“Ah, the Rose City. Nice.”
“I’ll be in Seattle next.”
Jill’s throat constricted at the words. The invitation in Mark’s message was implied, but his intentions were clear. She could tell him that she’d be gone by then. She could ignore him. She could respond in so many ways.
“Know much about the city?” he asked, prompting her.
“A little.”
“Any places you could recommend?”
“What are you looking for?” Her heart was beating fast as she stared at the blinking cursor. The ball was in his court.
“Drinks, dinner, nothing too heavy.”
Mark was outside of the norm. There was nothing pushy about him, nothing crass. The conversation was light, entertaining.
“You might want to check out Purple. It’s a place on Fourth. Trendy. Good food. Good wine.”
“Sounds great. Want to join me for a drink?”
Jill could hear the beat of her own heart as she stared at her screen. It was that simple. She could say yes and set up another encounter, or exit this world once and for all. She knew what she should do.
“Maybe, but just a quick drink.” She stared at the screen. It was as if someone else had written the entry. Was she crazy?
“You free tomorrow night? Say seven o’clock. I’ll be the guy in a black shirt with a cosmopolitan.”
“Cosmopolitan? You’re joking, right?”
“Can’t a man be secure enough in himself to enjoy a fruity pink drink?”
“LOL. I suppose it’s possible,” she wrote, not sure she believed it.
“Well then, come and see for yourself.”
“I’ll be there,” she promised.
“Peace,” he typed. Then the chat window closed.
This was madness. What in God’s name had possessed her to set up the date? Her work with Lilith was done. It was time to cover her tracks. Meeting Mark on home territory was out of the question, regardless of how tempting the offer.
Jill took a few minutes to delete her profile, reading no more of the messages that were queued up in her inbox. Minutes later, Lilith was a cyber ghost. And not a moment too soon, Jill thought.
It was too easy to be sucked into the lure of the online world. It was as if Lilith had a mind of her own.
51
Jill knew she was breaking the rules. She knew she should go home and forget about him. Forget about Lilith. Forget about everything. But the voicemail from Alex saying that he’d be home late had her pointing the car downtown as her curiosity got the better of her.
Was it curiosity or compulsion? Jill tried hard not to dwell on the answer as she entered the crowded restaurant, hands thrust deep into her pockets. Not waiting for the hostess, she made her way to the stairs near the back of the room that lead to the loft-styled lounge.
The air was alive with the buzz of chatter—coworkers meeting for drinks after a long day at the office, young women working hard to carry on engaging conversations with their dates.
Jill drifted through the room like an iceberg, weaving in between the tables, her eyes surveying the crowded room, searching for a man fitting Mark’s description. In their last exchange, he said that he would be drinking a fruity cosmopolitan, the metaphorical equivalent of carrying a red rose. The whimsical visual it provided appealed to her.
Not coming tonight would have been the smart thing to do. Taking any further risks by associating herself with Lilith was crazy, no doubt about it.
But still something drew her here, a desire to play the game one last time before saying good-bye to Lilith forever. Maybe she wouldn’t even identify herself. Without the blond wig, she bore only a passing resemblance to the photograph posted with her online profile. Maybe he wouldn’t even be here.
But she didn’t believe that.
Her heart beat as fast as a hummingbird’s wings, the thrill of the hunt rising, as she approached the bar. Her shoulders straightened and her gait was long and fluid as she crossed the room. She felt the tingle of anticipation sizzle across her skin as she fell into a character, like an actor assuming a role.
Jill’s eyes fixed on a man sitting at a table alone near the bar. He was wearing a black shirt, a cosmopolitan sat on the table before him, and a knowing smile parted her lips as she approached.
A quick-witted greeting died on her lips and the blood froze in her veins as the man turned his head and his profile came into view. Recognition flooded through Jill, triggering an instinctive reaction to run. Before she could act on it, the man turned and a familiar pair of brown eyes met hers. A clean escape was no longer an option.
Alex. How could it be Alex? She stood rooted to the spot, her thoughts coming in a jumble. It had to be a coincidence. But how could it be?
He rose to his feet, looking uncertain, which Alex never was. With great effort, she pinned a smile to her lips and walked toward him.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” she asked, infusing her voice with a lightness she did not feel. “I thought you were working late on a case.”
“Taking a break. Mike called, wanting to grab a drink,” he said, matching her smile. “What about you? Got a date?”
Alex’s words were pregnant with meaning, and Jill’s throat constricted. Looking up into his face, she forced a warm smile.
“I didn’t feel like going home to an empty house, so I called a friend.” The lie sounded clunky. Suppressing a cringe, she eased into the seat across from him.
“What friend?”
Jill dodged the question by asking one of her own.
“What brings you here? This isn’t your usual kind of place.” The tone Jill used was deceptively light, but there was nothing casual about the way she studied him, looking for any signal that he was on to her. “And since when do you drink cosmopolitans?”
“I’m evolving,” he said, easing back down into his chair. Jill’s mind whirled. There was no way Mike would suggest this place. He was a hard-core Pyramid Brewery kind of guy. Meeting Alex here was no accident. She was certain of it. He was on the job, all right, and she had a big problem.
