his own son.” Glancing out the window at the clouds that had started to take dark form in the sky, I hated to rain on their parade. “Then again, what if Patrick simply ordered the hit on Tommy for the drug deals he was making behind his back? What if that’s all there was to it?”

Miles was shaking his head. “We talked about this. It makes no sense.”

“I agree,” Declan added.

“Okay, I agree too. So what next?”

Miles pointed at me. “You lay low. You’ve caused enough chaos on the streets. Playing off of the life-for-a-life thing, let me ask around and see if anyone of importance was one of the Blue Hill Gang’s victims. Coming from me, no one will question it. Coming from you, it might just get you killed.”

I conceded. He had a point. I had gotten in a little over my head. “What about O’Shea?” I asked.

“Seems clean. Can’t find anything linking him to his wife’s disappearance before her murder.”

“And Tommy? Any solid links to Lizzy or O’Shea?” I asked.

“Well, we know she worked at Lucy’s. As for Tommy’s claim that Lizzy and him were an item, nothing solid to prove that other than the tape where we saw them together at the hotel.”

Declan cleared his throat.

“You got something?” I asked him.

“Not much, but I talked to a few guys who’ve gone to Lucy’s for years. One remembers her from about two years ago. He said, and I quote, she was a chick who really knew how to suck his dick in the backroom. Another dude said he thinks he remembers seeing Tommy with her more than any of the other girls but when he paid her a hundred to blow him under the table, Tommy was cool with it. Anyway, if Tommy was tapping Lizzy, he didn’t mind her blowing others while he was hitting it.”

“Maybe they weren’t together. Maybe he lied,” I noted.

“Either way, he sounds like a real scum bag,” Miles remarked.

“Did either of the guys you talked to know O’Shea?” I asked Declan.

“Not sure; I didn’t ask. What are you thinking?”

“Maybe he had met Lizzy before he represented her on that pro-bono prostitution charge, like at a strip club, and that’s the connection between the three of them. I mean I’m really reaching here.”

“Like maybe at Lucy’s?”

I was leaning against the wall. “Exactly.”

“Let me check into it,” Miles said as he rose to his feet.

Declan was already in the doorway. “Let’s get together Tuesday and go through everything again. See if we can come up with anything new.”

“Sure. Let’s talk to Frank, too. He was around in the Dorchester Heights Gang days. Molly’s, Tuesday at seven?” I suggested.

“It’s a plan,” Declan said.

“Sounds good,” said Miles.

I followed the two of them out to the kitchen. After they left, I stood there for a bit, listening for ghosts.

None.

I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and took the newspaper clipping of Emily’s death I kept there from it. It was time to let that go. I crumpled it and threw it in the trash.

With a deep breath, I thought about whether I should be kicking a possible hornet’s nest. Tommy was gone and nothing around me showed signs of upheaval. Yet, there was something about O’Shea that had nagged me from the moment I laid eyes on him.

My gramps, too.

Blanchet aside, that was reason enough to dig further.

But not today.

Today was a day of celebration. With the threat of Tommy no longer hanging over us, it felt like a fresh start for Elle and me.

Hopping back in my truck, I decided to go to the bank and get that ring my gramps wanted me to have. I didn’t know when I’d give it to Elle, but I wanted to have it cleaned and sized so when the time was right, it would be ready.

I hightailed it back to Elle’s place first to get the key out of the silver box. I’d told Elle about the box but not the key. And like my grandfather, I didn’t go to much trouble to hide the box. It had always worked for him. While I was there, I picked up my shit that was all over her room. Elle had been cool about it, but it was time to get my laundry done. While I was at it, I also packed a few things for the weekend. I didn’t need much since we’d be staying at my apartment.

My apartment.

I needed to figure out what to do with it.

My current financial status dictated that I should sell it, which didn’t bother me. It wasn’t like I was attached to it or anything. It was nice, though. Located in a ritzy, white-glove building directly across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, it was prime real estate. The problem was my grandfather owned the building and he had insisted that I live there, which meant I bought it for next to nothing. I wasn’t sure what he’d think about me selling it.

