Watch Your Back (8 page)

If you don’t care about your own life, have the decency to think about the lives of everyone around you. Our sister. Our parents. Your daughter. If the next bullet hits you, we’ll mourn. If the next bullet misses you and hits one of them? What then?
His voice had broken, his next words choked with tears.
I love you, Stefania, and watching you destroy yourself is killing me
.

A sob was building in her chest. She forced it back down. He’d been right. He’d been so right. Two women were dead.
I’m sorry. I really am
. But it changed nothing.

Sorin didn’t understand. Nobody understood. She couldn’t stop investigating. There was this pressure in her mind, in her heart, pressing her forward. So many injustices. So many innocents paying for the crimes of others. And all under her very nose. For all those years . . .

She
had
to make it
right
.

Tears blurred her eyes and the key missed the lock again. ‘Fuck,’ she whispered.

Emma took the key from her hand and wordlessly opened her front door.

JD checked the first floor, then sprinted up the stairs to the second floor, his gun drawn. He was checking for monsters under the bed, true to his nature.

Emma locked the front door and began closing the blinds and drawing the drapes, plunging the living room into semi-darkness. ‘Sit down,’ she said quietly. ‘You’ve got to hurt.’

Stevie obeyed, grimacing as she lowered herself to the sofa.
Elissa, Angie, I am so sorry
.

But nothing would bring the women back. All she could do to make it right was to catch the shooter and put him away forever. Which she couldn’t do from a goddamn safe house.

With an eye on Emma, Stevie checked her cell phone for the two hundredth time in the last two hours. And scowled.

‘No answer from your sister?’ Emma asked.

‘No. Cordy’s ballet class finished hours ago. They should have been home already.’ She took the cordless home phone from its cradle. No incoming calls from Izzy. ‘She should have called me. She knows better. She knows I worry.’

‘Stevie, listen. Today was a stressful day for you, even before all the craziness at the restaurant. But it’s a stressful day for Cordelia, too.’

‘She lost her father,’ Stevie murmured. ‘She never knew him.’

‘Well, that, too. But I suspect her stress comes mostly from knowing how unhappy you are.’

‘She doesn’t know about that. I don’t let her see it.’

Emma’s brows lifted as if Stevie was the most foolish woman she’d ever known. ‘You keep thinking that if it makes you feel better. Look, I bet Izzy’s taken her somewhere to get her mind off things. Maybe they went to a movie. Izzy would have turned her phone off in the theater.’

Stevie closed her eyes, letting Emma’s words wash over her. But the sense of foreboding was not abated. ‘But what if something did happen to them? I’d never forgive myself.’

‘The police have their descriptions, right? If something has happened, you would have heard by now. It’s far more likely they’re just having fun.’

Stevie drew a sharp, hard breath. ‘You’re right.’ She focused on the next concern on her list – Emma.
Who shouldn’t be here either
. ‘You missed your plane.’

‘It’s okay. I called Christopher, told him what happened and that I’d need to stay with you for a few days.’

A few days? Under other circumstances Stevie would’ve enjoyed spending a few days with Emma. But not now. And she couldn’t imagine Emma’s husband being crazy about the idea of his wife sitting in the line of fire. ‘And he was fine with that?’

Emma’s slight hesitation was her answer. ‘He’s not fine, but he’s not un-fine, either.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘He was scared, of course. I just let him “what if” until he’d purged all the possible deadly scenarios from his mind. Then I assured him I was fine, that you were fine.’ She sighed. ‘And then I didn’t argue when he insisted on taking the red-eye to Baltimore tonight, as soon as he’s given his speech. I’ll pick him up from the airport in the morning.’

‘I have a better idea. Have him fly back to Orlando. You take the next flight to Orlando. Then you can pick him up at the airport and have a wonderful vacation with your boys.’

Emma looked mildly amused, as if she’d expected as much. ‘Nice try. Not goin’ anywhere.’

‘Dammit, Emma, you shouldn’t be here. Not in Baltimore and really not
here
. In my house. You should be at your hotel. Where you’ll be
safe
.’

Emma met her eyes, shrewdly. ‘So you won’t go to a safe house, but you’d put everyone you care about in one. Is that it?’

‘Pretty much,’ Stevie said, unapologetically. ‘So when JD goes, he can take you with him.’

‘Sorry, not gonna happen. I’m sticking.’ Emma sat in a wingchair in the corner, far away, Stevie noted, from the window. Even with the drapes drawn, Emma was taking no chances.

‘Emma. Be reasonable.’

