It was blaringly obvious now that it wasn’t. Nothing he’d said sounded especially kinky, and all of it sounded pretty hot. I was irritated at his judgment. I was also unreasonably jealous of a dead girl.
I forced myself to take a breath before I asked, “How did Missy feel about that?” That was the only thing that really mattered, after all.
“How do you think she felt?” He probably didn’t really want to hear my answer. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for it. “It was horrible and degrading. But she wouldn’t fucking leave him either. I could never get why.”
Because she liked it, I thought, but I wasn’t about to go there unless he did. This conversation was about getting insight, not pointing out Chris’s closed-mindedness.
“But she also could have just been paranoid from all the drugs she took. That was another reason she stayed – the drugs his friends fed her. All the time they kept feeding her with coke. Giving it to her before she even asked.”
Wasn’t that familiar? “They do that so she’ll be more into the sex.”
“Yeah. That’s what I always said.” He sounded glad to be validated. “But she never saw it as a problem.”
Another thing I knew way too much about. Amber never thought it was a problem either, and by the time I forced the issue, it was too big of a problem to do anything about. As trite as it sounded, I shared the only wisdom I had for him. “It’s hard to see when you’re in it.”
He nodded but his expression was dismissive. “She fought with him about it though. Fought with him all the time, really. About everything. Fight and then they’d fuck. Sometimes with everyone watching.”
I twisted my lips, trying to stand back and look at the situation objectively. For many sex-driven couples, fighting was simply foreplay. If Missy had really been afraid, I would have pictured her docile and ready to please. The picture Chris painted portrayed her as feisty and willing to speak her mind.
In my experience, those weren’t the signs of abuse.
“They fought that last night, too,” he added, pulling me from my thoughts.
My pulse ticked up a notch. “You mean the night she died? You were there?”
“Yeah. I was. Crazy, right?”
“Um, yes.” This was so beyond what I’d expected when I’d contacted Chris. I reached my hand across the table, grabbed his arm, and pleaded, “You have to tell me more. I’m dying here.” If he’d had any thought of not telling me more, this would change his mind. Chris could never resist the spotlight.
“There’s not much to tell,” he said in a tone that suggested his words were falsely modest. “Reeve used to throw big parties. He was famous for them back then, and that weekend he had a huge one on his compound in the Pacific. Everyone was there – all Missy’s friends. Reeve’s friends. Friends of their friends. And everyone was pretty much drunk or high the whole time.”
He took a long swig of his beer, his eyes catching on a space somewhere beyond me, and I suspected he was lost in memory.
I forgot to breathe, waiting for him to go on.
Finally he did. “That last day, Reeve and Missy went at it from the moment they woke up.”
“Do you know what about?” Though fighting didn’t indicate abuse, it could suggest a motive for murder.
“Everything. Nothing. The clothes she wore. The girls he hung with. His work. He didn’t like how many drugs she did, but like I said, it was his friends who gave them to her. And they fought about his friends. They could hardly stand to be with each other. I’ll tell you what, if she had come home from that trip, he would have dumped her within the week. I promise you.”
“So you think he did it. You think he killed her.” It was obvious from what he’d said, from the way he’d said it, that he thought Reeve did. But I wanted to hear him say it. Wanted to hear him tell me why.
Chris seemed to consider, working his jaw as he did, though I knew he had to have an opinion without thinking about it. Maybe he was considering whether or not to share it.
And while he considered, I considered too. Considered whether or not anything Chris had said made a difference to me. He’d painted Reeve as possessive, commanding, powerful, particular. All of that only turned me on. Even if Chris gave me proof that Reeve had killed Missy, pushed her off the cliff in a fit of passionate rage, would that matter?
No. It probably wouldn’t.
Reeve was right. I wasn’t scared enough.
Chris stood and went to the window, remaining silent so long I decided I’d crossed the line in my questioning. I cleared my throat, wondering if I should apologize or if it was time for me to go.