Then again, he was much cooler with the news of my leave of absence from the Ryan Corporation than I thought he would be. I think he was finally coming to understand I preferred working on my own. I have no idea what brought about his change of heart, but I accepted it at face value and figured it was time to terminate my employment now that I knew I’d be staying in Boston.

Although Elle and I really hadn’t discussed where I’d reside, I knew she wouldn’t leave Clementine, which meant either I moved to Boston or our relationship turned long distance. The thought of not seeing her every day twisted my gut and the answer to where I would live was an easy one—anywhere she was.

After I shoved everything in the back of the Rover, I jumped in and headed for the bank. The dark clouds had multiplied and there was no doubt rain was coming.

For some reason it made me think about the first night I met Elle. It was raining and she was so wet when she walked into Molly’s. Even then I thought she looked beautiful. Exquisite may be a better word. There wasn’t anything about her that didn’t make me want to give her as much of myself as I possibly could.

Just as the rain started to pound the pavement, something in my rearview mirror grabbed my attention. Someone was following me. My mindless driving had me looking around, trying to figure out where the fuck I was.

I hadn’t been paying attention.

Okay, I was on a small side street, just having crossed over Dorchester Avenue. With another glance in my rearview mirror, I saw flashing blue lights. The sound of the siren immediately followed.

Fuck, how fast was I going? I hadn’t been paying attention.

I pulled over and then yanked open the glove box to retrieve my insurance card. As I was reaching for my wallet, I noticed another cop car pull behind the one already parked.

Suspicion started to loom.

The rain was falling, and as one officer got out of the first car in his rain gear, another leaned out, holding a transmitter in his hand. “Get out of the car with your hands up.”

Fuck me. Not this again.

Slowly, I opened the door and heard my sneakers squishing in the water as I stepped away from the car and turned around. It wasn’t Blanchet’s goon squad, though, like I thought it might be. These cops were from Patrick’s neighborhood, which meant more than likely they were on Patrick’s payroll.

Fuck me.

The officers approached me and this time there was no pretense. “Logan McPherson, you’re under arrest.”

“What for?” I yelled over the drowning sound of the rain.

“Aiding and abetting a known felon with possible terrorist ties.”

Cuffs were being slapped on me before I could even draw a breath to think. “What are you talking about?”

The cop from the second car got out and strode over toward us. He popped the hatch to the back of the Rover. “Call impound and have them pick up the vehicle.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

No answer.

One was in front of me. Another one behind me. The third was now inside the Rover. “I got a weapon,” he said.

“It’s registered,” I bit out.

“Move it,” the one from behind drawled.

Sandwiched between two of them, I was being shoved toward the police car. “You have to read me my rights.”

“Law enforcement has the ability to question suspected terrorists without immediately providing Miranda warnings when the interrogation is reasonably prompted by immediate concern for the safety of the public . . .”

I struggled against the hold on me. My legs stopped moving. My body became rigid. My shoulders squared.

No. No. No.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

I started to dig my heels in. That’s when I saw the baton. Felt it against my rib cage, my thighs, my back, and then my legs. The one cop kept speaking. The second cop was now dragging me to the car.

They could keep me in isolation for a prolonged period of time by marking me as a potential terrorist. Twenty-four, forty-eight, or even seventy-two hours wouldn’t be blinked upon.

Up to three days I could be MIA.

Elle.

Elle.

What would she think?

Oh, God! Fuck no.

“You have to let me make a call,” I pleaded.

Their laughter was loud and the echo of it carried over the rain.

There weren’t going to let me do shit.

At that point I tuned out.

I knew the law. I knew what this meant. The only way to gain latitude when it came to Miranda Rights was for the DEA to have turned to the FBI.

The DEA knew. Somehow they knew I’d moved the cocaine. They had to.

And now they’d involved the FBI.

I was fucked on so many levels.

