Emma’s room was slightly bigger than Danielle’s—there were two armchairs around a small table, and a queen-sized bed.
Ian and I sat in the armchairs, and Emma sat on the edge of the bed. “I haven’t been sleeping that well since Carl’s death,” she admitted.
“Why?” I said. “I would’ve thought that you of all people would be happy to see him dead.”
Emma shook her head. “I have to admit something. I told you and the cops that I was in the casino all night, but I actually went out for a walk that evening. I don’t think the cops have looked into my alibi yet, but they will soon. And as soon as they do that, they’ll think that I’m the one who killed Carl.”
Ian and I exchanged a glance.
“But you didn’t kill him, did you?” I said gently.
Emma shook her head furiously. “No, of course not! I just hate what’s going on. I should never have come forward with these allegations.”
“But you did,” I said. “Because Senator Pritchett paid you to.”
Emma stared at me, her eyes wide with surprise. “How do you know that?”
“At least you’re not pretending to deny it,” said Ian dryly.
“We just talked to Senator Pritchett,” I said. “She told us everything.”
“She did pay me,” said Emma. “But everything I said was true. Carl was a horrible, violent man.”
“I believe you,” I said. And the thing was, I did believe her. “I’m sure the cops will understand that you forgot you went out for a walk. It happens all the time.”
Emma shook her head. “But what if they don’t? I’ve always said that I hated him.”
“Just because you hated him doesn’t mean that you went and killed him,” I said.
“But people might think that I’ve been traumatized, and I just snapped and went and poisoned him,” said Emma.
I looked at Emma doubtfully. Perhaps that was exactly what had happened—the pressure had gotten to be too much for her, and the dredging up of old feelings and past events had made Emma take the law into her own hands.
“I’m sure no one will think that,” said Ian. “I’m sure you’re going to be fine.”
I nodded. “Nothing bad will happen to you. Is there anything else you wanted to tell us?”
Emma shook her head no. “You guys know everything now. There’s nothing else I can share.”
Chapter Twenty–One
Ian and I drove home feeling vaguely uneasy. I was tempted to believe Emma—she seemed so naïve and vulnerable. On the other hand, I felt like Senator Pritchett might be hiding something else from us. Perhaps she had bribed one of Carl’s bodyguards, or one of her aides had snuck in through the back door and poisoned Carl’s coffee.
“I don’t think I trust Senator Pritchett,” said Ian.
“Neither do I,” I said. “But at least now we’re getting somewhere.”
“Are we going to talk to Steve today?”
“I have to head to the diner, but why don’t you try giving him a call? If he doesn’t answer, you can leave a message.”
I dropped Ian back at the apartment and went over to the diner like I said I would.
When I asked the waitress if Johnson had been in today, she shook her head and said that he hadn’t. So I sat in my usual booth at the back and had yet another three-hour lunch while I waited for Johnson to show up.
As I’d expected, he was nowhere to be seen. Still, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I had been so hopeful that perhaps Johnson would tell me something about Stone, and now that hope had been dashed.
When I got back to my apartment, I was feeling too dejected to jump straight back to work. Instead I went over to Ian’s apartment, where I let Snowflake snuggle on my lap as the three of us watched reruns of an old sitcom.
After an hour of forced laughter, I asked Ian if he had called Steve.
“I did,” said Ian. “I even left a message. But he hasn’t gotten back to me.”
“I might as well stop feeling sorry for myself,” I said. “Why don’t I look him up in my database, and then we can go and try to talk to him?”
It took me only a few minutes to pull up Steve’s address—he was living in an apartment close to the UNLV campus, and Ian and I drove over quickly.
It was early afternoon, and the street Steve lived on was quiet at this hour. I assumed that the people who worked in offices were still at work, and the people who worked over at the Strip were just starting to get ready for their shifts.
Steve’s building was an old-fashioned three-story walk-up, and Ian and I trudged up to the second floor and down the corridor to Steve’s apartment.
I rapped on the door, but there was no answer. I could hear somebody moving around inside, talking on the phone, and I rapped again.
After a few minutes, Steve opened the door. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, his feet were clad in black dress shoes, and a silver watch glinted on his wrist.
“You again,” he said, not even bothering to fake politeness.
“We just want a minute of your time,” I said. “I have a few questions about Carl.”
Steve looked at us in annoyance and shook his head before stepping outside and locking the door behind himself. “I can’t talk now. My sister just had an accident and she’s been taken to the hospital. I’m driving over to see her now.”
As he walked off rapidly, Ian and I followed him downstairs and outside in a daze. I wasn’t sure if I believed his story about the accident or not, but I didn’t see why he would need to make up such an elaborate lie just to get away from us.
“Maybe we could come by tomorrow?” I said.
Steve shook his head. “I’m working tomorrow.”
Before we could say anything, Steve stepped into his car and drove off.
Ian and I looked at each other in dismay.
“That could have gone better,” said Ian.
I laughed shortly. “You’re telling me. But at least, if he’s working for Ellen, we can go over to her place and talk to him there.”
