by Sylvia Day
I sat next to Eva, pulling my chair close and taking her hand in my own. Victor settled on the other side, with Cary beside him. Angus stood behind me.
“Can you both run through your evening, starting with when you arrived at the event?” Michna asked.
I went first, painfully aware of Eva’s attention to every word I said. Only the last few moments were lost to her, but I knew those minutes were vital.
“You didn’t see the shooter?” Grave pressed.
“No. I heard Raúl shout and I got Eva on the ground. It’s protocol for the security team to evacuate at the first sign of trouble. They escorted us away in the opposite direction and I didn’t look back. My focus was on my wife, who was unconscious at the time.”
“You didn’t see Monica Stanton go down?”
Eva’s hand tightened on mine. I shook my head. “No. I had no idea anyone had been injured until several minutes after we left the scene.”
Michna looked at Eva. “At what point did you lose consciousness, Mrs. Cross?”
She licked lips that were starting to crack. “I hit the sidewalk pretty hard. Gideon rolled over me, holding me down. I couldn’t breathe, and then someone covered Gideon. They were both so heavy … I thought I heard two, maybe three shots. I’m not sure. When I came to, I was in the limo.”
“Okay.” Michna nodded. “Thank you.”
Graves unzipped the satchel and pulled out a file folder. Opening it, she pulled out a mug shot and set it on the table facing us. “Do either of you recognize this man?”
I bent closer. Blond with green eyes. A trimmed beard. Average looking.
“Aye,” Angus said, drawing my head around to look at him. “He’s the chap we ran off in Westport, the one who was taking pictures.”
“We’re going to need a statement from you, Mr. McLeod,” Michna advised.
“Of course.” He straightened, his arms crossing. “He’s the one who shot Mrs. Stanton?”
“Yes. His name is Roland Tyler Hall. Have you ever had contact with this man, Mr. Cross? Ever recall speaking with him?”
“No,” I replied, searching my memory and coming up blank.
Eva leaned forward. “Was he stalking her? Some kind of obsession?”
Her questions were softly voiced, her muted grief edged with an icy fury. It was the first spark I’d seen in her since I broke the news. And it came at the moment that I remembered what else I was keeping from her: her mother’s shadowy past. A tangled history that could be the reason Monica was dead now.
Graves began sliding out images, starting with the Westport photos. “It’s not your mother Hall was fixated on.”
What? The dread I felt reversed back into the fear that had plagued me all night.
There were so many images, it was hard to focus on any single one. Numerous pictures taken of us outside the Crossfire. Some from events, which looked like standard paparazzi shots. Others caught us out on the town.
Eva reached for the corner of one and slid it out, gasping at the image of me dipping her into a passionate kiss on a crowded city sidewalk outside a CrossTrainer gym.
The photo had been the first of us to go viral. I had responded to press inquiries with the confirmation that she was the significant woman in my life, and she’d opened up to me about Nathan and her past.
There was another widely seen image of us, capturing us arguing in Bryant Park. Another picture of us in the park on a different day showed us embracing. I hadn’t seen that one before.
“He didn’t sell all of these,” I said.
Graves shook her head. “Most of the photos Hall took for himself. When money ran low, he’d sell a few. He hasn’t worked in months and lives out of his car.”
Sliding the top layer of pictures around to expose the ones underneath, I realized that many of the times Eva and I had spotted a photographer, it had been Hall holding the camera.
I sat back, releasing Eva’s hand to put my arm around her and pull her close. Hall had been so near to my wife, and we hadn’t even known it.
“Let me see those,” Victor said.
I pushed them down the table, the top layer sliding over first. The images left behind had me straightening in my chair. I pulled out the highly publicized picture of Magdalene and me that helped trigger the infamous fight with Eva in Bryant Park. And another of me and Corinne at the Kingsman Vodka party.
My breathing quickened. I released Eva, sliding to the edge of my chair to sift through the images with both hands.
Cary leaned forward to look over Victor’s shoulder. “Was this guy just a really bad shot? Or did he confuse Monica for Eva?”
