45
Saxon licked his lips again, frowned, and slowly shook his head. “No, I felt weird, not drunk weird, I know what that feels like, but her bedroom was spinning and there were three of her and her laughter was too loud and I wanted to throw up and sleep at the same time. I don’t remember anything after that, really, it’s all gone—”
Sherlock lightly laid her hand on Savich’s shoulder, and he moved back. She leaned in close, took a leap. “Saxon, do you remember me?”
“Yes, you’re Agent Sherlock. You have beautiful hair.”
“Thank you. Now, Saxon, I want you to look at Mia. Really look at her. You feel rotten, you’re dizzy, but you still see her clearly. Do you see anyone else?”
He blinked, shook his head. “I don’t know—wait, yes, there is someone. I don’t know where he came from, but he’s there, in her bedroom, standing behind her. He has his hand on her arm and he’s turning her around to face him.”
“What does he look like?”
“I can’t see him clearly. All I can think about is throwing up.”
“Forget your nausea, your dizziness, Saxon. You aren’t feeling that now. You feel fine. Picture the man. Focus on him. Do you see him?”
“Yes, I can see him, but he’s blurry.”
“Describe him to me.”
“He’s older, in his forties, I guess. And he has this weird widow’s peak, you know, his hair sort of spears forward, then he’s bald on either side of it.”
Sherlock took a shot. “That’s good. Saxon, don’t look away from him. Watch him. Is he talking? What is he saying? No, don’t shake your head. Focus. Listen. Can you hear him now?”
“Okay, yes.”
“Good. What is he saying to Mia?”
“He’s asking her why I’m not under, asking her how she could screw it up. Why she hadn’t done what she was told.”
“Does he sound angry?”
“Yes, but not screaming anger, more like ice-cold anger, the kind my dad used on my mom that makes you shrivel up. That’s why she left, I think.”
“Okay, I understand. What did Mia say?”
“She said to give her a minute and I’d be out and he could take all the photos he wanted.” He frowned. “I don’t understand. Why was this man there? Why was Mia talking about photos?”
“Don’t worry about that now. Think back. What happened next?”
Saxon fell silent. Sherlock knew he was trying to remember but she wasn’t surprised when he shook his head. After a few more questions and rephrasings, Sherlock guessed he’d fallen unconscious then, too deep for memories or impressions.
“When you woke up the next morning, you were in your own bed?”
“Yes.”
“What were you wearing?”
“I still had my pants on, even my shoes and socks, but my tie and shirt and my undershirt were gone. I couldn’t find them. I felt really bad, a killer headache. I tried to remember how I got home from Mia’s, what happened, but everything was—blank.”
“Did you call Mia?”
“I did, half a dozen times, but her cell phone went to message. Then a friend came over—Ollie Ash. He was my roommate in college. He wanted to go to breakfast, tell me about the AI program he was working on, but I didn’t want to, I felt too bad.
“Ollie said I should go take a shower and some aspirin. I felt a little bit better after that, but I was worried. I knew something was wrong. While I was dressing, I heard the news on the TV from the living room.” He stopped dead, then whispered, “The newslady was talking about a woman’s murder, and she gave the address, Mia’s address. I remember thinking, how can she possibly be saying those things?”
“I came running out of the bedroom. I’d told Ollie I was seeing an amazing girl, but I hadn’t told him her name. I stood there, not wanting to believe it, but that newslady went on about her, kept showing her picture.”
“You said Ollie didn’t know about Mia. What do you mean?”
“Only my dad knew about her.”
“Why was that? Was keeping secret her decision?”
“Yes, I wanted to shout it to the world, to all my friends, but she said there was an ex-boyfriend and she didn’t want him to know she’d found someone she really liked so quickly after she’d booted him out. She said she didn’t trust him, he had a bad temper and was still mad at her. I offered to speak to him, but she wouldn’t tell me his name. So I agreed, and we kept it quiet, except for meeting my dad. She was really happy to meet my dad. I remember she said meeting people high up in politics would help her with her deviant-personality course. I laughed.”
“Go back now, Saxon. Your dad called you that morning, right? Before you could do anything?”
