Smash Cut (13 page)
Authors: Sandra Brown
Tags: #Legal, #Suspense, #Fiction, #General, #Georgia, #Thrillers, #Rich people, #Atlanta (Ga.), #Trials (Murder), #Legal stories, #Rich People - Georgia
No one topped Derek Mitchells bid for the painting. When the winning bidders for all the items were announced at the end of the evening, the crowd applauded him, which he acknowledged with a modest wave. The redhead went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.
Soon after those announcements were made, there was a stampede for the doors. Julie moved in the opposite direction. An em ployee of the facility helped her carry the painting to a utility room, where she replaced it in the crate designed for transporting it safely.
Fortunately, a courier had been hired to deliver all the auction items that couldnt be carried out by their new owners, relieving Julie of having to deliver the painting personally to Derek Mitchell.
By the time she passed through the main room, the only people left were the cleanup crew, who were busily disassembling the make-believe setting. No one remained in the large reception area of the building, or in the corridor that took her past empty meeting rooms toward the elevator bank that served the parking garage, where upon arrival shed parked herself in lieu of waiting in the long line for a valet.
She got a case of butterflies as she approached the elevator and punched the Up button. When the empty elevator arrived, she hesitated before stepping into it. But she did so, telling herself she was being silly. She couldnt go the rest of her life avoiding elevators.
Nevertheless, her heart was thudding when the elevator reached the level of the garage where shed left her car and the double doors slid open. There was no one there. Certainly no one in dark glasses and a ski mask with a shark woven into it.
She stepped out and headed for the ramp. The ceiling was low, the lights dim; there was no one else about, so her footsteps sounded extraordinarily loud.
Then she heard a metallic click. She stopped and turned in the direction from which the sound had come. That corner of the garage was completely dark and partially concealed by a concrete pillar, large enough for a man to hide behind.
Large enough to hide the man who flicked the cigarette lighter on, briefly letting the flame burn before flipping down the lid and extinguishing it.
Julie instantly realized that shed been cast in the role of damsel in distress. Isnt this scene a bit cliché, even for you, Creighton? Her voice echoed in the vast, empty space. Its been in too many movies to count. A victim alone in a dark and deserted parking garage? Come on, she scoffed. Its unworthy of you.
The lighter flicked on again, burned for several seconds, went off with a snick of metal against metal.
It was an ordinary action, yet the setup lent it a creepiness that was effective. She didnt believe that Creighton would leap out of the darkness and attack her. He was only trying to frighten her, paying her back for showing up at the bar last night, punishing her for catching him admiring his reflection in the mirror. He was merely staging a scary scene to rattle her.
Or was he?
Thus far, hed got away with having Paul killed. That might have made him feel invincible. Creighton was already confident that rules didnt apply to him; the success of Pauls murder might have made him reckless, willing, even eager to do his own killing rather than to have someone do it for him.
And, he had every reason to want her dead.
Suddenly she was very afraid. She unlocked her car with the keyless remote and got in quickly, locking the drivers door as soon as shed closed it. The roar of her cars engine reverberated against the concrete surfaces. Her tires squealed as she backed out and headed for the exit. She drove past the dark corner without even deigning to look in that direction, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the small blue and yellow flame flashing on, off, on, off in a taunting sequence.
She took the spiraling lane down to the street level with such speed she was dizzy when she stopped to pay the attendant. As she pulled onto the boulevard, she watched her rearview mirror. No one followed.
Her hands were cold but sweaty as she clutched the steering wheel. Her shoulders burned with tension. Creighton would enjoy knowing hed rattled her. But he didnt know, did he? She hadnt played his silly game. Shed mocked him, then left. Hastily, yes, but, she believed, without giving an outward appearance of being afraid. He couldnt have known how much hed unnerved her, and there was satisfaction to be found in that.
But when she got home, she discovered that the joke was on her after all.
Soon after those announcements were made, there was a stampede for the doors. Julie moved in the opposite direction. An em ployee of the facility helped her carry the painting to a utility room, where she replaced it in the crate designed for transporting it safely.
Fortunately, a courier had been hired to deliver all the auction items that couldnt be carried out by their new owners, relieving Julie of having to deliver the painting personally to Derek Mitchell.
By the time she passed through the main room, the only people left were the cleanup crew, who were busily disassembling the make-believe setting. No one remained in the large reception area of the building, or in the corridor that took her past empty meeting rooms toward the elevator bank that served the parking garage, where upon arrival shed parked herself in lieu of waiting in the long line for a valet.
She got a case of butterflies as she approached the elevator and punched the Up button. When the empty elevator arrived, she hesitated before stepping into it. But she did so, telling herself she was being silly. She couldnt go the rest of her life avoiding elevators.
