by Ann Aguirre
I was weak when they discharged me, and I didn’t want to go back to Joanna’s place, but I had nowhere else to go. Staying with Jenny would paint a target on her. Somewhere, Michael Durst must be laughing. I could almost hear him gloating. You thought you had the upper hand, bitch? Best you can do is mutually assured destruction.
That night, I didn’t sleep much, and in the morning, I hardly had the energy to drag myself out of bed. Showering was out of the question, so I washed up and used dry shampoo on my hair.
To my surprise, there were clothes waiting for me in the closet. I selected a blue patterned skirt and matching blouse, adding a white blazer. The fit was a bit loose, and the skirt hit above my knees, but overall I looked all right. When I came out of my room, the housekeeper was hovering, like she didn’t know if she should knock.
“Mrs. Van Houten is waiting for you in the breakfast room.”
“Thank you, Britta.”
I found a continental feast laid out, fruit and pastries, coffee and tea. Joanna had the paper in hand and a tablet turned on beside her. She seemed to be checking stock prices.
“Morning, dear. Ah, that ensemble suits you. I’ve bought some things that don’t work for me over the years. Britta gathered those bits and pieces and put them in your wardrobe. All the underwear is new, sent over from Neiman’s this morning.” She paused, then added, “I’ve tasted everything on this table. An hour later and I’m still fine. You can eat, I promise.”
I let out a deep, weary sigh. “You shouldn’t risk yourself for me like that. I feel like I’ve thanked you so much that the words have all lost meaning.”
“Nonsense. I enjoyed your company before, and I’ll appreciate all the money I make from your husband’s downfall. Our relationship is win-win, my dear.” She slid the tablet toward me. “Mr. Rodriguez is a fast worker. He’s already got your story online. See?”
I skimmed the article, which he’d written with no embellishment. This was in a credible news journal, which meant the papers would probably snatch the story and run with it soon, featuring different angles. “They’ll probably be calling for interviews.”
She agreed with a sedate nod and a sip of tea. “The company’s already taken a beating in the market. I’ll make my move shortly.”
I couldn’t sit around watching my flesh knit together, wallowing in fear of Michael’s next maneuver. “Speaking of beatings, could I borrow a guard? I want to start divorce proceeding and file for a restraining order.”
“Of course. Do you prefer Clive or Nigel?”
“Clive, I guess?” In all honesty, I had a hard time remembering their names and faces. They were both tall and white with short brown hair, black suits, white shirts, and sunglasses, and neither of them ever said much.
“I could call my lawyer,” she said. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but an attorney can handle both those issues. You don’t need to go to the courthouse personally.”
“Really?” In fact, I didn’t know that.
“I’ll have Mr. Fielding come directly after breakfast. There’s no need for you to put a target on your back, barring absolute exigency.”
It was true that I didn’t love the idea of going out with Michael still running amok. I let Joanna persuade me. “Then I’ll accept your offer with gratitude.”
“Mr. Fielding? This is Joanna Van Houten. Please make time for me this morning. I’m at home.”
What must it be like to take it for granted that people would clear their schedule and take care of your problems at once? With such privilege, it was a wonder Joanna Van Houten wasn’t exactly like Michael Durst.
Maybe she is, a little voice whispered.
After eating a light meal from the food Joanna had deemed safe, I called Ariella and Vin for the twentieth time. I left messages for both of them, sent more texts while fear chewed up my insides. Where are you? Are you all right? I would never forgive myself if something happened to my sister. I should have warned her before I sent her to Europe. Should have told her about Michael. As for Vin, I’d dragged him into my problems against his will—
“Don’t panic,” Joanna said.
“There has to be something I can do. She started her trip at Heathrow in the UK. Can we check somehow—”
“If she’s traveling in Europe, there’s no way to be sure where she’s gone. There would only be a record if she returned to the US. They don’t stamp the passport as you’re leaving the country.”
“Right, I knew that. Only on entrance.” I let out a breath, rubbing my knuckles against my aching temples.
I knew worry might make me physically ill. Not a good scenario when recovering from a near-fatal gunshot wound. At this rate, Michael could succeed in killing me indirectly. I shook my head in silent protest.
“I can probably find out if she’s come back to the States. Let me make a call.”
Joanna retreated to her office, and shortly thereafter her lawyer, Mr. Fielding, arrived. She must have briefed him, because he had all the paperwork ready for my signatures. Like her guards, he was a man of few words, middle-aged, white, and balding. He looked downright innocuous, but if he worked for Joanna he must be a shark.
“Do you have any questions, Mrs.—”
“Marlena. Just Marlena. And I’m wondering how long all of this will take?”
“The order of protection is urgent, so I’ll do my best to rush it through. Since there’s an investigation ongoing, I think it should be soon. The divorce is more complicated, and it will take longer, especially if Mr. Durst contests.”
I tried to smile. “Then you don’t know how long it will take for me to be free.”
“Unfortunately, ma’am, I can’t say, especially under these circumstances.”
“I understand.”
