“Would you like me to say thank you? Did you get any bread?” She moved around him to the fridge. “I feel like bread. It’s been a while since I—”
“Stop it.” He leaned against the edge of the counter, stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “Just stop it, Greta. We both know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”
“What won’t?”
“It’s not going to make me stop loving you.”
Wanna bet? “You don’t know me well enough to love me.”
His smile was brief and sad. “Figured you’d say that, too. I’m not going to argue the fact that this came on pretty quick. In fact, it happened in the first five minutes of meeting you. Of seeing you sitting right here, drawing me on that sketchpad of yours. Mumbling to yourself. I’ve never believed in love at first sight, but there you go. Proven wrong. Little did I know you’d end up being the most frustrating, confusing, challenging woman I’ve ever known.”
“We all have our flaws.”
“Yes, we do.” He nodded. “And that’s what’s really scaring you, isn’t it? Not my flaws, although there are plenty.”
There were? Greta blinked. She certainly hadn’t found any. Not that she’d tell him that.
“You’re scared of your own,” he told her. “Or rather, you’re scared of what they might be.”
Greta’s face went hot. He was skirting just a bit too close to the truth for her liking.
“Take these, for instance.” He leaned over and grabbed a paper bag off the counter, turned it over and dumped out the prescriptions she’d had in her medicine cabinet. “That’s a lot of bottles of fear.”
Greta couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. “Did Ashley—”
“Ashley?” Surprise flashed across his face, followed quickly by disappointment. “No. My sister did not tell me you had a cabinet full of antipsychotic drugs. I suppose she couldn’t once you became her patient.”
“No.” But Ashley had pushed her to tell Jack the truth. And she had. About most of it. “Those pills aren’t any of your business, Jack. They never were. What we were doing, it was just fun. It was easy. You were staying here, and I figured it was time I took that step. I mean, I am almost twenty-seven. And it isn’t easy meeting a nice guy to, well, take care of that.” Every word, every lie felt like a wound. It couldn’t matter, she told herself. It only mattered that he believed her. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—saddle him with a future of uncertainty. It was only a matter of time before what had happened to her grandmother, to her mother, happened to her. And she was not going to put him through that.
She loved him too much.
“So I was convenient. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Yes.” It took every ounce of energy she had to force the word free. Right now, at this moment, she knew he’d touched a part of her heart she never even thought she had. And she knew she’d never loved him more.
“Of all the things I’ve thought about you, I never took you for a coward.”
“I am not—”
“What do you call these?” He sent every last bottle scattering to the floor. “Those pills are nothing but your fear in physical form. You think about them every day. You see them every time you open that cabinet. You worry if this is the day you’re going to have to take one. If today is the day you finally slip over that edge.”
“Yes,” she bit out. “Yes, I do. And I would never let someone else also live that life.” She hugged her arms around herself and squeezed. “They’re my safety net, Jack. They’re the only hope that I won’t turn into my mother. That I won’t hurt someone I lo—”
“Careful.” Jack’s eyes narrowed as he faced her. “You might start telling me the truth. You love me, Greta. I’m even arrogant enough to think you’ve loved me from the start. But you won’t let me in. Not really. You didn’t tell me the truth about anything important. About yourself. Instead, you tried to stay locked up in that cocoon of yours, where nothing can touch you. You didn’t trust me to love you so much so that I don’t care.”
It was useless to keep up the pretense. He was right, but mainly about him deserving the truth. “That’s why this has to end. Jack, please. You need to understand, I won’t let you live your life waiting for me to disappear. I’m not angry about it, but I am scared of it. Terrified, actually. Why do you think I was so desperate to prove what I’d seen was real? Because I wasn’t ready to go. I’m not ready. But it will happen.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t.” His voice calmed as he approached her, held her. “You love me, Greta. Just tell me, admit it to yourself, out loud, and we can deal with the rest together.”
She wanted to. She’d never wanted to do anything more in her entire life. The idea of a life with Jack, being with him, being near him, laughing and crying with him, embracing all that life had to offer, was everything she’d ever wanted. And yet... His face blurred against the tears. “It’s not enough, Jack. You deserve so much more than a fraction of forever. I will not let you give up your life, your future, when I might not have one.”
“You’re wrong.” He searched her face, his eyes pleading, his hands squeezing his arms as if stopping himself from drawing her closer. “Those pills aren’t a precaution. They’re your escape plan. You’re using them as an excuse because you’re too afraid to take the chance. I’d take whatever time we’re given, Greta. I love you that much.”
That he did filled every empty part of her with warm, perfect light. Even as her heart broke. “And I love you too much to let you.”
The sound of her front door opening and cheerful voices echoing had him dropping his hands. He stepped back, his face going stone-cold.
“Hey, look who’s come out of her cave.” Eden and Cole rounded the corner as Jack turned away. “What’s going on? Are we interrupting something?”
“No,” Jack said. “We’re done. Cole, you can fill her in on the case. I’m going home.”
“Yeah, sure, okay.” Cole leaned back to watch Jack leave the kitchen. “You want to tell us?”