Ian smiled. “I guess that could work.”
I called Ellen immediately, and she told me that, yes, Steve would be working for her tomorrow afternoon. I was perfectly welcome to come by to talk to him.
“Well,” I said to Ian, “at least we’ve got something to look forward to now.”
Detective Ryan picked me up for our date just after six o’clock. He was looking as handsome as ever, and when I saw him standing at my door, my heart did a little flip-flop. His tan skin was set off by the white shirt he wore, and tonight his brown hair was curly and slightly damp. He smelled of fresh citrus and pine, and his gray eyes glimmered under the hallway lights.
I had chosen to wear a conservative black dress for our first date, something that would be appropriate wherever we went, and Ryan looked at me appreciatively as I stood at the door. “You look gorgeous,” he said.
I blushed slightly. “So do you.”
As we drove over to the restaurant he’d picked out, we chatted vaguely about our day. I let him know that I was working on a case, but I couldn’t really talk about it. His work was pretty much the same—he was also working on a case that he couldn’t talk about. By the time we got to the restaurant, we were both laughing at the irony of our lives.
Pier 21 was located near Henderson, and it turned out to be a small, charming place. The hardwood floor was stained a dark espresso color, and a large abstract mural decorated one wall. Candles flickered on all the tables, and Ryan pulled out a chair for me before sitting down on the opposite side.
“I’ve never been here before,” he said, “but I’ve heard the place has amazing food.”
Soft music piped through the room, and a dark-suited waiter approached us to take our orders. Ryan ordered a beer, and I ordered a glass of red wine to drink while we decided what to eat.
I was trying to choose between the roast lamb and the chicken risotto when my phone rang.
Normally, I would ha
ve ignored it, but it was a number I didn’t know, and something told me this might be a big deal.
“You should answer that,” said Ryan. “It looks important.”
I smiled at him gratefully and answered the phone. “This is Tiffany Black.”
“This is Johnson,” said the voice on the other end. “Come over to the diner now, and I can tell you something you should know about Stone.”
He hung up before I could say anything, and I stared at my cell phone in disbelief.
“Who was that?” said Ryan. “Is everything all right?”
I shook my head no. “That was someone who knew Stone. He says he needs to meet me now.”
Ryan looked at me, his face awash with disappointment and concern. “Are you sure it’s safe for you to be looking for Stone like this? He might be dangerous.”
“Stone’s not dangerous,” I said. “We’ve known each other for so long, and he saved my life more than once. I trust him, and if he needs my help, I have to be there for him.”
Ryan nodded. “I understand. But are you sure… is this really what you need to do?”
I nodded. “I’m afraid so. I’m sorry about leaving like this, but can I get a rain check on the dinner?”
Ryan smiled, looking resigned. “Sure. Go meet this guy, and see if he can help Stone out. And then, maybe next week, we can go out for dinner again.”
Relief flooded through me, and I smiled at him gratefully. “Thank you! I’m so glad you understand.”
Chapter Twenty–Two
It took a few minutes to get an Uber, and then another few minutes to drive over to the diner. Each minute felt like an hour, and I could feel my stress levels getting higher and higher the further we drove along.
What would Johnson want to tell me? Would he tell me that Stone was a great big liar and could never be trusted? Or perhaps he would tell me that Stone was in bigger trouble than I thought, and that I needed to drop everything to help him out. Or perhaps…
My imagination started to run wild, and in the end, I had to take deep, calming breaths. I didn’t want to scare Johnson off; I needed to look like a normal, trustworthy person.
The diner was busy at this hour, full of groups of single men and happy families. I spotted Johnson sitting in one of the booths at the back, and I went and slid into the seat opposite him. My lips felt cold, and I wondered if my eyes looked as worried as I felt.
If Johnson was surprised by my attire, he didn’t show it. Instead, he said, “I like to meet people here. It’s surprisingly private and safe.”
I nodded, because I didn’t really know how to respond to that. Instead, I said, “Thank you for meeting me. You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”
When the waitress arrived to take my order, I asked for a chocolate milkshake. She topped up Johnson’s coffee and promised that my milkshake would arrive within a few minutes.
“Stone’s lucky to have a friend as persistent as you,” said Johnson.
“I don’t think luck has anything to do with it. He was so helpful to me; that kind of friendship deserves loyalty.”
Johnson looked at me speculatively, as though wondering if he believed me.
“I love Stone almost as much as a son—wait, maybe that’s too much. I love him almost as much as a nephew. He’s a great guy, but he’s not boyfriend material.”
We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, and I only looked away to thank the waitress when she appeared with my milkshake.
I wanted to deny that I thought of Stone as a potential boyfriend, but I didn’t see the point. I said, “I know he’s not here now, and he’s in some kind of trouble. But things might get better after this.”
“They might, they might not. He’ll always have trust issues, and you never know when things from the past of someone like Stone will pop up.”
I took a long, thoughtful sip of my milkshake. The chocolatey goodness made me feel a little better, and I said, “It doesn’t matter if he isn’t a good potential boyfriend. He’s still my friend, and I want to help him out.”
