Chapter Three
Across the desk, in Anne’s tiny home office, sprawled a dozen files, reports, and pictures. Above her, she’d placed a map, with pushpins stuck into the location of the murder, where the vic had lived, and all the places associated with the few leads they had. The last few days had been fruitless and frustrating. William’s alibi had checked out, and she didn’t know how she felt about that.
There had to be a reason why his ring had been at the crime scene. Either that reason was William had set up a pretty airtight alibi, having someone who looked enough like him pretend to go out of town, or… What? It couldn’t be a coincidence. So the alternative was that someone was targeting William in order to cover their crime. Unfortunately, neither option seemed particularly infeasible. William was crafty, and Anne had no doubt that he’d accrued a lot of enemies over his lifetime.
Twirling her pen in her left hand as she stared obstinately at the map, Anne couldn’t help her thoughts drifting back to William, and not in a professional way. He had looked different. Sharper. Almost gaunt. The high cheekbones that had always made him so striking now resembled axe blades on either side of his face. Though, she felt a shiver remembering how his biceps still strained the sleeves of his shirt. Prison had clearly been difficult for him. She wasn’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to her before that this would be the case. Maybe because his silver tongue had gotten him out of practically every tight spot that he could find himself in. She’d never had to worry about him before.
She closed her eyes for a moment, almost feeling what it had been like to have that tongue in her tight spots. How it had searched and writhed, and he’d brought her to a quivering mess of delight every time he’d had the chance. He was so good at it.
But she couldn’t let him get to her like this again. He had been the best thing in her life, but he had also been her undoing. If she let her guard down now, things would get beyond messy.
With an almost preternatural sense, Anne knew that she was no longer alone. If only that sense were available to her on the job. She turned to see a head of golden curls peeking out of the doorframe, where Evie was trying to hide. Anne rose slowly, and then after two silent steps, swept her daughter up into her arms.
Evie exploded with giggles as Anne peppered kisses all over her forehead.
“Where did you come from? Weren’t you playing with Aunt Michelle?”
“She’s coloring.”
That meant Michelle was probably doing homework for her design class. Anne shifted Evie onto her hip and took her out of the office, making sure to close the door behind her. The girl couldn’t read yet, but there were certain images that Anne would prefer Evie not see until she was thirty, if possible.
“Oh, hey,” Michelle muttered without looking up as they entered the living room. Michelle was on the floor, cross-legged, as she used an X-Acto knife on some odd kind of paper. Anne couldn’t pretend she understood it. She only knew that the end result would be a graphic design degree and a well-paying job.
“Thanks for looking out for Evie this week. It’s been… intense,” Anne admitted. She shifted Evie on her hip, and the little girl rested her head on Anne’s shoulder. So sweet. Must’ve inherited that from her grandmother, since she clearly didn’t get it from either her mother or father.
“I mean, it’s just another homicide. I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.” Michelle set her knife down and ran her fingers through her hair. Michelle’s hair was the same color as Anne’s, but it was long and straight, and Michelle normally wore it completely unadorned. She looked loose and relaxed as she sat there with her work.
Should I tell her about William? Anne wondered. It might help to unburden herself, but strictly speaking, it wasn’t a good idea to share details of a case with a civilian.
“Okay. It is a big deal. You don’t have to make that face at me,” Michelle said.
“I wasn’t making a face,” Anne protested.
“You were making Mom-face,” Michelle said flatly. “Mom-face at Evie; don’t Mom-face at me.”
Anne smiled a little. “Well, I didn’t mean to. I’m just preoccupied.”
“Is it a nasty one? The deep evil?”
Anne rubbed circles on Evie’s back. She was getting sleepy. Anne tossed a toy on the couch aside and sat down.
“No, not deep evil. Just personal.” Anne pinched her lips to the side. “You remember how I told you that William got out on appeal?”
“Yeah?” Michelle’s eyes went round. “Oh, God, did someone, I mean, is he…?”
“No! No, he’s fine. He’s just, you know, a suspect.”
Michelle’s mouth hung open. “Oh, my God.”
“Yes.” Anne gave a nod and looked down at Evie’s face. Out cold. It was late. She should’ve stopped obsessing over the case in her office an hour ago and put Evie to bed.
“Do you think he did it?”
Anne ran a hand over Evie’s curls. “I’m not sure. I can’t really talk details, but there’s a connection for sure. I just wish I could trust that he would tell me the truth. Or that I’d be able to know when he’s hiding something from me.”
Michelle sucked in her lower lip and raised a brow.
“What?”
“I mean, between the two of you, I dunno how either of you could guess when the other one was lying.” She held her hands up. “Not that I blame you for not telling him about Evie, but he’d for sure want to know.”
“That’s not an option.” Anne scowled. “He was in prison, and I know he did everything they said, no matter what witchcraft his lawyers pulled. Even worse, his father? God. If I don’t trust William, I sure as hell don’t trust that man. Anthony Spencer is the worst crime lord in Europe.”
“Point. But still. William’s around now. What if he finds out?”
“Then, I take a cue from him and lie my ass off. He’s not the only tall, gorgeous man with golden hair in Vegas.”
Michelle laughed and nodded.
“And if he comes around—” Anne started.
“I won’t say anything.”
“I was going to say, don’t let him anywhere with you alone.”
Michelle flipped her hair. “Hey, he always liked me. He acted like I was his little sister.”
“He’s dangerous. No matter how nice he seems, he’s a criminal. I want you to be careful.”
