Boring, like she’d claimed to be. He narrowed his eyes at her long bare legs. But obviously was not. At least he’d been right about that from the beginning. Lucy Trask was not boring.
He’d stepped forward to let her know he was there when the door to the black SUV parked in slot 63 opened. His hand was on his gun when Thomas Thorne emerged. Lucy didn’t look surprised to see him. In fact she looked relieved.
She’d called Thorne.
And not me
.
Thorne took her suitcase and put it in the car’s trunk while the security guard gave the lawyer a visual inspection with a suspicious eye. The guard turned to Lucy for confirmation and she nodded, sending the guard on his way.
Thorne had opened the Mercedes’ doors and was shining a flashlight throughout the interior while Lucy stood by the trunk, rummaging in her suitcase. They appeared to be arguing now. JD could hear their tone, but not the words. They were too far away and the garage echoed every noise. But they didn’t appear to be . . . together.
She’d denied being romantically involved with Thorne. Over the day she’d omitted some truths but had not told an outright lie. He’d believe her on this, until he had better reason not to.
She also said she’d call you
.
Then Lucy toed off the sensible pumps she wore and took off the lab coat and JD nearly choked on his tongue. She was wearing a . . . dress. No, not a dress. He wasn’t sure what it qualified as, but it was black and leather and bared all of her shoulders and most of her midriff. And it had studs. Lots of silver studs.
She bent to slip on a pair of five-inch stiletto heels and JD stifled a groan. The dress left very, very little to the imagination. And he had a damn good imagination.
He let out a breath that he was sure they could hear, but they were too busy arguing to pay attention to him. Thorne checked the car’s interior once more before helping Lucy in and closing her door, his expression forbidding. He got in his SUV and waited until she had pulled out of her parking place, then followed her out.
Without giving it another thought, JD got in his own car and followed them both.
Monday, May 3, 10.20 P.M.
‘Goddamn it, Thorne,’ Lucy muttered, looking in her rear-view. The man was crawling up her ass in his SUV. The bully.
Commanding me not to go to the club tonight
. She’d feel a lot safer in a room full of people she knew than sitting alone in Gwyn’s apartment waiting for the boogeyman to come snatch her. Thorne had been annoyed that she hadn’t listened to him. Sometimes he treated her like she was stupid.
And that pisses me off
.
But he’d come when she’d asked him. Thorne always came when she asked him. They’d forged a friendship. Having a life-altering event in common tended to do that.
You’ve got a life-altering event in common with JD Fitzpatrick, too
. They’d both lost loves. Then she thought of the helmet in his back seat. She had a lot more in common with Fitzpatrick than was comfortable or wise.
You said you’d call him
. He’d be angry that she’d gone without him.
Get it over with
. At the next red light she reached for her cell and dialed his number from memory.
‘Fitzpatrick,’ he answered on the first ring.
She pursed her lips. Just hearing his voice made her body throb in all the most unwise places. ‘It’s Lucy.’
‘You ready for me to pick you up?’
He sounded tense. Aloof.
Well, you did run away from him like a lunatic. What did you expect?
The light changed and she started driving. ‘No. You don’t need to do that. Thorne was in the neighborhood and he’s going to see me to Gwyn’s place.’
There was a half-beat of silence. ‘Thorne?’ Another half-beat. ‘Okay.’
He was hurt. Goddammit, she’d hurt him and that was the last thing she’d wanted. But, she had to admit, it was what she had intended.
Push him away. Far away
.
‘It’s not what you think,’ she said quietly.
‘What do I think, Lucy?’ he asked and her chest got tight.
‘That I’m a tease. That I lied about Thorne and me just being friends.’
‘Did you lie?’
There was a sober note to the question that had her frowning. ‘No.’
Once again, that beat of silence. ‘Call me when you get home. From a landline. I’d like to be sure you’re safe. On a cell you could be calling me from anywhere.’
‘You sound like Mulhauser,’ she grumbled. ‘Calling from a damn landline.’
‘Bennett’s killer let him call his ex-wife from his cell phone to tell her he wasn’t going to make their kid’s recital,’ JD said sharply, ‘because Bennett’s killer didn’t want anyone missing him for a while. You could call me from anywhere and I wouldn’t know you were in trouble until you showed up missing. Or slumped over a chess table.’