Nevertheless, her heart was thudding when the elevator reached the level of the garage where shed left her car and the double doors slid open. There was no one there. Certainly no one in dark glasses and a ski mask with a shark woven into it.
She stepped out and headed for the ramp. The ceiling was low, the lights dim; there was no one else about, so her footsteps sounded extraordinarily loud.
Then she heard a metallic click. She stopped and turned in the direction from which the sound had come. That corner of the garage was completely dark and partially concealed by a concrete pillar, large enough for a man to hide behind.
Large enough to hide the man who flicked the cigarette lighter on, briefly letting the flame burn before flipping down the lid and extinguishing it.
Julie instantly realized that shed been cast in the role of damsel in distress. Isnt this scene a bit cliché, even for you, Creighton? Her voice echoed in the vast, empty space. Its been in too many movies to count. A victim alone in a dark and deserted parking garage? Come on, she scoffed. Its unworthy of you.
The lighter flicked on again, burned for several seconds, went off with a snick of metal against metal.
It was an ordinary action, yet the setup lent it a creepiness that was effective. She didnt believe that Creighton would leap out of the darkness and attack her. He was only trying to frighten her, paying her back for showing up at the bar last night, punishing her for catching him admiring his reflection in the mirror. He was merely staging a scary scene to rattle her.
Or was he?
Thus far, hed got away with having Paul killed. That might have made him feel invincible. Creighton was already confident that rules didnt apply to him; the success of Pauls murder might have made him reckless, willing, even eager to do his own killing rather than to have someone do it for him.
And, he had every reason to want her dead.
Suddenly she was very afraid. She unlocked her car with the keyless remote and got in quickly, locking the drivers door as soon as shed closed it. The roar of her cars engine reverberated against the concrete surfaces. Her tires squealed as she backed out and headed for the exit. She drove past the dark corner without even deigning to look in that direction, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw the small blue and yellow flame flashing on, off, on, off in a taunting sequence.
She took the spiraling lane down to the street level with such speed she was dizzy when she stopped to pay the attendant. As she pulled onto the boulevard, she watched her rearview mirror. No one followed.
Her hands were cold but sweaty as she clutched the steering wheel. Her shoulders burned with tension. Creighton would enjoy knowing hed rattled her. But he didnt know, did he? She hadnt played his silly game. Shed mocked him, then left. Hastily, yes, but, she believed, without giving an outward appearance of being afraid. He couldnt have known how much hed unnerved her, and there was satisfaction to be found in that.
But when she got home, she discovered that the joke was on her after all.
Her first indication that something was wrong was when her garage door opener failed to work. She left her car in the driveway and used her key to go in through the front door. When she flipped on the light switch, nothing happened. But the power outage was restricted to her house; lights were on in her neighbors homes.
She felt her way to the hall table, where she kept a small flashlight in the drawer. The battery was still good, but the beam was weak and she didnt see the bench before she bumped into it, causing her to stumble.
Usually the bench was positioned lengthwise against the wall opposite the table. Now it stood crosswise in the center of the foyer.
The electricity being off was one thing. Having a piece of furniture out of place was another. She was absolutely certain she hadnt moved it there.
Had the house been burglarized? Worse, was the thief still inside? Her instinct was to turn and run out through the front door while calling 911 on her cell phone.
But she ordered herself to remain calm. Before jumping to conclusions or giving way to hysterics, she stood stock-still and listened for any sound. She heard nothing other than the cottony thud of her pulse against her eardrums.
Nudging the bench aside with her knee and moving forward cautiously, she shone the flashlight into the living room and then into the dining room, but nothing appeared to have been disturbed in either of those rooms. Everything seemed to be in place. They certainly hadnt been ransacked.
Aiming the light down at the floor, she noted that the fringe at each end of the runner beneath her feet lay straight, untouched since her maid had raked it. The likelihood of an intruder leaving the rug fringe undisturbed was highly remote.
Damn you. The whispered curse was meant for Creighton. Hed done this to her. Hed made her afraid in her own house. Hed made her scared of an ordinary bench, when it was almost certain that her housekeeper had moved it while she swept the hall today and simply forgotten to return it to its proper place.
Using the beam of the flashlight to guide her, she made her way to her bedroom. On the threshold, she hesitated and swept the light across the room. Seeing nothing amiss, she went in and was moving toward the closet when she heard a sound from the front of the house.
All the reassurances shed given herself were banished by a resurgence of fear.
She switched off the flashlight and dropped to the floor. In total darkness she crawled to the side of the bed and blindly groped beneath it for the pistol that Paul had secured to the underside of the box springs with duct tape.
