“Now you’re flattering me, Detective. What is it you want?” She lifted her gaze to his, and those large Madonna eyes were moist.
“I’m not telling. I’d rather surprise you. Keep you guessing.”
“You’re ornery.” She poked him with her fingertip. “You know Brando was going to surprise me?”
Jason raised an eyebrow. “If you knew, how would it be a surprise?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Avery huffed. “He truly thought I didn’t know, and it was all so sweet how he planned it to the last detail.”
“Has it occurred to you he wanted you to know and act surprised?”
“Only you would cast aspersions on him.” Even though her words were accusatory, she sounded amused. “I’ll have you know he had a ring in that pocket. He was going to propose. It would have been everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”
Jason knew about the ring. It was part of the items catalogued from Brando’s body. His stomach dropped at the reliving of the stab in her heart where her dreams had bled out. Instinctively, he knew he could never make up for it, nor could he ever hope to give her the happiest moment of her life—without sharing a sense of dread and fear of impending disaster.
She would never be so trusting again—of any man or of fate itself.
“Did Ivanna accessorize Brando’s outfit?” he asked out of the blue.
“No, I did. Brando wasn’t a model. He was just my man.” Avery’s voice was wistful. “He died being my man.”
A tear trailed from the corner of her eye, and she didn’t touch it.
“He’ll always be yours,” Jason agreed.
“Always made me happy until he couldn’t.” She sniffed and placed her hands on his chest. “So now you understand why I can never be happy again.”
He nodded, because he knew that pain, and more than that, the vow to never be happy. It was disloyal to believe he could enjoy life when his mother couldn’t live to sip coffee and gossip with a neighbor on a porch swing, walk on the beach with her grandchild picking up seashells, or ring in the New Year with her loved ones without the threat of physical violence at every turn.
“I don’t believe we were meant to be happy.” He put his arms around Avery’s shoulders. “But we are meant to fight. To soldier on and to correct injustice.”
“You’re right. Ivanna was hurt, and the reason we’re here is to find her assailant before he hurts someone else.”
“Or finishes her off.” Jason gave Avery one last squeeze, heartened that she hugged him back before pushing off.
“Keep looking,” Avery said. “I think she carried a notebook.”
“That’s what a woman who wears sports bras and plain thongs would do,” Jason said. “Nothing fancy. No leather-bound diary or electronic tablet.”
Her plain clothes seemed incongruous to the flashy and unusual accessories she made for her models, but possibly, Ivanna was a behind-the-scenes person. Such people often saw too much, and with her organized brain, she knew too much.
“Do you think the attacker took it?” Avery asked.
“No one searched the apartment before us, so it’s likely still here. She’d have it where she could refer to it.” Jason opened the drawer of her sewing table. “Got it.”
He held up a black and white composition notebook usually used for lab notes.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Avery asked. “Do you think one of the models attacked her?”
“It’s a start, right? She works with them. It’s likely she knew the guy. Maybe she was finished fitting his accessory and walked down with him on the way out.”
“Didn’t the supervisor see anyone?”
“No. His nose is embedded in the TV.” Jason flipped through the notebook. “This isn’t her design notebook. Look at this. Names, emails, and dollar amounts. You know any of these guys?”
“First name only.” Avery shook her head. “What is this?”
“I’m going to take it as evidence. She’s either hooking or blackmailing.”
“Or taking orders for her cosplay masks,” Avery pointed out. “She mentions materials.”
“Could be code for drugs. Did she come across as a user?”
Avery pursed her lips. “A joint or two, maybe. But I didn’t get the impression she was on anything else. Adderall is possible, though. She pulls all-nighters. Hyperfocused.”
“I don’t think these are drug deals,” Jason said. “Too many different names. Internet dating, maybe?”
“You don’t use a notebook for that,” Avery said. “The app would keep track of your contact list, likes and dislikes, every interaction.”