“No.” Greta shook her head and swallowed the tears. She’d shed them later, in the dark. When she was alone in her bed. “How do you like the apartment?”
“How do we—?” Eden gaped at her. “Greta—”
“I haven’t had a chance to find a new attorney to draw up the lease agreement.” Greta’s voice sounded strained. “I’ll take care of all that after the show. If you like it, move in when you want. There’s pasta on the stove. I’m going to go take a shower and get some sleep. Just show yourselves out when you’re done.”
“Greta.” Cole moved to her side. “What happened?”
“What had to happen,” she admitted. “Enjoy your evening.” She hurried out of the room, scooped up a whining Cerberus and scurried down the hall to her bedroom. Only when she’d closed the door behind her did she let the tears fall.
* * *
“You look like crap on a cracker.” Ashley stumbled into the kitchen just after nine the next morning, stretching and yawning and beelining for the coffee machine. “And what are you doing here? I thought you were staying at Greta’s.”
“She’s got patrols watching her place until we locate Fremont. I don’t want her alone until we’ve got him in custody.” Jack didn’t move from his seat at the breakfast bar. He didn’t move, period. He could very well be turning into a zombie with the lack of sleep and constant worry about Greta while she’d been holed up in her studio. Sitting here for who knew how long, staring at the print of Greta’s painting hanging over his couch, seemed like his best option. “Better get used to having me around again.”
“Oh?” Ashley hit the pod button and headed to the fridge. “You two wear each other out already?” Her snort of laughter broke off when she caught Jack’s glare. “Oh. Sorry. First fight?”
“First, maybe last. Who knows?” He wasn’t ready to walk
away. Not completely. He had to find the right answer to convince her that an unknown future was better than no future. “I told her I loved her, but she’s scared.”
“Of course she is.” His sister broke up a bunch of eggs and set the pan on the stove. “Who wouldn’t be, given everything that’s happened?”
He watched her over the rim of his coffee cup. “You knew about the pills.”
“Ah, yeah.” Ashley grimaced. “Sorry about that. I tried to get her to tell you—”
“I’m not mad.” Not exactly.
“Oh. Good. What are you mad about, then?”
“I’m not mad,” he repeated. “I’m disappointed. She won’t even—”
“What? Take a chance? Given what’s in her past, can you blame her? And now the one person she truly trusted, her only parental figure, the one guy who helped her through all that, was using her? We’re lucky she’s talking to any of us.”
“How do you know about all that?”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “Because you aren’t the only person in my universe. And because Eden likes to talk.”
“Yes, she does.” He supposed he should be grateful not having to explain everything to his sister. “You’re a female, Ash.”
She looked down at her chest. “So that’s what these are?”
Jack’s lips twitched. “There has to be something I can do to convince her we’re worth it.”
“Worth what?”
“Worth everything. I want it all. With her. Only her.”
“Nice.” She toasted him with her own mug. “Did you tell her that?”
“I did.” Didn’t he?
“You might want to make sure before you go making new plans.”
Since Greta seemed too scared to ask, he knew someone had to. “What are the chances she has the same illness as her mother?”
“Without having access to her mother’s official diagnosis, there’s no way of knowing really.”
“Never stopped you from guessing before. She said her grandmother and great-grandmother were hit in their thirties when it happened. It must have struck her mother earlier, though, since Serena was only thirty when she died.”
“And Greta’s what? Midtwenties?”
“Nearly twenty-seven.” As she’d informed him last night.
“She could be on the other side of it. The only way to know for sure would be to get some genetic testing done, a few therapy sessions. I’d want to look at her family history, as well. Allie would know better than me what’s available. Jack, I’m sure she’s already thought about all that.”
“Meaning she doesn’t want to know?”
“Meaning maybe she doesn’t realize just what’s at stake. It’s a bit like Schrodinger’s cat, isn’t it? She’s alive, but not really living. Give her some time to deal with this situation with her uncle, with Doyle Fremont. Maybe once all that’s behind her, she’ll be more open to it. Don’t give up on her, Jack.”
“Don’t worry.” He finished his cold coffee. “I won’t.”
* * *
Because she didn’t want to take the chance of running into Jack, Greta headed directly to the DA’s office just after the gallery picked up her paintings. Funny how not too long ago she’d been thinking about expanding where she traveled within the city, yet most of the new places she’d visited had something to do with law enforcement. She checked the directory, logged in with security to get a visitor’s badge, caught sight of Ice and Snow, a painting she’d done when she’d been living in Vermont, then headed upstairs to the DA’s office. Cubicles lined either side of the wide, multicolored carpet. Muted conversations filled the space as she wound around, searching for Simone.
She found the lawyer sitting on the edge of her receptionist’s desk, dressed in sharp, crisp white slacks, killer heels and a silk blouse the color of raspberries. “Greta.” Simone stood up and reached out to hug her, a greeting that took Greta completely off guard. “How lovely to see you. Greta, this is Kyla Bertrand, my soon-to-be former assistant.”
