Reflected in You: A Crossfire Novel (29 page)

Graves smiled at me. “You go out to California a lot to see your dad?”

“I just moved from there a couple months ago.”

“I went to Disneyland once when I was a kid,” she said. “That was a while ago, obviously. I’ve been meaning to get back out there.”

I frowned, not understanding why we were making small talk.

“We just need to ask you a couple of questions,” Michna said, pulling a notepad out of the interior pocket of his jacket. “We don’t want to hold you up any longer than we have to.”

Graves nodded, her eyes still on me. “Can you tell us if you’re familiar with a man named Nathan Barker, Miss Tramell?”

The room spun. Cary cursed and pushed unsteadily to his feet, taking the few steps to reach the seat beside me. He caught up my hand.

“Miss Tramell?” Graves took a seat on the other end of the sectional.

“He’s her former stepbrother,” Cary snapped. “What’s this about?”

“When’s the last time you saw Barker?” Michna asked.

In a courtroom . . .
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry as sawdust. “Eight years ago,” I said hoarsely.

“Did you know he was here in New York?”

Oh God.
I shook my head violently.

“Where’s this going?” my dad asked.

I looked helplessly at Cary, then at Gideon. My dad didn’t know about Nathan. I didn’t want him to know.

Cary squeezed my hand. Gideon wouldn’t even look at me.

“Mr. Cross,” Graves said. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you know Nathan Barker?”

My eyes pleaded with Gideon not to say anything in front of my dad, but he never once glanced my way.

“You wouldn’t be asking that question,” he answered, “if you didn’t already know the answer.”

My stomach dropped. A violent shiver moved through me. Still, Gideon wouldn’t look at me. My brain was trying to process what was happening . . . what it meant . . . what was going on . . .

“Is there a point to these questions?” my father asked.

The blood was roaring in my ears. My heart was pounding with something like terror. The mere thought of Nathan being so close was enough to send me into a panic. I was panting. The room was swimming before my eyes. I thought I might pass out.

Graves was watching me like a hawk. “Can you just tell us where you were yesterday, Miss Tramell?”

“Where I was?” I repeated. “Yesterday?”

“Don’t answer that,” my dad ordered. “This interview isn’t going any further until we know what this is about.”

Michna nodded, as if he’d expected the interruption. “Nathan Barker was found dead this morning.”

Chapter 16

As soon as Detective Michna finished his sentence, my dad cut the questioning off. “We’re done here,” he said grimly. “If you have any further questions, you can make an appointment for my daughter to come in with counsel.”

“How about you, Mr. Cross?” Michna’s gaze moved to Gideon. “Would you mind telling us where you were yesterday?”

Gideon moved from his position behind the couch. “Why don’t we talk while I show you out?”

I stared at him, but he still wouldn’t look at me.

What else didn’t he want me to know? How much was he hiding from me?

Ireland’s fingers threaded with mine. Cary sat on one side of me and Ireland on the other, while the man I loved stood several feet away and hadn’t glanced at me in almost half an hour. I felt like a cold rock had settled in my gut.

The detectives took down my phone numbers, then left with Gideon. I watched the three of them walk out, saw my dad eyeing Gideon with a hard speculative look.

“Maybe he was buying you an engagement ring,” Ireland whispered. “And he doesn’t want to blow the surprise.”

I squeezed her hand for being sweet and thinking so highly of her brother. I hoped he never let her down or disillusioned her. The way
I
was now disillusioned. Gideon and I were nothing—we had nothing together—if he couldn’t be honest with me.

Why hadn’t he told me about Nathan?

Releasing Cary and Ireland, I stood and went into the kitchen. My dad followed me.

“Want to fill me in with what’s going on?” he asked.

“I have no idea. This is all news to me.”

He leaned his hip into the counter and studied me. “What’s the history with you and Nathan Barker? You heard his name and looked like you were going to pass out.”

I started rinsing off the dishes and loading the dishwasher. “He was a bully, Dad. That’s all. He didn’t like that his dad remarried, and he especially didn’t like that his new stepmom already had a kid.”

“Why would Gideon have anything to do with him?”

“That’s a really good question.” As I gripped the edge of the sink, I bowed my head and closed my eyes. That was what had driven the wedge between me and Gideon—
Nathan.
I knew it.

“Eva?” My dad’s hands settled on my shoulders and kneaded into the hard, aching muscles. “Are you okay?”

“I-I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.” I shut off the water and left the rest of the dishes where they were. I went to the cupboard where we kept our vitamins and over-the-counter medicines and took out two nighttime painkillers. I wanted a deep, dreamless sleep. I needed it, so I could wake up in a condition to figure out what I needed to do.

