by K. A. Tucker
And how does he know how long I’ve been seeing Jace?
Has Grady been watching me all this time?
His body stiffens against me.
I push away to see the momentary panic flash before he veils it. And we’re back to where we started. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I’m not doing anything to you.” His scruff-covered jaw tightens. “And I’d be very careful about accusing me of anything. Otherwise, who knows what’ll end up on the Internet.”
I’m left staring at the back of my door long after he’s gone, his threat heard loud and clear.
CHAPTER 43
Maggie
December 22, 2015
“I want you and Zac to keep looking for him, until you find him. Find out what hole he’s run scared to. He’s not getting away with this.” The doorman holds the heavy glass door open for Doug and me to pass through.
Inside, a low hum of voices mix with the solo pianist playing from the far corner. The exhibit hall in Hollingsworth—exquisite on its own, in soothing grays and warm wood and crystal chandeliers—is decked out for the holidays, with evergreen bows and bronzed urns overflowing with white poinsettias. They’ve dimmed the lights throughout, making each piece of Celine’s collection in its individual glass case truly shine under the spotlights.
“Having Childs onboard with getting this investigation reopened helps, but I have to warn you, Maggie, a guy like Grady knows how to disappear in the wind.”
He’s already been “in the wind” for seven days, four since the police invaded his apartment. It took NYPD’s technical experts thirty-six hours to break into Grady’s “Fort Knox” computer system. While they have enough secured and encrypted files to keep them busy for months, they were able to get into the video files—including the hidden ones.
Grady has been watching Celine in her apartment since August. The police won’t tell us exactly how much footage there is—they won’t tell us much of anything—but they did say that there was plenty of evidence to suggest they had an intimate relationship.
Translation: The sick fuck recorded them having sex and saved it to watch later.
But that wasn’t the biggest shocker.
Apparently, there have been others. Specifically, two women that Grady has, at minimum, spied on in the past. Police are trying to identify them, to confirm whether anything untoward happened.
“You have to find him.”
Doug squeezes my shoulder. “And you have to get on that plane tomorrow morning and spend whatever time you have left with Celine’s mother. There’s nothing more you can do here.”
“You’re right.” Soon, I’ll be away from this city and this never-ending fucking nightmare. As much as I want the police to find Grady, I’ve done what I intended to do, which was get them to reopen the investigation.
Now it’s time for me to be home with Rosa. I still haven’t decided what I’m going to tell her. There’s really no good news yet. No your daughter didn’t kill herself announcement. But there’s at least doubt now in everyone’s mind, and enough motive pointing toward Grady. Doug no longer looks at me with that sympathetic smile.
Hans storms toward us, his steps swift and purposeful, his suit plum-colored and stylish. “Finally!” He blows air kisses before I know what’s happening, and then turns his attention to Doug, eying him up and down with the same look of disdain that he gave me that first day we met at Celine’s.
“And on that note,” Doug glances around a sea of formal wear—Hans insisted on a black tie event in Celine’s honor—and smooths his bomber jacket over his chest. “Enjoy the warmth of California. I’ll be in touch with any updates.”
I smile. “Thanks for everything, Doug.” Watching him leave, I call out, “And tell Zac to stay out of my business. It’s not right what he can do.”
A backward wave answers me and then Doug is gone, and Hans is thrusting a champagne flute into my hand and linking arms with me. He pulls us into the fray of antique lovers and partygoers and people who generally have too much time and money on their hands. There are quite a few of them.
“Celine would have loved this,” I murmur, a lump forming in my throat. I wash it down with three sizeable gulps of my drink.
“Can you believe she had enough to fill the entire gallery, and then some?”
“Yes, I can.” I laugh, taking a sip of my champagne. “I packed it all, remember?”
“It’s a shame about that vase. I was so sure that if she thought it was something, then it definitely was . . . She always kept her expectations low when it came to her treasure hunts, and I don’t know how she could have mistaken cookie-cutter shit.” He tsks. “She had a better eye than that. She must not have been thinking straight.”