“He wasn’t stalking Eva,” I said tightly, the horrific realization sinking in. I pulled out the photo from the nightclub of me and two women. Taken in May, it preceded Eva’s arrival in New York.
Graves met my questioning gaze with a nod. “Hall is obsessed with you.”
Which meant I hadn’t just hidden what I knew of Monica’s life, I was also indirectly responsible for her death.
15
Moving closer to the table, I set my hand on Gideon’s back and felt the tension there. His skin was so warm beneath the soft cotton of his T-shirt, the muscles stretched tight.
Chris came in from the kitchen with a tray bearing four steaming mugs of coffee, a small cup of half-and-half, and sugar in a bowl. He set it down near Michna, since the rest of the dining table was covered in pictures.
The detectives thanked him and each took a mug. Graves took her coffee black. Michna added a splash of cream and a sprinkling of sugar.
I’d only seen Michna in the course of the investigation into Nathan’s death. I knew Graves more personally; I’d sparred with her during Parker’s Krav Maga classes. I believed Graves liked me or was at least sympathetic. And I was certain it was Gideon’s love for me that swayed her into closing Nathan’s case while she still had questions.
It comforted me to have them in charge.
“I want to be sure I understand,” I said, pushing through the grief that had fogged my mind all day. “This man was stalking Gideon?”
My dad shoved the photos away. “Was Hall targeting my daughter or Cross?”
“Hall believes Cross betrayed him,” Graves answered, “by getting married.”
I stared at her. She wore no jewelry or makeup, yet she was fiercely compelling. Pummeled by the realities of her job, she still had a passion for justice—even if it came outside the law. “If he couldn’t have Gideon, no one could?”
“Not quite.” She looked at Gideon. “Hall believes he has an ‘entwined destiny’ with you—some kind of cosmic pact—and that your marriage breaks this pact between you. Killing you is the only way to prevent his life from going in a direction he doesn’t want to go.”
“Is that supposed to make sense?” Cary asked, setting his elbows on the table and gripping his head in both hands.
“Hall’s fixation isn’t sexual,” Michna elaborated, looking rumpled and tired from pulling an all-nighter. Still, he was keenly and disconcertingly observant. His partner zeroed in; he assessed the periphery. “It’s not even romantic. He claims he’s heterosexual.”
Graves pulled another photo out of the file and set it atop the others. “You both know this woman.”
Anne. My palms were suddenly damp. Gideon’s body tautened like a bow.
“Fuck me,” Cary muttered, his fisted hands dropping to the table with a thud that made me jump.
“I saw her last night,” Chris said, taking a chair by Gideon. “She was at the dinner. Hard to miss that bright red hair.”
“Who is that?” my dad asked, his voice firm and flat.
“Dr. Anne Leslie Lucas,” Graves replied. “She’s the psychiatrist who was treating Hall, although she met with him at a second office away from her primary practice, using the alias Dr. Aris Matevosian.”
Gideon’s breath hissed out between his teeth. “I know that name.”
Graves zeroed in, her gaze sharply fo
cused. “How?”
“Just a moment. I’ll show you.” He pushed back from the table and headed down the hallway.
I watched him go, saw Lucky scampering after him. The puppy had been sticking close to me for most of the morning, as if he thought I needed him more than Gideon did right now. Something had changed. And since Lucky’s emotional barometer was more accurate than mine at the moment, I needed to pay attention to that.
“Will someone explain who Dr. Lucas is,” my father demanded, “and her relevance to Hall and Monica?”
“We’ll let Cross fill us all in on that,” Michna said.
“They had a sexual relationship awhile back,” I interjected, wanting to take the burden of telling the story off Gideon’s shoulders. He was ashamed of what he’d done, I knew that.
I pulled my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to get warm. I knew I had to choose my words carefully. Telling the whole truth would be difficult, considering the unflattering picture of my husband my father would see.