“She loves introducing me that way,” Kyla said with a smile and rose to shake Greta’s hand. Greta couldn’t help but stare. The young woman was stunning, with bright, lively dark eyes and rich black curls framing her face. The long scarf she wore floated against a dress of bright flowers and swirls. She looked like one of Greta’s paintings come to life. “Is something wrong?” Kyla brushed nervous hands down the front of her dress.
“No, no, sorry. I just—” Greta laughed through the distraction. “You’re stunning. I was just thinking about drawing you. And yes, I know how weird that sounds. Occupational hazard.” One she really needed to get under control.
“You’re Greta Renault. Oh, wow! I love your work. Can’t afford it, but I’m a fan.” Kyla reached out her hand. “It’s great to meet you. I’m coming to your show tomorrow night. I’m so excited.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Greta laughed. Odd how that seemed to be happening more frequently.
“Was there something you needed to talk to me about?” Simone asked. “What brings you by?”
“I was wondering if you could tell me what you and Vince found out in New York? Jack didn’t—hasn’t gotten around to it yet.”
“Been busy, have you?” Simone grinned and motioned her into her office. “No problem. Shut the door.” She took a seat behind her desk. “How much detail do you want?”
“As much as you can give me. Is there enough evidence to arrest Doyle Fremont?” She lowered herself into one of the chairs across from Simone, drew her gaze around the beautiful array of photographs, mementos and awards lining the walls and shelves.
“For murder? No. I know you heard the preliminary autopsy results. Calhoun’s cause of death was confirmed. The broken hyoid. Lyndon Thornwald was killed by a blow to the back of the head. It would have been quick, if that’s what’s worrying you.”
It wasn’t, but Greta supposed it eased her mind a bit. “Was he stealing from me?”
“Yes. And no.” Simone reached over and plucked a file folder loose. “The FBI is still investigating, and we’re waiting on some information, but it looks as if the majority of the money left to you by your parents is still there. However, the properties you purchased in the past few years, all but the building here in Sacramento, those have all been sold off.”
“Oh.” Greta frowned. Odd. Despite having liked the idea of having properties around the country, she found she didn’t care beyond the relief that her current home was secure. “What Lyndon was doing with your finances was more out of desperation than greed. He was trying to dig himself out of a hole and just couldn’t get out.”
“I can’t believe he never told me. I would have helped him.”
“Sometimes pride and embarrassment go hand in hand. He probably didn’t want you to look at him differently or to be disappointed in him.”
“And because of that, he’s dead.”
“Yes.” Simone nodded. “I’ve been working on a theory as to why Fremont targeted you as a witness to his so-called crime.”
“To have me declared incompetent so he could get to my money through Lyndon.”
“Partially. But also to discredit you in court if he was ever charged with Calhoun’s murder. You’d have to admit, under oath, that you’d seen him at the gallery days after you saw him killed. No jury would ever convict hearing that. Honestly? No prosecutor would take it to trial. You were his—”
“Escape hatch,” Greta whispered.
“Interesting phrase, but yes.”
“And he killed Lyndon because?”
“Because according to Lyndon’s will, Fremont inherits half his estate. Lyndon gets your money, he gets Lyndon’s. You know you can talk to Jack about this, right?”
“I don’t want to talk to Jack right now.” She needed—no, she wanted him angry with her, separated from her. But the sug
gestion reminded her of why she’d come to see Simone in the first place. “None of this has been made public yet, right?”
“About Fremont?” Simone shook her head. “No. I hate to say it, but I’m not convinced we’ll ever get him into custody. He has too many connections. He’s probably already called in favors to help him disappear. We’ve asked for a warrant to search his office, properties and home, so if he didn’t already know, he will soon. Why? What’s all this about?”
Payback. Revenge. Justice. “I have the guest list for my show tomorrow night. Doyle Fremont hasn’t canceled.”
Simone blinked. “You think he might still show up? Even with—”
“He’ll show up.” That smile he’d sent her the first night, she could recall every minute detail, right down to the gleam of triumph in his eyes. “He’s too arrogant not to. He’ll want to see me in person. And I want to see him.”
“Greta, I don’t think—”
Greta held up her hand. “At some point, I will forgive Lyndon for what he did. I’ll have to.” If for no other reason than to move on with her life. “But I’ll never be able to do that with Fremont. I want him locked up, where he’ll never manipulate or hurt anyone ever again. And so do you.”
Simone’s eyebrow arched. “You have been talking to Jack.”
“I’ve also been doing my homework. You’ve earned your nickname, Simone. Tenfold. I want the Avenging Angel on my side. I want you to help me take Fremont down. Will you do it?”
“I’d ask if you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into but—”
“I do.” She forced the fear and panic down to where she’d deal with it later. “But first I have to ask for a favor.”
“Name it.”
“I need a new lawyer. Preferably someone with an expertise with finances. Someone I can trust.”
Simone’s gaze sharpened. “How do you feel about newbies? I have someone to suggest. She’s reliable, determined and about ten times smarter than I am. She’s also incorruptible.”
“She sounds perfect. When can I meet her?”
Guarding His Midnight Witness Page 21
