“In the meantime, if you have any questions, feel free to call my office. I’m sure you have my number.”
Sawyer took Levi’s elbow and led him out of the room. Freeman’s cursing followed them until the door shut and cut off all sound.
“I hope you didn’t say too much before I got here,” Sawyer said while they walked down the hallway. “You of all people should know to never, ever speak to the police—”
“What is going on?” Levi interrupted. He stopped short in the middle of the hall, obliging Sawyer to do the same. “I appreciate what you just did, but I never asked for a lawyer.”
“Leila called and asked for my help.”
“Leila hates you.”
Sawyer grinned. “True, but she’s ultimately a practical woman. She’d never let her personal feelings trump logic, and I’m one of the best defense attorneys in Nevada, let alone Las Vegas.”
“Ugh,” Levi said, but the most annoying thing about Sawyer’s arrogance was that it wasn’t undeserved. If Levi needed a lawyer, he couldn’t do much better. Still . . . “There’s no way I can afford you. What’s your hourly rate, a thousand bucks? I’m comfortable, but not Hatfield, Park, and McKenzie comfortable.”
“For a chance to attach my name to what’s shaping up to be the most iconic, high-profile serial murder case in American history? I’ll do the work pro bono.” Sawyer stepped closer, his eyes warming, and brushed his fingers along Levi’s jaw. “But if you wanted to repay me some other way . . .”
Levi knocked his hand aside, though with less hostility than he normally used to reject Sawyer’s frequent advances. He was just too tired. “Not now, Sawyer.”
“Sorry.” The teasing smile slipped off Sawyer’s face, replaced by a much graver expression. “You don’t look well.”
“A serial killer left a dead body in my apartment like a cat bringing me its fresh kill. I’m not well.”
“Then let’s not waste any more time here.”
They continued on their way, but they had to go through the bullpen to exit the building. Levi faltered as soon as he entered the room.
There were three times as many people present as there should have been this time of night, all of whom went dead silent when they saw him. The weight of their eyes on him was smothering.
They all knew. They knew everything.
Levi hated being stared at, and it took all his self-control to keep himself in check as he crossed the bullpen. Even utilizing every technique Alana had taught him, he felt the angry flush suffusing his cheeks, tasted bile at the back of his throat. His stiff shoulders crept up toward his ears.
Martine was standing by their adjoining desks—along with Dominic, which only twisted Levi’s guts into more painful knots. What was Dominic doing here, hanging around and acting like he was still Levi’s boyfriend? Wasn’t this situation stressful enough?
When Levi stopped beside them, Martine said, “Dominic filled me in on the progress with the kidnapping ring. I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. I’ll arrest Royce and Juliette myself.”
“Thanks.” Levi wouldn’t even have the satisfaction of seeing that case through to its conclusion.
“Do you need anything from your desk?” Sawyer asked. When Levi shook his head, he said, “You know you can’t go back to your apartment. It’s an active crime scene.”
“The only time I’m ever going back there is to move my stuff out,” Levi said, grimacing. His apartment had been ruined for him, just like his car.
Martine touched his arm. “I told you, you should stay with me for a while.”
“I can’t. That could put your family at risk.”
“Then stay with me,” said Dominic. Anxious concern was written all over his face, just like when he’d shown up in a panic at Levi’s apartment. He was acting like nothing had changed—like he had a right to be here, a right to be the shoulder for Levi to lean on, when they both knew that was a sick joke.
Levi’s tenuous hold on his anger disintegrated.
“You want me to stay with you?” he said, laughing bitterly. “Won’t that get in the way of all your very important gambling?”
Dominic paled, his eyes darting to the people nearest them.
“But then, you’ve said it yourself—I can’t stop you.” Levi advanced on Dominic, who immediately retreated. “Losing our relationship didn’t stop you. Losing your boss’s respect didn’t stop you. Having to sell half your belongings to make rent hasn’t stopped you. So really, what will?”
“Levi,” Martine hissed under her breath, grabbing at him.
He shook her off. This rancor had been building up for months, poisoning him from the inside out, and it was such a relief to finally set it free that he couldn’t stop, even as a corner of his mind cried out in horror at the stricken betrayal on Dominic’s face.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking. You come rushing to my rescue like some kind of white knight, thinking you’re going to be the one to take care of me, the one to save me. But you can’t even save yourself!”
Dominic flinched.
“Stop treating me like I’m your boyfriend,” Levi said. “Our relationship is over, and that’s due to choices you made. You spit in my face every time I offer you help, then turn around and try to act the big hero? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Christ, Abrams!” Jonah Gibbs said from right behind him, drawing Levi’s attention to the fact that everyone in the bullpen was watching them with hushed, morbid fascination. “For someone under suspicion of being a serial killer, you’re not setting anyone’s mind at ease here.”
Levi sucked in a breath, spun around, and did something he’d been wanting to do for years—he punched Gibbs in the face.
The blow sent Gibbs staggering into a desk, almost falling to the floor as he tottered on unsteady feet. The bullpen burst into action with angry shouts and cries of alarm; several officers put their hands on their guns, and the atmosphere in the room crackled as everyone prepared themselves for violence.