“I know.”
Much to our disappointment, the vase found in Grady’s closet was a reproduction of the famous Qing Dynasty twin vase.
And not a very good one, at that.
But the pieces that are here tonight are stunning. Hans obviously spent a lot of time going through Celine’s collection and hand-selecting the best ones to include. Now, as we move past each and every display, Hans gives me the CliffsNotes version of its history as I polish off two more glasses of champagne.
“Her collection belongs in one of the top auction houses in New York, doesn’t it?” I murmur.
“The top auction house,” he corrects me, “and yes. It does. She always had a special eye. You could see it, just by walking into her apartment. It was like walking into an art studio. Trust me, I’ve gone into plenty of antique shops, and with that many pieces, it usually feels like walking into a shed of random castaways that I want to run screaming from. But with Celine, she managed to amass a collection of a thousand pieces, each one hand-selected for its historical value and beauty, and then turn her apartment into a masterpiece that you could sit back and enjoy. She wasn’t just a collector, she was a curator.”
He’s right. I hadn’t thought of it that way, but Celine’s apartment was a piece of art in and of itself.
Hans gestures toward the middle of the gallery, drawing my attention to the elderly couple arm-in-arm. Ruby spots me and grins, patting the hand of the white-haired man I recognize from the ball. They slowly shuffle over.
“Hans, you’ve outdone yourself! Celine would love this,” she exclaims, grabbing Hans by the arms until he leans in for a kiss on her cheek.
“How long have you been here?”
“Oh, awhile, but you two looked like you were having so much fun, we didn’t want to disturb you.” She gestures to her date. “This is the Honorable Theodore Higgins.”
“Just Teddy,” the man chuckles, shaking our hands.
“We’re going to head out now. Theodore needs his rest, and I’m quite tired after all the excitement we’ve had going on recently.”
“Yes, Ruby filled me in,” Theodore says, frowning deeply. “If there’s anything at all I can help with, let me know. I may be retired, but I still have plenty of connections.”
I smile. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Theodore makes his way to the coat check, while Ruby takes both my hands in hers. “So? I suppose this is it?”
“Until I fly out here for some afternoon tea,” I promise, wrapping my arms around the tiny, frail woman, a sheen of tears forming over my eyes that I quickly try to blink away.
She has a surprising grip and squeezes me tight. “You are quite the character, Maggie Sparkes,” she whispers, winking at me as she goes to join her date.
“Oh shit.” Hans groans, pulling my attention back to him and the sharp-looking middle-aged woman in a suit waving him down from across the room. “I’ve gotta go, too. That’s the boss. I need to kiss her ass for letting us do this.”
“And she can kiss my ass for paying for it,” I mumble under my breath, earning that high-pitched, awkward laughter of his. “Listen, I’m probably going to head back to my hotel now. My flight in the morning is early, and I’m practically asleep on
my feet. And drunk, I think.”
“Oh.” He turns his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. “So this is it for us, too?”
“I know you’re not the hugging type. Neither am I.” I wrap my arms around him anyway. “Thank you for everything.” When he pulls away, I’m surprised to see his eyes are shining.
“I’ll call you,” he promises.
I laugh. “No you won’t.”
“Fine. But I’ll text. Maybe. Once in a while.”
I smile and wave good-bye as he trots off to answer the director’s request, abandoning me in front of Celine’s doll collection.
“It doesn’t matter where you are, it feels like they’re watching you, doesn’t it?” a deep male voice says beside me.
I turn to find Jace standing there. He doesn’t even need a tux; his high-end suit and wool overcoat fit the bill for a black tie affair.
“What are you doing here?”
His blue eyes gaze over the mingling crowd. “I was invited, remember?”
“Under the circumstances, I figured you’d decline.”
