What's Done in Darkness (32 page)

I made a face. “What? Why?”

“Have you seen the news today?”

I shook my head. “No. I didn't want to watch.”

“Yeah, well, Christian's sister keeps talking about how she's convinced that I'm responsible for her brother's death. And fine, she thinks I'm a killer. But it is totally clear to me that the Mexican police aren't interested in justice. I gave that sergeant pictures of Brian and Keith, and you know what—there's been
nothing
about them on the news. What does that tell you?”

I hesitated. “They're not looking for them?”

“Obviously not. And God only knows how long it will be before they're deciding to pin this on me because there are no other suspects. So I went to the media. I gave them the pictures of Brian and Keith and told them that the Mexican police aren't really interested in justice. I mean, don't you think it's weird that I gave Ramirez the pictures and they're not mentioned in the media even once? Instead, it's all about me, how I'm some lying gold digger. Obviously, they don't want to solve this crime. And now the reporters are starting to nose around here.”

I wondered how Brian would react to being thrown into the media spotlight as a possible murder suspect. Honestly, I didn't think he or Keith had anything to do with it. After all, Brian and I had met in Key West before I ever knew I'd be going to Mexico on vacation. Clearly he didn't target us in Cancun. In fact, he'd gone to Cancun to meet me there.

“Maybe the cops
are
looking into other suspects,” I said. “I'm sure they don't tell the media everything they're doing.”

“Maybe not, but I needed to deflect attention from me.”

“Why didn't you have me come along?”

“Because it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. After that reporter came in here pretending to be a tourist and ordered coffee. I was so ticked, I left and headed right to the news station.”

“You don't really think that Brian and Keith had anything to do with it?”

“I had a bad feeling about them. Remember what I said about Brian when we got to the hotel? Think about it. I believe they targeted us. They killed Christian, then took us back to our hotel … I honestly believe that they were going to try to come upstairs with us if I didn't put a stop to it—probably to kill us, too.”

“What?” I gaped at her. “Since when was that your theory?”

“How do we know they didn't slaughter Christian and weren't having a secret kick about it behind our backs? That's why I made sure to take their pictures.”

I made a face. “But you didn't know Christian was dead at that time.”

Katrina's eyes widened ever so slightly, and her lips parted. But it took another moment for her to speak. “But I knew something was off about those two. That's what I'm saying. What's so hard in that to understand?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I just didn't know you felt that way.” I frowned. “Why didn't you take a picture of the guy who actually fought with Christian?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I'm not
saying
anything. I'm asking a question. Something compelled you to take pictures of Brian and Keith, who'd been nice to us, yet—”

“Jesus, Jade. I had an instinct, okay? Call it a premonition. I don't know. What I don't need is to be grilled by the one person who knows I had nothing to do with this.”

“I'm only try—”

Sharply turning, Katrina walked away from me. More confused than ever, I stared at her retreating back. What the hell was with her attitude? Did she seriously expect me
not
to ask questions?

She marched behind the counter and started dumping coffee grinds. What she'd said, it didn't make sense. She'd taken those pictures of Brian and Keith because she'd somehow
known
we might need the evidence? How would she have had the presence of mind to do that when she'd been as drunk as she was?

And then it hit me. Unless she'd been
pretending
to be drunk …

She met my gaze from across the café, her irritation evident.

I turned away, my breathing growing shallow.
Had
she been pretending? That would explain why she was annoyed with me for asking logical questions.

But why would she need to fake being inebriated?

Unless she'd had an agenda.

An agenda to kill her husband and set someone else up for the crime?

I looked at her again, at the bright smile she wore while serving a customer a slice of cake.

And a chill ran down my spine.

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

I had an unsettled night, my mind replaying everything about my time in Mexico with Katrina. As much as I wanted to believe that she wasn't a killer, there were questionable things I couldn't ignore. Like why she had insisted that I go on the trip with her and Christian when it was actually their honeymoon. And that angry call from Wesley, in response to nasty messages I hadn't actually sent. Katrina had denied any involvement, but now I wasn't so sure. The timing of those messages when she'd been in my room that night was suspicious. Had she sent those messages, knowing Wesley would be livid with me, hoping I would then decide I needed a getaway? It was Brian telling me he might go that had encouraged me to say yes to the trip, but Katrina could never have known that would happen.

And now there was the fact that she'd deliberately taken those pictures of Brian and Keith, which struck me as far too calculated.

*   *   *

Pandemonium struck the next day. Reporters appeared en masse and were camped outside of the café. Early in the day, Katrina went out and warned them not to step foot inside. That if they did she would be calling the police.

If it were up to me, I would have shut down the shop and stayed out of sight. But Katrina kept the doors open and welcomed the regulars and new patrons alike. In a twisted way, she seemed to be enjoying the attention.

The television was set to a twenty-four-hour news station, and every time Katrina's interview aired she made sure to point it out—especially drawing her attention to the photos of Brian and Keith and sharing her theory about them.

I hated that I was in the pictures with Brian and Keith, as I didn't want any added notoriety. Unfortunately, it was too late for that.

Around three o'clock, Katrina came up to me and said, “I'm going outside. I want to thank the media.” She took me by the arm. “Come with me.”

She dragged me to the front door, but that's where I pulled my arm from her grip. “I don't want to go outside,” I told her.

“Suit yourself.”

Katrina opened the door, and the reporters came to life. They moved forward with their portable recorders, started their video cameras, and snapped photos of Katrina.

