by Maeve Hart
“Please let me know when the report comes back.” I popped a piece of cucumber in my mouth.
“Yes, I will.”
“Have you seen Don’s mother, or do you know how she is?”
“I could just as well ask you that.” He laughed.
“Oh, well, I don’t like going near them. They blame me for Jennifer getting arrested. They think I framed her somehow, which is ridiculous because I wasn’t even there.”
“Yes, I know. We have statements from your two friends.”
I nodded, knowing he’d recently taken statements from Abbie and her boyfriend, Steve, about me being at the cabin the night I’d had the big fight with Don.
“Getting back to Jacques Hunter, do you know anything about him?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “Apart from him being Don’s boss and being rich, but everyone knows that.”
“Yes.”
I had to change the subject. “Thank you for being so nice to me. You’ve totally changed my perception of the police.”
He chuckled. “That’s good to hear.”
“I mean it. You didn’t have to come all this way just to tell me about Don never divorcing, but I’m glad you did. What does this mean now?”
“Well, it won’t make the rest of his family happy if she is successful in her lawsuit against them.”
“No, I guess not. I do feel sorry for his mother. He was everything to her and now he’s gone. From what I heard, she never got along with his first wife. I heard their marriage was a disaster and tumultuous.” I pushed the salad away from me. “I’m too upset to eat.” That was the best excuse I could come up with for not eating the rabbits’ food.
“I’m sorry.”
I hoped he wasn’t going to ask me more about Jacques and tried to rack my brain to find other subjects to talk about. Had he just met up with me to get information about Jacques? He could already know I’d been staying with him.
“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “I’m just grateful you told me. Nothing’s been going right for me lately.”
“It takes a while to adjust after you lose someone. I know that first hand.”
“You lost someone?”
“My wife and my daughter. Both of them died in an accident. I was working late in the middle of winter and they were heading home from a Christmas party. The car slid off the road over an embankment. My daughter was only six months old.”
“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
“That was five years ago now. Some days it feels like decades ago and other times it feels like it was only yesterday.”
“I don’t know how you could ever recover from something like that.”
“You just do. You keep going because there’s nothing else you can do.”
I’d only lost a lying, cheating fiancé and he’d lost a wife and child. I didn’t know what to say when I saw his eyes had gone glassy with tears. “Thank you for telling me. It puts Don lying to me in perspective.”
He smiled at me. “At some point we all experience loss. It’s part of life. We’re born and then at some point all of us die.”
Unless you’re a shifter, I thought, smiling at him as though I agreed with what he’d said. “That’s true.”
“I got a visit from your mother recently.”
My mouth fell open in shock. “My mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why would she go to see you?”
“She wanted to make sure that you were in the clear.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. My family is a little bit eccentric. She never mentioned she went to see you.”
He laughed. “I assured her you were in the clear. That satisfied her. Then she invited me to her art gallery.”
I rolled my eyes and then shook my head. “That’s dreadful.”
“I told her I’d go. I could do with a painting or two to brighten up my apartment.”
I wondered if she still had Frizelle’s paintings or if she was now featuring a different artist. Frizelle’s paintings were odd—just blank canvases with a few pieces of paint splashed here and there.
“You don’t approve of art?” he asked when I remained silent.
“There’s art and then there’s art. It’s all a matter of opinion, I guess. I like some art.”
“You sound like a critic.”
“I was raised around art. My mother’s a fine artist, but now she’s got the gallery she doesn’t paint much anymore. Art’s all in the eye of the beholder and I think it’s up to each individual to be the critic for themselves. I don’t think people can judge what’s good and bad because people appreciate different things.”
“I just want something to hang on the wall. Will I find something nice at your mother’s gallery?”
“Maybe.”
“Why don’t you come with me and help me choose something?”
Yikes! He was interested in me. Either that, or he was trying to get close to get information about Jacques. I couldn’t let it happen. “Thank you, but I stay away from the gallery and my mother.”
“Why?”
I shrugged, trying to think of a reason that would sound believable since I’d just told a big lie. “Every now and again we have a falling out. That’s just how we are.”
He ate the last of his salad. I felt bad for turning him down, but I was in love with Jacques. I was flattered that he’d asked me, though.
After he walked me back to the apartment, I climbed up the stairs and headed to the window where I had a good view of the street below. At first look I couldn’t see Andrews, but when I looked further up the street, I saw him getting into the passenger side of a white late-model sedan. I stepped back and fell into the couch, relieved that I wasn’t under suspicion, but upset from the news he’d delivered. Needing something to take my mind off Don’s deception, I decided to visit my mother at her art gallery.
Chapter 7
The double glass doors opened automatically and I walked through. My mother’s gallery was impressive—the floor was highly polished concrete and everything else was either white or glass. As she often said, that allowed the art to shine.