ELLE

The clock on the wall read six twenty.

It wasn’t like Logan to not call if he was going to be late. I pushed the door open and stood outside. Time passed slowly as I gazed around. At the sidewalk that was wet from the rainstorm that had just passed. At the spring leaves that blew in the cool breeze and stuck to the ground. At the birds singing in the sky.

When the streetlights switched on to illuminate the impending dusk, I glanced at the time again.

Six forty.

A dark and terrible thought pushed to the front of my mind as I pressed end on the call I’d just made. It was something my mother had always said, and it had been in my mind ever since Killian’s death.

Things come in threes.

Was this the third?

One last time I tried to call him, but Logan’s phone was still going directly to voicemail. I left a short message: “Logan, it’s me. I’m going to go ahead and walk home. In case we miss each other, meet me there.”

I could call Peyton and ask her to come back and pick me up, but the walk to my townhouse was short and I hoped it would help unravel the unease I was feeling in the pit of my stomach. I refused to think the way my mind was headed. Logan and I had simply crossed wires. Miscommunicated. He was probably at my house waiting for me and hadn’t realized his phone had died.

Yet, deep within, I knew that wasn’t the case. He was always beside his phone. Always answered every single one of my calls.

Nonetheless, I pushed that aside until I couldn’t any longer.

As soon as I turned the corner onto my street, I noticed the Porsche was gone. Picking up the pace, I started to run down the street. I felt like it was Charlie all over again. Charlie was my first love. The only person I had said “I love you” to besides Logan. At the time I was young and naïve, and I mistakenly thought love conquered all.

I learned the hard way—that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Charlie and I were inseparable.

We were such a perfect pair with such similar interests.

We’d been living together for a while when one day, he came home and announced, “My family is coming to visit.”

I was shocked. “When?”

“Next month. They’re going to adore you, love.”

Nervousness was the only thing I felt for the next week. When I came home from work one night, out of the blue, he started talking about marriage.

Marriage? Was this because of his family coming?

I felt sick. I couldn’t discuss marriage until he knew everything about me. “Charlie,” I interrupted as he was going on about how perfect we were for each other.

“Yes, love,” he said.

“I have something to tell you.”

Right then and there, with no preparation at all, I was forced to tell him I was unable to have children.

Charlie did his best to accept that hard truth but as the weeks passed leading to his family’s arrival, I could tell he wasn’t doing well processing the information. He was from a large family and I had come to learn he, too, wanted a large family.

All talk of marriage had ceased and he began to pull away from me. More time passed and we were no longer inseparable. I had thought about ending things before he eventually did, but I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to be alone, so I held on to hope. Hope that I shouldn’t have had.

Three days before his family was to arrive, I had to go out of town. It was a Wednesday and I had to travel from Paris to Monaco. The back-to-back meetings and seven-hour commute had me returning just in time to meet them on Saturday. But by some stroke of luck, on Friday morning I had finished my work and decided to hop on an earlier train.

Feeling stressed about our relationship, I knew Charlie and I needed to spend some time together and just talk before his family arrived, so I stopped at the store and bought what I needed to make a nice dinner. My arms were loaded with bags when I burst open the door to our flat and found it practically empty. Everything that Charlie had brought into our relationship was gone, and so was he. He’d left a note on the counter that said, I’m sorry. I just can’t.

Approaching my townhouse, it felt like déjà vu as I reached my door and swung it open. “Logan!” I yelled.

There was no answer.

I knew there wouldn’t be. The Rover wasn’t parked out front and the Porsche was gone. Still, who knew? Maybe something had changed.

Hopeful, I hurried up the stairs and into my room. “Logan,” I said hoarsely.

There was no answer.

That’s when I knew there wasn’t ever going to be one. His things that had been scattered around the room for weeks were gone. I’d told him the truth about myself and like Charlie, he couldn’t handle it and had packed up and left.

“Logan,” I whispered, and crumpled to my knees.

No tears fell, though. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this was how things would end for us. There was no other way. Love really never would conquer all.