Emma snorted. ‘You’ve
got
to be kidding me. You want me to be reasonable? You want me in a safe house? Then you go with me. And before you threaten to push me out the door, just remember that I was there when the ER doctor examined you and I know all of the places you’re bleeding and/or bruised. One good jab and you’re down for the count.’

‘I like her.’ JD came down the stairs. ‘She’s smart.’

Stevie glared at them both. ‘She’s a stubborn pain in the ass.’

Emma shrugged. ‘Hello, pot. Meet kettle. So, Detective Fitzpatrick, do we need to worry about the Boogie Man jumping out of a closet when we go to sleep tonight?’

‘Nope. I thought at first that someone had tossed Izzy’s room, but I think it was Izzy. Clothes everywhere. Half of her closet’s on her bed.’

Stevie frowned. ‘Her room was neat when we left today.’

‘Then either she’s been home to change, or Goldilocks tried on her clothes, put on her makeup, and locked up her jewelry box before leaving.’

Stevie pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’ll check it out.’

‘How do you know someone put on her makeup?’ Emma asked.

‘Her makeup brushes were still damp and there were lipstick-covered tissues all over the dresser.’ JD lifted a shoulder. ‘I have a wife who likes to wear makeup. I’m always shoving Lucy’s brushes out of the way just so I can have a few inches of counter space to shave.’

‘Poor baby,’ Stevie muttered. She pushed past him and muscled her way up the stairs, with Emma behind her and JD bringing up the rear. Izzy’s room was a mess, very uncharacteristic of her neat-as-a-pin sister. ‘It looks like a tornado went through here.’

‘Is anything missing?’ JD asked.

Stevie stepped into Izzy’s closet. ‘Her glass slippers are gone.’

Emma stuck her head through the closet doorway. ‘Izzy has glass slippers?’

‘They’re really acrylic or something, but Cordelia called them glass slippers when she was a toddler, and it stuck. Izzy wears them with her best dress.’ Stevie sorted through the clothes. ‘Which is missing, too.’ She surveyed the shelves. Pointed to an obviously empty space. ‘Her camera is missing. All her lenses and filters, too.’

‘Maybe she took pictures of Cordelia at ballet?’ Emma suggested.

‘Maybe. But it was just a class. Cordy’s recital isn’t until next month.’
Or was it?
Oh God, please don’t let it have been today.
She’d already called the ballet teacher four times, but the teacher didn’t usually return calls until all of her afternoon classes were over. Which should have been by now. Hurrying to Cordelia’s room, Stevie dialed again.

Reva Stanislaski answered as Stevie threw open Cordelia’s closet door. Her leotard and practice shoes were gone, but the pink tutu she wore to recitals was hanging there undisturbed.

‘Mrs Stanislaski, hello. This is Stevie Mazzetti, Cordelia’s mom.’

‘Mrs Mazzetti. How good it is to hear from you. I hope Cordelia is well.’

Stevie frowned. ‘What do you mean? You saw her a few hours ago. Wasn’t she well then?’ There was a pause during which Stevie’s heart began to race. ‘Wasn’t she okay today?’

‘I didn’t see her today, Mrs Mazzetti. I haven’t seen Cordelia in over two months.’

‘I . . . I don’t understand. She goes to class, every Saturday afternoon. My sister Izabela has been bringing her.’

‘Izabela withdrew her from my class at the beginning of January, right after the new year. Cordelia seemed to be having some trouble.’

‘What kind of trouble?’ Stevie asked flatly.

‘She seemed to get upset easily. The least little mistake and she’d burst into tears.’

Stevie’s maternal defensiveness came to full alert. ‘Perhaps it was the manner in which the correction was given.’

‘I never corrected her,’ Mrs Stanislaski said sadly. ‘Cordelia was more than aware of her own mistakes. I tried to get her to relax. Have fun. But she grew more . . .’

‘Brittle,’ Stevie murmured.

‘Yes, that is the word I was looking for. So your sister withdrew her from my class. She said that Cordelia was going to take a break for a while. I assumed you knew.’

‘No. I didn’t. Thank you, Mrs Stanislaski. I’ll . . . Well, thank you.’ Stevie hung up and slowly turned from Cordelia’s closet to where JD and Emma waited, expressions troubled. ‘Izzy hasn’t been taking Cordy to ballet for months. But they’ve been gone every Saturday afternoon.’

‘I’m sure Izzy has a good explanation,’ JD said quietly.