“Yeah, I know. But I thought I’d stop by on my way home from a work event. Pay my respects, in a way.” It does sort of feel like that’s what Jace is doing. He’s solemn tonight, and the way he’s standing with his hands clasped in front of a glass case—it reminds me of how people stand at gravesites.
“But after everything . . .”
His Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow. “I’m sorry about how things ended for her. And for how I treated her that night.” His gaze dips down to my red-painted lips. “And for how I treated you.”
A shocked laugh escapes me. “I’m the one who owes you an apology. I accused you of murdering her.”
“Oh, yeah. You did.” A tiny smile curls his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is the witch hunt finally over?”
I sigh. “Not exactly, but you’re not the witch anymore. You were right about the super.” It stings to admit that.
He nods grimly. “I’m sorry that I was.” Awkward silence hangs between us. “Although I’m surprised he had it in him.”
“We’re still not exactly sure what he had in him, but he definitely looks guilty of a lot of things right now. They found Celine’s stolen vase in his apartment, at the very least. The cops are onto him now. They’re reopening her case.”
“The infamous vase.” He glances around. “Where is it? I’d love to see it.”
“In evidence” is all I say.
“Ah, yes. Of course.” A pause. “You’re not still staying in her apartment, are you?”
“No. I’m at a hotel now. I’m actually leaving for San Diego in the morning.”
“What about the super?”
“Don’t know. Looks like he ran the second he sensed that we were onto him. Left everything behind, including a lot of incriminating evidence.” As I say this, I realize something. Given what I put Jace through, I probably owe him a warning. “Listen, they’ve seized his computer, and it’s very likely they’re going to find that video of you and Celine on there.”
His eyes widen. “So he’s the one who tried to blackmail me.”
“Yeah. Most likely. I don’t think Celine had anything to do with it. And if it comes out, it wasn’t me who told them. I swear.”
He chews the inside of his mouth. “I guess I’ll just have to deal with that if and when it comes up then.” He sighs. “One way or another, I just hope this brings you and her mother the peace you need.”
“So do I.” Another lump is forming in my throat, and I take a sip of my champagne to keep it down. I really should stop drinking.
Jace’s eyes skate over my simple black gown. “You look stunning tonight.”
“Thanks.” I feel my cheeks flush. From the moment I first laid eyes on Jace, I was sizing him up for a crime. This is the first time I’m seeing him without outright animosity and suspicion. I’m seeing him as just a man. The man my best friend was pining over and banking all her future dreams on.
“In another time, and another place, I think this could have worked,” he says, and I know he’s not talking about our business relationship.
“If you stopped counting money.”
“And you stopped trying to save the world.”
In reality, Jace and I would mix together like oil and water, but it’s a nice amicable way of leaving things.
He does a quick scan of the room. “I’m going to head out now. I have an early flight in the morning, too.”
“Heading to Chicago?”
“For an entire two weeks. Can you believe it? First time ever, I think. But my mother’s birthday is just after Christmas. We have a big party planned.”
“Right. You need to give her that Ming bowl.”
He purses his lips tight, in a worried way. “Take care of yourself, Maggie. I hope we can wish only the best for each other.”
“Yes, definitely.”
He leans in to place a soft kiss on my cheek, and then Jace Everett is gone, out the door.
Out of my life.
I last another ten minutes and then head for the coat check to retrieve my stole—which is a ridiculous article of clothing to wear now that the temperatures have dropped to single digits—and leave. The entrance to the auction house is on a narrow side street, and while I know that cabs will make the turn down here every once in a while, I won’t last a minute in this cold standing still.
About fifty yards up, I spot Jace leaning against a sleek black car—presumably his—his phone pressed to his ear. He looks up, likely at the sound of my heels on a metal sidewalk grate. “Yeah . . . okay . . . listen, I’ll call tomorrow after I land . . . Okay. Talk to ya.” Hanging up, he stands. “Maggie, get in. I’ll give you a ride.”
