by Jolie Day
She shot him a cold glance. It was weird that their mother’s death seemed to hurt him almost as much as it had her and Suzanne. He was jittery and sometimes rough, even in public, which so far, he had mostly avoided. Since Monday, she now saw Russell more often than she would have liked. The fragile state that her sister was in, had made it necessary for her to move into her old room in their house. Mira simply didn’t dare leave her sister alone for longer than she absolutely had to. Suzanne was completely drugged with tranquilizers or anti-depressants and didn’t really notice anything that was going on around her, unless you yelled at her or shook her violently. In this condition, anything could happen, from an accidental fall down the stairs, to drowning in the bath. Their mother’s death had literally been the last straw for Suzanne and it threatened to drive her across the thin line that prevented her from totally losing her mind, even though it seemed all too possible at this point. Nothing could prepare anyone for the death of a loved one, regardless of how much time they had spent together.
Russell had fallen silent. This wasn’t as a result of Mira’s withering look, but was because the mayor of Los Angeles had stepped up to them and told them how much she regretted this tragic event. She told Russell that he could always call upon her, at any time, should he need anything. Mira ignored the woman’s stretched-out hand and felt like she needed to leave this spectacle. Her mother wouldn’t care if her youngest daughter disregarded all conventions and disappeared. Unfortunately, she had no choice but to stand there and survive the farce if she wanted her plan to succeed.
The miserable remnants of her family were literally falling apart, and it was in her hands to save what was left of it. She of all people, the baby of the family, who they had kept away from everything for all this time, was now in charge of it all.
There was one positive aspect about the fact that they had finally reached their lowest point. From now on, things could only get better. There were moments when Mira just wanted to curl up into a tight little ball or hide with her beloved Mister Knister underneath a blanket, but that was no longer an option.
At some point during that last Monday, when she had learned about her mother’s death, something had happened within her. She had been faced with only two options. One had been to just leave L.A. behind and give up completely and irreversibly, which would have given the person who had destroyed her life, even more power over her. She was no expert in psychology, but Mira somehow knew that the faceless murderer would chase her until the end of her days. Maybe not even in real life, like he did now, but he would haunt her thoughts every single day.
The other option had been to finally grow up and solve this as yet unsolved puzzle.
She had decided there and then to no longer hide. She wouldn’t look away anymore and she wouldn’t be still anymore either. She felt like a rubber band that had been pulled to its breaking point where it would either tear apart or slowly return to its initial condition. It was no longer a question of what she would do, but rather whom she could ask for help. Mira no longer assumed that she would be able to do any of it on her own. Not only was she dealing with a cornered killer, but maybe also with the Mafia, if Connor and Peter were right. This ultimately meant that the people one should be able to rely on — the police — were no longer an option because she had realized that they could not be trusted. After all, such a powerful and unscrupulous organization would have their fingers in everything, and their people in key positions everywhere.
There was no one left who she could trust. Maybe there never had been anyone — which she just didn’t want to believe — apart from Connor and maybe Peter van den Burgh. Or more specifically, these two men could be eliminated as possible attackers. Her gut feeling about that had been there from the start. However, Mira had needed several nights to finally realize what it was that she based her instinctive knowledge on. The man had been taller than her and he was skinny, which would apply to both of these men. It was the underlying nature of the attack, from the sexual point of view, that had convinced her that it could not have been Peter nor Connor. For one, it had felt to her as if the pig had a personal vendetta against her, which immediately eliminated Peter as a suspect. And then… Connor had loved her. He had made love to her in a way that simply didn’t match the distorted sexuality of the bastard who had attacked her, and gotten an erection from hurting her. The humiliation that she had experienced in that dark hallway at the hands of this faceless man, had been so much worse than the physical pain. That did not suit Connor at all, since he had treated her body so passionately and carefully, and had loved her without any emotional restraint. He had given her the gift of multiple orgasms and not once did he seem like he was acting — he had always been himself. In those magical hours there had been just the two of them, Mira and Connor, nobody else, and they had done whatever they truly wanted. No masks, no games.
Unfortunately, a gut feeling was no real evidence that would hold up in court, but it was the only proof that counted, at least in Mira’s eyes. What was even more unsettling, was the fact that this instinct, this nagging feeling of knowing, had only eliminated who it could not be. She had played the attack back in her mind over and over again, until it resembled a movie that she had already seen a thousand times and was able to watch it without terror, but none of the people she knew seemed to fit the role of the perpetrator. Her last desperate measure had been to write down a list of all male suspects.
Now she had to stand there and look into all the faces of those paying their last respects to her mother, while searching for the man who had possibly attacked and threatened her. This one right here, a friend of Russell’s, had the right height, but he was too fat. Another, who seemed to have a certain vulgarity written all over his face, was obviously too short. The next one, once Mira got a good look at the person whom she had assumed would be a suitable candidate at first, turned out to be a short-haired woman with very masculine facial features hiding distinctively female attributes underneath her jacket.
