No In Between (18 page)

He leans back, giving me a heavy-lidded stare, his hands coming down on the desk next to me, his breathing heavy. “What just happened?”

My mind races with a million things I want to say to him, about the roses and Mark and Rebecca, but all I can see in my mind is the ring he designed for me. I don’t know what those flowers mean to him yet, and I can’t ruin what he’s done for me over a wrong thing said in the wrong moment. Finally, I say, “This place is them.”

“Them?” he asks.

“Rebecca and Mark. It’s . . . them. I don’t want it to be us.”

Understanding shows in his eyes and he drops his head forward, as if he’s scrabbling for control. His cell phone rings and he straightens, reaching for it. “David,” he announces, answering the call.

“Is it over?” he asks, listening a moment and then giving me a nod.

Scooting off the desk, I tug my dress back into place, my eyes not leaving Chris’s impassive expression as he listens to David. I watch the tick in his jaw get faster, until he abruptly turns, giving me his back. “She’ll have a monitoring device?” he asks, leaning a hand on the door.

My pulse leaps, and my fist balls on my chest, where my heart is now thundering. Ava’s getting out of jail. She’s going to be free. I drop my face in my hands, trying to calm the white noise in my head and listen to Chris’s conversation, but I can’t seem to make it happen.
Calm down,
I tell myself.
Calm down!
Finally, Chris’s voice comes back to me.

“Me?” I hear him ask. “When? Fuck, David. Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.” Silence follows, and I realize he’s ended the call.

Letting my clammy hands drop to my lap, I say, “They let her go.”

“Yes.” He stuffs his phone in his pocket and comes to me, his hands settling on my knees. “She’ll have an ankle monitor, and we have a restraining order in place as a condition of her release. David’s still working on the approval for us to go back to Paris until the trial, which will be months away.”

“They dismissed the murder charges?”

“For now, but David seems to think that might change. They want me and Mark down at the station.”

“Why you? Detective Grant told me he cleared you, Chris.”

“That’s the first I’ve heard of it, but either way, if I can help them lock Ava back up, I will. Hopefully it won’t be long, but I’ll take you home first.”

“No. I’ll stay. Blake’s team will be less spread out with me here, and I’ll know more of what’s going on.”

“That might actually be better. I know you knew this was coming, but your name did end up getting released in court with the press present.” He grabs my hips and settles me against the desk again. “It gets worse, though. For starters, Ava’s counsel stuck to the giant conspiracy story about the four of us framing her to shut her up over Rebecca’s death, so that theory went out to the press.”

“Detective Grant told me he’s completely cleared us. Can’t they speak up for us?”

“Truth or fiction, it’s not really relevant in the bond hearing. Unfortunately, Ava’s crazy claims, along with the dropped murder charges, muddied the prosecution’s case enough to lower her bond.”

“This is all stuff I expected,” I say, and I cannot help but notice the subtle tension tightening around Chris. There’s something he’s dreading telling me. “What else, Chris?”

“Ava’s counsel claimed you hated Rebecca because she was my lover.”

Nineteen

“I never touched Rebecca, Sara,” Chris says, his legs capturing mine as if he’s afraid I’ll try to escape.

“I know you, and I know the defense is doing their job—no matter how sleazy their tactics. That doesn’t mean it’s not hard to hear the things they’re saying.”

“Believe me, baby, I know. And it’s all the more reason for us to get out of town.”

I sigh. “I suddenly wish I were back at the chateau in France.”

“If I could charter a plane and make that wish come true tonight, I would.”

“I know. But we’re trapped in the middle of this mess. Can’t the police just clear us publicly, to take some of the pressure off of us?”

“Don’t get your hopes up. David cautioned me that they often give people room to hang themselves. We have to remember that they’re playing dirty ball with people who play dirty ball. They don’t know whom to trust until they discover the facts; facts we want them to find. And remember, too, that even if we’re cleared, the press nightmare won’t end. We’re targets to these fame whores Ava has representing her, and if they can make this their O.J. Simpson case, they will.”

“That’s exactly what they seem to be doing.”

“It’s going to be a hundred times worse after that news special tonight, and I want us out of town before it airs. We’ll have Blake send us a recorded copy to watch after we’re away from the city.”

“Won’t the press find us at Katie and Mike’s?”

“We’re staying at a private house I rented. We’ll be fine.”

Any relief I feel is washed away by an upsetting realization. “We
can’t
go to see Katie and Mike. I can’t even imagine what they’ll think about what’s being said in the press. How am I ever going to face them again, Chris?”

“I called and warned them—fully. I told them how dirty this was getting. The first thing Katie did was ask how you were holding up.”

“Because she’s proper about everything. That doesn’t change what she might be thinking about me, or us. I’m too embarrassed to face her and Mike.”

“Don’t be. They know how the press operates. They had an issue with the press over a competitor-created scandal years back. They know how things are twisted for other people’s benefit.”