“Fine, fine, Mom-face.” Michelle rolled her eyes and then flopped on her stomach to finish her homework.
Anne pointed at her with mock judgment before rising from the sofa to go put Evie to bed. As much as Michelle teased Anne about the “mom-face,” she had essentially been Michelle’s parent for almost six years now. Ever since their mother had died of cancer, the two of them had been on their own, and Anne had been determined to keep the two of them together. That meant getting a job, forgetting whatever she might have planned for her own life, and making sure no one could have a reason to take her little sister away from her.
Michelle had been young when their mother had passed, but not so young that she couldn’t take some responsibility for herself. It had been a challenge for Anne to go from an older sister to the single mom of a thirteen-year-old, but in the end, it had been worth it. No matter how stressful, even with the surprise addition of Evie, Anne’s family was her life. She would never do anything to jeopardize that.
Anne placed Evie into her bed, on her back, and locked the side rails into place. Evie, now slightly awake, caught Anne’s sleeve and murmured, indignantly, and without opening her eyes, “‘Mm, not sleepy, Mommy!”
“No?” Anne suppressed a laugh. “Well, obviously. Would you like me to read to you until you are?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay then. Snuggle in, and I’ll get you a book.” Anne looked through the books piled on Evie’s nightstand and selected one about a plucky narwhal that wanted to be a dolphin. “For all intents and porpoises,” Anne read. “This is a completely true story.”
Evie opened her eyes and, holding onto her blanket, leaned over so she could see the pages. Anne was about seventy percent convinced that the girl was memorizing the stories because sometimes she would “read” them back to Michelle to impress her.
Damn brilliant kid.
***
“Bloody cops,” William muttered to himself. He stepped back into his shop and made motions as though he’d forgotten his jacket.
He could spot a tail from a mile away on a bad day, but the force must have cheaped out on training in the last couple of years because while they’d been ever-present since Anne had shown up accusing him of “murder most foul,” they’d barely made an effort not to be seen. It was more than irritating being followed everywhere. He’d expected they might tap his phones, too, if they hadn’t been so determined to nail him good and proper this time. He had half a mind to march up to the police station and demand that they take him out for dinner, first.
Ideally, Anne would do the honors, but he was a bit miffed at her for giving them his scent. No one else would’ve been so sharp to catch that the ring at the crime scene had been his. And it was all the more difficult to do business with police lurking around all the time.
On the outside, his business was Spencer’s Rare Books and Antiques. The deals he made on the side that were covered by importing and trading more mundane items, well, those were of the type that would’ve made dear old Dad proud. If he’d been bothering to talk to William since his arrest, that was. There were a lot of expectations, being the son of an international kingpin. A pity that these expectations never did William a damn bit of good.
“They’re right outside my door,” William said the moment his contact picked up.
“Are we still meeting tonight?”
“I don’t think I could possibly shake them. Puts a real damper on the evening, you know?” William leaned against a table and flicked a mote of dust from his vest. “We’ll have to have a bite some other time.”
“That’s disappointing.”
The voice on the other end was equally as British as his own, but a bit posher. William had never quite perfected the Received Pronunciation demanded of him when he’d been set off to school. As a result, his own accent was more inflected and less proper. He sort of liked it that way, sometimes. When in the right mood, he’d even play up the south London-ish bits. Seemed to make folks think he was a bit dangerous.
The fact that he could be, if he liked, probably helped that thought along.
“Isn’t it? We’ll have to go out proper sometime. Or order some takeout and catch up.”
After they’d said their goodbyes, William checked the locks on all the doors and headed outside to his dark gray Aston Martin. There, instead of getting inside immediately, he loitered, pulling out a cigarette and a flip-top lighter. After applying one to the other, he took a long drag and looked out toward the road. It seemed long and dry and almost endless, but he knew that if he went far enough, there would be life and bustle and sex. Antique shops and other curiosities tended not to be located on the Strip, but often just off, or further out into the dust. He’d considered locating his new business nearer to the university, but the chance that he might run into the little sister there was high, depending on what the girl’s interests were now. When he’d known Michelle, she had been an adorable little nerd. Dead obsessed with Harry Potter. Either way, William suspected that she wouldn’t be too friendly and that Anne would be less than pleased if he tried to buddy up to her sister again.
William let out a long string of smoke. He could see the lights of the Strip from here. It was harder to trail him when he was down there. Especially when he slipped on down to Freemont, where a lot more deals went down. He had no plans of being so obvious, however. He dropped the butt and ground it out with his heel, then got into his car. He started to drive back to the hotel.
As his Aston Martin zipped down the road, William could almost see Anne in his passenger seat, her hair billowing behind her as he revved the engine. It had been a different car. Same brand, different model. Up until that point, he’d never seen her look so relaxed. So free. From top to bottom, Anne had always been just a cop, wound too tight, with too much to prove. That night though, with the uniform at home and her hair loose, the other parts of her had seemed to unfurl, a vibrant young woman with layers and layers of wit, kindness, loss, and beauty. That had been the night that they’d told one another about losing their mothers. It had been the night when he’d devoured her tempting neck with kisses, and the night she’d let him.
His thoughts were drifting toward the image of her thighs peeking out of a pair of jean shorts when the blue and red lights began to flash behind him. What now? He’d done precisely nothing to warrant being pulled over. He’d even kept to the speed limit, something that he was almost morally opposed to, due to his stalkers with badges. With a huff of irritation, William pulled over and reached for his license.