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the man at the end of the line, who she had been searching for this entire time. Connor had come, and he had waited for the long line of people expressing their condolences to finally move on. The remaining shaking of hands seemed to take forever and yet it was over way too quickly. And then he stood in front of her.
Connor’s face was frozen. His features wouldn’t reveal anything to a stranger. But Mira wasn’t a stranger to him and he couldn’t fool her. The few hours she had spent in his arms had taught her to look behind his mask. The blue of his eyes, which usually seemed to be so cold in the company of other people, were saturated with suppressed feelings. One look and his desire sparked over to her and she felt as if her body had just gone up in flames. Mira thought that he would hold out his hand to her like everybody else had done before him, but he surprised her once again by simply placing his hands on her shoulders, lightly and yet very firmly. “I am so very, very sorry,” he said honestly.
Mira noticed how Russell stood next to her with a stony face, watching the backs of those who slowly left the gravesite. The fact that they were all still within calling distance was the reason why he was not making a huge scene, Mira was certain of that. Her sister hung onto her husband’s arm like a lifeless doll and she didn’t even seem to realize that Connor stood in front of her now.
Peter stepped up next to Connor, quietly said a few words about his regrets about their mother’s death and then shook Russell’s hand and then Suzanne’s. She could see that he asked something, because he was moving his mouth, but she couldn’t hear what he said. “We need to talk,” Connor said quietly as he lowered his head. He seemed to want to ask her a thousand other questions, but he pressed his lips tightly together and waited for her answer.
“I know,” Mira said. “I am so sorry. I was…” Childish, she had wanted to say. But Connor gently touched his finger to her lips.
“Don’t.” He turned her slightly away from Suzanne and Russell, who w
ere still deep in conversation with Peter. “You don’t need to apologize. That’s unnecessary.” He spoke calmly, but firmly, as if he knew exactly what was weighing so heavily on Mira’s mind. “Can you spare some time tonight to meet me and Peter?”
Mira thought about it. Russell had organized a small “get together” that evening just for “friends and family”, without discussing it with her. Who was he trying to fool? Apart from Suzanne and herself, there was no family left. And who would a woman possibly have been friends with, when she had wasted away like a vegetable for the last seventeen years? Russell had simply invited his business partners and others who could be useful to him.
“Tonight,” she replied. “I will come to you. I mean, to Slater’s house.”
“Alright.” It looked as if he wanted to kiss her, but what her ears hadn’t noticed, her subconscious had registered: Peter and Russell had stopped talking to each other. Connor saw how her eyes flickered nervously, and he reluctantly removed his hands from her shoulders. Then he turned to Russell. “My deepest condolences on the death of your mother-in-law, Mr. Forbes,” he said without emotion and then he looked at Suzanne. His jaw hardened, but he took Suzanne’s lifeless fingers into his and moved them as if he was shaking her hand. It must have felt as if he held the hand of a corpse, Mira thought. As soon as she survived this day, she would start to wean Suzanne off the medication that Russell had so freely granted her. In the worst case scenario, she would take her sister to a doctor or a hospital or move her out of that house altogether — something to rescue her from her situation.
There was just one more thing that she had to deal with.
As the two men walked towards the exit of the cemetery, she took one last look with burning but dry eyes, at the coffin in front of her that held her mother’s dead body. Russell slowly led Suzanne away from the gravesite, but Mira wasn’t able to leave just yet as she stared at the wreath made of white roses on top of the coffin at the bottom of that deep dark hole in front of her feet.
Her fingers went up to her throat, underneath the collar of her blouse and touched the pendant of her good luck necklace. Without thinking about it further, she grabbed the back and released the clasp. For one short moment, she weighed the silver chain and its charm in her hand, before she threw it into the grave. “Look after yourself, mom,” she whispered with a tearful voice. With that, Mira turned and followed her sister and her husband with fast steps. She didn’t need protection from evil looks anymore, something she had believed for far too long. It was about time to relinquish that particular weakness of relying on other people’s help, even though it had really only been a superstition. It was time to take matters into her own hands.
Tonight, she would take the first step in her fight to win back her freedom.
Chapter 21
The funeral reception afterwards dragged on endlessly. The only thing that kept her going through those relentlessly slow-moving hours, had been the fact that she was on a mission. She listened very intently to every single word that was spoken during her conversations with the guests, and made a mental note about every seemingly meaningless comment regarding the connection between her parents’ deaths. Again and again, her eyes scanned the room, checking the physique of every man and the way they moved, acted, and behaved, to see if they could possibly be her attacker. “Are you looking for someone?” Luke had moved next to her unnoticed.
“Not really.” She shrugged and tried to think of a quick excuse. “It’s just… how do I describe this… it’s all so surreal to me right now. I return to L.A. after all these years and everything has changed from what I remember.”
“That can also be a good thing.” The fine lines around his eyes deepened slightly as he gave her a tender and slightly reserved smile. “Now you can experience the city afresh, and if you want, you can even reinvent yourself.”
She looked at him curiously. “You mean that I should start again from the beginning?”
“All doors are open to you, Mira.” His smile intensified. “Just know that if you ever want to talk or if you just want to go to the cinema, because you need a distraction of some sort – I am always here for you. As someone who would really like to be your friend.”
