On My Knees: The Complete Series Box Set

by C. J. Thomas

  No fucking way.

  “Where are you?” I murmured, speeding through the streets.

  She hadn’t told me where she and Margo were due to meet. Why hadn’t I asked? Because I didn’t want to pry. I wanted to give her space. Let her believe that I could be the boyfriend that didn’t hover or control her every move.

  A stab in the gut made me wish I had been more demanding to know the specifics of her life.

  If I couldn’t reach Julia, I thought I might be able to reach Margo. Of course. That would be the next best thing. I knew just where to get her number, too.

  The moment I pulled into the garage at the station, I pulled the text transcripts from my briefcase and dialed the number while I hurried up to my desk.

  “Come on, Margo,” I muttered darkly, hoping she would do something right and answer the damned phone. Somebody had to. I’d go crazy, not knowing what was happening. Even if it was something drastic, it would be better to know than to wonder.

  No answer from her, either—in fact, her phone was off, too. It chilled me to the bone. Either they were both in trouble, or only Julia was.

  Julia might have walked into a trap, just as I’d suspected.

  Fuck me. I hoped to God that wasn’t the case. Could Margo really be the one to have killed Emelia?

  I stopped off at Joe’s office before going up to my desk. “Anything?”

  He shook his head—there was no missing the way his brow furrowed when he frowned. “No. They can’t find her, even. I have three cars on the streets, all for your tail. I hope this is worth it.”

  My stomach turned to ice. “Yeah, it’s worth it. Call me the minute you hear anything. It could be life or death.” I left before he had the chance to ask any questions.

  Taking the stairs two at a time, I ran up to my desk. I had to get my thoughts in order. Frank would help me.

  “What is it?” His alarmed expression told me everything I needed to know about what I looked like. My face must have worn a horrified expression, judging from his.

  “She’s gone. Dropped off the radar. I can’t find her, or Margo.”

  “Why would they be together?” he asked.

  “Because Julia went to meet with her this morning. Something about news regarding Haynes.”

  “Oh shit.” Frank came over to my desk. “Okay, partner. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

  “You try not jumping to conclusions when something like this happens!” My voice was higher, tighter than usual. I felt myself spiraling out of control. It was almost like watching myself from outside my body, observing the way I frayed at the edges.

  “Okay, okay. Don’t jump down my throat. I’m on your side, remember?” He took me by the arm, sat me down. Every nerve was on edge, my brain on fire.

  “Yes, I remember. I’m sorry. It all makes sense. If Margo had anything to do with Emelia’s death—and I mean anything—she wouldn’t want anybody knowing it. As long as the case is marked a suicide or an accidental overdose, she’s in the clear. The minute the public finds out otherwise, the police could be onto her. She doesn’t know we already have her DNA, that we’d question her with or without the article. She might be desperate to shut Julia up. She could resort to . . . anything.”

  “You’re not sure of that. There could be a good reason for the DNA to be there.”

  I scowled at him. “Knock it off. You know as well as I do there’s no good reason. The only other DNA we found is Emelia’s. Austin’s didn’t even show up, and he was her boyfriend. That housekeeper knew her job, for sure.”

  “You can’t get anything done if you lose your mind. Remember that. You gotta think straight. You gotta keep your head together. Think about it like a detective, not like a . . .”

  “Like a?”

  He frowned and couldn’t meet my intense gaze. “Like a worried boyfriend.” He practically whispered the words.

  I decided to let it go. There was no reason to argue semantics—besides, that was how I was acting. I might as well have been her boyfriend, for that matter. I was the closest thing she had to one, as far as I knew.

  “Okay. As a detective, here are the facts. Julia promised to call as soon as she finished her meeting. After I called three times, the phone was shut off. Does that sound like something she would do if she planned to call?”

  He shook his head, looking reluctant. “No. It sounds like you were gettin’ on somebody’s nerves.”

  “That’s what I thought. Meanwhile, she was due to meet with Margo, who told her there was something huge she needed to tell her. Something about Austin, something she couldn’t take a chance on telling her anywhere else.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “What it sounds like is an obvious ploy to lure her somewhere. I knew it the second she told me.”

  “Why didn’t you stop her, then?” I shot him a withering look. “Oh, right. She’s stubborn like that.”

  “Yes. If I’d said a word, it would have been extra fuel for the fire. She would definitely have gone, then. She’s hopeless.”

  “Okay, so Margo had big news—supposedly. Julia’s phone is off. What else?”

  I shoved the phone bill at him, the texts on top. “What’s this look like?”

  He skimmed the messages. “Somebody shakin’ somebody else down.”

  “The bill’s in Emelia’s name. She’s the one being shaken down. The person sending the messages is Margo. It’s her number—I called it myself.”

  “Oh shit.” Frank sat on my desk, finally convinced I wasn’t crazy to worry. “How did you get this?”

  “Austin. He gave it to Julia last night, begging her to believe he didn’t kill Emelia.”

  “Did she believe him?”

  “She wanted to. I was a little hesitant. Now I wish I had. We could’ve been a lot further ahead with this if I had.”

  “Relax.” He handed me the messages. I skimmed them again. There was such a nasty, cold tone in them.