Lucy drew a breath. ‘I get your point. I’ll call you from Gwyn’s home phone.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m not going straight there. I’ve got something I need to take care of first.’
‘Is Thorne still with you?’
She looked in her rear-view and rolled her eyes. ‘Thorne’s practically crawling up my bumper, so I’m safe. I’ll be careful. I promise.’
‘And tomorrow morning? How will you get to work? You shouldn’t drive alone.’
Her mind spun. She hated to ask Thorne to accompany her again. She’d put him to a lot of trouble today. ‘Maybe . . . maybe you and Stevie could come by. Together.’
This time the silence stretched on.
‘Are you still there?’ she asked.
‘Yeah. Call when you get to Gwyn’s, it doesn’t matter how late.’ He hung up.
And what did you expect? You kissed him back. Twice. Told him you wanted him.
I do
. But it didn’t matter. She didn’t always get what she wanted.
She hoped the music would be really loud tonight. She needed it to drown out the voice in her head that was telling her she’d just made a huge mistake.
Chapter Twelve
Monday, May 3, 10.40 P.M.
J
D once again had to fight to keep from choking on his own tongue. Lucy was getting out of her car, aided by Thorne. She put her purse in her duffle bag, zipped it up, and handed it to Thorne. But JD wasn’t looking at Thorne. He could only stare at Lucy.
She’d changed her appearance still further, and if he hadn’t seen her take off that lab coat back in the garage, he never would have recognized the woman who walked confidently into the club on five-inch stilettos, Thorne at her side.
Her eyes were lined in black, her lips a rich wine. Her golden-red hair fell to her shoulders and around her throat she wore a choker. With spikes.
I should be disturbed
. Instead he found himself intrigued. Painfully aroused. And totally confused. She’d freaked over his helmet, yet walked into a club looking like some . . . dominatrix.
‘Lucy,’ he murmured, ‘you have some splainin’ to do.’
‘Excuse me, sir?’ It was the valet, a college-aged kid.
JD pulled his badge from his pocket. ‘I need to self-park, kid.’
The valet rolled his eyes, seeing his tip go up in smoke. ‘Over there.’
JD parked, then dropped a ten on the podium. ‘I parked cars for a long time.’
‘How long?’ the valet asked in a polite way that said he couldn’t care less.
‘About an hour.’ JD grinned when the kid looked surprised. ‘I revved some guy’s Ferrari and got myself fired.’
The kid grinned back. ‘But it was worth it, wasn’t it?’
‘Oh yeah. Tell me, what goes on in there?’
The kid’s brows went up. ‘Dark scene. Heavy metal. No drugs,’ he added a little too forcefully. ‘I really meant that, even if it sounds like I’m sucking up.’
‘It did sound that way, actually. Who is the woman that just walked by?’
The kid got a lecherous look and it was all JD could do to keep from knocking it off his face. ‘That’s Lu
cin
da,’ the kid said. ‘Emphasis on the “sin”. She plays E-V.’
‘E-V? Who’s that?’ he asked, knowing what the kid meant but playing dumb.
The kid gave him the pitying look that the young reserved for old people who were terminally uncool. ‘Electric violin, man. She doesn’t play every night, but when she does, the place goes wild. You have to see her. She’s really good.’
‘I fully intend to. Thanks, kid.’
Newport News, Virginia, Monday, May 3, 10.45 P.M.
Clay walked by the unmarked car that had followed him from Sherman’s precinct to the convenience store. Inside the store Clay bought a prepaid phone. The police had handled his cell phone while he’d been waiting. He could no longer trust its security.
‘You got a pay phone?’ he asked the clerk, who pointed to the back wall, bored.
Clay found the phone and dialed his office, relieved when Alyssa answered. ‘I’m glad you’re still there,’ he said. ‘I need you to go online and activate this prepaid for me.’ He read the instructions on the box.
‘It’s done,’ she said. ‘I’ve called the hospitals around Ocean City. Nobody’s been admitted matching Nicki’s description. Did . . . did you call the morgues?’
‘Not yet.’ He’d been a little busy. Now, he was terrified to hear the answer he might receive. There were two bodies in Sherman’s morgue. Evan was connected. He might even have killed them. And Nicki was missing.
Please, let her be drunk somewhere. Please
. ‘I need you to run Nicki’s credit cards, business and personal. Find out where she’s been.’