Mira blushed. Had it only been two weeks ago that she had contemplated going out with Luke? After what had happened between her and Connor, he still came across as very nice and attractive, but nothing more than that. That night with Connor had destroyed every possibility that had ever existed between her and Luke in one big blow and Mira couldn’t even bring herself to regret it.
“Okay, I understand,” she heard Luke say. Her hesitation had obviously given it away. His brows were furrowed as he looked at her more intently. “As I said, I could just be your friend if that is what you want. Even though I would hope that you don’t immediately disregard the other option. I can be extremely patient, if the wait is worth it.” He didn’t look excited, but he also didn’t look defeated. In all honesty, Mira was relieved that she didn’t have to feel guilty because of him, even though she knew that he had wanted a different reaction from her. Apparently, she was interesting enough for him to want to get to know her better, but not to the extent that he would be extremely disappointed.
“Mira, there you are,” a female voice interrupted their conversation. Ms. Philips stepped next to Luke and hooked her arm under his. “How are you feeling?” She looked at Mira curiously. “Oh, I am sorry, that was a stupid question.” Sarah Philips’ cheeks turned pink.
“It’s alright,” Mira said reassuringly. “I can imagine that it is hard to find the right words in a situation like this. I know what you are trying to say.” Mira still found it somewhat hard to address Ms. Philips by her first name. She still very much thought of her as being her father’s secretary and it somehow seemed inappropriate to talk to the older woman as if she was just an old friend. From the corner of her eye she saw that Suzanne was sneaking out of the room, so she excused herself politely. Others had also noticed that the hostess had disappeared and they were starting to say goodbye and leave.
Not a minute too early, Mira thought and waited until the last of the guests had finally left. She was just about to go upstairs to look after her sister, when Russell held her back.
“Everything is falling apart,” he said and stared directly into her face. “Since you came back, you have ruined everything.” He spoke with an obvious slur. How much alcohol must he have poured into him during the last few hours?
“Do not touch me. You are drunk,” Mira said and ripped her arm out of his extremely tight grip.
“And why shouldn’t I be?” He walked with decidedly strong steps towards the bar and poured himself another golden colored liquid. “I have built Dumont Ltd up to what it is today. I have worked my ass off for you and your spoiled sister.”
“Nobody doubts that,” Mira replied. Did it make any sense at all to speak to him in his current condition?
“Nothing was ever good enough for the both of you,” he then said. The whiskey had already disappeared down his throat. The way he was standing there, with his droopy shoulders and his head hanging low, he reminded Mira of a weak old circus bear trying to obey the orders of his master for the last time. “I have worked so incredibly hard. I have done everything I could to satisfy your sister just once. I have even,” he refilled his glass again and knocked that double back like a single shot, “made a pact with the devil.”
“You should go and lie down.” Mira needed a moment to identify the weird feeling that spread throughout her chest. It was compassion.
“With Satan, the prince of darkness himself.” She had difficulty understanding his last sentence, and barely managed to make out “prince of darkness” and “himself”. “And now I am the one who has to pay for it. They will throw me to the wolves, just like they did with Jack back in the day.” Mira’s heart skipped a beat. What was he talking about? She bit herself on her tongue trying not to scream. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She had to be so very
careful right now, like she had never been in her entire life.
“Russell,” she said and quietly tiptoed next to him. “I am sorry that I have never told you how much I appreciate all the work you do for us. I am sure that Suzanne knows it too — that you are the one who did everything. I definitely do.”
“You really do mean that.” He tried to look at her face, but he only managed to gaze past her. “I know when a woman is lying to me,” he bragged. “I have always known when your sister laughed at me behind my back.” Oh no, please no, Mira thought. He sounded as if he was ready to melt into a big rant of self-pity, which was so very typical for any drunken man.
“It is never too late to change things. I am sure that if you speak to the police, then… you will be taken into the witness protection program,” Mira improvised and hectically thought about what to do next. Nothing. For now, it was only important to keep him talking, so she could find out as much as she could from him.
“Sure,” he sneered. His gaze came into focus for a second, but it immediately slid back into the drunken daze. “Then I’ll receive some designer shoes made of concrete. Or a bullet in my head like Jack.”
“Who killed my father?” Suddenly, Mira realized what his drunken moaning actually meant. Russell Forbes was not the one who had pulled the trigger. However, he knew or at least had an idea who had. Russell seemed to notice, despite his dilapidated state, what he had done, because he suddenly fell silent and stared speechless into the empty glass in his hand. He banged it down on the table so brutally that Mira thought the glass would break, before grabbing the bottle and putting it to his mouth.
Mira knew that he wouldn’t give her any more clues today. She pushed him towards the sofa and watched how his eyes closed immediately. “You cannot trust him,” Russell warned so quietly that she had to lean over him to understand what he had said. He stank like a whiskey distillery. Mira didn’t have to ask who he meant. This was her third warning about Connor today. Maybe she should think about why everyone kept saying the same things about him. Maybe not.