She found it and tugged until the gun came free. Feeling blindly, she ripped off the stubborn tape. The revolver felt heavy and cold in her hand, foreign, deadly.
Its loaded, but as a safety precaution, Ive left two chambers empty,
Paul had told her. She could hear him stressing to her that she would have to pull the trigger three times before the pistol would fire a bullet.
Her skin broke out in a cold sweat. She breathed in insufficient pants. The fear shed experienced in the parking garage was compounded a thousand times, now that she realized her home had been breached. She understood just how vulnerable she was.
Pressing her lips together, she forced herself to breathe through her nose so her raspy breaths couldnt be heard. Her heart was hammering as she scooted across the floor on her bottom until she had backed into the corner. Holding the pistol with both hands, she aimed it at the doorway just as a silhouette appeared in the opening, a darker shadow against dimmer ones.
Stay where you are!
Unmindful of her shouted warning, the figure stepped into the room.
She pulled the trigger.
She felt her way to the hall table, where she kept a small flashlight in the drawer. The battery was still good, but the beam was weak and she didnt see the bench before she bumped into it, causing her to stumble.
Usually the bench was positioned lengthwise against the wall opposite the table. Now it stood crosswise in the center of the foyer.
The electricity being off was one thing. Having a piece of furniture out of place was another. She was absolutely certain she hadnt moved it there.
Had the house been burglarized? Worse, was the thief still inside? Her instinct was to turn and run out through the front door while calling 911 on her cell phone.
But she ordered herself to remain calm. Before jumping to conclusions or giving way to hysterics, she stood stock-still and listened for any sound. She heard nothing other than the cottony thud of her pulse against her eardrums.
Nudging the bench aside with her knee and moving forward cautiously, she shone the flashlight into the living room and then into the dining room, but nothing appeared to have been disturbed in either of those rooms. Everything seemed to be in place. They certainly hadnt been ransacked.
Aiming the light down at the floor, she noted that the fringe at each end of the runner beneath her feet lay straight, untouched since her maid had raked it. The likelihood of an intruder leaving the rug fringe undisturbed was highly remote.
Damn you. The whispered curse was meant for Creighton. Hed done this to her. Hed made her afraid in her own house. Hed made her scared of an ordinary bench, when it was almost certain that her housekeeper had moved it while she swept the hall today and simply forgotten to return it to its proper place.
Using the beam of the flashlight to guide her, she made her way to her bedroom. On the threshold, she hesitated and swept the light across the room. Seeing nothing amiss, she went in and was moving toward the closet when she heard a sound from the front of the house.
All the reassurances shed given herself were banished by a resurgence of fear.
She switched off the flashlight and dropped to the floor. In total darkness she crawled to the side of the bed and blindly groped beneath it for the pistol that Paul had secured to the underside of the box springs with duct tape.
She found it and tugged until the gun came free. Feeling blindly, she ripped off the stubborn tape. The revolver felt heavy and cold in her hand, foreign, deadly.
Its loaded, but as a safety precaution, Ive left two chambers empty,
Paul had told her. She could hear him stressing to her that she would have to pull the trigger three times before the pistol would fire a bullet.
Her skin broke out in a cold sweat. She breathed in insufficient pants. The fear shed experienced in the parking garage was compounded a thousand times, now that she realized her home had been breached. She understood just how vulnerable she was.
Pressing her lips together, she forced herself to breathe through her nose so her raspy breaths couldnt be heard. Her heart was hammering as she scooted across the floor on her bottom until she had backed into the corner. Holding the pistol with both hands, she aimed it at the doorway just as a silhouette appeared in the opening, a darker shadow against dimmer ones.
Stay where you are!
Unmindful of her shouted warning, the figure stepped into the room.
She pulled the trigger.
CHAPTER
13
T
HE EMPTY CHAMBER CLICKED LOUDLY.
Julie?
I mean it!
He took a step forward. She pulled the trigger again. Another portentous click.
The next time, youll die!
Julie, its me.
She gulped a sob of relief. Shakily, she lowered the pistol to the floor and released her grip on it, then drew her knees to her chest and lay her head on them.
Are you all right? Derek followed the sound of her gasping breaths to the corner and hunkered down beside her. He touched the back of her head. Are you hurt?
No.
Your front door was standing open. Why are all the lights out? What happened?
She burbled a near hysterical laugh. I nearly shot you.
Why are you in the dark?
No electricity.
Wheres your fuse box?
In the closet. Behind you, on the right. I dropped a flashlight on the floor somewhere near the door.