“No, he showed up at my apartment, told Ollie we were leaving, and took me home with him. I couldn’t process it—that Mia was dead. It made no sense. Dad held me, and I cried, but Mia was still dead. I told him I couldn’t remember anything and my shirt and undershirt were missing, and for all I knew I was the one who killed her, but he said no, that wasn’t possible. I could never kill anyone. It sounded to him like I’d passed out from drinking too much. Someone else must have murdered her. But who? Why?”
Saxon’s hand was a fist on the chair arm. Sherlock laid her hand over his fist, smoothed out his fingers. “Listen to me now, Saxon. The man who killed her, he was the man you saw behind her, the man with the widow’s peak. And we will find him.”
She looked at Dillon, raised an eyebrow.
Savich had no more questions, shook his head. Dr. Hicks said quietly, “This is a great deal for him to take in.” He leaned over Saxon and said in his soothing voice, “Saxon, you will wake up on the count of three. You will open your eyes and you will remember everything. You will understand it was Mia who drugged you. You will also know that Agents Savich and Sherlock will find this man. You will feel better now that you understand what happened; you will feel more at peace. One, two, three—”
Saxon Hainny opened his eyes, blinked a couple of times, and turned to Sherlock. She saw a moment of hope, then suddenly, devastation at the truth of what and who Mia Prevost was. He stared down at his clenched hands, whispered, “Mia and that man wanted to take pictures of us. But why?”
Savich said, “We don’t know yet, exactly, but there are a few things we need to think through together, Saxon. From what you remember, it’s obvious you didn’t pass out from drinking too much that night. You were drugged.”
“But I can’t imagine how that could have happened. As I told you, I was with Mia. You mean you think Mia drugged me?”
“No one else could have, Saxon. Then she took you to that man in her apartment, where she believed he was going to take pictures of you after you passed out. What she thought the plan was after that, we don’t know yet, but she certainly didn’t plan on getting herself murdered. They might have fought over something, but it’s more likely killing her was part of the plan all along, the part she didn’t know.
“You said your shirt and undershirt were missing. Detective Raven said nothing about finding your clothes at the scene. Did you tell him about them?”
“My dad told me not to mention it, he said it would sound suspicious.”
Savich supposed Hainny hadn’t told him about the missing shirt and undershirt for the same reason. He said, “Then it seems that after the man killed her, he took your clothes to link you to her murder. You’re your father’s son, Saxon, and he’s a man with power and money. The man had to know your father would protect you, pay them if he had to.”
Saxon raised dazed eyes to Savich’s face. “She never loved me, did she? She was using me all along, like some chess pawn to sacrifice.” He lowered his face in his hands. “But I loved her; I really loved her.”
Savich said. “I’m very sorry, Saxon. You’re an intelligent man, but you’re not the first man who’s had to face betrayal. At least now you know the truth, you know what it is you have to deal with.”
“Me? Intelligent? That’s funny, Agent Savich. The woman I loved played me like a fish on her line.”
“You loved Mia; you trusted her. You were not responsible for who she was or what she did. Saxon, you didn’t kill Mia, and you did nothing wrong. And you know what? I think in the end you’ll recover, you’ll do fine. You can trust we will find the man who killed her.”
Saxon gave an ugly laugh, shook his head. “I can’t imagine my future now.”
Sherlock said, her voice emotionless, “Then consider your father’s future.”
He looked like she’d slapped him. “My dad—what will happen to him? Is that man going to blackmail us? Use me to ruin my father? It is my fault, all my fault.”
Savich took his hand, pulled him to his feet. He put his palms on Saxon’s shoulders. “Listen, Saxon, Mia’s murder is not your fault. Now, I’m making you a promise. We’re going to fix this as best we can, all right?”
“I don’t know you. But my dad—” He looked into Savich’s eyes. “You know what? I don’t care what she did to me, I don’t care if everything she did was fake, she shouldn’t have died for it. I want to kill that man myself.”
Get in line. Sherlock said, “Trust me, Saxon, we’re going to find him and we’re going to finish him.” She took both his arms in her hands. “If we don’t finish him, I’ll help you buy the gun.”
Saxon Hainny heard no doubt in her voice.