Stevie bit the inside of her cheek, anger rising. ‘If something was wrong with Cordelia, Izzy should have told me.’ She heard the car engine outside at the same time JD did. Together they rushed to the window, each taking one side. ‘Emma, wait in the hall.’

‘Already there,’ Emma said. ‘I’m not stupid, Stevie.’

Emma had suspected Cordelia was having trouble and she hadn’t seen her in a year. No, her friend was far from stupid.
Me, on the other hand . . .

Stevie stiffened at the sight of a black truck pulling up to her house. There was something about the driver. Something familiar. He brought the truck to a stop and looked up, his eyes scanning the windows. Her heart skittered.
No way. No fucking way. It cannot be him.

‘Who is that?’ JD asked, then exhaled a quiet ‘Oh’ when the driver emerged.

Oh.
As in
Oh My God
.

Stevie’s skittering heart simply stopped at the sight of the man standing in her driveway. It was him. Dark. Huge. Massive shoulders. Layers of muscle. He was . . . He was too much.

‘Who is it?’ Emma called impatiently from the hall. ‘Do I need to call 911?’

JD gave Stevie a few seconds to answer. When it was clear she wasn’t going to, he called back, ‘It’s Clay Maynard. The PI.’

‘Really? What’s he doing here?’ Emma inched into the room, stopping behind Stevie to cautiously peek around her shoulder. ‘Oh my,’ she murmured appreciatively. ‘Oh my, oh my.’

Oh my
was right. Clay appeared rough-hewn, like his face had been carved from solid rock. But Stevie knew that wasn’t true. She knew that his lips were soft, his skin was warm and vital, and his eyes saw more than she wanted anyone to see. Ever again. And when he looked at her . . . She
felt
more than she ever wanted to feel again.

Not today. Please. I can’t do this today
. Clay walked around the truck to open the back passenger door and Cordelia hopped out, an adoring smile on her face.

Stevie stared, open-mouthed. Suddenly Izzy’s ballet deception made perfect sense. Her sister had never approved of her sending Clay on his way. Izzy had begged her to ‘see reason’.

Cordelia had been with Clay. All this time.
After I explicitly forbade it.

Cordelia thought the man hung the moon. And why wouldn’t she?
She’d known Clay had saved her mother’s life
.
It was natural for a seven-year-old girl to put him on a pedestal.
Which he deserves. Because he, like, saved your life.

And I’m grateful. I just don’t want him
in
my life.

Which Izzy hadn’t respected, damn her to hell.
If she thinks that getting Cordelia attached to him will make me let him worm his way under my skin, she’s got another think coming.

This wasn’t right. Wasn’t fair. To Cordelia or to Clay.
Or to me.

Stevie wasn’t the cold stone everyone thought she was. She was lonely. She craved companionship. Male companionship. She craved Clay. What woman in her right mind wouldn’t? But she knew that she’d never love him, not like she’d loved Paul. And Clay deserved better than that, even if he wouldn’t accept it. If she let this go on, he’d be hurt. Cordelia would be hurt.
And so would I. I already am.

Because now I have to send him away, again
. And it was going to hurt even worse the second time around.
So do it. Just get it over with.

Stevie’s resolve kicked into gear, fury sending her pulse pounding.
Izzy, I am going to fucking murder you.
She took off for the stairs at a run, ignoring the searing pain in her leg along with Emma’s startled shrieks and JD’s panicked shouts.

Saturday, March 15, 6.15
P.M.

‘
I had a really nice time, Mr Maynard. Thank you.’

Clay looked down at Stevie’s daughter, taking one last moment to hoard the smile on her face. It would be the last time he’d see it. Stevie wanted to protect her child from getting attached to a man who’d have no place in their lives. He understood her wish and he’d honor it. But it hurt. He was surprised at just how much it hurt.

He liked Cordelia Mazzetti. She was cute and funny and made him wish again and again that Stevie felt about him the way he felt about her. That Cordelia looked up at him with a combination of gratitude, affection, and awe . . . It made it even harder to walk away. He could be a father to this child. He could.

But he wasn’t going to be. Swallowing hard, he returned her smile. ‘You’re welcome. Let me get that,’ he added when Cordelia reached for the pink Tinkerbell bag that held her ballet gear. She’d wanted to change into her leotard and slippers as she did every Saturday afternoon before coming home, but he wouldn’t allow it. Cordelia needed to come clean with her mother about the horse therapy, so she still wore the scuffed boots Izzy had bought used off eBay with money she didn’t have to spare. Because she loved her niece.