“She got wrapped up in it,” I went on, “and wanted to leave her husband, so Gideon broke it off. She hasn’t been able to move on or get past it. She showed up at my building once, and tried approaching Cary a couple times, wearing a wig, pretending to be someone else.”
Graves watched me with a sharp, savvy gaze. “We reviewed her complaint. You and Cross confronted her, separately, on two different occasions.”
“Damn it, Eva.” My dad glared at me, his eyes bloodshot and red rimmed. “You know better.”
“Know what?” I shot back. “I still don’t understand what this all means. She was harassing my best friend and my husband. I told her to back off.”
Gideon returned and held out his phone, showing a picture he’d taken.
Michna examined the image. “A prescription for Corinne Giroux written by Dr. Aris Matevosian. Why do you have this?”
“There was a time, a couple months ago,” Gideon said tonelessly, resuming his seat beside me, “when Corinne became erratic. I discovered she’d been seeing a therapist who prescribed antidepressants, which were causing her mood swings. I took a picture of the label so I’d know who to contact if she continued having problems.”
Gideon put his arm around me, urging me to lean into him. The moment I was pressed against him, I felt him sag heavily into the chair, as if holding me was a major relief. I slid my arm around his waist, felt his lips press against my forehead.
His chest rumbled beneath my ear as he spoke. “So Anne was Hall’s therapist,” he said, his voice rough with fatigue. “Why the alias?”
“She thought she was smart,” Grave said bluntly. “We’re smarter. And we have Hall, who is very disturbed but also very cooperative. He confessed the minute we sat down with him. He was also clever—or paranoid—enough to secretly record all of his sessions with Dr. Lucas, which we recovered during a search of his vehicle.”
“Did she put him up to this?” I asked, wanting to be sure there was no misunderstanding.
“I don’t think Hall was ever playing with a full deck,” Michna said, “but he used to have a job, a place to live, and no particular interest in Cross. Anne Lucas did a number on him.”
Graves started gathering up the photos with the help of her partner. “He mentioned to her that he dropped out of school after the Cross Ponzi scheme wiped out his grandparents. It wasn’t something he held a grudge over, but she got him thinking that his life and Cross’s are paralleled in some way.”
“Can she go to jail for that?” I hung on tighter to Gideon. “What she did—that’s part of the reason my mom’s … gone. She can’t just get away with that, right?”
“We picked her up about an hour ago.” Graves held my gaze and I saw her determination. “When her lawyer shows up, we’ll take a crack at her.”
“The DA’s office will determine the full extent of the charges,” Michna said, “but Hall’s recordings, plus security footage of both Lucas and Hall entering and leaving her secondary office, gave us probable cause.”
“You’ll keep us posted,” my father said.
“Of course.” Graves tucked everything back in her satchel, then shot a look at Gideon. “Did you see Dr. Lucas at the dinner?”
“Yes,” he answered, his hand stroking up and down my arm. “Eva pointed her out to me.”
“Did either of you speak with her at all?” Michna asked.
“No.” Gideon looked down at me with a question in his eyes.
“I flipped her the bird from a distance,” I confessed, the memory of her drifting through my blurry mind. “She had this smirk on her face. Maybe that’s why she was there, so she could see what happened.”
“Angel.” Gideon enfolded me, wrapping me into his warmth and the scent of his skin.
“All right. We’ve got what we need for now,” Graves said briskly. “We’ll just take Mr. McLeod’s statement regarding the Westport incident and be on our way. Thank you for your time.”
Dismissed, we all pushed back from the table.
“Eva.” Graves waited until our gazes met. For a moment, she wasn’t just a cop. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Self-conscious, I looked away from Graves.
Did she wonder at my dry eyes? God knew I did. As crazy as my mother drove me at times, I loved her. Didn’t I? What kind of daughter didn’t feel anything when her mom died?
Angus took Gideon’s abandoned chair and began recounting what had happened in Westport.
Gideon took my hand and led me a few feet away. “I need some time with you.”
Frowning, I nodded. “Yeah, of course.”
He drew me along with him toward our bedroom.