I looked at my dad. “Can you take care of Ireland until Gideon gets back?”

“Of course.” He kissed my forehead. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

Ireland found me before I could find her. “Are you okay?” she asked, stepping into the kitchen.

“I’m going to lie down, if you don’t mind. I know that’s rude.”

“No, it’s okay.”

“Really, I’m sorry.” I pulled her close for a hug. “We’ll do this again. Maybe a girls’ day? Hit the spa or go shopping?”

“Sure. Call me?”

“I will.” I let her go and passed through the living room to get to the hallway.

The front door opened and Gideon walked in. Our gazes met and held. I could read nothing in his. I looked away, went to my room, and locked the door.

* * *

I was up at nine the next morning, feeling groggy and grumpy but no longer overwhelmingly tired. I knew I needed to call Stanton and my mom, but I needed caffeine first.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and shuffled out to the living room. I was almost to the kitchen—the source of the luscious smell of coffee—when the doorbell rang. My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t help the instinctive reaction I had to thoughts of Gideon, who was one of the three people on the list to get past the front desk.

But when I opened the door, it was my mother. I hoped I didn’t look too disappointed, but I don’t think she noticed anyway. She swept right past me in a seafoam green dress that looked painted on, and she pulled it off as very few women could, somehow making the outfit sexy and elegant and age-appropriate. Of course, she looked young enough to be my sister.

She raked a glance over my comfortable SDSU sweatpants and camisole before saying, “Eva. My God. You have no idea—”

“Nathan’s dead.” I shut the door and glanced nervously down the hallway at the guest bedroom, praying that my dad was still functioning on West Coast time and sleeping.

“Oh.” She turned around and faced me, and I got my first good look at her. Her mouth was thinned with worry, her blue eyes haunted. “Have the police come by already? They only just left us.”

“They were here last night.” I headed into the kitchen and straight to the coffeemaker.

“Why didn’t you call us? We should have been with you. You should’ve had
a lawyer
with you, at the very least.”

“It was a real quick visit, Mom. Want some?” I held up the carafe.

“No, thank you. You shouldn’t drink so much of that stuff. It’s not good for you.”

I put the carafe back and opened the fridge.

“Dear God, Eva,” my mother muttered, watching me. “Do you realize how many calories are in half-and-half?”

I set a bottle of water in front of her and moved back to lighten my coffee. “They were here for about thirty minutes and then left. They didn’t get anything out of me beyond Nathan being my former stepbrother and that I haven’t seen him in eight years.”

“Thank God you didn’t say more.” She twisted open her water.

I grabbed my mug. “Let’s move to my sitting room.”

“What? Why? You never sit in there.”

She was right, but using it would help prevent a surprise run-in between my parents.

“But
you
like it,” I pointed out. We entered through my bedroom and I shut the door behind us, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I do like it,” my mother said, turning to take it all in.

Of course she liked it; she’d decorated it. I liked it, too, but didn’t really have a use for it. I’d thought about turning it into an adjoining bedroom for Gideon, but everything could be changing now. He’d pulled away from me, hidden Nathan and a dinner with Corinne from me. I wanted an explanation, and depending on what that was, we were going to either recommit to moving forward or take the painful steps to move away from each other.

My mom settled gracefully on the chaise, her gaze coming to rest on me. “You’ll have to be very careful with the police, Eva. If they want to talk to you again, let Richard know so he can have his lawyers present.”

“Why? I don’t understand why I should worry about what I say or don’t say. I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t even know he was in town.” I watched her gaze skitter away from mine, and my tone firmed. “What’s going on, Mom?”

She took a drink before speaking. “Nathan showed up in Richard’s office last week. He wanted two and a half million dollars.”

There was a sudden roaring in my ears.
“What?”

“He wanted money,” she said stiffly. “A lot of it.”

“Why the hell would he think he’d get any?”

“He has—
had
—photos, Eva.” Her lower lip began to quiver. “And video. Of you.”

“Oh my God.” I set my coffee aside with shaking hands and bent over, putting my head between my knees. “Oh God, I’m going to be sick.”

And Gideon had seen Nathan—he’d confessed as much when he answered the detectives’ questions. If he’d seen the pictures . . . been disgusted by them . . . it would explain why he cut me off. Why he’d been so tormented when he came to my bed. He might still want me, but he might not be able to live with the images now filling his head.

It has to be this way
, he’d said.

A horrible sound escaped me. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what Nathan might have captured. I didn’t want to.

