by Dee Davis
"No. Well, not with me at least. He was there, I think. Avalon is the spot for politicians and government flunkies, after all. And he’s nothing if not a politico. But he wasn’t with me." She was repeating herself. Still there was no way she’d been ‘with’ the senator. Despite the way things appeared.
"I’m not sure anyone is going to buy that. Your name has been linked with his in the press. And at least judging by the state you were in when I found you, it wasn’t a platonic meeting in that hotel room." Again there was nothing in his comments that indicated he cared one way or the other except as a means to continue his questioning, but that didn’t stop the need to set him straight.
"I don’t know anything about the hotel room, except what happened after I woke up. I have no memory of leaving Avalon. And no memory of doing so with Tom. If it weren’t for the evidence to the contrary, I’d swear to you that there was no possibility I would have voluntarily left with that man. I despise him. Anything you saw in the press was due to his and my father’s manipulation. The two of them thought it would be the perfect blending of dynasties if I were to marry Tom. I refused." She ran a hand through her hair, forgetting it was in a ponytail. Her fingers snagged, and she winced as she jerked them free. "On more than one occasion, I might add. But Tom wasn’t very good at accepting no for an answer."
"Were you afraid of him, Emily?" Gideon took a step forward, concern reflected in his eyes.
"No." She held out a hand to stop him, knowing that if he touched her, she’d surely shatter. "Wary maybe, but not afraid. Maybe I should have been." A sudden horrible realization dawned. "Do you think that’s why I killed him? That he did something to me. Or tried to do something?"
Her breathing was coming in gasps again, and she felt the blood pounding in her head. "Oh God, I can’t believe any of this is happening." She closed her eyes, fighting her rising panic, feeling the bed dip as he sat down next to her. His strong arms circled her shoulders, pulling her against him.
"We don’t know what happened. And until we do, you have to stay calm. It’s the only way you’re going to get through this without falling apart."
"But if I killed him…"
His arms tightened for a moment, and she thought she felt his lips brush against her hair. "If you killed him, there must have been a reason, Em. You’d never take a life unless you were pushed beyond the brink."
"But he was…he wasn’t just murdered, Gideon. He was mutilated. You saw it. What kind of a monster am I that I could do that?"
He let her go, pushing to his feet. "If driven to it, a person will do anything to survive, Emily. Anything." He crossed back to the window, staring down on the street below, whatever brief connection they’d shared severed.
Or maybe it had only been in her imagination all along.
"So what about all the tests? What are you looking for?"
When he’d first brought her here, an associate of his, Dr. Paige someone or other, had been on hand to examine her, draw blood, and take photographs before she’d been allowed to shower. The woman had been clinical, but kind. Yet, even so, Emily had felt further violated.
"Anything to give us a clue as to what happened." For the first time since he’d entered the room, he seemed uncomfortable.
"You think maybe I was drugged?" Or worse, but she couldn’t bring herself to say that out loud. Not in front of him. Not in front of anyone.
"It’s possible. It would explain why you don’t remember leaving the club."
"So would too much tequila." She’d meant the quip to be funny, but instead it fell flat—silence stretching between them.
Finally, he turned back to her. "Have you ever had blackouts before? From drinking, I mean."
"No. Of course not. And I don’t remember overdrinking at all last night. But tequila can be funny that way." There’d been a night with the two of them once. A crazy night. But a good one. "I should have known better."
"But even so you’d never have left with the senator." It was a statement and somehow she was absurdly grateful for the fact.
"No. I wouldn’t have. At least not without a really compelling reason. And if I’d had that, surely I wouldn’t have forgotten about it."
"Well, the tests will tell us if you had any drugs in your system. And hopefully it’ll give us a clue about how much tequila as well." A shadow of a smile graced his face. At least she wasn’t the only one who remembered the good times.
Before he’d betrayed her.
His expression darkened, as if he were thinking along the same path. "We’ll know more soon. But until then, I want you to keep quiet about what happened."
"How is that possible? Even with me gone, when they discover Tom’s body and examine the scene won’t they realize I was there?" The thought made her feel physically ill.
"That’s the beauty of my team. Remember, we’re there to make problems disappear." He reached over to cover one of her hands with his, but she jerked away, popping off the bed to pace in front of the bureau, her arms wrapped about her waist.
"Oh God, you don’t mean that you’re making Tom disappear? I mean, he’s a senator, after all. And besides, I don’t want it to just go away, Gideon. I want to understand what happened. And I believed what you said about needing time."
"Which is why the team is leaving the body as it is. All they’re doing is removing any evidence that might point to you having been there."
"They can do that?"
"I told you they’re very good."
"I just feel like this is wrong."
"You called me, Em." There was disappointment in his voice. As if he’d been expecting a different answer.
"I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I am grateful for your help. I’m just so confused." She turned around to face him, wishing that there wasn’t so much between them. That the real truth wasn’t that she’d seen his face on that phone and known that he was the only person she could call.
Only that didn’t make sense. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t believe in him. He’d lied to her. He’d betrayed her. He’d almost destroyed her father. How could she trust him now?
But the simple truth was that she did. Somewhere deep inside, beneath all the pain, all the doubt, all the anger—she trusted him.