“Cross.”
We both turned at the sound of my father’s voice. “Yes?”
Dad stood by the living room, his face hard and his gaze heated. “We have to talk.”
“Agreed,” Gideon said with a nod. “Just give me five minutes with my wife.”
He kept going, not giving my dad a chance to object. I followed along to our bedroom, Lucky racing ahead of us. I watched Gideon as he shut the door with the three of us inside. Then he faced me, his gaze searching.
“You should take a nap,” I told him. “You look tired.” And that troubled me. I couldn’t recall when I’d ever seen him so wiped out.
“Do you see me?” he asked hoarsely. “Are you looking at me and seeing me?”
My frown deepened. I looked him over from head to toe. Oh. He’d dressed for me. Thinking of me. “Yes.”
He reached out and touched my face. His tormented gaze held mine. “I feel like I’m invisible to you.”
“I see you.”
“I …” He breathed hard, his chest working as if he’d just run miles. “I’m sorry, Eva. Sorry about Anne … about last night …”
“I know.” Of course I knew that.
He was so upset. Much more than I was. Why? My self-control was never as good as his. Except for now. From the moment I learned the truth, I’d felt an icy resolve form somewhere deep inside me. I didn’t understand it, but I used it. To deal with the police. And my dad and Cary, who needed me to be strong for them.
“Damn it.” He came to me and cupped my face in his hands. “Yell at me. Hit me. For God’s sake—”
“Why?”
“Why?” He stared at me as if I were crazy. “Because this is my fault! Anne was my problem and I didn’t manage her. I didn’t—”
“You’re not responsible for her actions, Gideon,” I said crossly, frustrated he would think that way. “Why would you believe you were? That doesn’t make any sense.”
His hands went to my shoulders and he gave me a little shake. “You’re not making sense! Why aren’t you mad that I didn’t tell you about your mother? You lost it when I hired Mark and didn’t tell you. You left me—” His voice broke. “You’re not leaving me over this, Eva. We’ll work through it … we’ll figure out how to get past it.”
“
I’m not leaving you.” I touched his face. “You need to sleep, Gideon.”
“God.” He caught me up and took my mouth, his lips slanting over mine. I put my arms around him, stroking his back to try to calm him down.
“Where are you?” he muttered. “Come back to me.”
Cupping my jaw, he pressed gently with trembling fingers, urging my mouth to open. The moment it did, his tongue swept inside, licking desperately. With a groan, he pulled me up hard against him, urgently fucking his tongue into my mouth.
Heat bloomed inside me. The warmth of his feverishly hot skin penetrated my clothes, sinking into my flesh. Desperate for something to thaw me, I kissed him back, my tongue stroking his.
“Eva.” Gideon released me, his hands moving over me, sliding over my back and arms.
I pushed up onto the tips of my toes, deepening the contact of our mouths. My hands slid beneath his shirt and he hissed, arching into me and away from the chill of my fingers. My touch followed, caressing his skin, seeking that warmth.
“Yes,” he gasped into my mouth. “God, Eva. I love you.”
I licked across his lips, sucked his tongue when he licked me back. The sound he made was both pain and relief, his hands cupping my buttocks and pulling me up against him. I clung to him, lost in him. He was what I needed. I couldn’t think about anything else when he was holding me.
“Tell me you love me,” he breathed. “That you’ll forgive me. Next week … next year … someday …”
“I love you.”
He tore his mouth away, hugging me so tightly it was hard to breathe. My feet dangled above the floor, my temple pressed to his.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he vowed. “I’ll find a way.”
“Shh …” It was there, in the back of my mind, the dismay. The hurt. But I didn’t know whether it was because of Gideon or my mom.
I closed my eyes. Focused on the adored, familiar scent of him. “Kiss me again.”
Gideon turned his head, his lips finding mine. I craved deeper, harder, but he denied me. As ferociously passionate as his first kisses had been, this one was soft. Tender. I whimpered a protest, my hands pushing into his hair to pull him closer.