  “She hated Emelia,” I murmured, more to myself than to Frank.

  “What’s that?”

  “I said, she hated Emelia. It’s so obvious from the way she talks to her here. She toyed with her, belittled her. Told her to sell a house, like that would be all it took. She didn’t care how she got the money, as long as she got it.” I lowered the pages, staring into space, thinking. “Margo didn’t want the money. I honestly don’t think she did.”

  “Why not? Wouldn’t you want it if you were some two-bit tabloid writer?”

  “Sure, but it wasn’t about that. These messages are cold, vicious. It’s personal.” I read through them again. “There’s nothing about why she was shaking Emelia down, though. That’s the only unanswered question.”

  “That’s the only one? I have about a million of ‘em.” Frank shook his head, looking as frustrated as I felt.

  I sat back. Think like a detective. I put the pieces together in my head, in their most likely order.

  “What if Margo found out about Emelia and Austin? What if she threatened to make it public unless Emelia paid up? Only . . . only it wasn’t the money she wanted. What if it was Austin?”

  “What? Why?”

  “Why not? He’s richer than almost anybody in town—and that’s saying something. He’s good-looking, connected, travels the world. Like you said, a two-bit tabloid writer. He could give her a lot more than her shitty job could.”

  I liked the direction this took, and continued talking it out as I sat up straighter.

  “What if her end game was splitting them up? After all, if they broke up, the fallout might be less damaging. They could say they weren’t an item for ages, that she was reporting old news. Hell, Haynes could even say he realized the error of his ways—something like that. Something to save face.”

  “This is actually making sense. I don’t know what that says about me,” Frank quipped.

  “Shut up.” I held up a hand as the gears clicked into place. I didn’t need his interruption. “Okay, so if she tried
to break them up, and they didn’t—” That gave me an idea. “Where are those interview reports again?”

  Frank fished them out for me and I pored over them.

  “See, here you go. One of them asked the assistant how long ago Emelia and Austin dated. Her reply was as far as she knew, they were still together when Emelia died.”

  “Shit.” I met Frank’s troubled eyes.

  “Do you see where I’m going? Why would Austin show up at an even with Margo on his arm unless she had something on him? It couldn’t have been real, not if he and Emelia were still a thing only days earlier. They didn’t just break up. She died. I mean, come on.”

  “Margo wasn’t too smart about this,” Frank muttered. “She overplayed her hand.”

  “Well, if it weren’t for Julia, we wouldn’t have pursued her in the first place.” I picked up the phone to call Joe, asking if he had any news.

  “If I had anything, I’d tell you, wouldn’t I? When you said it was life or death, what did you mean?”

  “It’s a long story.” I hung up, hoping I didn’t piss Joe off but not caring too much.

  I wasn’t getting anywhere through the normal channels. If Margo decided to disappear, that was what she’d do. I only hoped she hadn’t taken Julia along for the ride.

  “I didn’t tell you—I saw Margo sitting outside Julia’s apartment building last night. Watching.”

  “Watching what?”

  “At the time, I thought she was worried about her friend. She already told Julia that Austin could make her disappear if he wanted to—that he had the ability to do that kind of thing. I figured she was concerned, acting like a friend.” How had I been so blind? It all pointed to her being the killer. Having the DNA only solidified my suspicions.

  “And we can’t find her?”

  “No. I have Joe’s guys tailing her, but they can’t even figure out where she is. She wasn’t home when the car went to her place. I don’t know where to start.”

  What had I missed? My head spun, little facts and conversations racing around, bumping together, bouncing off each other. The way she smiled at the party—the way he looked stunned, like a robot. No wonder. He was grieving but couldn’t make it obvious.

  When he told Julia there was more at stake than she was aware of, he wasn’t kidding.

  “Listen.” Frank leaned toward me. “It’s easy to sit and tell yourself you shoulda known somethin’. You shoulda seen it. That’s always easy during any case. What’s the sayin’? Hindsight is twenty-twenty.”

  “I know.” I sighed. That didn’t help. This wasn’t any case. This was Julia.

  “So if she looks like the obvious person now . . . just keep that in mind, okay?”

  I smiled a little. Frank was a good guy, just rough around the edges. He had a big heart, though—if he hadn’t, I wasn’t sure I could stand him as a partner.

  “You have a spot on your tie, you slob.” I stood, grinning.

  None of this felt right. I paced, blocking out everything else as I played over everything in my mind. There were too many questions and not enough answers. Too many unknowns. Too many overlooked red flags.

  There had to be something more I could do.

  154

  Julia

  I BLINKED and my eyes felt heavy.

  I thought I was on a boat.

  At night.

  It was the only thing that made sense when I felt myself rocking back and forth in the darkness.

  Then I thought, maybe a hammock.

  Maybe I fell asleep in a hammock on the beach. Yes, and Dan’s with me. We’re tangled up in each other, rocking back and forth. It’s so relaxing . . .

  I wanted to go back to sleep. It would be so easy . . .

  Wait.

  No.

  There was something wrong.

  Then the hammock came to a sudden stop, slamming me against something hard.