My father hadn’t talked much about the future with me, but he had told me I’d end up alone. Taking charge of my own life, I’d set that course all by myself, but then with Logan, things had changed and I thought maybe my father had been wrong. In that regard, he wasn’t.

That horrid memory started to materialize.

Huge and overpowering, he stood at my bedside. “I begged your mother not to go through with this, Gabrielle. I knew you weren’t a strong enough match. We should have waited for your sister to be cleared.”

“No, we couldn’t wait. The doctors all said time was running out.”

“Nonsense, they didn’t know what they were talking about. Your mother was doing fine. She would have held in there. She was tough, like me.”

He was delusional. Had he always been?

I think he refused to see my mother’s physical weaknesses. “You’re wrong,” I dared to say out loud.

His eyes narrowed on me and his jaw twitched. “No, Gabrielle, you were wrong for agreeing to do this. For encouraging your mother. It was selfish of you to want to take your sister’s place. Now, your mother is dead and I’ll be stuck with you forever.”

His words stung, but I kept on. “It wasn’t about me. She was my mother and I loved her. I only wanted her to get better.”

“And she was my wife.”

Anger roiled in my gut. He’d said that as if it trumped anything I’d said. “She was just another one of your soldiers. Someone to command. You never loved her,” I spat.

He grabbed my chin and jerked it toward him, slapping me hard. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You should have listened to me. And because you didn’t, she’s gone and you have no future. Don’t you see? No man will want you now.”

Although frightened, I wouldn’t let him see it. Instead, I jerked away. Even with tears in my eyes I refused to look anywhere but at him. In his face I saw many things, and I think he might have even had a tear in his own eye. We stared at each other until that one tear slid down his cheek. When I finally looked away, I wondered whether he was crying over my mother being gone or being stuck with me.

It was the only tear I ever saw him shed.

The shrill ring of my phone startled me. Tiny flicks of hope bloomed beneath my skin as I practically skidded for the purse that I’d thrown onto my bed. Fumbling to get it out, I couldn’t help but think I had been wrong about Logan. My hands were shaking as I looked at the screen. The name Michael, not Logan, was what flashed before me. And just like that, all of my hope diminished. But then, what had I thought? That it was Logan, and even though he’d cleared out of my life, he’d miraculously changed his mind?

And what, that I was going to be okay with that?

The thought weakened my knees because yes, I would have been.

“Hello,” I answered as I sat on the still tangled sheets where Logan and I had lain a mere twelve hours ago.

“Elle, hey, are you home?”

Five seconds of silence.

“Elle?”

I composed myself as best I could. “Yes, I am.”

“Great. I just picked Clementine up from Erin’s and she’s been asking for you.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Where’s Heidi?”

“I thought I told you. She quit. She was moving her things out today and I thought it would be best if we weren’t around.”

Concern for Clementine made my chest tighten. “Why? What happened?”

“It just wasn’t working out. The live-in thing isn’t for me. I have someone new starting Monday. I know it’s last minute, but it is Saturday. Any chance you haven’t eaten yet and would like to come over for a late dinner? We can talk about it then.”

The rain had kept me from taking Clementine on our Friday afternoon walk so I hadn’t seen her since Wednesday, and I did miss her. Besides, getting out of here wouldn’t be a bad idea. I tried to control the tremble in my voice. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t eaten. Dinner sounds great.” I had absolutely no appetite, but I did have a need to see Clementine. She was the only stable thing in my life.

“I’m about ten minutes away from your place. I can pick you up.”

“That would be great. I’ll be ready.”

“And Elle, if you haven’t arranged to purchase a new vehicle yet, you can take the Mercedes back until you do.”

Although I knew better than to rely on anyone but myself, I also knew right now that I shouldn’t turn it down. “I’d really appreciate that, Michael, but this time I promise it won’t be for long.”