He almost asked her how she’d know, but this wasn’t a time for distraction. Instead, he thumbed through the notebook.
“Why write it down when she could keep it on her phone or in an app?”
“I know. Why generate a paper trail?”
“Unless, it’s because she doesn’t want to have an electronic trail,” Jason said. “That’s it. These days, an electronic trail is more dangerous. Someone could hack an app or intercept email or text messages. Once something’s online, it’s there forever. This has got to be something illegal.”
“Blackmail?”
“More likely than hooking.” Jason picked up a sports bra.
A heavy thudding step jerked both of their faces toward the door.
“You two done in here?” the supervisor asked. “It wouldn’t look good if Miss Chu came by and saw the light on. Or if her sister came over to get her makeup and caught me letting you in.”
“Police investigation.” Jason put the notebook into an evidence bag. “We think Ivanna was attacked by someone she knew or had met here.”
“Beats me.” The super shrugged and made a wry face. “She’s young and attractive. Lots of friends. Who am I to spy on her?”
Jason reached into his pocket and extracted a fifty-dollar bill. He dangled it as he removed the cloth over the easel in the corner of the room. “Let’s start with this guy. Who is he?”
He heard Avery gasp, but he kept his focus on the super.
The man’s eyes darted from the half-painted nude man to the fifty-dollar bill and back again.
“Eh, an artist’s model. Could be anyone.”
“Too bad your eyes aren’t very sharp and neither’s your memory.” Jason made a motion of putting the bill back in his pocket.
The super’s eyes narrowed. “There’s a resemblance, but it’s hard to tell without the dark glasses.”
“What kind?” Jason barked.
“Aviators, mirrored. Weird because it’s so out of style, and you know, the guys she hangs with are model types. Wouldn’t be caught dead with aviators.”
“Aviators. Really?” Jason dangled the bill just out of reach of the super’s grubby hands. “How about shoes?”
“I don’t exercise much, but that dude always has running shoes on. I couldn’t tell you the brand.”
Jason made like he was handing over the bill, but instead, he pulled out his phone and flicked to the image of Larry Leach’s shoes. “Like these?”
“Maybe. They all look the same to me.”
“Too bad.” Jason folded the fifty in half and then into a quarter. “But since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll tell you what. If you see this guy hanging around. Do me a favor. Take a picture and text it to me. On second thought. If you see anyone come looking for Miss Chu, send me a snapshot.”
He pressed the folded bill into the super’s pudgy palm along with his card.
“I sure will.” The super looked at the card. “Detective Burnett. I will be in touch. My name’s Roland. Call me anytime.”
He rattled off his phone number, and Jason entered it into his phone.
“You two done here?” Roland flicked off the light. “Because I gotta get back to the fight. And if Ivanna’s sister comes over, I have to let her in.”
“She doesn’t have a key?” Avery asked.
“Never thought of that, but it d
oes seem strange,” Roland said.
“Not if she has secrets she’s hiding,” Jason mused aloud. “Ave, you done?”
He noticed Avery taking a picture of the painting before replacing the cloth covering it.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
“Your place or mine?” Jason guided Avery into the hallway.
“Lame line.” She rolled her eyes. “But if you come to my place, I’ll tell you who I think the man in the painting is.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Damon was waiting for Avery when she and Jason reappeared at the Melbourne Building. Talk about jumping from the frying pan and into the fire. She wasn’t looking forward to the song and dance she had to lead Jason through. At least Damon would buy her minutes from revealing who the man in the painting was.
Jason hadn’t grilled her on the ride home, which was uncharacteristic. But then there was no way Avery could hide the fact that she knew who Ivanna was working with.
He was harmless, and she couldn’t picture the social gadfly hurting anyone—other than spreading false gossip and fake rumors. But if he had any information leading to Ivanna’s attacker, it would be worth sifting through them.
“Looks like the cavalry is here,” Jason grumbled when they approached her doorway.