Unfamiliar with the room, he bumped his way across it. He found the flashlight. Its beam danced crazily around the room as he moved toward the closet. She heard the rattle of clothes hangers, the creak of the metal door on the fuse box. Moments later, the lights came on. The sudden brightness stabbed her eyes, and it took a moment for them to adjust. By the time they had, Derek was kneeling beside her again.
The breaker switch had flipped. Probably a power surge.
I guess.
He saw the pistol. You really did almost shoot me.
I really did.
Are you hurt? he asked again.
She answered by shaking her head.
Want to tell me whats going on?
I came home. The lights were out. I I freaked out. She told him about the bench in the foyer. I thought I might have walked in on a burglar and he was still here.
Why didnt you leave and call the police?
Im glad I didnt. I feel foolish enough as it is.
She tried to stand, but her knees were still too weak. He cupped her elbows and helped her to her feet. Thank you. Feeling ridiculous, she brushed past him. Excuse me. I need some water.
In the bathroom, she filled a glass with water from the tap. As she was drinking from it, something caught her eye in the mirror. Slowly, she lowered the glass, then turned and stared at the lacy teddy hanging on the hook on the back of the door. She didnt recall the last time shed worn it, but it hadnt been recently. Certainly not so recently that it would be hanging on the bathroom door instead of lying folded in a bureau drawer.
Everything all right? Derek stuck his head around the door. One look at her face, and his expression changed. Whats the matter?
That shouldnt be there. She motioned toward the teddy as she moved him aside so she could get through the door. As she stood in the center of her bedroom, her eyes frantically scanned the room.
What do you mean it shouldnt be there?
Just what I said. She looked for anything, even the smallest thing, out of kilter.
It doesnt belong to you?
Yes, but I havent worn it in I dont remember the last time I had it on.
Swiftly she left the room and went down the hall into the guest bedroom. She switched on the light and took only a quick glance but didnt see anything out of place.
In the living room, however, she saw something that had escaped her notice earlier, when shed had only the flashlight for illumination. On the end table, a book was lying opened, facedown. Her bookmark was beside it, not between pages, where it belonged.
Derek moved up behind her. What?
I never leave a book lying opened facedown like that. It ruins the spine. My dad loved books. He was very strict about how they were handled. He taught me never to She turned her face up to Dereks. I always use a bookmark.
Without waiting for him to respond, she hurried into her kitchen and saw immediately that several items on the countertop had been moved. The cookbook on the easel had been closed; it was always left open because she liked the photograph. A bottle of wine had been uncorked but otherwise left untouched.
Most telling was the decorative wrought-iron rack where she kept three bar towels. She and Paul had bought them at a Paris flea market soon after they met. She wasnt fussy about the way they hung on the rack. In fact, she liked them to look as though they were used frequently, which they were. Now they were perfectly folded over the rack, their hems aligned.
Hes been here.
She didnt even realize shed spoken the words out loud until Derek took her by the shoulders and asked gently, Julie, what are you talking about?
Flinging her arm in the direction of the towel rack, she cried, Dont you see? Its like in that movie.
Derek turned her around and looked at her with perplexity. What is? What movie?
She worked herself out of his grasp and stepped past him. You need to leave now. Returning to the bedroom, she opened a bureau drawer and began gathering up articles of clothing. Then she took a duffel bag from her closet and tossed the things into it.
What are you doing? Derek was standing in the open doorway, watching her, mystified.
Im not staying here tonight. I cant be sure the electricity wont go off again. Until I can have the power company come and check it, I dont want to be here. It sounded like a plausible excuse for clearing out, when actually her reason for going was twofold. Fear, primarily. And the untenable knowledge that Creighton had violated her home. You can feel how hot its become with the AC off. So Ill just
Derek hooked her arm and brought her around to face him again. Whats really going on?
I told you. I
Julie.
She was breathing rapidly through her parted lips and knew that if her expression gave away half the apprehension she was feeling, it was useless to lie. He was here.
Who?
Creighton.
He assimilated that. What makes you think so?
She glanced around, looking for obvious evidence of an intrusion but realizing that no one would notice the subtle signs except herself. The bench. He moved it. And the other things. The teddy on the bathroom door. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms, loathing the thought of his hands rifling through her lingerie. I didnt open that bottle of wine. The book in the living room. I never would have left it like that. The bar towels.
Your maid
She shook her head. It was Creighton. There was a movie. I cant remember the title. Julia Roberts faked her death to escape an abusive husband. But he caught on to her, and when he found her, he he lined up the towels. He had this thing, this control-freak thing. When she saw the towels she knew
She stopped, realizing how deranged she sounded. She took a deep breath and got control of her quavering voice. I asked you to leave. Why are you still here? What are you doing here in the first place?