“Do you mind if I …” she left the words hanging as she gestured toward his drink.
“Of course,” he said, his eyes not wavering from hers. She read caution in his relentless gaze.
Jill’s hand shook as she reached for the glass. She sipped the drink slowly, the icy liquid burning a path down her throat, as she tried to slow her racing pulse, and gather her thoughts.
How much did he know? How could he possibly have found out her secrets? She had been so careful to cover her tracks. But as she stared into his cold brown eyes, it occurred to her that the one emotion she had not read on his face was surprise.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You look pale.”
“I’m just tired.” She used a smile to try and mask her mounting sense of trepidation. Her brain worked quickly, processing this new revelation. This changed everything. The stakes of the game were suddenly very high. If Alex knew her secrets, what was her next move?
“Who did you say you were planning to meet?” Alex picked up his drink and took a sip.
“Megan. She should have been here already,” Jill noted without checking her watch. “In fact, maybe I should give her a call. She may have been held up at the office.” Jill stood to leave.
“You could stay for a drink.” His eyes never left hers, and she was sure that he was gauging her every reaction. “We haven’t had a chance to get caught up.”
“Well, like I said, I’m kind of tired. I’ll probably just bail. Give my best to Mike. See you at home.” Jill clutched the strap to her purse as she stood.
Alex nodded, his expression flat, and Jill stared at the dark circles under his eyes. How long had he known?
A memory flashed in her head. She was back in her college networking class with Alex, and he had just circumvented her network security system. He’d sent her a text message asking her out for coffee. In fact, Alex was the only one able to hack through her defe
nses. Had she underestimated him?
With a slow nod she turned to go, forcing herself to walk slowly when all she wanted to do was run.
52
Alex gripped the handles of the cardboard box tightly. The sharp edges bit into his fingers. The harsh overhead light cast dark shadows between the haphazard piles of boxes that littered the garage floor. Working his way toward the back of the stacks, he jammed his box in the corner, depositing others on top of it, and threw a tarp across the stack, just for good measure.
Confident that his box would escape detection amid all of the other junk in the garage, he stepped back. Mike and Emma were pack rats. The evidence of this behavior was all around in the accumulation of tools and household items that were as good as abandoned within the walls of this dusty tomb. A search warrant wouldn’t include the buildings outside his own house, so it would be safe here, for an indefinite period.
The silence of the garage was at fierce odds with the buzzing in his head. It seemed as if the crowd noise from the restaurant had followed him here. Only it wasn’t the laughing voices of strangers that filled his head now. It was the clamor of his own thoughts, and he desperately wanted to shut them out.
There was now no doubt in his mind that Jill was Lilith Fair and that Lilith Fair was linked to the two San Francisco murders. Lilith was stalking men online and setting up dates. He’d traced her identity to Jill. How much longer would it take Luka, or someone else?
Granted, Jill had been careful. She’d covered her tracks after she’d pulled down Lilith’s online profile, and he’d made a few leaps in logic to connect Jill to the crimes. But there were still loose ends that could be used to trace her identity.
Some of those loose ends were packed away in the box he’d just finished stowing in this garage and would remain buried until he figured out just what he was going to do with this new information. The files he’d received from Luka, the credit-card bills, his notes—he’d cleared it all out of his office, just in case someone came looking. And someone would. Eventually.
That left the question of what to do about Jill. Alex ran his hand across his burning eyes. It wasn’t just his dust allergies kicking in. The weight of the situation coupled with the lack of sleep made it difficult for him to think. He felt numb.
The choices were limited, really. He could turn Jill in, hire a good lawyer, and hope for the best. He could let her go. But one thing was for damned sure: life would never go back to the way it was. There was another option, one that remained barely acknowledged. He had a gun. He wouldn’t be the first officer to use his firearm to make his problems go away.
His hands clenched as anger burned through his veins like battery acid. How could he have not seen what Jill had become? Molly had seen it. Molly had shied away from her weeks ago, and he had given it little credence. How could he have been so blind? How could he have missed the dark transformation that she had undergone? None of it made sense. Why would Jill do this?
As if working on their own volition, his eyes strayed to the corner where he’d stashed the box. If he was planning to turn her in, why had he bothered to stow the box at all? After all, he had sworn to uphold the law. It was the right thing. But it wasn’t quite that simple when it came to Jill.
Alex flinched at the sound of a slamming car door. He needed to get out of here before Mike made it home. The last thing he wanted to do was explain to his brother why he was here. Was it only a few days ago that Mike tried talk to him about Jill? How many times had he defended her?
Casting a last glance over his shoulder, Alex extinguished the lights and headed for the door. A quick glimpse of the street outside the house told him that Mike’s car was nowhere to be found. Relief flooded through him, and, hunching his shoulders against the fierce wind, he headed back toward his Jeep.
“Alex?”
His heart stalled at the sound of her voice. The strong wind swirled her blond hair around her delicate face, her wide eyes inquisitive. He stifled a curse. He was tired of lies, but it seemed like there was at least one more he’d need to tell.
