“It was her, Emily.” He pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me. “It was her.”
“You don’t know. You can’t know.”
“I do know. They know. It was her.” He stroked my hair and I buried my face in his shoulder, not to sob, but to hide. Hide from the ridiculous nonsense this man was trying to feed me.
Yet, even as I closed my eyes and held my breath, the villainous veracity seeped into my thinking, forcing me to face its validity. She’d been gone before I’d started looking for her. She’d been gone before I even heard her message. As I’d wracked my mind for ways to find her she’d already lain in a cold morgue. When I’d told Joe that she was alive because she was a survivor, I’d been fighting for a corpse. The times I’d imagined her voice in my head and felt her presence and heard her memory speak vividly to me, it may not have been imagined at all but traces of her life imprinted on this world. Real remnants of her spirit in the form of a ghost.
I was dead, she said now. I’ve been dead the whole time.
Tears leaked silently onto his jacket, but I couldn’t call it crying. This was shock. This was reality soaking past the truth I’d built up, drops of it spilling from my eyes. This wasn’t the dam. This wasn’t grief. Not yet.
But it was also anger. Anger at myself. Then, when I thought about it, anger at Joe.
I pushed back from his embrace. “How come you’re only finding out about this now? You should have dug this up before. Shouldn’t her name have come up in whatever search things you do? She wasn’t a Jane Doe if they connected it to her hospital visit. Why didn’t you find her before?”
It was misplaced rage, but it felt good to blame. Joe could have saved me the time and energy. Could have spared me the hope.
He seemed to expect my accusations, comfortable enough with the natural path of mourning to not have to defend himself, but simply present the facts. “She didn’t use her real last name at the hospital,” he said.
I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. “What do you mean? What name did she use?”
“Yours.” He cleared his throat. “Barnes.”
My real last name. She was in trouble, on the verge of death, and thinking of me. While I… what? Rode the high of a breakout show. Complained about the inconvenience of an unwell mother and dealt with it by writing a check in an amount I didn’t notice. Even as I searched for Amber, believing she was alive, how often had I forgotten about her? While I’d played a version of my younger self. Seduced her ex-lover. Lost myself in fascination with him.
This detail of the circumstances surrounding her death was only a small one. A tiny laceration amidst extensive injuries. But it stung and burrowed deep inside me, promising to resurface any time I looked closely at myself.
In the meantime, the wound that needed attention was the largest one, the one that gushed and bled from my spirit like a slice across the carotid artery: Amber. Was. Gone.
She was gone.
I was still trying to process. Trying to find reason. Trying to nail down the cause and effect.
My hand rubbed across my forehead – back and forth. Back and forth. “The slave ring, you think?” I had to see the whole picture, know what she’d suffered. Was that how she’d ended up beaten and bruised? Had she been abused by her “owner”? Was she too much trouble? Was she just not worth the inconvenience?
“Or Vilanakis himself.” He stuck his hands in his pockets as if awkward now that he wasn’t holding me. “Look, I don’t know if this is any consolation, but I’m not convinced anymore that Sallis was involved.”
“That’s what I think.” I said it too fast, before I thought it through. It was a lie primed at the tip of my tongue, sliding off without any regard.
And yet, even as I acknowledged the lie in my head, I kept on with it. “We don’t really know when she broke up with Reeve, do we? Maybe she was even with Michelis when she called me. Maybe she just met him through Reeve. Because they run in the same circles.” Or because they’re related. I didn’t know why I felt the need to keep that secret still, but I did.
“I’m considering that.” Joe’s jaw worked as if chewing the information, preparing it for digestion. “I could look into it further, if you like. Try to get some closure.”
I shook my head emphatically. “You can’t risk it. It’s too dangerous. They…” I swallowed, giving myself time to be sure of what I wanted to say. “I think Missy’s death may have been related to Vilanakis’s family, too.”
Joe arched a brow. “Do you know something you haven’t told me?”
“A friend of mine who knew her said that several members of the family hung around her. They were even at the island the day she died.”
“And your friend thinks it was the mob, not Sallis, not an accident?”
“Maybe an accident. Not Reeve at all.” I couldn’t stop the lies regarding him. In truth, I suspected he was at least partially guilty in Missy’s death and I didn’t for one second believe the call Amber had made had anything to do with Vilanakis and all to do with Reeve. And I was convinced that, even if he hadn’t been the executioner, Reeve still had culpability, still had some of the blame.
And yet, I kept defending him for a multitude of complicated reasons. Because I was afraid that Joe might try to keep me from Reeve. Because I didn’t want his investigation to get Reeve in trouble. Because he’d reminded me I was his that afternoon, and I was determined to act like it.
Because now more than ever I needed to use Reeve to find some answers. Because I had to know what happened to Amber and he was the only sure lead I had.
And he hadn’t actually killed her so my loyalty to him didn’t conflict with my loyalty to her. At least, that’s what my current story was and I wasn’t about to challenge it.
“Why did you call off the investigation, Emily?” Joe asked, pulling me from my internal dialogue.