He ignored the questions. Youre certain someone broke in?
Absolutely certain.
He watched her for a moment, then said calmly, You should call the police.
She shook her head.
If youre not up to it, Ill call them.
As he reached for his cell phone, she grabbed his sleeve. Dont call the police.
But if you suspect your house was broken into
I dont suspect it. I
know.
Can you tell if anything was taken?
He didnt break in to steal. He broke in to show me he could.
Creighton?
Reading the doubt in his eyes, she spun away from him and went into the bathroom.
Derek followed her as far as the door. I advise you not to touch anything until the police have had a chance to investigate.
Didnt you hear me, Mr. Mitchell? I have no intention of reporting this. You dont believe me. Why would they?
I didnt say I didnt believe you.
You didnt have to. In any case, Im not calling the police. Theres no evidence of a break-in. They would think I was crazy.
If youve had an intruder, it should be reported.
Then you report it, she snapped. She began yanking the pins from her hair and dropping them onto her bathroom dressing table. You spend the rest of the night at the police station, answering questions, telling and retelling your story. I did all that the day Paul was shot. And almost every day since. It got me nowhere. Im not doing it again. She shook loose the coil of hair at the nape of her neck and in an undertone added, I wont give him the satisfaction.
She collected some grooming necessities, then carried them into the bedroom and dumped them into the duffel. She zipped it, picked it up, and motioned Derek toward the door. Ill see you out.
Where will you go?
To a hotel.
Do you want to change first?
They were both still in evening clothes, although the collar button of his shirt had been undone and his bow tie was untied, hanging flat against his chest. She was indifferent to her own appearance. No, Ill go like this.
Ill drive you.
Why would you?
Youre in no condition to drive.
Im fine.
Youre shaking.
She realized that she was. Her fear, now overlaid with anger, was causing her to tremble.
Derek stepped around her and picked the pistol off the floor. Do you have a permit to carry this?
She took it from him and pushed it between the mattress and box springs of her bed.
Thats a no-nonsense weapon, he remarked.
Paul gave it to me and insisted I keep it handy. His wealth made him a target for kidnapping. He was paranoid about it, afraid someone would try to get to him by harming me.
How many chambers were left empty?
Two.
Lucky me.
And me. If Id shot you, Id have had no choice but to spend the rest of the night at the police station.
It seemed ludicrous to lock her house, but she did so. Dereks car was parked at the curb. Im calmer now, she said. Perfectly capable of driving.
He shook his head.
You could follow me just to make sure I arrived safely at my destination.
Ill drive. To squelch further argument, he took her duffel from her.
Ill call Kate in the morning and have her bring me home.
Sounds like a plan.
He put her in the passenger seat, tossed her duffel into the back seat, then went around the hood of his car and got in. They covered several blocks in silence, then she repeated her earlier question. What were you doing at my house?
I needed to talk to you.
About what?
Did you confront Creighton at a club last night?
Oh.
He looked across at her. Thats a yes?
Im admitting nothing.
Very judicious of you.
She gave him a sharp look. Doug told me tonight that youd refused to represent them.
I did.
He said the reason you gave was that you were too busy to take any new clients. But he doubted that.
Doubted and didnt accept. I know this because he deposited the amount of my retainer into the firms account this afternoon. He did it by electronic wire transfer, leaving a paper trail a mile wide.
So until you can return his money
Im the attorney of record. At least the firm is. The effect is the same. He stopped at an intersection and looked at her. Which means, weve still got a conflict.
Their stare held for several moments, then he pulled away from the stop sign.
That being the case, she said, why did you come to my house?
I didnt want to call.
Because of phone records?
He shrugged. Doesnt hurt to be careful. Just in case. Anyway, after your run-in with Creighton at the nightclub, he came to my house, uninvited. Made me mad as hell, and I told him so. He was frothing at the mouth. Accused you of stalking him, said you were suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, that you could pose a danger to him.
Thats absurd.
Did
you follow him?
No.
You just happened to show up at that particular bar, on that particular night, at that particular time, and what do you know? Theres Creighton, your nemesis.
She looked out the passenger window. I know he goes to Christys and places like it. I went to several before I found him there.
Why did you want to see him?
To rattle him.
Well, you succeeded. He wanted me to get a restraining order against you. I came to your house tonight to issue a warning.
She turned her head back to him. A threat, you mean.
No, a warning, Julie. This talk of a restraining order is lunacy, but there are other lawyers who would pursue it just to separate Creighton from some of his money.
I could just as easily get a restraining order against him, she said. He was waiting for me in the parking garage when I left the function tonight.
What?
Oh, yes. All very spooky. She told him what had happened, adding bitterly, I guess invading my house to play his sick mind games wasnt payback enough.