“It’s fine!” Gibbs pushed himself upright, wiping blood off his mouth. “It’s my bad; I provoked him. Let’s just call it even.”
Levi shook out his aching hand and nodded shortly.
“For God’s sake, get him out of here,” Martine said to Sawyer.
Sawyer gripped Levi’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Levi glanced at Dominic, who was slumped against the edge of Levi’s desk, his eyes trained blankly on the floor. He was the only person present not watching Levi.
“Do you want to spend the rest of your night in a jail cell?” Sawyer jostled Levi’s arm. “Come on.”
Levi followed Sawyer out of the substation without looking back.
Dominic dropped heavily onto a metal stool in a booth at the Clark County Detention Center. He picked up the phone receiver on the wall, waiting for the computerized system to connect the screen in front of him.
Social visits at the CCDC were all conducted by video kiosk. As a PI, he wasn’t considered a professional visitor, and Martine had needed to pull strings to get him in here outside of visiting hours and without an appointment.
Nathan Royce appeared on the screen, his face pale and a hunted expression in his bloodshot eyes. Though he’d only been in jail for a few hours, he was looking at a long weekend—he couldn’t get a bail hearing until Monday.
“Detective Valcourt said you’re refusing to speak to anyone but me.” Dominic held up a hand. “Before you say anything, you know these calls are recorded, right? I’m not an attorney. This conversation isn’t privileged.”
“That’s fine. Because I’m innocent.”
“Mr. Royce—”
“What they’re accusing me of is insane!” Royce’s voice was laced with panic and far too loud. “I would never abandon Carolyn, my job, my life, to run away and live under a false identity. I was perfectly happy with the way things were.”
“Then your lawyer can argue that in court. I don’t know what you expect me to do for you h
ere.”
Royce gripped the receiver with both hands. “Why would I hire you to investigate the kidnappings if I were behind them? I’m not that kind of person. You must know that by now.”
Dominic hesitated. It was true—he still found it hard to believe that Royce would have had the balls to hire McBride if he were guilty. Plus, all the evidence against the guy was circumstantial.
He decided to hear Royce out for now. “If you weren’t involved in the kidnappings, then Juliette set you up big-time.”
“She wouldn’t do that,” said Royce. “She loves me.”
“When the police got to her apartment this morning, she was long gone. She’d packed bags, there was nothing valuable left in the apartment, and she’d abandoned her car. Why would she take off like that if she were innocent? How would she even know to leave?”
Royce shook his head. “Juliette would never betray me unless she were being forced to.”
“Forced how?” Dominic asked, his interest piqued despite himself.
“Threats, coercion, blackmail—I don’t know. But it’s the only possible explanation. Juliette has a . . . checkered past, and a long history of being emotionally abused and manipulated. She’s been working through all that, but she still has friends who could at best be described as unsavory. Maybe someone found out what kind of information she had access to and took advantage of her.”
Though Dominic thought that was a reach, he could see how passionately Royce had convinced himself of the theory, so he didn’t argue against it. “I’m still waiting to hear what you expect me to do about any of this.”
“I want you to find Juliette before the police do,” Royce said.
“What?”
Royce glanced from side to side before he hunched over the receiver and dropped his voice to a whisper. “You have the skills to track her down first, learn the truth, and clear our names. The police and the DA are too eager to resolve this case; they won’t listen to anything we have to say. You’re the only one who can help us, and I’d be willing to pay anything.”
“Mr. Royce,” Dominic said evenly, “if I found out where Juliette was and I didn’t inform the police, I would be opening myself to criminal charges. And I’ll remind you again that these calls are recorded.”
“Right, of course. I understand.” Royce gave him an exaggerated wink.
Dominic considered himself a patient man, but sleep-deprived and still reeling from the events of last night, he could not stand one more second of Royce’s bullshit.
“If you had been straight with me from the beginning, I could have helped you,” he snapped. “You might not be sitting here right now. But it’s way too late for that.” He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. “If your attorney would like to hire McBride to assist in a legitimate investigation to aid your legal defense, I’d be happy to participate. Beyond that, this is where my involvement in this case ends. I’m sorry.”
“But—”
“While the cops were searching Juliette’s apartment, they found an empty bottle of prenatal vitamins in the trash. Did you know she was pregnant?”
“She’s not!” Royce said. “I mean, she was, but she had an abortion.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.” A frown creased Royce’s forehead—because, of course, it was safe to assume Juliette had taken out her trash at some point in that intervening time period.
“And whose decision was that?” Dominic asked.
“It—it was mutual,” Royce said, though his guiltily darting eyes told a different story.
“Uh-huh.” Dominic snorted a contemptuous laugh. “You want to know what I think? Juliette decided to keep that kid, and she found a way to net herself a tidy nest egg while simultaneously screwing you over. She had false papers made for you, but she never intended to take you with her. All she wanted was to get you out of the picture.”
Royce didn’t respond. He sat there with unfocused eyes, an expression of horror slowly creeping across his face.
“Good luck, Mr. Royce.” Dominic hung up the phone and left the kiosk.