I saw her immediately sitting behind the desk in the corner of the room. She was wearing red winged glasses. Her latest fashion craze was glasses and she wore them with plain glass, as her eyesight was perfect. She came out from behind her desk, smiling, with outstretched hands.
“This is a nice surprise.”
“Why did you go and see the detective?”
She smiled. “Oh, you found out about that?”
I placed my hands on my hips to show her I wasn’t happy. “Yes. He told me.”
“Did you see his eyes? What a dreamboat.”
“I’m an adult, Mother. You don’t have to protect me. I’m a grown woman.”
“I know, but I had to see what was going on—check things out. You can’t be too careful with these things. He said he didn’t have the full reports back yet, so what if they came back with something unexpected and the police started looking at you?”
“I have an alibi.”
“That didn’t stop them from arresting you last time.”
“Well, what did he say to you?”
“He said just that. Jennifer was arrested and she’ll be going to trial soon. He said no date’s been set for the trial and that the toxicology reports were yet to be returned to him from the lab.”
“I could’ve told you all that.”
“It pays to let the police know you have family who support you.”
“Tell me you didn’t say anything about magic or you being a witch?”
“I didn’t have to. He was lovely.”
“You don’t like men, remember?”
“Not for me. I like him for you.”
“I’m not interested in men.”
She pinched her eyebrows together. “Since when?”
“Since the last man I was with ended up dead.” Of course, I couldn’t tell my mother about Jacques.
“What ab
out this mysterious man you’re minding the apartment for?”
“He’s old.”
“And?”
“Unsuitable.”
“Pfft.” She tossed her head back and her blonde hair brushed over her shoulders.
“You don’t believe me?” I asked.
“No. I can tell when you’re lying.” She narrowed her green eyes at me.
I sighed and changed the subject. “How’s Aunt Flora?”
“She’s gone to Brazil with Frizelle.”
“Really? The artist?” I’d never forget Frizelle, the strange artist who made a few marks on canvases and called them art. It would take him seconds to do and he charged a fortune. What was even stranger was that people bought them. I didn’t see Flora and him as a match. Flora was straight-laced and wore clothing appropriate for her age. The first and only time I’d seen Frizelle was at his opening night at the gallery and he’d had bare feet and frayed jeans.
“Yes. On a holiday—together.”
“That is a surprise,” I remarked.
“It won’t last.”
“Why not?”
“These things never do.”
“What things?” I asked, wondering if she meant Frizelle had a lot of women on the side or something of that nature.
“Men and Flora—they never work out.”
“She seems to like him.” I couldn’t remember another time that Flora was with a man. She had to like him to go away with him.
My mother stared at me with fury welling in her emerald eyes. “Did she tell you?”
“Yes, at the gallery the last time I was there. You’re not jealous, are you?”
My mother laughed. “No. She can have him.”
I frowned at her. “I meant jealous that Flora’s spending time with him instead of you.”
“No. I’ve got other friends.”
“Okay.” I didn’t tell her I’d met the detective earlier that day. The less she knew, the better.
When I walked into my apartment alone, after my mother had insisted we have lunch, I called Jacques.
He answered the phone with, “Where are you?”
“At the loft.”
“I’ll see you soon. I’m leaving now.” He ended the call.
When I put my phone down, I tried to relax, but I was unnerved about what Granny had told me.
I walked into the bedroom, wondering what to do with the package that had been addressed to Don. Should I show Jacques, or keep it to myself? I decided I had to show him because he had to protect himself from the person who was leaking the information. I knew it would be awkward for him that there was information in the document that he’d never shared with me. He would’ve in time; I was sure of it.
I was taking a risk since earlier I’d decided that either Jacques or Granny had killed Don. Perhaps I was wrong. I was scared and I had to trust someone. So I took the plunge and decided to share the information I’d found with Jacques. If I was wrong, there was no telling what could happen.
As soon as Jacques walked in the door, I sat him down and asked him about his grandfather slaying Granny’s family—my family.
“It’s not true, Destiny.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’d know if something like that had happened.”
“You told me that witches and shifters were enemies, so why wouldn’t I believe it?”
He sighed and ran his large hand through his dark hair. “You need to trust me. I guess I’ve got no way to prove to you that it’s a lie. Unless you find out the truth from your grandmother.”
I nodded and believed him because in my heart I knew he was telling the truth.
“Tell me what the detective said.”
I told him the news the detective had delivered to me about Don still being married.
“How could he do that to you?” Jacques asked.
“And that brings me to something else about Don.” I grabbed Jacques’ hand and started walking toward Don’s document. “I’ve got something to show you. It’s in the bedroom.”