Did you see him?
In the garage? No. But I know it was him. He copied a scene from another movie. He has this thing with movies.
Yeah, I know. Hes laid a few quotes on me. Seems like a walking encyclopedia of films.
Hes obsessed. The garage scene could have come from several, but because of the cigarette lighter, Im guessing
All the Presidents Men.
Deep Throat.
You know the movie?
American history class.
My father used it as a lesson on the Nixon administration. He was a teacher.
Eleventh-grade history.
She looked at him with surprise, then her eyes narrowed. How do you know that?
He brought the car to a stop across the street from a small boutique hotel two blocks off Peachtree, cut the motor, and turned to face her. Lets wait here for a minute before you go in, see if anyones following you.
No ones following me, she said angrily. Answer my question. How do you know what my father did for a living?
I had the firms investigator run a background check.
She went hot with rage. On me? Why? Afraid I was carrying an STD? You could simply have asked.
Julie
What else did you learn through this background check?
That you did postgrad studies in Paris. Later married an unsuccessful artist.
Who beat me up. Seeing his expression shift, she laughed. Oh, did your investigator miss that? What a shame. Thats the juiciest part.
Want to tell me?
His eyes were steady on her face, his voice quiet, his entire demeanor inviting confidentiality. Why not? she said flippantly. Youll only send your bloodhound to do some more sniffing, and he might miss something really tasty. Wouldnt want that to happen.
Fat raindrops had begun to spatter the windshield. They struck the glass like clear paint balls. Id been in Paris almost a year when I met Henri. He was a struggling artist, penniless and tortured with self-doubt. I would be his muse, he said. Over picnics of wine and bread, he waxed poetic about how the beauty and purity of my soul would inspire him to paint masterpieces. She smiled wryly. Even tripe sounds melodious when spoken in French. It was all very romantic, bohemian, and passionate.
HE EMPTY CHAMBER CLICKED LOUDLY.
Julie?
I mean it!
He took a step forward. She pulled the trigger again. Another portentous click.
The next time, youll die!
Julie, its me.
She gulped a sob of relief. Shakily, she lowered the pistol to the floor and released her grip on it, then drew her knees to her chest and lay her head on them.
Are you all right? Derek followed the sound of her gasping breaths to the corner and hunkered down beside her. He touched the back of her head. Are you hurt?
No.
Your front door was standing open. Why are all the lights out? What happened?
She burbled a near hysterical laugh. I nearly shot you.
Why are you in the dark?
No electricity.
Wheres your fuse box?
In the closet. Behind you, on the right. I dropped a flashlight on the floor somewhere near the door.
Unfamiliar with the room, he bumped his way across it. He found the flashlight. Its beam danced crazily around the room as he moved toward the closet. She heard the rattle of clothes hangers, the creak of the metal door on the fuse box. Moments later, the lights came on. The sudden brightness stabbed her eyes, and it took a moment for them to adjust. By the time they had, Derek was kneeling beside her again.
The breaker switch had flipped. Probably a power surge.
I guess.
He saw the pistol. You really did almost shoot me.
I really did.
Are you hurt? he asked again.
She answered by shaking her head.
Want to tell me whats going on?
I came home. The lights were out. I I freaked out. She told him about the bench in the foyer. I thought I might have walked in on a burglar and he was still here.
Why didnt you leave and call the police?
Im glad I didnt. I feel foolish enough as it is.
She tried to stand, but her knees were still too weak. He cupped her elbows and helped her to her feet. Thank you. Feeling ridiculous, she brushed past him. Excuse me. I need some water.
In the bathroom, she filled a glass with water from the tap. As she was drinking from it, something caught her eye in the mirror. Slowly, she lowered the glass, then turned and stared at the lacy teddy hanging on the hook on the back of the door. She didnt recall the last time shed worn it, but it hadnt been recently. Certainly not so recently that it would be hanging on the bathroom door instead of lying folded in a bureau drawer.
Everything all right? Derek stuck his head around the door. One look at her face, and his expression changed. Whats the matter?
That shouldnt be there. She motioned toward the teddy as she moved him aside so she could get through the door. As she stood in the center of her bedroom, her eyes frantically scanned the room.
What do you mean it shouldnt be there?
Just what I said. She looked for anything, even the smallest thing, out of kilter.
It doesnt belong to you?
Yes, but I havent worn it in I dont remember the last time I had it on.
Swiftly she left the room and went down the hall into the guest bedroom. She switched on the light and took only a quick glance but didnt see anything out of place.
In the living room, however, she saw something that had escaped her notice earlier, when shed had only the flashlight for illumination. On the end table, a book was lying opened, facedown. Her bookmark was beside it, not between pages, where it belonged.