My hands were still shaking when I hung up the phone. Heartbroken, I absolutely hated what was happening in my life right now. It felt out of control. For so long, it hadn’t been. For so long, it had been just the way I’d planned it. Right now, I felt like that teen under my father’s rule—lost and alone.

Soon enough I’d have saved enough money to make a down payment on a car and could stop relying on other people. Depending on others never ended well.

How had I ever allowed myself to become dependent on Logan? I was stronger than that.

Moving quickly to avoid letting my feelings take over, I hurried downstairs and grabbed some clean clothes out of the laundry room. I think I was in a state of shock over Logan leaving me, because what should have been sorrow was beginning to feel more like rage.

When Charlie left me I had been sad. Right now I was mad.

Coward!

I’d thought I knew Logan. I’d thought he was different. That he really, truly loved me. Me. But I had been wrong.

Staying away from here for a couple of days would probably be best. And I knew Michael wouldn’t mind. If I were alone, I didn’t know what I’d do. Thoughts of hunting Logan down and telling him how I felt were top on the list, though. His father’s and Molly’s were two more-than-likely places he’d be. But a psycho ex-girlfriend was nothing I wanted to be.

No, I’d leave things the way he did.

Silent and broken.

Tossing some extra clothes into a bag was all I needed to do. I’d left toiletries at Michael’s from my nights of staying over before Logan.

Beep. Beep.

Compartmentalizing my anguish was something I knew how to do well. I drew in a breath and headed for the door. Whenever I went to Michael’s I had to leave Logan behind, and this time would be no different.

The cool night air felt good on my skin but as I walked toward Michael’s car, I just couldn’t let go of Logan. I told myself to squelch the sadness that was looming over me. He was gone. The faster I could accept that, the better off I’d be. Still, I couldn’t help but remember how I thought he was different. How I thought he loved me in a way no one ever had.

That our love could conquer anything.

Mindlessly, I opened the door.

“Mommy!” Clementine shrieked as soon as she saw me.

All things Logan disappeared as panic set in. With my heart in my throat, my eyes darted to Michael.

He was shaking his head. “Clementine, Daddy told you, that’s Auntie Elle. Your mommy’s in heaven.”

“Mommy,” she called again, waiting for me to turn around and greet her.

My eyes were still on Michael as I got in and closed the door. “She keeps referring to you that way. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to get her to stop.”

It was odd, but a feeling of relief coursed through me and I turned around. “Hi, silly girl.” I clutched her kicking foot. “I missed you. How are you today?”

Sputtering sounds escaped her throat and my broken heart felt a little more whole at the pure excitement this little girl felt at seeing me.

She was what I needed.

Michael pulled away and a piece of my heart was left on the curb.

“So how’s business?” he asked. “We haven’t talked much lately. It’s keeping you pretty busy, I take it.”

The boutique was the other bright spot in my life. “Business is booming. I can’t believe how people have taken to the idea of the finest things in life. To be honest, I’m having a hard time keeping the shelves stocked. I’m trying to buy up as much inventory as I can.”

The rain started up again and he took the corner with caution. “Not a bad problem to have.”

Everything with Michael seemed more at ease tonight. Our conversations were slowly getting easier with each passing day, like they had been before that night that changed everything. The night he, in the most roundabout way, told me that if I didn’t help him I’d be banned from Clementine’s life. Stress had a way of impacting people, though, and maybe he hadn’t meant it the way it came across. He was obviously worried about his daughter. And for good reason. Understanding that, and even though I knew I had to stay on my guard, I was happy things felt more back to normal.

“What do you think?” he asked as he pulled into his garage.

I blinked, realizing I’d tuned him completely out for most of the ride.

He laughed. “I thought I lost you somewhere on the highway. I was talking about dinner. I picked up everything I need to make chicken stir-fry.”

I raised an impressed brow. “You’re cooking?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while since I turned the stove on and I felt it was time. Erin fed Clementine, so if you want to give her a bath and put her down, I’ll start chopping.”

Something felt off about this. I hoped this wasn’t a date and I’d misconstrued what he’d meant by dinner. Grabbing a bite to eat was one thing, but Michael cooking for me felt like something else.