I blinked at him, trying to determine what he was looking for in my answer, suspecting it was another attempt to make sure I hadn’t been pressured. But his expression gave nothing away, so I told him the truth. “I don’t want to put you in that kind of danger. I don’t want it to be my fault if anything happens to you.”
“There could be others still in danger.” He was quieter now. “Others that might be saved if we can figure out what happened with Amber.”
He wants to keep investigating. It was a surprise flip of tables from when we’d first met and I was pleading and Joe was skeptical. “You said you didn’t want to get in this deep,” I reminded him.
He shrugged. “So I lied. I’m invested now. Let me find out what happened to her.”
My voice was tight so I simply nodded. Once I swallowed down the ball in my throat, I said, “But no more looking into Reeve. I meant it when I said I didn’t want this in the way of my relationship with him.”
He let out a reluctant sigh. “Okay. Okay,” he finally conceded. “I’ll make up something when I bill you. I’ll charge you for shooting lessons or something.”
I forced a smile that I couldn’t hold. “I’ll see what I can find out through Reeve. I haven’t dug nearly as deep as I can.”
Joe’s expression grew concerned yet again. “You can’t save her anymore, Emily. You don’t need to do anything risky.”
“I know.”
“Okay. Because if you have any reason to think it’s not safe, I can help you get away from him.”
Was it fucked up that I didn’t even consider it? “I told you, I’m —”
“I know, I know. You’re fine.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “I’ll get you another burner phone. In the meantime, don’t use your cell to call me.”
“Be careful,” we both said in unison. At least I was pretty sure that one of us would take the advice.
Numbly, I paid for my drink, which I tossed on the way out the door. I sat in the car in a daze, letting the engine idle as blame came in the form of “if only.” If only I’d heard the message sooner. If only I’d visited my mother mo
re often. If only I’d tried to contact her when I saw her picture in that magazine. If only I’d never left her. She’d saved me, and when I had the chance to return the favor, I’d let her down.
I beat my fist on the steering wheel, again, again, wanting it to hurt, wanting to feel better. Behind me, a car honked. All the pumps were in use and I was hogging the one I was parked in front of, but I leaned out my window and cursed at the other driver anyway. Then I took off, giving the bird as I pulled out into traffic.
I drove mindlessly, not paying attention to where I was or what time it was. Drove in complete silence. Even the thousand thoughts that wanted a spotlight in my head were respectfully reticent, as though granting a moratorium while I dealt with how to just be in a world without Amber. How to keep my heart beating and my lungs operational. How to keep my car on the road, in the correct lane, obeying the traffic signs.
After a while – minutes, hours, I didn’t know – the reprieve tapered off and half-ideas slipped in with the conviction of plans. Promises. Reeve’s cousins. His guest room. Get to his ranch. His staff. The common thread always him. He was my only chance for finding out what happened to Amber. He might not have all the answers, but he had some.
By the time I turned the Jag toward his house, he was pulling me in other ways. Distraction. Comfort. Reason. Preoccupation. He was the source of everything I needed now. The path to closure, an asylum for pain, a place to find truth, a place to hide.
For good or bad, all roads led back to him. Perhaps that’s what it meant to really be his.
CHAPTER 21
It was a quarter after ten when I arrived at Reeve’s. If I got punished for being late, so be it. I welcomed it. I deserved it.
I took a minute to fix my makeup before going in, thankful I wore waterproof mascara. A staff member I didn’t recognize let me in without any greeting or instruction. It was fine. I knew where I was supposed to be and I hurried toward my destination in case Reeve was already waiting for me.
As I crossed the living room, I heard men’s voices and the distinct sound of a pool rack being broken. I might not have been compelled to look in if I hadn’t also heard women’s laughter.
Quietly, I went to the threshold of the game room and peeked in. Reeve was there, in loose jeans and a button-down open over a T-shirt, chalking a cue stick as he chatted with another man, indistinctive except for his cowboy boots. Two more men played darts on the other side of the space while two leggy girls that couldn’t have been any older than twenty-two watched on.
A third girl – blond, busty, beautiful – was draped over the pool table, encouraging Reeve to take his turn.
With all the emotions already unfurled and waving in my stomach, it was surprising that such a petty, insignificant feeling as envy could still catch wind and flap with enough noise to notice. But there it was, boldly flown at full mast, drawing my attention. I leaned against the wall, watching them, watching her, as she teased and taunted, and the taste in my mouth grew sour. I was supposed to be in there with them. Three women, four men. I’d have made the teams equal. If I should have found comfort that I hadn’t been replaced with some other bimbo, I didn’t. Odd numbers didn’t have to mean anyone got left out.
It didn’t escape me that I’d once been one of them – a pretty young thing. A substitute for real emotion dressed in sex and sin.
Aren’t you still one of them? It wasn’t Amber’s voice.
And maybe I was still one of them. But at least this was what I wanted. They were here for the attention and material gain. They were shells waiting to be filled with a man’s desires, blank screens projecting someone else’s wants. Even without reasons connected to Amber, I was here because this was who I was – a strong, independent woman with distinct wants and needs that were only met when I submitted to a man. When I submitted to Reeve.