Derek moved up behind her. What?
I never leave a book lying opened facedown like that. It ruins the spine. My dad loved books. He was very strict about how they were handled. He taught me never to She turned her face up to Dereks. I always use a bookmark.
Without waiting for him to respond, she hurried into her kitchen and saw immediately that several items on the countertop had been moved. The cookbook on the easel had been closed; it was always left open because she liked the photograph. A bottle of wine had been uncorked but otherwise left untouched.
Most telling was the decorative wrought-iron rack where she kept three bar towels. She and Paul had bought them at a Paris flea market soon after they met. She wasnt fussy about the way they hung on the rack. In fact, she liked them to look as though they were used frequently, which they were. Now they were perfectly folded over the rack, their hems aligned.
Hes been here.
She didnt even realize shed spoken the words out loud until Derek took her by the shoulders and asked gently, Julie, what are you talking about?
Flinging her arm in the direction of the towel rack, she cried, Dont you see? Its like in that movie.
Derek turned her around and looked at her with perplexity. What is? What movie?
She worked herself out of his grasp and stepped past him. You need to leave now. Returning to the bedroom, she opened a bureau drawer and began gathering up articles of clothing. Then she took a duffel bag from her closet and tossed the things into it.
What are you doing? Derek was standing in the open doorway, watching her, mystified.
Im not staying here tonight. I cant be sure the electricity wont go off again. Until I can have the power company come and check it, I dont want to be here. It sounded like a plausible excuse for clearing out, when actually her reason for going was twofold. Fear, primarily. And the untenable knowledge that Creighton had violated her home. You can feel how hot its become with the AC off. So Ill just
Derek hooked her arm and brought her around to face him again. Whats really going on?
I told you. I
Julie.
She was breathing rapidly through her parted lips and knew that if her expression gave away half the apprehension she was feeling, it was useless to lie. He was here.
Who?
Creighton.
He assimilated that. What makes you think so?
She glanced around, looking for obvious evidence of an intrusion but realizing that no one would notice the subtle signs except herself. The bench. He moved it. And the other things. The teddy on the bathroom door. She hugged herself, rubbing her arms, loathing the thought of his hands rifling through her lingerie. I didnt open that bottle of wine. The book in the living room. I never would have left it like that. The bar towels.
Your maid
She shook her head. It was Creighton. There was a movie. I cant remember the title. Julia Roberts faked her death to escape an abusive husband. But he caught on to her, and when he found her, he he lined up the towels. He had this thing, this control-freak thing. When she saw the towels she knew
She stopped, realizing how deranged she sounded. She took a deep breath and got control of her quavering voice. I asked you to leave. Why are you still here? What are you doing here in the first place?
He ignored the questions. Youre certain someone broke in?
Absolutely certain.
He watched her for a moment, then said calmly, You should call the police.
She shook her head.
If youre not up to it, Ill call them.
As he reached for his cell phone, she grabbed his sleeve. Dont call the police.
But if you suspect your house was broken into
I dont suspect it. I
know.
Can you tell if anything was taken?
He didnt break in to steal. He broke in to show me he could.
Creighton?
Reading the doubt in his eyes, she spun away from him and went into the bathroom.
Derek followed her as far as the door. I advise you not to touch anything until the police have had a chance to investigate.
Didnt you hear me, Mr. Mitchell? I have no intention of reporting this. You dont believe me. Why would they?
I didnt say I didnt believe you.
You didnt have to. In any case, Im not calling the police. Theres no evidence of a break-in. They would think I was crazy.
If youve had an intruder, it should be reported.
Then you report it, she snapped. She began yanking the pins from her hair and dropping them onto her bathroom dressing table. You spend the rest of the night at the police station, answering questions, telling and retelling your story. I did all that the day Paul was shot. And almost every day since. It got me nowhere. Im not doing it again. She shook loose the coil of hair at the nape of her neck and in an undertone added, I wont give him the satisfaction.
She collected some grooming necessities, then carried them into the bedroom and dumped them into the duffel. She zipped it, picked it up, and motioned Derek toward the door. Ill see you out.
Where will you go?
To a hotel.
Do you want to change first?
They were both still in evening clothes, although the collar button of his shirt had been undone and his bow tie was untied, hanging flat against his chest. She was indifferent to her own appearance. No, Ill go like this.
Ill drive you.
Why would you?
Youre in no condition to drive.
Im fine.
Youre shaking.
She realized that she was. Her fear, now overlaid with anger, was causing her to tremble.
Derek stepped around her and picked the pistol off the floor. Do you have a permit to carry this?