“Elle, are you sure everything is okay?”

I plastered a smile on my face. “Yes, it was just a long day. That’s all.”

“If you’re too tired, I can take care of Clementine.”

Realizing it sounded like I didn’t want to, I spoke quickly. “No, I’d love to put her to bed.”

He opened his door. “Great, I’ll grab the groceries. You grab her.”

Before he questioned my behavior anymore, I did as he said.

Whenever Clementine spent the day at Erin’s, she came home exhausted. Nap time there was spotty, and she was used to getting her full two hours each and every day. Without complaint she let me give her a quick bath. She usually liked to play in the water, but not tonight. Within twenty minutes we were in the rocker in her pink fairy-decorated room and I was reading her Goodnight Moon.

The sparkle on the walls was supposed to look like fairy dust and every time I was in here, I wondered if my sister had come up with the idea. In a way, it looked like dandelion weeds blowing in the wind. I’d never asked Michael about it. Sharing that part of my past was too intimate. I already knew he was very unaware of what Lizzy’s and my childhood was like because when I first arrived in Boston, he asked me if my parents had heard from my sister. Lizzy hadn’t even told him our mother had died.

“And good night to Clementine,” I said, putting our special spin on it as I tried to reel in my scattered thoughts.

She clapped.

Closing the last page of the book, I hugged her tightly. “I love you,” I told her.

She wrapped her little arms around me in a hug that melted me. She was what I needed to help ease the ever-growing gap in my chest. Logan’s abandonment of me was starting to settle in, the anger wearing off, and grief becoming a screaming wound opening deeper and deeper.

After a long while, I brought her to her crib and settled her beneath a blanket. “Good night, sweet girl,” I whispered and kissed her, not once, but twice.

Her eyes were closed before I even backed away from the crib and I had an overwhelming urge to go bury myself under the covers and go to bed myself, but I knew I couldn’t.

Quietly, I tiptoed down the hallway. The house was old, but all the rooms had been remodeled with a distinguished elegance. Michael had owned the house for a few years and although I’d never asked, I was certain it had been decorated before my sister moved in. With its parquet wood floors, white walls, and different shades of blues throughout, it looked like something out of Martha’s Vineyard.

My sister had been more wild child. The sixties “peace, love, not war” was her philosophy. Her drug use went along with her disposition. It was just who she was. How she rebelled, I used to think, but maybe it was more how she coped.

As I passed Heidi’s former room, something about its disarray caught my attention. This room had navy drapes and a white bedspread with blue doves embroidered all over it. It was typically kept neat, as was every room in the house. Today it was anything but. The bed was unmade and the blue-and-white striped carpet was thrown back. I found that strange.

Inside the room, it was apparent that Heidi had left in a hurry. The drawers were all pulled open. And as I glanced around, everything seemed slightly disheveled—not just the rug or the dressers, or the bed, but the closet door was wide open, with hangers on the floor.

I kicked the rug back into place, and that’s when I saw a yellow piece of paper in the wastebasket. It was from the type of pad Michael used all the time. With a quick glance behind me to make certain I was still alone, I uncrumpled it. It read, Pick one. Below those words was a web address: www.evanmarks.com.

That was all.

I’d never heard of the site.

Didn’t know what it meant.

But I’d seen the words before in Michael’s ex-secretary’s drawer.

I was curious and continued to glance around looking for something else.

Footfalls on the stairs alerted me that Michael was coming up. Tossing the paper back into the trash, I began to straighten the bed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

I pretended to be startled and grabbed my chest. “Oh, you scared me. Sorry, my OCD kicked in. Heidi seems to have left a mess. I thought I’d straighten up a bit.”

Michael stepped inside the room and glanced around.

My heart was pounding.

His eyes landed on me, and for a moment I thought he might have seen how perplexed I was by the way Heidi had cleared her things out, but then he shoved a drawer closed. “She wasn’t the neatest houseguest.”