“I also need to caution you. Even after the protective order is granted, that doesn’t mean you will be physically protected from your estranged husband. The police may opt to assign someone to protective duty, but the restraining order doesn’t guarantee that.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” The lawyer didn’t need to warn me. I already knew there was no safety for me as long as the monster I’d married was alive.
Mr. Fielding nodded. “I’ll file the motions today and I will appear in court on your behalf as needed. It will be safer to minimize your public exposure as much as possible.”
“Thank you for your time.”
Against Mr. Fielding’s protests, I walked him to the door and as he stepped out, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered on the first ring anyway. “Ariella? Are you safe?”
There was a short pause. “Sorry to disappoint you. This is Detective Hunter.”
“Oh. Yes.” She’d given me her card, but I hadn’t added her to my contacts. Discouragement swept me at the knees, so I leaned against the closed door and took a deep breath. “What can I do for you?”
“Can you come down to the station? We’ve picked up a couple of suspects related to the case and we need you to identify them.”
37
It was hard for me to leave the brownstone, though I wasn’t safe there either. Even whenever Joanna managed to root out who’d taken the bribe to poison me, it wouldn’t keep it from happening again. Michael had too long a reach.
Clive cleared this throat behind me as I hesitated in the doorway. “Something wrong, madam?”
Everything. This is how people develop agoraphobia.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We went to the precinct without Joanna. She had work to do, presumably related to taking over Michael’s company. The guard didn’t make conversation as he drove, and he parked near the station in silence and shielded me with his body, head on swivel. His boss had instructed him to “guard me with his life” and it appeared he took that command seriously. The extreme protective stance didn’t
let up until we were inside, surrounded by a bevy of cops. Clive escorted me to Detective Hunter and then excused himself to wait near the front doors.
“Thank you for coming so quickly. This way, please.”
She led me to an interior room in the police station, on the other side of a two-way mirror. Six suspects were lined up, all tall, thin, and pale, but Death Face was unmistakable. I’d never forget how scared I was when they took me.
Before she could speak, I said, “I’m supposed to identify the man Michael paid to hurt me, right? It’s him, number five.”
“Are you positive?” she asked.
I nodded. “Absolutely.”
“That’s Sergei Petrovich. He has ties to the Bratva. Are you aware that your husband did business with these people?”
“Mr. Petrovich was at our wedding in Ibiza along with the other man, the one with the snake tattoo on his neck. I didn’t know what line of work they’re in. Michael never talked business with me. However, I did have some suspicions when he put the new art gallery in my name. I thought he was probably going to use it for money laundering.”
The detective leveled a look on me that said she wasn’t entirely persuaded by my role as an innocent victim. “How can you not be sure when you ran the place?”
“My name was on the contract, and I decorated the place with Joanna Van Houten’s help. I prepared for the grand opening, but Michael had me hire a manager to handle the daily business. I haven’t been there in months. You’re aware that I haven’t been out of Sherwood for that long?”
“That’s true,” Detective Hunter acknowledged. “I’ll put that on the list of things for us to investigate.” She tapped the intercom and spoke to someone outside. “Bring in the next group.”
I had no idea how they’d found so many men with tattoos on their necks, but they came tromping in. Like Death Face, the original Snake Tattoo was unmistakable. “It’s number four. He’s the one who took Bobby Ray Hudgens away.”
“Constantine Kozlov. It will be difficult to get a confession from Kozlov or Petrovich. These men take their vows of silence and brotherhood seriously.”
“Will you be arresting Michael soon?”
“I’m sorry I can’t give you a concrete answer,” she said.
The detectives had come to see me in the hospital and asked a lot of questions about the poisoning incident, but they could only follow so many leads, so fast.
I sighed. “Right now I’m living on Joanna Van Houten’s good graces, but I need to resume my life soon. I want to remove my things from the condo, but I’m scared to go back there. My passport is there, along with everything I own.”
She gave me a sympathetic look. “I understand your situation. I suppose it won’t hurt to tell you that we searched the premises yesterday and our IT team has found enough evidence to implicate your husband. A warrant for his arrest has been issued, and officers have been dispatched to pick him up.”
Yes. Finally.
I worked hard to keep my face clear of anything but relief. The triumph I swallowed whole as I sagged against the wall beside the door. “Thank you. Have you heard anything about Vin Rivera?”
“Mr. Rivera’s family confirms that they haven’t heard from him in over a week. We sent officers to his apartment, and when he didn’t answer, the super let us in. The place was a mess. It’s not my job to speculate, but he does seem to be missing.”
Too easily I could imagine Michael’s people bursting in on Vin. The resulting fight would have resulted in the wreckage the detective mentioned. “Did it look like the aftermath of a fight, or more like Vin packed in a hurry?”
“As I said, I deal in facts.”
But judging by her expression, she was holding something back. They must have found some blood on the scene or something like that or she wouldn’t look so grim. I nodded and followed her out, back into the main room.
“Is there anything else I can do to help?” I asked.