No wonder Gideon couldn’t stand to look at me. When he’d made love to me the last time, it had been in utter darkness, where he could hear me and smell me and feel me—but not see me.

I stifled a scream of pain by biting my forearm.

“Baby, no!” My mother sank to her knees in front of me, urging me gently off the chair and onto the floor where she could rock me. “Shh. It’s over. He’s dead.”

I curled into her lap, sobbing, realizing it truly was over—I’d lost Gideon. He would hate himself for turning away from me, but I understood why he might not be able to stop himself. If looking at me now reminded him of his own brutal past, how could he stand it? How could I?

My mother’s hand stroked over my hair. I felt her crying, too. “Shh,” she hushed me, her voice shaking. “Shh, baby. I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

Eventually there were no more tears left to cry. I was empty, but with that emptiness came new clarity. I couldn’t change what had happened, but I could do what was necessary to make sure that no one I loved suffered for it.

I sat up and wiped at my eyes.

“You shouldn’t do that,” my mother scolded. “Rubbing at your eyes like that will give you wrinkles.”

For some reason, I found her concern for my future crow’s-feet hysterical. I tried to hold it in, but a snorted laugh broke free.

“Eva Lauren!”

I thought her indignation was funny, too. I laughed some more, and once I started, I couldn’t stop. I laughed until my sides hurt and I fell over.

“Oh, stop it!” She shoved at my shoulder. “It’s not funny.”

I laughed until I managed to squeeze out a few more tears.

“Eva, really!” But she was starting to smile.

I laughed until I wasn’t laughing so much as sobbing again, dry and silent. I heard my mother giggling, and that somehow blended perfectly with my racking pain. I couldn’t explain it, but as horrible and hopeless as I felt, my mother’s presence—complete with all her little quirks and admonitions that drove me insane—was just what I needed.

With my hands on my cramping stomach, I took a deep cleansing breath. “Did he arrange it?” I asked softly.

Her smiled faded. “Who? Richard? Arrange what? The money?
Oh . . .
”

I waited.

“No!” she protested. “He wouldn’t. His mind doesn’t work that way.”

“Okay. I just had to know.” I couldn’t see Stanton ordering a hit, either. But Gideon . . .

I knew from his nightmares that his desire for vengeance was colored by violence. And I’d seen him fight Brett. The memory was seared in my mind. Gideon was capable, and with his history—

I took a deep breath, then blew it out. “How much do the police know?”

“Everything.” Her eyes were soft and wet with guilt. “The seal on Nathan’s records was broken when he died.”

“And how did he die?”

“They didn’t say.”

“I suppose it’s not important. We have a motive.” I ran my hand through my hair. “It probably doesn’t matter that we didn’t personally have the opportunity. Your time is accounted for, isn’t it? And Stanton’s?”

“Yes. And yours, too?”

“Yes.” But I didn’t know about Gideon’s. Not that it mattered. No one would expect men like Gideon and Stanton to get their hands dirty cleaning up a mess like Nathan.

We had more than one motive—the blackmail and revenge for what he’d done to me—and means, and means gave us the opportunity.

* * *

I brushed my hair again and splashed water on my face, all the while thinking of how I was going to get my mom out of my apartment undetected. When I found her digging through the closet in my bedroom—concerned as always about my style and appearance—I knew what to do.

“Remember that skirt I picked up at Macy’s?” I asked her. “The green one?”

“Oh, yes. Very pretty.”

“I haven’t been able to wear it, because I can’t think of anything I have to go with it. Can you help me find something?”

“Eva,” she said, exasperated. “You should’ve established a personal style by now—and it shouldn’t be sweats!”

“Help me out, Mom. I’ll be right back.” I took my coffee mug with me to have a purpose for leaving her. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Where would I go?” she replied, her voice muffled because she’d stepped deeper into my walk-in closet.

I did a quick check of the living room and kitchen. My dad was nowhere to be seen and his bedroom door was closed, as was Cary’s. I hurried back into my room.

“How’s this?” she asked, holding up a champagne-hued silk blouse. The combination was gorgeous and classy.

“I love it! You rock! Thank you. But I’m sure you have to go now, right? I don’t want to hold you up.”

My mom frowned at me. “I’m not in a hurry.”

“What about Stanton? This has got to be weighing on his mind. And it’s a Saturday—he always reserves his weekends for you. He needs to have the time with you.”

And God, did I feel awful for his stress. Stanton had spent a great deal of his time and money on issues pertaining to me and Nathan over the four years he’d been married to my mother. It was too much to ask of anyone, but he’d come through for us. For the rest of my life, I would owe him for loving my mother so much.