Before I could decide, he spoke. “The last time I saw her was around three in the morning.” He stared out over the courtyard. “Reeve was nowhere to be found and she was going on and on about how she was going to find him and tell him. Tell him ‘what she’d done.’ I don’t know what it was. She kept saying it was a secret. She was pretty drunk. And high. And I was too. She wasn’t making sense, but no one was at that point. So I didn’t pay attention. Even though she was worked up. And agitated. Maybe scared too.”
He turned back to me, leaning one shoulder against the window frame. “Do you know what I did then? While she was freaked out and afraid? I went to bed. I was sleeping while she was desperate. I was sleeping while she maybe struggled. Maybe cried and screamed. Sleeping while she fell to her death.”
Chris squeezed his eyes closed tight and it seemed I should maybe say something. Except I had no idea what that would be.
And I was too lost in guilt of my own. What was I doing when Amber needed me? I wondered. When she maybe struggled. Maybe cried and screamed. When she maybe found her death.
“I woke up late the next morning.” Chris’s voice brought my focus back to him. “And I didn’t have time to look for her to say goodbye before I caught the boat back. If I’d tried, maybe the search for her would have started sooner. Maybe people would have been questioned before they went home. Before it was too hard to remember what was said and who was there. Maybe I would have remembered more of what she said in her crazed state. Maybe I could have been more helpful if I’d tried to recall things then, instead of two weeks later when the police approached me. I’ll never know.”
“You can’t live on what if’s,” I offered. It sounded as hollow as it felt.
He ignored my comment and sat back down with a finger pointed to the sky. “But those circumstances, those mistakes on my part don’t change what I do know – that there was something that was off. Something big.” He was fired up, intense. “Even when the Coast Guard tried to tell me I didn’t remember things correctly. When they told me my story couldn’t be corroborated, I never changed my tune. She was upset about something. So, yeah. There are people who say she probably fell. Because she was a mess and it was dark and no one was paying attention to anyone anymore. But you want to know if I think he did it? Yes. I do. Without a doubt. She told him something that he didn’t want to know, and I don’t know what it is, but I believe in my gut that’s how it happened. So he silenced her. No, I didn’t see him do it. No, I can’t prove it, but he did it.
“And if by some crazy chance he didn’t actually push her off that cliff, it was still his fault she died. All his. It was his fault she was there. It was his fault she was in a mood that sent her away from the house, away from safety. It was his fault his fucking friends kept feeding her coke like it was water. It was his fault that she thought she had to stay with a douchefuck like him. He took a precious human and he turned her into used, Emily. Turned her into a possession. He ruined her and then he killed her.”
It was a beautiful moment, in so many ways. Watching a man speak with a conviction that I’d never seen. Hearing the desperation and pain under words of accusation. It was a testimonial. A baring of his soul. And instead of finding myself in it – instead of wondering whom I could blame for Amber, wondering if I would blame Reeve – instead of looking in the mirror for once, I looked at Chris.
And I saw him. Saw what he was really saying. “You loved her,” I said, the realization complete now that I spoke it.
“Of course I did.”
“I mean, you were in love with her.”
“Yeah. Yeah. I guess I was.” He leaned back, letting the admission drift from him freely.
“Damn.” I wasn’t sure if this changed his story or not. Did it make it more tragic? Did it bias his blame? Did it mean anything to my interpretation of the details? “Did she know?”
A grin danced on his lips. “I told her every chance I got.” His somber expression returned. “Which wasn’t as often as I would have liked when she was with Reeve. We were hardly ever alone. Always with those Greek cronies of his.”
“His bodyguards and staff, you mean.” I hadn’t been out in public with Reeve yet. Once I was, would I even get the chance to dig where I needed to? Or would Anatolios always be on my heels? “I hear he’s never without them.”
“And he definitely never leaves his women without them. If not them, his friends.”