Before she could answer, Detective Wilson and another plainclothes cop hauled a struggling suspect into the room. Because the man was so wildly disheveled, it took me a moment to recognize Michael Durst. No jacket; wrinkled blue shirt and crumpled gray slacks; unshaven so his jaw was spotted with salt-and-pepper stubble; and hair that was downright greasy. His bloodshot eyes made it seem like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Between the crisis at his company and being investigated for various crimes, his life had been tough lately.
When he spotted me, he lunged, and it took both officers to retrain him. “Bitch! I don’t know how you did this, but you won’t get away with it. I made you! I own you!”
Wilson and Hunter exchanged a look. Yeah, that’s exactly what the text said. Make a note. Trembling, I scrambled behind the nearest desk and stared at my nemesis with wide eyes, one hand on my chest to remind everyone that he tried to have me killed.
Then Detective Wilson put a hand on Durst’s back, shoving him toward the interrogation room. “That’s enough. Do you still not understand the situation?”
Michael was still shouting at me when they dragged him away. Detective Hunter hovered nearby. “Are you all right? That must have been—”
“I’ll survive,” I cut in. “I’m wondering if you could do me a favor? But I understand if it isn’t possible.”
“What is it?” Wisely, Detective Hunter didn’t make any promises.
“I won’t have a chance to speak to Michael during the trial. And I can’t talk to him safely if he bonds out after he’s charged. I won’t visit him in prison, so this might be my only chance to ask him why. It should be safe for me to have a word if you leave the door open and wait right outside. Is that possible?”
Detective Hunter seemed torn, but she finally said, “I can give you two minutes.”
“Thank you. That should be enough. He probably won’t do more than rant at me anyway, but I have to try.”
“This way, please.”
I followed her into a corridor and she chose the second door on the left, Interrogation Room 2. Michael sat inside waiting for the questions to begin. “Two minutes,” Detective Hunter cautioned.
“I’ll be quick. Thank you.”
Michael’s head snapped up when he saw me but he didn’t leave his chair, largely because he must have seen Detective Hunter in the hall. As I took the seat across from him, I was conscious of the mirror taking up most of the wall behind me; I had to be careful here.
“Where’s Ariella? And what did you do to Vin?”
“I have nothing to say to you, bitch. When Anton gets me out of here, I’ll make you wish you were dead.” He smirked, an expression that stole my breath. In this setting he wouldn’t tell me anything, but my fear doubled.
“You’re not sorry?” I said loudly. “Don’t you feel any remorse? No sympathy for Bobby Ray’s family?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” His pale eyes gleamed with manic hate, and the sheer intensity of it reminded me what a monster he was.
Detective Hunter signaled from the doorway—one minute left. No need for that much time. As I stood, I summoned pure bravado. Michael Durst wouldn’t tell me shit. He could hurt me through those I cared about, but I had weapons too, ones he’d never see coming since I’d been sharpening them in secret, hardly letting myself think of my past because breaking character meant risking my own life.
I leaned close enough to murmur a few words, so soft that it couldn’t be audible to anyone observing in the next room. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that you met me, Michael Durst? I waited at that burger place every night for two weeks until I spotted Del Morton. I knew you owned part of his company. And I’ve been planning to destroy you for much longer than you know. You built your empire on my sister’s bones, and I would happily die if it means taking you with me.”
He sucked in a sharp breath, sudden clarity cracking the wild rage that crackled
through him. Before he could speak, I added so softly, “Deborah Neuman. You murdered her in Croatia. Did you think you’d never pay the price? How does it feel when nobody believes you? Get deeply familiar with that feeling, Michael. That’s your fate from now on.”
“Bitch!” With an incoherent snarl, he leapt for me.
He got his arms around my neck and I choked out a scream. Detectives rushed into the room, incapacitating him with a brutal arm twist. Detective Wilson forced him to the floor, where he thrashed wildly, still screaming. “Marlena, you fucking whore, I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do. You will not get away. Do you hear me? Do you?”
Detective Hunter guided me out of the room, and I leaned on her. The sudden choking would leave marks, I knew, and the hot trickle in my chest felt like some of my stitches had burst. I shivered uncontrollably, not just from shock and pain but also euphoria. I’d kept that secret for so long. Michael Durst thought he was untouchable, a god unshakable with armor made of money, but I’d brought him down.
Not without collateral damage. That makes you as bad as him.
“Are you all right?” the detective asked. “Did he hurt you?”
“A little. I’ll stop by the hospital to get checked out.” And to get the attack on record. Now the police had seen him get violent with me. He’d threatened me in front of witnesses.
Thank you, Michael.
“Good idea. Did you get the closure you needed?”
I sighed softly. “He’s beyond reason. Thank you for the opportunity, but I can’t get any sense out of him. He just hates me so much. It’s not about insurance payouts any longer. I’ve … I don’t know. Become an emblem of failure or something?”
“He certainly seems fixated on harming you,” she agreed. “Be careful. Even with him in custody, I’m afraid he might—”
“Yes, he has unsavory connections. If he tells his lawyer to make a call … well, I’ll be cautious, especially since he’s made two attempts already.”