“Still—”

He cups my face and kisses me soundly on the lips. “I promise, baby. If I thought it was a problem, we wouldn’t go there.” He steps back and glances at his watch. “I need to get moving so I can get back here at a reasonable time. I’ll ask Mark to walk out with me so I can pick his brain about anything he knows that we don’t. I’ll call or text you if I’m going to be more than an hour.” He disappears into the hallway.

It’s going to be hard to hear the accusations about Chris and Rebecca; my heart aches just thinking about it. I want all of this to go away and I can’t make it happen. Nothing I do changes anything, and I’m left with a clawing sensation inside me—like I’m supposed to do something before it’s too late, but I don’t know what it is, or why.

• • •

Three hours after his departure, Chris still isn’t back from the police station. Judging from his numerous text messages, he’s doing a lot of waiting in between a lot of talking, and I have no idea when he’ll return.

Thankfully, inside the gallery things have been calm, though Jacob has warned Ralph and me that there’s a circus outside.

I’m just about to deliver the last of the data I’ve collected for Ralph, when Jacob walks into my office. “Amanda’s safe and at her parents’ place in L.A.” He sets a piece of paper with a number on it down on the desk. “Thought you might want that.”

Relief washes over me. “Oh, thank goodness. But why in the world is she in L.A.?”

“No idea. We tracked her travel data. We have no other details, but I’m guessing someone or something spooked her. We need to know who or what, and people talk more openly to those they trust.”

Understanding, I nod. “I’ll call her and let you know what I find out.”

“Remember you’re all over the news. She’s going to know what’s being said.”

My belly clenches. “I figured as much.”

“I’ll be in the break room in case you need me. I never ate my lunch. You might want to consider joining me and eating yours.”

“Yum,” I say. “Cold pizza.”

“A microwave works miracles.”

“A microwave makes soggy crust.”

“Which is better than nothing.” He disappears into the hallway. My attention shifts to the phone number he’s given me, and I do what I’ve avoided all day: I google the local news. I know from the first sentence I’m going to wish I’d skipped the story, but it’s like I’m transfixed by a bad horror movie, and I keep on reading.

Guilty, or a victim of a sexcapade gone wrong? That’s the question about Ava Perez. Accused of murdering Rebecca Mason, who has been missing for months, she now claims her confession was brought on by blackmail. Those charges were dropped today, but she’s still accused of attacking Sara McMillan and trying to kill her. So who is this Sara McMillan? She works for Mark Compton, said to be the kingpin of a high-end sex club. Ms. McMillan is also dating acclaimed billionaire artist Chris Merit, who is rumored to be a member of said sex club. Both men were allegedly intimately involved with Rebecca Mason, the missing woman who once held Sara McMillan’s job.

I can’t take any more, and I hit Escape and press my fingers to my throbbing temples. But I had to know what’s being said; denial is dangerous. And I’m okay. I won’t be a victim to anyone, including the press. Nothing in this story is unexpected.

Grabbing my cell phone, I punch in the phone number Jacob has given me to reach Amanda. After three rings, a man answers. “Hi,” I say. “I’m looking for Amanda. This is Sara. I work with her.”

“Hold on.”

The line goes silent and I wait for what feels like forever.

“Sara?” She sounds awkward, like she doesn’t really want to talk to me.

“Amanda. Hi. I was worried when you didn’t show up at work.”

“I meant to call you.”

“What happened? I was afraid something happened to you.”

“I know.” She’s silent a moment. “You were right. I was in over my head.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ryan. He’s into all that kinky stuff you guys are into, and I’m just not.”

“There is no ‘you guys’ to this. I told you the news was going to report a sex scandal today. Ava’s people are trying to make me look bad so the DA will drop the charges.”

“I heard she attacked you.”

“She did. I had stopped by Mark’s to ask his advice about something, and she was there with Ryan. She started screaming that she was going to kill me, like she did Rebecca. It was horrible.”

“Oh God. I had no idea.”

“It was beyond horrible. But maybe we can at least get justice out of this.”

“Now I feel bad for leaving.”

“Don’t feel bad for getting out of this mess. I’m sure you can keep your job if you want it.”

“No. No, I can’t come back. Ryan—he did things, and I started crying, and it was horrible. I can’t face him and then Mark and you, and—”

“Sweetie. I’m not into the things Ryan is. Neither is Chris. I tried to warn you.”

“I know. I should have listened.”

“This isn’t about I told you so. What’s important is you’re safe, and you’re okay. Are you staying there a while?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think it through.”

“Call me and let me know. Please.”

“I will, Sara. Thank you, and I’m sorry all this happened to you.”

“I’m strong. You be the same.”

“I will. Bye, Sara.”

She hangs up and I look up to find Ralph gaping at me by the doorway. “I googled. I’m guilty. I’m weak sometimes. I admit it.”