He had to find Evan. When he did, he needed to find a way to turn him over to the cops without sacrificing all the good he and Nic had accomplished. They’d helped a lot of people in the past. They would again. But first he had to take care of Evan.
I might have to
. . .
Clay blew out a breath, not liking where his thoughts were taking him. He had never killed except when his own life or the lives of others were at stake.
Think about all the lives you’ll never protect if the cops find out Nicki made Evan a fake ID
.
Yeah, Clay thought bitterly. Right. He’d just be protecting himself from jail. But the thought of Evan’s new identity spurred an idea. ‘When did you run the Gamble card?’
‘This morning,’ Alyssa said. ‘It hadn’t been used.’
‘Run it again. Evan’s going to need money sometime. Call me if you find anything. I’m going to the Pussycat Lounge, where “Margo” worked. I want her real name.’
Monday, May 3, 11.05 P.M.
Whoa
. JD had to get used to the darkness in the club, which was called Sheidalin. His eyes were drawn to the stage where a band played loud but strangely melodious music. It shouldn’t have been. It should have been crashing, dissonant, cacophonous.
But it wasn’t. And at center stage was Lucy, with an electric violin tucked under her chin. It was only a frame of an instrument, an ornate S with a neck and fingerboard.
The music swelled around them, fast and nearly frantic. She stood with her eyes closed, playing like a woman possessed. And maybe she was. But he didn’t care. She was beautiful and he couldn’t rip his eyes away.
‘She’s something, isn’t she?’
JD glanced up at Thorne, irritated at being made to look away from Lucy for even a few seconds. He looked back at the stage where the band was growing frenzied. Yet somehow she managed to stay apart from it all, almost as if she were in a bubble. Untouched. ‘Yes, she is. Why did she lie to me about this place? About her music?’
‘Did she? Did she specifically say she was not coming to a club tonight and playing with a band?’ Thorne asked and JD’s eyes rolled.
‘I forgot for a minute who you are.’ A defense attorney, for God’s sake.
‘The burden of proof, Detective,’ Thorne said, amused. ‘It’s on you.’
‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ he asked.
‘I assume because she didn’t want you to know. That you’re here will upset her.’
The threatening tone in Thorne’s voice made JD frown. ‘I’m not leaving.’
‘If she says you will, then you will. This is my place. I can remove you if I choose.’
JD looked up, his frown deepening. ‘Your place?’
‘Well, I’m a co-owner. Me and Gwyn. And Lucy.’
JD’s mouth fell open. ‘Lucy owns this place?’
‘About a third. We started it together, the three of us.’
‘When?’
‘We’ve been open for three years, but we started planning right after I met her.’
‘Five years ago, when she broke Bennett’s nose.’
‘Yes. Gwyn had just started working as my receptionist, and when Bennett filed charges, Lucy called me in. We hit it off, Lucy and I.’ Thorne just smiled when JD glared. ‘Not like that. We have an event common in our past.’
‘Which was?’ JD asked acidly.
‘We were both unjustly accused of murder.’
‘Lucy was acquitted, her record expunged.’
‘As was mine,’ Thorne said. ‘But there are always those who wonder and whisper. Was it really true? How did that person get off? A dark cloud follows you. Oh dear.’ His tone moved from harsh to softly sardonic. ‘She’s seen you. And she is not pleased.’
No, she was not. She still played, but her posture had changed, as had the music she created. No longer fluid, it was now angry. Compelling in a different way. Her eyes narrowed, latching onto JD. Her cheeks were red and she smoldered where she stood.
‘My God,’ JD breathed. ‘She’s like . . . fire.’
Thorne chuckled darkly. ‘See you don’t get your fingers burned. Or broken.’
Startled, JD looked up. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Absolutely not. But they will.’ He pointed to a few of the dancers crowded up against the stage, gyrating to the music. ‘They’ll know Lucy is angry and hurt. And they won’t like that.’ Thorne met his eyes and JD was surprised to see the tiniest bit of fear. ‘Fitzpatrick, nobody here knows who she is in the daytime. Don’t blow it for her.’
The fear was for Lucy, JD realized. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, nobody knows who she is in the daytime.’ Thorne enunciated each word. ‘It’s. A. Secret. This is her escape. Don’t ruin it. If you haven’t already by being here.’