This case was none of his business anymore. Royce was in custody, and the police would either find Juliette or they wouldn’t. The last he’d heard from Martine, a private landowner had seen the kidnappers’ photos on the news and come forward with the information that he’d rented a cabin to one of them. The LVMPD was probably raiding it right now, but whether or not they found anything, it had nothing to do with Dominic. As Levi loved to remind him, he wasn’t a cop.
Thinking of Levi worsened his mood still further. What Levi had done to him last night—outing his gambling in front of dozens of people—was the most humiliating, painful betrayal he’d ever experienced. He was still half in denial that it had happened at all. The memory was so gut-wrenching that he couldn’t bear to linger on it for more than a few seconds at once.
He shoved it away, packing it down with every other uncomfortable emotion swirling through his head. The only thing that concerned him today was ensuring that Carlos had the time of his life at the bachelor party tonight.
Until then, Dominic had a date with a poker table.
Levi had been staring at the ceiling of his hotel room for at least half an hour. Heavy curtains were drawn over the windows, but even the slight glow that had broken through the cracks earlier had faded into nothingness.
With what felt like monumental effort, he rolled onto his side and looked at the clock on his nightstand. It was almost seven, which meant he’d been sleeping off and on for about sixteen hours. Once Sawyer had checked him into the Renaissance Las Vegas on the firm’s expense account, Levi hadn’t gotten out of this bed except to use the bathroom.
He didn’t see a reason to get up now, either. It wasn’t like he had anything to do, and at least as long as he was lying here, he couldn’t cause any more damage.
The Seven of Spades was out there, plotting against him. He’d been suspended from his job and was being investigated for murder. He’d assaulted a colleague in his workplace. And Dominic . . .
Levi mashed his face into the pillow. God, Dominic. Publicly exposing his addiction was the most despicable thing Levi had ever done; the shame of the act was thick enough to suffocate him. He wouldn’t be surprised if Dominic never forgave him—hell, he shouldn’t.
Levi’s breathing sped up, and for a dizzying moment, he hovered on the edge of another panic attack. But the anxiety ebbed before it crested, and his breathing returned to normal.
Panic attacks, dissociative episodes, uncontrollable angry outbursts—he couldn’t let this continue. He needed to call Alana. Her office wouldn’t be open, but she’d told him the answering service could connect him to an on-call psychiatrist twenty-four hours a day in an emergency.
Maybe he needed more acute help than he’d been getting. Maybe he needed to—to go somewhere for a while.
He’d turned his phone off last night, knowing it would be blowing up all day. When he finally turned it back on, he winced at the dozens upon dozens of missed calls, voice mails, and text messages clogging the screen.
Most of them were from his parents.
“Shit,” Levi muttered, calling them back without listening to any of their numerous messages. It would be about ten in New Jersey, but they’d still be up.
His mother answered after two rings. “Levi Samuel Abrams,” she said, her accent thickened by stress, “your father and I have been calling you all day. Saul, pick up the phone! It’s your son!”
“I—”
“I’m here,” Saul said. Levi could picture the two of them in his childhood home—his mother on the landline receiver in the kitchen, his father in the den.
“There are stories all over the news,” Nancy continued. “The things they’re saying about you, Levi, my God. All Martine would tell us was that you’re in a safe place, and we’ve been worrying ourselves sick—”
“Mom.” Levi’s voice cracked on that one word, and he covered his eyes with h
is free hand.
Her tone softened immediately. “What’s going on? Tell us what happened, bubbeleh.”
Levi spilled everything—the entire lurid story of how the Seven of Spades had discovered the truth behind his attack, tricked the men into coming to Vegas, and then murdered them one by one in ways that made Levi look increasingly guilty of the crimes himself. He ended with the news of his suspension before trailing into silence.
“I’m coming out there,” said Nancy. “I can be there tomorrow morning. Do you want your father to come too? Saul, get the computer!”
“No!” Levi sat upright in bed. “You can’t come here. Stay in Jersey, please.”
“Levi, this is no time to push your family away,” Saul said with a hint of gentle reproach.
“That’s not what I’m doing.” When his parents both made tsking noises, he groaned. “I know that’s what I usually do, but it’s not like that this time. Believe me, nothing would make me feel better than having you guys here. But it’s too dangerous. I have no idea what the Seven of Spades is planning next, and being anywhere near them could put you at risk. If anything happened to you two, I’d never forgive myself. Please stay away from Las Vegas.”
They were both quiet for a moment until Nancy spoke again. “Can you come to us, then?”
“I can’t leave the city while I’m under investigation. I’ll be fine, though. I promise.”
“I don’t like the thought of you going through this alone. Have you spoken to Dominic?”
Levi cringed. “He has his own stuff to deal with right now. I’m really okay. The investigation will prove that I’m innocent, and that’ll be the end of it.” He wasn’t half as optimistic as he pretended, but keeping his parents safe trumped all other concerns.
“Well, if you’re sure.” Nancy paused. “The last of the men who hurt you—he’s still alive?”
“As far as we know. The Seven of Spades still has him.”
“Good,” she said, and made a spitting noise. “Zol er krenken un gedenken.” Let him suffer and remember.
One-Eyed Royals Page 19