I squeeze my eyes shut a moment and when I blink Ralph back into view, he’s sitting in the visitor’s chair in front of me with an expectant look on his face. Sighing in resignation, I share the same details with him that I have with Amanda. “Wow,” he says when I’m done, shaking his head. “Just . . . wow. The bitch tried to whack you.”

“Whack?”

“Don’t you watch
The Sopranos
?”

“No.”

“Where have you been, honey? When Tony had a problem . . .” He drags a finger across his neck. “Head gone, and body and feet in concrete blocks in the ocean.”

“In the ocean,” I croak, replaying Rebecca’s nightmares of drowning.

“In whatever water is convenient.” His eyes widen. “You think—”

“No.” I hold up a hand. “Stop. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You think Ava put her in the ocean.” His expression turns fierce, his voice crackling with anger. “That would explain why she’s missing.” He slams his hands down on the desk. “You can’t let that bitch get away with killing Rebecca. You make her pay. You put her in jail.”

Shocked by this side of Ralph I’ve never seen, I nod. “We’re trying.”

“Good. And screw the press and their scandal. You keep your chin up. You’re a butterfly, Sara. Spread those wings and let them see your bitch colors if you have to.”

Laughter bubbles from my throat. “My bitch colors?”

“That’s right.”

“I love you, Ralph. I really do.”

He stands up and comes around the desk, wrapping me in a hug. “I love you, too.” He leans back and studies me. “You need to go home to your hot artist lover. I’m far enough along to finish my work at home now.”

“My hot artist lover will be happy to hear that,” I reply, barely containing more laughter. “He’ll be here soon. You go on home.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“I don’t have to be told twice.” He rushes to the doorway, pausing to give me an exaggerated wave. I’m still staring in his wake when Mark walks past my office door without a glance in my direction. Hoping this means Chris is soon to follow, I call him, listening to it ring five times before it goes to voice mail.

I punch in a text message to him and Jacob interrupts my useless staring at the screen, waiting for his reply, by poking his head in the door. “Kelvin’s going to escort Ralph home to protect him from the press. Anything on Amanda?”

“Yes, I just talked to her. The bottom line is that she was in over her head with Ryan, and embarrassed about it.”

“He didn’t hurt her, did he?”

“I didn’t get that impression. I knew she was in over her head and that’s why I tried to keep her away from Ryan. He knew it, too, and that’s what really upsets me. It’s like he wanted to upset her.”

“Or maybe he was sending Mark a message.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ryan knew Amanda for at least a year, and chose now, the most illogical time, to pursue her. He also knew Mark was counting on her here at work, and that a sex scandal would be highly unfavorable.”

“And Mark had shut him out,” I say, following where he’s going. A chill goes through me. “I have a very bad feeling about that man.”

“I think we all do—and we know he’s intimately involved with Ava. Have you heard from Chris, by chance?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Well, I’ll be up front if you need me. If you’re bored, you could try eating that pizza you never ate.”

My lips curve at his concern. “I’ll think about it.”

He gives me a look that makes me think he might insist, then leaves. Tapping my fingers on the desk, I stare at the painting of the roses on the floor, starting to feel irritated by how much it haunts me. I dial Chris again with no success. After ten more minutes, I’m officially getting worried. I decide to try David, but of course he’s with Chris, and doesn’t answer. I try Blake. No answer. Another ten minutes and I buzz Jacob, with no news.

My cell phone rings and I don’t even look at the caller ID. “Chris?”

“No, sorry. It’s Crystal.”

“Oh hi, Crystal. Is everything all right?”

“As okay as it can be, with the press suffocating us. I’m sure it’s a hundred times worse there.”

“I’ve been hiding from it. If you’re dealing with the press, I’m sure you’ve heard my name.”

“Yes, but I knew about Ava attacking you. Mark called me last night and told me the whole story. He wanted me to be prepared. But more than anything, he was worried about how his mom was going to deal with all of this, and he wanted to be here. Yet now he’s saying he’s not coming this weekend.”

“He told me a few hours ago that he was flying out tonight.”

“So you don’t know why he would make this decision?”

“No. I had no idea he’d changed his mind.”

“Sara,” she says, worry thickening her voice, “he told me he needs me to just handle it.”

“That doesn’t sound like Mark.”

“No, it doesn’t. That man doesn’t say ‘need’ to anyone, and he sure doesn’t say ‘handle it’ where Riptide and his mother are concerned. He didn’t sound good, and I’m not there to figure out why. Is there news on Rebecca?”

“I’m not certain. Chris is at the police station, and Mark just arrived back here at the gallery.”

“So he’s there with you?”

“He’s in the same building but I wouldn’t say he’s with me. He didn’t even speak to me when he came in.”

“Can you try to figure out what’s going on, and call me?”

“Yes. I will.”

“I know you’re going through hell, but it’s hard to be here with my hands tied. I have this family’s livelihood in my hands, and I’m terrified of letting them all down.”