“The ones who fed Missy the coke?”
“Yeah.”
As of yet, I hadn’t seen any of Reeve’s friends. It was possible he’d removed himself from the drug world after her death. Though Amber would also have been attracted to those kinds of friends. Maybe he just didn’t think he needed that to keep me around.
Or maybe I had seen them around and didn’t realize it. “Who are his friends? Celebrities? People he works with?”
“People from Greece. I guess he grew up with them or something?”
“He grew up in the States. But he lived in Greece for a couple of years. Did they live with him? Or just visit?” My mind immediately went to the men from the poker game. They were the only people I’d seen him interact with – cousins, not friends.
“Just visited. A few of them were around a lot. At the resort too and they had rooms of their own. Five or six of them – all one family. All with the same last name, at least.”
“Which was…?”
His face screwed up as he tried to remember. “Give me a minute. It will come to me.” He tapped his fingers rapidly on the table, as if the beat could trigger his memory. After a minute, he groaned. “Nah. It’s gone. Wait! Pet. One of them was called Pet.”
Petros. From the poker game? Reeve couldn’t know more than one Pet. “Was there a Nikki or a Nikolas, too?”
“Yes. Nikki. Older guy.”
“Gino?”
He nodded.
Reeve’s cousins. He’d never said from which side, though. “Their last name wasn’t Sallis?”
“Nope.”
Joe had already stated that he thought Reeve’s mother’s maiden name was a fake, but I tried it anyway. “Was it Kaya?”
“Definitely not. And what’s with all the questions?” He eyed me curiously. “Have you been hanging around with Reeve or something?”
“I… um…” I’d been prepared to say I was simply curious, but once I started naming names, it got trickier. I’d have to give something – or appear to give something. “I have a friend who’s gotten mixed up with some people who might know Reeve. Really, I’m just grasping at straws.”
“Geesh. Scary. But it doesn’t sound like those are the same guys, fortunately.”
“Yes. Fortunately.” But if that was a dead end, there was still one more person to inquire about. The one I knew for sure had been in pictures with Reeve. “There’s one more guy named Michelis. Was he at either the party that night or the resorts? Michelis Vilanakis?”
Chris slammed his palm on the table. “Vilanakis! That’s it!”
“He was there?” I’d asked in case, but I was still shocked to find I’d made a hit.
“Yeah, maybe.” Chris wrinkled his forehead trying to remember. “I don’t remember him for sure, but Vilanakis. That was the last name of all Reeve’s friends. Pet and those guys.”
My heart pounded in my ears, certain I’d heard him wrong. “Pet’s last name was Vilanakis?”
“Yes. Definitely. I remember Missy used to tease him about having ‘villain’ in his last name.”
The room seemed to tilt and the light was suddenly too bright. I thought I might even throw up. I stood and took my beer to the kitchen sink where I poured the rest out. Then I flicked some cold water to my face. It didn’t help. The world was off. Disrupted. In upheaval.
Reeve wasn’t just connected to Vilanakis. He was related. His mother – it had to be the reason her real name was covered up. Because she’d been a Vilanakis. And if Reeve had stayed with his maternal grandparents after his parents died, he may have become close to them. May have become privy to their dealings. May have become involved, as well.
This changed everything, I was certain. Though I couldn’t quite articulate how. Not yet.
“Emily, are you okay? You’re worried about your friend now, aren’t you?”
“Hmm?” I suddenly realized Chris had been talking to me. “I’m fine. The beer just got to me.”
“There’s cold water, if you want it.”
In the fridge, I found a small bottle. I’d just taken a long gulp when Chris asked, “What do you know about the Vilanakis family, anyway?”
I hesitated, not wanting to say but knowing he’d Google as soon as I left. “I don’t know anything, really. Except that they’re part of the Greek mob.”
“Are you saying that Reeve Sallis is connected to the mob?”