"Gideon, honestly, I didn’t mean to…"
"It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done." His words were clipped, his voice cold. "Ryder will be here shortly to take you to your father’s. I think it’s best that you be with family when the news breaks."
"But I thought you’d be…"
"Coming with you? Yeah, like that’s a reality either of us would ever be a part of. Ryder will make sure you arrive safely. Someone will get back to you as soon as we have some answers, but until then you have to keep quiet. Tell no one. Not your father, not your uncle. Not even Sylvie or Jules."
She nodded. "I understand."
"Tell them you had too much to drink last night, and that you decided to sleep it off at a friend’s."
"But they’ll ask who it was."
"Tell them you don’t kiss and tell or whatever it takes to reassure them and stop any further questions."
"What if I have questions?" she asked, ridiculously wanting to know that he was still there for her.
"Ryder will give you contact information. Unfortunately, now I need to go. There are still things that have to be done." He started across the room, clearly dismissing her. It was totally understandable and probably for the best, but it didn’t stop the rejection from hurting.
"Gideon?" He stopped, looking back at her, his face shuttered. "Thank you. For coming. For this." She waved at the room. "For everything."
For a moment his expression softened and then he gave a little shrug. "It’s what I do."
And with that, he was gone.
Emily stood there for what felt like forever, staring at the empty spot where he’d been standing. And then with a sigh, she shoved her roiling emotions deep inside her. She was a Masterson. Which meant she�
�d been raised to handle anything.
Even this.
CHAPTER 3
"SO IS SHE GONE?" Declan strode into the operations room of the safe house, tossing a file on a table arrayed with security monitors.
Gideon was supposed to be wrapping things up and then heading back to the Triad offices, but instead he’d been sitting there looking at a grainy picture of Emily on one of the monitors. She was staring into the mirror in the room upstairs, her expression haunted.
He pulled his attention away from the image. "Yeah, Ryder is taking her to her father’s."
"She isn’t going to tell him she’s been with us, I presume?"
"No. She’s not. I don’t think she’s happy about the fact. Part of her wants to come clean with all of it."
"But she knows if she does that, she’ll be tried and convicted in the press before there’s even a chance at a fair trial."
"Yeah, she knows. But Em isn’t a fan of lying."
"Could have fooled me."
Gideon decided to ignore the jab. Besides, Declan was right. If his past with Emily was anything to go by, she was very good at lying. Or believing them, anyway. "Bottom line, she’ll keep quiet. I don’t think she’ll tell anyone anything about what happened unless the truth of her involvement in Irwin’s death comes to light."
"And because of our intervention, that’s not very likely."
"Things went well at the hotel, I take it?"
"Yeah. Thanks to Ryder and his mythical skills, security will never know we were there. And you know as well as I do we’ve got the best of the best working for us. There won’t be anything left that can possibly tie Emily to the scene."
"Good. I don’t even want to think about the alternative." Despite himself, his eyes were drawn back to the photo, his heart clenching at the pain reflected in her expression.
Declan perched himself on the edge of a desk, his eyes moving to the monitor. "You need to let this go, Gideon. Trusting Emily back then almost cost you everything."
"Not Em, her father." It was an old argument. One that he and Declan had been having off and on for ten years.
"Yes, but she stood by him. And push come to shove, she’d have testified against you. She’s not your friend, Gideon. Hell, she’s not your anything anymore."
"You’re preaching to the choir. I haven’t forgotten what Blake Masterson did to me. And I haven’t forgotten Emily’s role in it. But that doesn’t have anything to do with this. She asked for our help. And we’re going to see it through."
Declan held up his hands in mock surrender. "Of course we’ll see it through. I wasn’t suggesting that we not." His expression grew more serious. "I’m just saying that maybe you need to distance yourself from this case. Ryder and I can handle it."
"I have distance," he snapped. "Ten fucking years of it."
"Which is why you’re sitting here in the dark staring at her picture."
"It helps me think." About things he wasn’t supposed to care about anymore.
Declan pushed to his feet, clearly annoyed. "Yeah, whatever you need to tell yourself."
"Look, what happened between Emily and me is part of my past. I’m over it. So you can stop worrying."
Declan stepped closer, his jaw clenched in anger. "What happened between you and Emily almost destroyed you. I was there trying to put you back together. If you don’t remember, I do. And I don’t want to see you fall into the same trap again. People like the Mastersons aren’t to be trusted."
"Rich people, you mean." He rose, his gaze locked with Declan’s, feeling his face flush as his own anger began to rise. For a moment they just stared at each other, and then he shrugged. "Hell, we’re rich people now. Doesn’t mean we’ve lost our moral compass, does it?"
Despite himself, Declan’s lips curled into a smile. "To be honest, I’m not sure that we had much of one to begin with." It wasn’t true, of course, but the quip eased the tension between the two of them.
"So," Gideon said, dropping back into his chair, "what did the tests show? I figure that’s why you’re here? Is it bad news?"
"Depends on how you interpret it, I suppose," Declan said, straddling the chair across from Gideon. "No. I don’t mean that. I think it’s mostly good."
"So spill it. What did you find?"