He stopped still and I turned around to look at him. “I want this as much as you, Destiny. Even more so, probably, but I want it to be right, and I want to do it when you’re comfortable with everything about my life. I don’t want you to have any regrets later on.”
“Oh, it’s not that. It’s something else.”
He ran his hand through his hair. “I thought—”
“I know what you thought. It’s nice to know you’ve been thinking about it, at least.”
He chuckled. “I’ve been thinking of little else, believe me.”
I led him into the bedroom and pulled the document out from under the mattress. I sat down and handed it to him. He took it and sat next to me. From the start I could tell he was shaken. He looked across at me after the first couple of pages.
“How long have you had this?”
“I found it in the mailbox at the apartment when I went back to get my things with Abbie. I forgot it was there—I thought it was junk mail or nothing important.”
“Who sent it?”
“I’ve got no idea.”
“Someone else knows.”
His gaze fell again to the document.
I continued, “Going by the date, it was mailed after Don’s death and the writing on the envelope isn’t his handwriting.” I picked up the envelope, which was sitting on the bed beside us. “There’s been no attempt to even make it look like Don’s writing. His writing is scrolled and this is very blocky, but the other writing is his.”
“I can’t work out how he knew all this.” He reached out his arm and put it around me. “It can’t be easy for you to learn Don had an ulterior motive. And believe me when I say that it wasn’t true what he said about me pretending to be interested in you. It was animal attraction as soon as I saw you that night.”
“I know. I knew that part wasn’t true and it was he who was using me. That’s why he was so awful to me—because he didn’t love me at all.”
“I’m sorry you found out all these things about me, too. I would’ve told you in time.”
“I know you would’ve. Is it true about your name?”
“Yes. I took an old family name rather than my birth name.”
“I’m not worried about that. I’m just concerned that Don was in this with someone else. They know about your compound and everything.”
“Yes. There’s someone who I trust that I shouldn’t be trusting.” His eyes locked with mine. “One thing I know is that things will have to change and you’ll have to stay here until I sort out who’s selling information.”
“Someone in the pack?”
“It must be. I have to find out who it is.”
“How will you do that?”
“By laying some kind of a trap.”
“Are you in danger?”
He looked down at the document. “It’s a lie about the security system. It’s changed continually.” He glanced at his watch. “Do you mind if I stay here with you tonight?”
I couldn’t think of anything better. “I’d love you to stay here.”
“What’s your best guess about who Don was and his motivation? You knew him better than me.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea. I only knew the person he presented to me. My first thought was maybe he was FBI or with some kind of intelligence unit.”
“It’s possible.”
I still had more to tell him about the visit I’d had with my grandmother and what I’d learned but I figured he’d had enough shocks for a while. I’d break the news to him later. It was more important for him to find out where his security leak was coming from.
“How did it come about that you employed Don?” I asked.
“That’s a good point. I’ll have my security secretary go through the records and let me know.” He pulled out his phone and sent a text to his secretary. “It’s after hours. She’ll get back to me first thing tomorrow.”
“We’ve got nothing here for
dinner. I haven’t been out to get food yet.”
“That’s the least of our problems. We’ll go out for dinner.”
“Do you think we should be seen together? What if we’re being watched?”
He looked at the document still in his hands. “It might be bit late to worry about things like that.” He sucked in his lips. “We should lay low.”
“I’ll go out and get something and bring it back.”
He grabbed my hand, pulled it to his lips, and kissed me softly. “Don’t be long.”
“I won’t.”
Chapter 8
Jacques stayed that night and at seven the next morning a text sounded from his phone .
“What is that?” I asked, still groggy.
“It’s my secretary. Don came through the normal channels from a local employment agency. I’ll have them checked out. Right now, I’m going to try out the coffee machine.”
The buzzer from downstairs sounded. Jacques sprang in front of me and looked at the intercom to see that it was Detective Andrews. “What’s he doing here?”
A shiver ran up my spine. I couldn’t see other officers behind him so I hoped he wasn’t there to arrest me again. “Shall I answer it, or not?
“Answer it. He could already know I’m here, or at least that you’re here.”
I answered, “Yes.”
“Hello, Destiny. It’s Detective Andrews.”
“Oh, hello.” I pretended to be surprised since he’d have no idea that he was on video surveillance.
“Is there any chance I can come in for a few minutes?”
“Give me a minute. Ah, just give me a few minutes. I’ll come downstairs.”
“Okay.”
I was only wearing shorts and a tee, so I raced to the bedroom and changed into jeans, and twisted my hair into a quick topknot. I’d already put makeup on after my shower. I ran around looking for some shoes.
Jacques walked into the bedroom. “Calm down.”
“I’m trying. The police always make me nervous. I suppose that’s what time in prison will do to someone.” I found my shoes and pushed my feet into them.