“Where the hell did you go after the hospital?” Damon demanded. “Chase is out on the streets looking for you. Why did you block the tracking app on your phone?”
“Don’t you care how Safire’s sister is doing?” she shot back. “Besides, I’m safe, as you can see, and I have a lot of work to do.”
“Safire updated me, no thanks to you, and you’re not safe. Not when there’s a maniac beating up your assistant.” Damon’s brows lowered to a glower. “You’re staying with me tonight.”
“Agreed.” Avery unlocked her door. “But I have to pull an all-nighter here. With Ivanna out of commission, I have to do her work in addition to my own prep for the show.”
“You can do that just as well in my apartment.” Damon hadn’t acknowledged Jason’s presence yet. “I have internet, an extra computer, and a printer.”
“I have the detective here.” Avery wasn’t sure which was the lesser of two evils. Having her brother exposed to Jason’s line of questioning or having her brother’s presence stymie Jason’s interrogation.
Knowing Jason, it wouldn’t matter. He’d bullheadedly stick it to her—yikes, he would stick “that” to her too. Her consternation must have registered, because Damon’s gaze pinpointed Jason. “You sticking by her side?”
Jason smoothly patted his sidearm. “Armed and ready to protect.”
His answer seemed to satisfy her brother who gave her a hug and patted her shoulder. “I’ll let Chase know you’re here so he can get the cameras put up.”
“No way. Not inside my apartment.” Avery stood firm. “He’s the reason I turned off my tracker app. In fact, tell him I turned off location services period.”
“It’s for your own safety.”
Now that she had her own personal protector, she could afford to swagger her nonexistent bravado. Since Brando’s shooting, she’d been a scared kitty, and they’d taken advantage, jumping through hoops to keep her safe and sequestered.
Bravely, or so she thought, she jutted her chin at her domineering twin. “I won’t trade freedom for security. You know that. It’s what Dad believes and what he’s running on. What applies to you boys applies to me.”
“Hold it there,” Damon disagreed. “We all have concealed carry permits.”
“I have him.” Avery dragged Jason into her apartment. “Detective Burnett and I have a lot of work, so I’ll catch you later.”
“He’s not staying in with you.” Damon refused to budge from his position.
“No, but he can keep watch here while I sleep in your man cave. Better put clean sheets on the sectional. Oh, and tell Chase to take a shower. He’s not in the field anymore.”
Her oldest brother was an ex-Marine who led big game hunts in the winter while driving her and their parents crazy in the summer. He didn’t believe in safaris or taking people into jungles for the hunt, preferring the badlands and big sky of the Northwest Mountain states.
“He doesn’t listen to anyone, least of all us.” Damon had a point. Chase called them “baby guys,” because there was a five-year gap between the eldest three: Chase, Alex, and Stone and her, Damon, and Harper.
“I’ll deal with him,” Jason said in a growly voice. “In fact, I’d like to ask him a few questions. Since he’s the oldest and he works closely with your parents, he should have knowledge about their enemies. Tell him to gather a list of people your parents socialize with, their associates, and any former military who had grudges against your dad. They could be targeting Avery because of your father running for Congress. Chase could chase all of this down.”
Damon huffed and whirled around, clearly not willing to take orders from Jason. He flashed Avery a forced smile. “I’m up all night too. If you want a break, give me a holler.”
As soon as Damon exited, Jason gripped Avery with both his gaze and his hands. “Who’s the man in the painting?”
The moment she dreaded. Hopefully, Damon was out of earshot. She bolted her door and tried to keep her jumpy heart still. “Can I offer you coffee first? We’re going to be up all night.”
“Who is he? A boyfriend? Ivanna’s or yours?”
Ignoring him, she headed for the kitchen, but of course, he followed.
“Ave, this is serious. You recognized the man in the painting. Are you involved with him?”
“Such a one-track mind.” For some reason, she enjoyed wounding his pride. Did he think he was in the running for being involved with her?