“Emma, I didn’t know you were home.” His lips twisted into a lopsided grin, and he took a step toward her. The circle of light from the streetlight penetrated the darkness and cast a pale glow on her ethereal face.
“I thought I saw your car. Why don’t you come inside? Mike’s not home from work yet. I was going to order Chinese, if you’d like to stay. To be honest, you’d be doing me a favor. Storms always sort of freak me out, and they say it’s going to be a good one. I’d love the company.”
Her self-deprecating smile made his heart twist painfully as he looked at her. Closing the distance between them, he took her cold hands in his. His eyes drifted down, catching sight of their intertwined fingers before he let his hands fall to his sides.
“Sorry, I can’t stay, and you should get inside.”
“Are you okay, Alex? You look—”
“Tired?” he finished for her.
Alex could read the concern on her face as she looked up at him, and he could only imagine what she saw there. Those keen reporter instincts wouldn’t allow him to hide for long, which was yet another reason he needed to get out of here. Fast.
“It’s been a rough week.” He forced a smile.
“That’s the understatement of the year.”
“Yeah.” Alex cleared his throat and looked over toward the garage. “Hope you don’t mind, but I was poking around to see if I could find my drill. I’ve got a couple projects I’ve been putting on hold while my arm healed and well … I thought I’d lent it to Mike, but I didn’t see it in there.”
“Maybe it’s in the house. Why don’t you come take a look?”
“It’s okay, another time.” He hoped that Emma didn’t catch the note of finality in his voice. Turning his eyes back toward her, he gripped her elbow, gently spinning her around.
“You should get inside though. The rain’s going to start soon, and there is no point in getting wet.”
“Not you, too,” she grumbled. “I’m getting enough smothering from Mike. I don’t know if I could take it if you started to hound me.”
“That’s what brothers do.”
Emma’s laugh was muted, as if she still sensed there was more to his visit than he was letting on.
“Tell Mike I’ll give him a call this weekend.”
“You sure you don’t want to stay?”
Alex paused, staring long at Emma before he was able to answer.
“Jill will be home soon. I’ve got to run.”
Emma nodded, and without another word he headed to his Jeep. Climbing behind the wheel, he took one last look at the house. Emma stood with her arms folded, hair flying in the wind. She didn’t take her eyes off him as he waved and pulled out into the street just as the first hard pellets of sleet began to fall.
53
Jill stepped through the back door into the kitchen. The heels of her boots echoed on the hardwood floor. The room was in shadow, the stove’s light casting a faint, eerie glow.
Jill scanned the room. This place where she had spent so much time felt different somehow. The granite countertops shone hard and slick. Not a dish out of place. This room where she had laughed with Alex was now silent, impenetrable.
She closed the door behind her, shoulders hunched, feeling the weight of her decision pulling her inward. Her gaze drifted across the room to the glossy surface of the refrigerator—the stainless steel doors smooth and without a smudge. Her mind flashed years ahead in an instant. Noisy kids running through the kitchen, sticky fingerprints on the refrigerator door handles, artwork pinned to the surface with small, colorful magnets. All the things that might have been.
She pressed her hands on the cold surface of the countertop, steadying herself. Drawing in a deep, sobering breath, she could smell the ripe apples sitting in a ceramic bowl on the island, their ruby-red skin lending a cheerful splash of color to the room. Beside her hand, a stack of mail was placed near the counter�
�s edge—a mix of junk mail, bills, and catalogs. Evidence of their everyday life together.
Jill had no time to waste. She had already been to the bank, pulling out as much cash as she dared. Some of it she had used to purchase a train ticket. Alex would be home soon, and she needed to be well on her way before he walked through the door.
She straightened, shifting her weight between her feet. Tension bowed her shoulders, a dull ache winding its way down to her lower back. Her right hand rested on the drawer where she had stashed her gun. She’d need to take that with her. Pushing away from the island, she started, her heart slamming into her rib cage as her eyes caught sight of him.
Alex sat silently in a chair at the kitchen table, watching her intently, his eyes almost black in the darkness. She studied him for a long moment, his expression blank, revealing no clues. She saw the liquor bottle sitting in front of him beside the empty tumbler. The coppery tang of fear filled her mouth, and she remembered her stepfather’s stony silence. Dread knotted her stomach, and she felt like she was caught in the eye of the storm.
“When did you get home?” she asked, fighting to keep her voice neutral.
“A while ago.” He leaned back in the chair, his arms hanging slack at his sides. “Where have you been?” His tone was demanding.
She averted her gaze and forced a light smile. “I met Megan for a drink. She got hung up at work, so we met at the Red Door instead.”
He turned his head to the side, rolling his eyes in exasperation.
“Come on Jill, we both know that you didn’t meet Megan tonight.” His eyes shredded her as he continued to study her face. She felt chilled by his gaze, once loving, now cold, as if he was looking into the face of a stranger.
There was a hard edge to his voice as he continued.
“We both know why you were at the bar. Enough games. Enough lies already. Where have you been?” His open hand struck the surface of the table with a loud smack. The glass rattled.
Jill took a step backward and leaned against the island for a moment, grasping for a response. She sensed the fury coiled beneath his icy exterior as she continued.
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