“It’s only a few blocks away. I can grab a taxi.”
“Come on.” He opens the door rather abruptly. “Get in. I promise, my car smells way cleaner than any taxi.”
I’m relieved. On a night like this, with the holidays, it could take me time to hail a cab. “Thanks.” I climb in, tucking the hem of my dress under my legs, brushing fresh, fluffy flakes off the material. It’s pretty outside, the trees lining the street covered in snow and sparkling with tiny white lights. He shuts the door for me and then rounds the car quickly. “You’re right. It does smell better.” It smells like Jace’s cologne.
“See?” He presses the ignition button and the car comes alive. Cracking a bottle of water, he takes a sip. “Thirsty?”
“Yes, actually. I think I had a few too many glasses of champagne, and flying hungover all the way to San Diego is going to suck.”
“Here.” He pulls another bottle out from the console and twists the cap to open it before handing it to me. “So, do you think everything will sell tonight?”
I chug back a large gulp as he pulls out onto the street. “I hope so. Hans said there was a lot of interest expressed. I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”
His fingers tap over the steering wheel at a fast, almost nervous, rhythm, and he makes a right-hand turn.
“I’m sorry, I think my hotel is the other way, just a few blocks.”
“Right, sorry. I don’t know why I assumed you were staying close to Park Avenue. I should have asked. I’ll go around.”
“No worries.” Silence fills the car. “What happened to your knuckles?” I ask, spying scrapes and bruising across his right hand.
“Just some boxing. It’s my way of relieving stress.” He shrugs it off.
I focus my attention on the pretty brownstones on this street, covered in wreaths and lit with festive lights. “I hate to admit it, but the city is pretty during the holidays.”
“It is. When were you here last over Christmas?”
“It’s been forever.”
“Let me take you around a bit then.” He makes a left, and suddenly we’re driving past a row of horses and carriages outside Central Park, the horses wearing red coats, the carriages decked out in festive bows and baubles, waiting for tou
rists. Jace changes lanes to avoid an asshole taxi driver who is going so fast that the taillights blur in my eyes.
“I don’t know how you drive in this city. I think I’d go crazy.”
His chuckle—sounding deeper than normal—fills the car. “I try not to, unless I have to.” Even his voice sounds deeper than usual. “Hey, what do you think will happen with this police investigation?”
“I don’t know, honestly. They better do their jobs this time around, though.” I guess I can’t blame them, really. The official autopsy report arrived just yesterday, confirming that Celine died from a lethal combination of narcotics, ingested. To anyone looking at the facts, her case looks like a suicide. Thankfully we all know better now.
My body is beginning to sink into the comfortable passenger seat, exhausted. I let my head fall back against the headrest, and I close my eyes for just a moment. Thank God I left the auction house when I did. The frenetic pace of the past few days is catching up to me. “I’m keeping Doug and Zac on retainer until Grady’s found.”
“Won’t that be something if the real vase turns up, after all the media attention this story will generate?”
He makes a right-hand turn, and I’m pretty sure we’re driving in the opposite direction of my hotel, but I figure he’s taking me on the scenic route. “The media’s not getting hold of this story, if I have anything to do with it.” At least, not until Rosa is gone and safe from the secrets it may reveal. But wait . . . “How do you know the vase isn’t real? I didn’t tell you, did I?” My words sound muffled and slurred in my ears, my tongue feeling thick and tangled.
He reaches over and slips the water bottle out of my hand. “The media will definitely be getting hold of this story.”
The water bottle.
I never heard the plastic seal crack when he opened the water bottle for me.
“Celine never noticed anything in her drink either,” he says in a voice that sends chills down my spine. “And there were big chunks of Oxy and Xanax in there. I mean, I tried to crush them up as fine as possible, to make it easier on her. But in the end, it didn’t matter. She would have drunk anything I gave her. She was a fucking head case over the breakup.”