I watched as Katrina raised her hand before speaking. “I want to thank you for keeping a respectable distance so that my customers have still been able to enjoy my café,” she began. “I also want to say that I've been watching the news reports and I'm really grateful that you all have run the photos of Brian and Keith. Obviously, the Mexican police aren't interested in justice. I believe that these two men hold the key to finding out what happened to my husband.

“They befriended me and my friend that night,” Katrina went on. “And when I look back, I find their actions highly suspicious. I think we may have been targeted, and right now I'm grateful that I too wasn't a victim.”

Hearing Katrina spout this theory again made me want to scream. Of all the people to suspect, she was focusing on Brian and Keith. Not the creep who'd actually fought with Christian. Did she actually believe what she was saying, or had she come up with this story as a way to deflect any and all attention off of herself?

Alexis sidled up beside me. “Can you believe how packed the place is today? Negative attention makes you more famous than positive attention. It's crazy.”

“Tell me about it.” Maybe that's why Katrina seemed to be in a chipper mood. More business meant more money.

“At least I'm making great tips,” Alexis said.

The café was busy until after 9:30 p.m., which I was grateful for. It kept my mind occupied and gave me something to do other than stay in my room upstairs and mope.

We had more garbage bags than usual piled outside the back door because of the extra business, so at ten thirty I began the routine of taking the garbage out to the Dumpster behind the café. The sooner the cleanup was done, the sooner we'd be able to get to bed and get rest for tomorrow, which I imagined would be as busy as today.

I heaved the third bag into the Dumpster, then turned to head back toward the café door. That's when I felt the hand clamp down on my mouth.

Panic washed over like a giant cold wave. I was too startled to even try screaming initially, but as my assailant began to drag me down the alley I started to fight. I began to flail and kick.

Suddenly I was being pushed against a brick wall. And then my attacker came into view.

My heart damn near exploded as terror swept through me.

It was Brian!

My eyes bulged. First confusion hit me. Then realization. Katrina's allegations … they didn't seem so far-fetched anymore. I'd assumed that Brian hadn't targeted us because I'd met him
before
Mexico. But what if he had targeted us after all? Right here in Key West? Then he'd gone to Mexico as part of some nefarious plan?

All that secrecy. All that talk about trusting him. I'd been a fool.

Oh my God …

I did my best to scream, but Brian's hand was like an iron clamp.

“Shhh,” he implored me.

My breathing was ragged, my heart rate out of control. And tears were forming in my eyes.

“I'm going to let go of your mouth,” Brian said, “and I don't want you to scream. Nod if you understand.”

I did nothing. I was paralyzed with fear.

“I need you to calm down,” Brian said. “I'm going to take my hands off of your mouth, and you need to relax.”

There was something wrong with me. Because as terrified as I suddenly was of him, there was a small part of me that was happy to see him again. A part of me that didn't want to believe that he could ever be the type of person responsible for what Katrina was alleging.

“Do you understand me?” he asked, an edge to his voice.

I nodded.

He released his hand from my mouth tentatively, as though waiting to see if I would obey him. I debated screaming bloody murder, then thought better of it. I was alone with him, and surely he could hurt me before anyone could come to my aid. The fact that he was here had me terrified, and Katrina's claims no longer seemed outrageous. Had he targeted Christian, perhaps for money? And if he had so easily killed Christian behind that bar, what would he do to me?

“I'm not going to hurt you.”

Yeah, right!
a voice in my brain screamed.
That's why you're attacking me in an alley?

“Why are you and your friend calling me a murderer?”

My chest rose and fell with erratic breaths. I was too afraid to say anything.

“You're afraid of me,” Brian said, sounding mystified. “Jade, I didn't kill anyone.”

“Then why are you attacking me in a dark alley?” I whimpered. “The same way Christian was killed.”

“Attacking you?” He genuinely looked perplexed. “You think I'm attacking you?”

I said nothing.

“Have I hurt you?”

He hadn't, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't. I had no clue who he really was, nor what he was capable of.

“Think about it,” Brian went on. “If I wanted you dead, I would have snapped your neck the moment I grabbed you.”

His words made me shiver. “Or slit my throat.”

Brian lowered his hands from my body, and in his eyes I saw disappointment. “You really think I'd do that to you?”

I swallowed. He'd released me, and yet I wasn't trying to get away.

“I…” My voice trailed off. The truth was, I could imagine him doing other things to me … murder not being one of them. “Then why are you here?”

“I'm here because I'm a cop. And you and your friend have all but blown my cover.”

 

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

My mouth fell open. My first instinct was disbelief. But the hard set of Brian's eyes and the determination on his face made me rethink my position.

“If you're a cop, why don't you seem like one?” That was the only thing that I could think to ask, and I knew it sounded lame.

“I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't even be telling you this. But Keith and I are DEA. Undercover. That's why we were in that bar. Because a drug dealer we've been trying to get close to was there. And it just so happens he was talking to your friend, Katrina. Which of course made us curious.”

“What?” I wouldn't have been more surprised if he'd said that they thought Katrina was involved in child pornography.

“We haven't been able to prove a connection, or if their interaction was a coincidence.”

“It had to be coincidental,” I said.

“Are you sure about that?”

I opened my mouth to say that yes, I was sure. And then I remembered the pills Katrina had offered me in the bathroom. The truth was, I didn't really know her all that well.

My brain was scrambling, trying to make sense of what he'd said. “Wait a minute. When you met me in Key West … was that a coincidence? Or did it have to do with Katrina?”

Brian didn't respond.

Horror filling me, my eyes grew wide. “Oh my God. That … that wasn't random. What—you've been investigating Katrina? Of course. That's why you didn't want me to tell her that I'd met you in Key West.”

“Look, this stays between us. She's been on our radar, yes.”