"Well, that honor actually goes to Paige. I wouldn’t know which end of a microscope to look through. But she sent over her report." Paige Donaldson was a forensic pathologist who worked cases for the team. Trained by the best of the best, Tracy Braxton, Paige was at the top of her game. Declan reached for the file and flipped it open. "Of course some of this is really personal, but I suspect you’re going to want all the details. So I’ll hit the high points and leave you to peruse the rest. The best news is that there was no sign of rape. In fact, after all the blood was washed off, no sign of any kind of sexual trauma."
Gideon’s eyes moved again to the monitor. "I know that will mean a hell of a lot to Em. What about consensual relations?" The words almost choked him. Maybe Declan was right; maybe he shouldn’t be so closely involved in this.
Declan grimaced. "No sign of her having had sex at all."
"Right," Gideon said, releasing a breath. "What about the blood and urine tests?"
"That’s where it starts to get interesting." Declan grimaced. "From a purely scientific point of view, I mean. Emily had GHB in her system. Which would explain the memory loss."
"And could possibly prove she wasn’t in any shape to have killed Irwin. The effects of GHB can last like four hours, right?"
Declan nodded.
"Do we have an estimated time of death for Irwin?"
"Obviously without an autopsy it can’t be conclusive and given the circumstances that wasn’t possible, but looking at lividity, Paige estimates somewhere around two o’clock this morning. So if Emily is telling the truth about hitting the clubs until really late, my guess is that she’d have been too incapacitated to have killed him."
"I already told you that I believe she’s telling the truth. At least as far as she can remember it." Declan opened his mouth to argue, but Gideon waved him silent. "Anything else?"
"Well, this is less conclusive, but still interesting. After seeing her in person, and then seeing the crime scene, Paige doesn’t think the directional blood spatter on Emily’s body supports the idea that she was upright when the spatter hit her. And if she wasn’t upright—"
"Then she couldn’t have stabbed Irwin," Gideon said, cutting his friend off. "This is great news."
"It’s not enough to exonerate her if the whole truth comes out."
"Maybe not, but as far as I’m concerned it at least proves I was right. She didn’t do it. No matter what you and Ryder thought."
"Hey, cut me some slack. I might not like the woman, but that doesn’t mean I think she’s a killer. As for Ryder…well, he’s even less of a fan of Emily Masterson than I am. But that doesn’t mean he thinks she killed the guy either. And anyway, no matter how wonderful the news may seem, it still leaves us with a hell of a big problem."
"Yeah. Who did kill the senator."
"Well, it’s a little bit more complicated than that. Someone slipped a mickey into Emily’s drink and dragged her to Irwin’s room. And then someone brutally killed the senator, with Emily drugged on the bed next to him."
"And left her there alive. Was there enough GHB in her system to have killed her?"
"Paige says no. Which means our killer had a plan."
"A fall girl." Gideon’s gut began to churn.
Declan nodded, his expression grim. "And we just turned that plan on its ear."
"Jesus fucking Christ."
*****
"YOU DIDN’T HAVE to drive me. I could have taken a cab," Emily said, shooting a sideways glance at Ryder Kincaid. He wasn’t quite as tall as Gideon, but they shared the same dark Celtic good looks. Except where Gideon’s eyes were piercing green, Ryder’s were stormy gray, and just at the moment, not looking particularly friendly.
"Gideon didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be out where someone might recognize you." The way he said it indicated that he was more inclined to agree with her than with Gideon.
"Look, I know you have every reason to distrust me. But I really do appreciate everything you’ve done."
"I’m doing it for Gideon," he said. "Not for you."
They rode in silence for a block or so. Or at least as much silence as a busy street in Manhattan ever afforded.
Finally, she sucked in a breath, unable to stand the quiet. "So is it all taken care of, then? My presence in the room, I mean?"
"More or less." Ryder shrugged. "When I left, they were finishing things up. We had to move quickly before someone walked in on us."
"But surely you’ll have been caught coming and going by security cameras or something?" She’d worried about that when Gideon had carried her from the hotel room as well. Even bundled up, it was possible to have seen the blood. Not to mention the oddity of a man carrying a blanket-clad woman through the hotel hallways. They’d used the back stairs, but still…
"They won’t have seen a thing," Ryder was saying, an honest smile lighting his face. "I’ve got a knack for hacking into things. And it isn’t that hard to adjust a security feed. And fortunately the Brighton only has cameras in the elevators and lobby. It’s such a small hotel, access is limited."
"What about the stairway?"
"No cameras in the service corridor, which is why Gideon carried you out that way. It’ll be fine. And just to be sure, I’ll be double checking everything once I drop you off."
"But if there was security footage, then surely there’d be something showing me coming into the lobby or up to Tom’s room in the elevator?" The idea sent frissons of both alarm and hope clamoring through her.
"I did a cursory check. There’s nothing. I’m guessing whoever brought you up didn’t want anyone to know about it."
"But wouldn’t that mean that they’d also doctored the feed or whatever?"
Ryder shot her a look of grudging respect. "It’s possible. I need to have a closer look. I’ll know more after I’ve had a chance to run a few diagnostics."