  I tried to open my eyes, vague memories of something bad pulling at my consciousness. It was all so foggy, and it would be so much easier to sink back into my dreams. Being with Dan, without a care in the world . . .

  I struggled to stay conscious, fighting as though I were drowning. Pulling myself out from under a strong current.

  I didn’t have a clear memory of what happened, only the feeling that something went down.

  There was danger.

  I was in danger.

  I needed to stay awake and aware.

  My eyes flew open and I gasped when I realized it was just as dark then as it was when they were closed. Where was I?

  The smell of fuel. I recognized it right away. The air was hot, stuffy. I could hardly breathe.

  I told myself to calm down, to breathe slowly. A panic attack was the last thing I needed. Even if I was on the brink of having one, I had to keep myself together.

  Oh, God. My mouth. I couldn’t open my mouth. It was taped shut.

  I couldn’t pull the tape off, since my hands were tied behind my back.

  I couldn’t move my legs. They were tied together.

  It was a nightmare.

  But I was alive.

  My heart beat faster, blood pounding in my ears. My breath came hard and fast, which wasn’t easy since I could only breathe through my nose. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. If I did, I’d be hopelessly stuffy. It would make breathing that much harder.

  Where was I? Who’s car was this?

  I closed my eyes, trying to think over the pounding of my aching head.

  That was another problem—my head ached worse than it ever had; a pulsing, throbbing pain radiating from one central point in the back. Why?

  They hit me. It all came back at once. Somebody hit me. I went hazy, fuzzy, then totally unconscious. At some point, I’d been bound and gagged. It was all getting clearer.

  Who was it, though? Austin?

  The thought chilled me. He’d killed Emelia. I should’ve known. Poor girl, thinking she was in love, that he was in love with her.

  She couldn’t have been more wrong. She couldn’t have given her heart to a worse person.

  How would I get out of it? There was no way for me to kick out a tail light, my legs bent in the opposite direction, facing the backs of the seats.

  I tried to roll, but it was virtually impossible with my arms behind me as they were. I felt my shoulders straining, pulling as I tried. I thought I might dislocate my shoulder if I wasn’t careful.

  That was the last thing I needed—I was already up a creek.

  Dan. I needed Dan.

  How would Dan ever find me? He didn’t know where I was going. Why hadn’t I told him? It was the one time I needed to be smart, and I wasn’t. Why hadn’t I learned better? He’d told me so many times how I needed him, but I never paid attention. I was too busy relying on myself, too proud to trust the man I was falling for with my whereabouts to my day.

  He always found me before, I reasoned.

  He would find me again.

  Wasn’t that what cops did? They found people. They had ways. I told myself this, over and over, to stay calm.

  He would find me.

  Could I help him? Not the way I was tied up, I couldn’t. I was totally helpless. I could only hope he tracked me, somehow.

  My phone? I remembered seeing it in the car, sticking out of my bag. I remembered that he called. I was so close to answering, too.

  So close.

  Police could track the signal on a phone. He might at least know where I’d been. He might be able to . . . I didn’t know what.

  What would it mean, if the phone was still in the car, back at the theater? I doubted the person driving the car, whoever they were, would have taken the purse—unless it was a robbery.

  Was it? I doubted it. If it was, why wouldn’t they try to hold me up, at least? They knew just where I was, too—it would be one thing if I’d been standing in the middle of the street and they approached. They had searched me out deliberately. It wasn’t random.

  Would there be enoug
h for Dan to piece together the case without me? Would it be enough to find me before my captor killed me?

  I was sure that was what they planned. You don’t put a person in the trunk of a car after hitting them over the head, then take the trouble to tie and gag them when you don’t plan to take it all the way.

  I closed my eyes, praying for strength.

  I had to be strong.

  It was all I had to hold onto.

  Dan. He swam in front of my closed eyes. We’d come so close, hadn’t we?

  We were almost there.

  Almost together.

  We could’ve had so much more—even in a short amount of time, we’d come so far. It felt so unfair, finding out how good life could be, then having my life snuffed out.

  Just the way Emelia had.

  My heart broke for her all over again, even in the midst of my pain and fear. Was she aware of what was happening as she died?

  I guessed she was—her eyes were open, she was stretching for something on the nightstand. Probably the phone.

  She’d never made the call. Her breathing had stopped, and that was it.

  What was she thinking when she died? Was she scared? Resigned? Did she think of Austin, wondering what went wrong? Did she curse herself for being naïve enough to trust him when he was the one ending her life?

  Tears filled my eyes. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

  The difference was, I was leaving somebody behind who I was fairly sure cared about me. I knew I cared about him, without a doubt.

  How would he feel when he found out I was gone?

  I couldn’t hold back the tears at the thought. It wouldn’t just hurt him. It might destroy him. Not that I had any illusions of him loving me—the bigger problem was the way he’d blame himself for not stopping me.

  For not asking where I was going.

  For not going with me.

  He’d tear himself apart. I might not have known he was an early riser or a great cook, but I knew that much about him.

  Sure enough, I felt stuffy as I cried. My eyes leaked, my nose ran, but I couldn’t wipe anything away. All I could do was cry helplessly.