She took it from him and pushed it between the mattress and box springs of her bed.
Thats a no-nonsense weapon, he remarked.
Paul gave it to me and insisted I keep it handy. His wealth made him a target for kidnapping. He was paranoid about it, afraid someone would try to get to him by harming me.
How many chambers were left empty?
Two.
Lucky me.
And me. If Id shot you, Id have had no choice but to spend the rest of the night at the police station.
It seemed ludicrous to lock her house, but she did so. Dereks car was parked at the curb. Im calmer now, she said. Perfectly capable of driving.
He shook his head.
You could follow me just to make sure I arrived safely at my destination.
Ill drive. To squelch further argument, he took her duffel from her.
Ill call Kate in the morning and have her bring me home.
Sounds like a plan.
He put her in the passenger seat, tossed her duffel into the back seat, then went around the hood of his car and got in. They covered several blocks in silence, then she repeated her earlier question. What were you doing at my house?
I needed to talk to you.
About what?
Did you confront Creighton at a club last night?
Oh.
He looked across at her. Thats a yes?
Im admitting nothing.
Very judicious of you.
She gave him a sharp look. Doug told me tonight that youd refused to represent them.
I did.
He said the reason you gave was that you were too busy to take any new clients. But he doubted that.
Doubted and didnt accept. I know this because he deposited the amount of my retainer into the firms account this afternoon. He did it by electronic wire transfer, leaving a paper trail a mile wide.
So until you can return his money
Im the attorney of record. At least the firm is. The effect is the same. He stopped at an intersection and looked at her. Which means, weve still got a conflict.
Their stare held for several moments, then he pulled away from the stop sign.
That being the case, she said, why did you come to my house?
I didnt want to call.
Because of phone records?
He shrugged. Doesnt hurt to be careful. Just in case. Anyway, after your run-in with Creighton at the nightclub, he came to my house, uninvited. Made me mad as hell, and I told him so. He was frothing at the mouth. Accused you of stalking him, said you were suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, that you could pose a danger to him.
Thats absurd.
Did
you follow him?
No.
You just happened to show up at that particular bar, on that particular night, at that particular time, and what do you know? Theres Creighton, your nemesis.
She looked out the passenger window. I know he goes to Christys and places like it. I went to several before I found him there.
Why did you want to see him?
To rattle him.
Well, you succeeded. He wanted me to get a restraining order against you. I came to your house tonight to issue a warning.
She turned her head back to him. A threat, you mean.
No, a warning, Julie. This talk of a restraining order is lunacy, but there are other lawyers who would pursue it just to separate Creighton from some of his money.
I could just as easily get a restraining order against him, she said. He was waiting for me in the parking garage when I left the function tonight.
What?
Oh, yes. All very spooky. She told him what had happened, adding bitterly, I guess invading my house to play his sick mind games wasnt payback enough.
Did you see him?
In the garage? No. But I know it was him. He copied a scene from another movie. He has this thing with movies.
Yeah, I know. Hes laid a few quotes on me. Seems like a walking encyclopedia of films.
Hes obsessed. The garage scene could have come from several, but because of the cigarette lighter, Im guessing
All the Presidents Men.
Deep Throat.
You know the movie?
American history class.
My father used it as a lesson on the Nixon administration. He was a teacher.
Eleventh-grade history.
She looked at him with surprise, then her eyes narrowed. How do you know that?
He brought the car to a stop across the street from a small boutique hotel two blocks off Peachtree, cut the motor, and turned to face her. Lets wait here for a minute before you go in, see if anyones following you.
No ones following me, she said angrily. Answer my question. How do you know what my father did for a living?
I had the firms investigator run a background check.
She went hot with rage. On me? Why? Afraid I was carrying an STD? You could simply have asked.
Julie
What else did you learn through this background check?
That you did postgrad studies in Paris. Later married an unsuccessful artist.
Who beat me up. Seeing his expression shift, she laughed. Oh, did your investigator miss that? What a shame. Thats the juiciest part.
Want to tell me?
His eyes were steady on her face, his voice quiet, his entire demeanor inviting confidentiality. Why not? she said flippantly. Youll only send your bloodhound to do some more sniffing, and he might miss something really tasty. Wouldnt want that to happen.
Fat raindrops had begun to spatter the windshield. They struck the glass like clear paint balls. Id been in Paris almost a year when I met Henri. He was a struggling artist, penniless and tortured with self-doubt. I would be his muse, he said. Over picnics of wine and bread, he waxed poetic about how the beauty and purity of my soul would inspire him to paint masterpieces. She smiled wryly. Even tripe sounds melodious when spoken in French. It was all very romantic, bohemian, and passionate.
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