I crossed back toward him. “No,” I said definitively, desperately. “I’m saying nothing. You’re saying you saw him with some people named Vilanakis, and I’m saying there’s a Vilanakis who’s a mob boss. There’s no reason to think they’re the same people. Especially since you said you don’t remember the one who’s the mob boss actually being there.”
But I knew they were the same people. Knew it in my marrow. And now I was scared. Not for myself, but for Chris. It was one thing to risk myself. Putting him in the mix was not fair.
The guilt was already forming a tight knot in my gut.
“Those guys were totally mob. It makes so much sense. They and Reeve acted like frat brothers.” Chris was barely listening to me, his expression lighting as he began to put this revelation together with his past. “They were really sketchy dudes, Em. I wouldn’t want to meet them in a dark alley. You need to get your friend away from them.”
“I’m trying, believe me. But that’s total conjecture. If you didn’t see —”
“And, Em!” He cut me off, practically bouncing in his seat. “Missy mentioned Interpol. In her rambling, she’d said something about getting Interpol involved.”
“She said she was going to get Interpol involved?”
“Yeah. I even told that to the Coast Guard. They said no one else reported that and it was just hearsay coming from me with no one to back it up. And even if they could back it up, her own words weren’t reliable because of her chemical state.”
But if what Chris said was true, if Missy really had tried to get authorities involved, and if I was right about Reeve being a Vilanakis – and I knew I was – then there was suddenly a very real motive for her to die.
I needed to sit down.
As I slid back into the banquette, Chris went on. “I told them about the fighting too. Everyone verified that and Reeve still got off. I used to think he probably paid his way out of a charge, but now I’m wondering if he didn’t use the mob to strongarm the investigation.”
It was exactly what I was wondering. “Any chance any of the mafia had anything to do with her death and not Reeve?”
“No way. They all left earlier in the day. That was one of the things he and Missy fought about. She wanted them to stay; he wanted them gone. He won. They flew out on a copter before noon.”
“She wanted them to stay? Doesn’t it seem like if Missy had info on them, she would have wanted them to leave?”
“Hmm.” He frowned. “Maybe she was planning to lead Interpol to them on the island. With them gone, she might
not have known where to send them.”
“Yeah. Good point.” Really, there wasn’t enough to make solid conclusions, but there was more than enough to have pursued a prosecution. Well, enough if the police knew about the mob connection. It sure appeared like they didn’t. If they did, they’d definitely been bought off.
“You know, it did seem like Reeve’s friendship with those guys was strained after. I saw a group of them talking to him outside the church on the day of her funeral. He told them they needed to leave. At the time, I assumed it was because he was done with the drug scene. Now, though —”
“You think maybe he was distancing himself from them so that his ties to them wouldn’t be discovered.” I finished for him.
“Uh-huh.”
We sat quiet for a minute. I was sullen and processing. Chris, on the other hand, seemed to be excited about the new angle on an old mystery. When he was excited, he talked. That had to be nipped in the bud, and now. “You can’t talk about this, Chris. You know that, right?”
“What do you mean? We have to tell someone.”
“No, we can’t.” After I said it, I realized that wasn’t going to work. He was too determined to have some sort of justice for Missy. “I mean, I already have an investigator on the case. For my friend. I’ll fill him in with all this. Then, I’m telling you, he’d say to lay low about it. Any spreading of this will draw the wrong attention.”
He ran a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”
“Chris, trust me on this. This isn’t something you want to be involved in. And my friend could be endangered from anything we say.” I thought of something that would speak to him personally. “Think of your career.”
“Yeah,” he conceded, hesitantly. “Okay. You’re right. You’ll update me if anything happens?”
“If I hear anything. But it’s a slow process and, honestly, it might never go anywhere.”
“Justice for Missy isn’t happening as a closed case either. At least this gives her a shot.”
Don’t count on it. I swallowed the last of my water, swallowing with it my guilt for deceiving a friend.