Johnson nodded. “I had a feeling you would say that.”
“Can you tell me what happened to Stone in Afghanistan?”
“What exactly did the CIA men tell you?”
“They said he went rogue. He kidnapped two Afghan women, and he killed one of his own team members. And then he threatened to kill the other team member.”
Johnson shook his head. “I don’t know what really happened in Afghanistan, but Stone tried to save as many lives as he could. He never kidnapped anyone. Someone from his own team set him up.”
I nodded thoughtfully. “That seems like a reasonable explanation. I could never imagine Stone doing anything wrong.”
Johnson smiled. “You have an awfully high opinion of Stone.”
“Don’t you think he deserves it?”
Johnson nodded. “For all he’s been through, he still tries to help out everyone he can.”
“So where is Stone now? Why can’t he just clear things up with the government?”
“I can’t tell you where Stone is,” said Johnson, taking a long sip of his coffee. “The CIA has someone on the inside working against Stone. Either that, or they’ve been misled by some events. We can’t approach anyone directly.”
“So what happens now?”
“One of the CIA men who was on Stone’s team in Afghanistan is going to be coming to Vegas. We’ll see if we can run surveillance on him, and we might learn something.”
“But we might not, also,” I said, my heart sinking in disappointment. “Can’t we do anything that will work quicker?”
Johnson shook his head. “It’s been years. In many ways, our best bet now is to hope that the whole thing will blow over. We’ve been trying to send the CIA hints that Stone might be down in Florida. If they stop looking for him here and move the search to Florida instead, Stone might be able to come out of hiding again.”
“But people who know Stone will see him, and one of them might get in touch with the CIA.”
“There’s always plastic surgery,” said Johnson. “It’s not that difficult to change a person’s identity.”
I stared at him, trying not to look too shocked. I didn’t want to look like a naïve innocent who thought changing a person’s identity was a difficult thing to do.
“So even if Stone can come out of hiding… he’ll probably have to have plastic surgery and look completely different? And I’ll have to call him by a different name?”
Johnson smiled thinly. “See what I mean by ‘not good boyfriend material’?”
I laughed. “I was just… I can’t imagine Stone looking different. He’ll be a completely different person.”
“He’ll still be the same person,” said Johnson softly.
I nodded somberly. “I know. But what about his security firm? What will he do for work if he’s got a different identity?”
“Stone doesn’t really need to work for anyone. He’s had some stock investments do very well over the years. But he likes working with people and helping them out—he could always start some other business.”
I nodded. “So where is Stone now?”
“I can’t tell you that, or anything else about him at this stage,” said Johnson, “but I’ve got your number. Stone or I might get in touch with you again soon.”
“And then will you be able to tell me everything that happened?”
Johnson looked at me seriously. “Perhaps. If you still want to know.”
I nodded. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you again.”
My shift passed in an uneasy haze of bright lights and happy tourists. As the chimes of the casino rung out around me and I dealt cards to happy gamblers, I thought about Stone.
I would always be his friend, but perhaps there was a part of me that couldn’t stop thinking of him in romantic terms. Perhaps a tiny piece of my heart hoped that I would end up with him in the end—was that why I had left my date with Ryan so quickly?
<
br /> But Johnson was right, Stone would never be a good boyfriend. I needed to move on with my life, and that meant giving other men a serious chance. I liked Ryan, and he had serious long-term potential. He was a good person, and his good looks set my heart racing every time I saw him. I really needed to try to make things work with him.
Even if Stone and I could never be together, I was thrilled that there was a chance that Stone could come out of hiding again soon. He might need to change his identity, but it would be great to have Stone in my life again. I could finally see the light at the end of a long tunnel, and I looked forward to hearing from Johnson again.
If there was a chance that Stone might need my help on short notice, I wanted to be able to be there for him. So on my break, I went to see Hamish Macaulay and let him know that I wasn’t ready to be a pit boss just yet.
“Are you sure?” said Hamish. “It would be a great career opportunity for you.”
I smiled wryly. “I know. And I appreciate it. But it’s just not for me, not right now.”
Hamish nodded, and said he understood, but I could see in his eyes that he didn’t. That didn’t matter—I knew why I was doing this, and I knew that I would do whatever it took to help Stone out.
Chapter Twenty–Three
My shift ended early that day, so the next morning, I woke up at nine and invited Ian over to my place for a breakfast of Pop Tarts and coffee. As we ate, I filled him in on my meeting with Johnson.
“That’s great!” said Ian after he heard everything from me. “It’s so exciting that Stone’s going to be okay!”
“We’re still not sure that Stone will be okay,” I said, trying not to get swept up by Ian’s enthusiasm. “All I know is that Stone might be fine soon.”
“But that’s better than what you were worried about before. You thought that Stone might disappear permanently, and now, the worst-case scenario is that he’ll reappear after having some plastic surgery and getting a new identity.”
“I guess that is better than the alternative,” I admitted.
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