“The time for sparring or whatever it is you’re doing is over. Ivanna is hurt. An attempt was made on your life. I know your knee-jerk response is to rebel against your overprotective brothers, but you need to take this seriously.”
She dropped the coffee canister. It popped open and spilled beans all over the floor. Frustrated, she pounded the kitchen counter. “Don’t you know I’m barely it holding together? You have no idea how stressful it is to be on guard twenty-four seven. Sometimes, you just get worn out and you don’t care anymore.”
“But you do care about Ivanna, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do. If it were only me, I might just give up.” Her shoulders drooped and instead of picking up the spilled coffee beans, she covered her face. She inhaled deeply to keep from shuddering, but it didn’t work. She was weak, and no amount of acting tough, defying her brothers, or hard flirting with the cop could cover the dread looming over her.
In less than a week, it would be Brando’s first anniversary dead.
She was barely aware of a broom sweeping across the floor. The swish was strangely lulling.
“I came across too hard,” a voice, strangely contrite, murmured in the background. “Let me clean this up while you tell me who you think Ivanna’s been painting.”
She had to pull herself together. Ivanna lay in a hospital bed. She’d be an asshole to withhold information. It would come out anyway, and if she got lucky, he wouldn’t get around to spilling her irrelevant secrets.
That was it. Her stuff was old news and not the least bit related to what he’d been up to—posing nude and taking money for performing.
“I can do this.” Avery spoke more to herself than to the detective in the room. Perching on a barstool, she propped her elbows on the counter.
Jason deftly swept up the spilled beans. He bent over to scoop them into the dustbin, treating her to a mouthwatering view of his backside. At least her hormonal response wasn’t dead. It was strangely amplified, the only part of her still able to salivate.
She swallowed and cleared the tightness from her throat. “The man in the painting is Larry’s dropout brother, Harvey Leach.”
Jason emptied the dustbin and jerked upright. “Older or younger?”
“Younger, but not that muc
h. They were mistaken for twins growing up.”
“What does he do?” Jason steered Avery away from the kitchen and seated her on the sofa. He took out his notebook.
“He’s an artist’s model and backup dancer for Broadway shows. He was a disappointment to his father—too lazy to finish college and has no common sense or business mind.”
“You don’t seem worried about him,” Jason remarked. “Do you think he and Ivanna had an argument?”
“He’s not involved with her, and he’s utterly harmless. I can’t picture him swatting a fly. Spends all his time working out his dance routines and exercising.” Her voice was too wooden. Hopefully, she didn’t sound rehearsed or void of emotion.
“Which means he’s physically fit and has stamina.”
“That’s a given,” Avery agreed. “He’s always been athletic."
“Enough to outrun me,” Jason muttered, scribbling fast. “He might be the man who tried to run you down. You still think he’s harmless?”
A shockwave vibrated through Avery and sent her head reeling. “He fits the description. But I can’t picture him doing anything serious. Maybe Matt staged it.”
“Or Alida.” Jason gripped Avery’s upper arm. “Now you see how dangerous this publicity game is?”
She bit her lip and nodded. Her hand reflexively went up to the bruise over her eye. “That was reckless of him, if he did it. I can’t believe Matt or Alida would go this far.”
“Then we’re back to Harvey being the killer.”
“Or someone else.” Avery couldn’t reconcile the Harvey she knew with a man who would mow down pedestrians in cold blood. “There are plenty of men in Manhattan fitting his height and weight. As for the aviator sunglasses, I find it strange he would wear something so unfashionable.”
“Fashionable or not, we should definitely question him,” Jason said in a firm, no-nonsense voice.
“I should go with you,” Avery volunteered. “He’s prone to tall tales and misinformation.”
Jason’s eyebrows narrowed “What are you so eager to hide from me?”
“Nothing.” Her voice had an unfortunate tendency to squeak when anxious. “He’s an unreliable witness.”
Triggered by Love Page 23