I stared at him bent over the table, his eyes squinted on the stick and the ball, and found that despite my acceptance of my submission, I was pissed. I didn’t deserve to be tossed aside, no matter how I’d wronged him. If I hadn’t just recommitted myself to finding out the truth about Amber’s death, then I would have walked out. Would have washed my hands of the asshole.
But I would stay, anger and all. For Amber. Which meant I had to channel my anger and ignore the emotion underneath that – fear. It was a different kind of fear than the kind I usually associated with Reeve. Fear that I wasn’t what he wanted. Fear that he didn’t see how easily I could be. Wouldn’t that be the icing on my life?
He took his shot, sending the ball precisely where he’d intended, sinking another into a corner pocket. His expression shifted ever so slightly from intense focus to smug satisfaction. Then his eyes widened in what seemed like surprise as they found mine.
I straightened, knowing I wasn’t where I was supposed to be, but unable to break his gaze. I’m here, I said to him silently across the distance. And the way he continued to look at me, it almost felt like he was glad to see me. Probably because I was witnessing this – him, content in a world without me. It was yet another layer of despair, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he saw it in my face. Good for him. Congratulations.
Someone else caught his attention then, someone closer to where I was. He nodded once then turned back to his game.
I looked to where he’d nodded and found Anatolios headed my way.
“This is a private game,” he said. “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” Fucker. And fuck Reeve for sending him after me. It wasn’t like I was interrupting anything and I was positive I’d handed him a victory in my obvious misery. I brooded about it as I stomped up the stairs to Reeve’s room.
Once upstairs, I went to his bathroom to scrub my face. I took the opportunity to give my reflection a stern lecture. “Look at you, occupied with sulking so that you don’t have to feel the real emotions stewing underneath. You think that earns you compassion? You’re pitiful.”
I dried off and turned away, but another voice in my head challenged me. What are you going to do about it?
Grow some fucking balls, that was what.
Reeve was occupied downstairs, and the staff that was still working was attending to him and his friends. They’d turned on music now, the pulsing beat of the bass carrying easily up to me. If I used that to gauge whether the party was still going or not, I should be able to do some exploring. Some real exploring this time, no cowering when what I found got hard to look at.
There were many places in Reeve’s room that I could rummage through, but I wanted to make the best use of this chance, not knowing when I’d get such an opportunity again. To get to the guest rooms, I’d have to cross the bridge where I could easily be seen from below. I could, however, slip up the stairs to his office without anyone the wiser. So I did.
The room was dark and it took a minute for my eyes to adjust. When I could see, I headed for his desk. There was a small lamp there, which I turned on, and his computer was my primary interest. It was already on, displaying the black screen of sleep mode. I jiggled the mouse and prayed there wasn’t a password.
There wasn’t.
Damn, I really should have tried to do this earlier. If only I hadn’t been so absorbed with Reeve.
No, I wasn’t doing the if only’s right now. There were other more important things to do. Immediately, I opened a game of computer solitaire. If I did get caught, it could be my excuse for being up here. It wasn’t like Reeve had named either the room or his computer off limits. If he was mad and wanted to give me another one of his “loud and clear” messages, that would be just fine. And be welcome, too.
After dealing cards and playing a few for appearances’ sake, I moved to snooping elsewhere. His document folders were numerous, but in a quick scroll through the list there were only a few that didn’t seem to be related to Sallis Resorts. The first one, labeled R. OPTIONS, had pictures of modern kitchens and dining rooms. When I found one that looked an awful lot like his
downstairs, I realized he used these for the remodel he’d done the summer before. A peek at the last opened date confirmed that it hadn’t been looked at in almost a year. Until now.
Dammit. I’d forgotten that I’d leave an imprint. I decided to be ultra conservative when deciding what other docs to open. That ruled out most of the ones I’d earmarked. The last two, labeled KOSTAS and VALENTINE, were both password protected. In the Finder, I sorted all the files to put the most recently opened on top. Nothing stood out. I scrolled to the previous summer and found nothing had been opened at all between April and October, which made sense since that was when he’d evacuated the house for renovations.
His email, I decided, would be more helpful since it traveled with him. Plus, the messages wouldn’t date stamp when they’d last been looked at. There were only a handful of unread messages, all business related. The rest were archived in folders. Dozens of folders. And in the folders were more folders. I didn’t have enough time to sort through them like I wanted, so I searched for terms I was interested in first. Vilanakis brought up nothing. Michelis had the same result. Missy brought up several but nothing of value. Nothing that said, “I killed her.”
Honestly, what was I expecting?
I hesitated before typing in the next term to take a deep breath and prepare. When I was ready, I put in Amber.
Four messages turned up.
I started with the oldest from October of the year that Amber and Reeve must have met. It was from a private investigator and included an attached file, basically a background report listing all her basic information. I assumed it was standard procedure for him to obtain one when seeking out a new girlfriend.
The next email was an application for a rush passport for Amber, from June of last year. Probably just before they’d gone to Wyoming. It was approved. So why had she needed a passport? And did she use it?