Crossing Lines: A gripping psychological thriller (Behind Closed Doors Book 3) (27 page)

“You’re wrong,” I tell her, looking at the photographs again. "They’re green, like her father’s. And I thought your case against Julia claimed the attack on Mimi was simple mistaken identity? Don't you think that’s a stretch, considering you’ve just said they don't look alike?”

“It’s even more of a stretch to claim that it’s Mimi posing as her sister in these photographs. It would suggest these were set up, and that my whole case is… based on a lie.”

“But you already suspect foul play,” I remind her, “unless this is just another attempt to get me to talk. If that’s the case, we’re done here.”

“Explain to me why Mimi would do that?”

For Wayne.
My instincts twist in my gut. Say Julia did suspect her husband of an affair. Say she did hire a private investigator to find out, and these photographs are real. If those shots have genuinely captured Mimi Jordan and Wayne Swift in the throes of passion, then Wayne would be inside Mimi’s head. He would be able to get her to do anything for him, and she wouldn’t question his motives.
The more I think about this, the more I think I’m onto something.

“I don’t know. But what I do know is Ashleigh was in New Zealand in January, and there’s a whole film crew who can corroborate that for you.” She makes an ‘o’ shape with her mouth and starts scribbling on her legal pad. “I’m not a criminologist, Amelia,” I begin, “but a crime of passion, such as attempting to kill one’s husband and beating up his mistress, sounds more plausible if the accused had actually beaten the actual mistress, rather than a case of mistaken identity, and a woman who, by your own admission, she looks nothing like.

“What sounds even more plausible to me is an abuser losing it, and then beating someone he’s intimately involved with half to death. And if that is true, then Ashleigh is right, and Mimi is lying about her amnesia, because she’s as frightened of Wayne as Julia is.”

“I guess I have to talk to Mimi again.” Amelia stares at the photographs a little too intently, and her voice is too distant for her words to have any conviction at all. Suddenly she looks up and offers her hand as she stands up. “Thank you for talking with me, Doctor Hawthorne.”

“Are we still considering this conversation as off the record? If Ashleigh even finds out I told you her eyes are green, I’m a dead man.”

“For now,” she replies, guiding me towards the door, “I’ll have to look into the points you’ve raised. If I need you on the record, I’ll call again.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Rose.” I blindly leave the office. Ashleigh is waiting for me in the small reception area on this floor. I think she’ll be pleased that the ADA is doubting the evidence she’s been given, and is leaving no stone unturned. What Ashleigh won’t be happy about is the images of her and Wayne. I wonder if I should tell her, or wait until Amelia has proof that they’re not real. It’s better if I don’t, I decide. Ashleigh will fly off the handle and go after her sister, before Amelia has the chance to talk to her. I can’t risk anything that jeopardizes the chance to keep Julia out of prison.

“Miss Rose will see you now, Lieutenant Swift.” The receptionist smiles at me as Wayne stands up. “Doctor Hawthorne, Amelia asked that I check that you have her number before you leave.” I continue to watch Wayne. He moves gingerly, barely able to move his arm and shoulder at all. So this is the man Julia said held her hard enough to cause bruises, and broke her arm. He stops beside me.

“Flesh wound,” he murmurs, as though he'd caught me staring. “You're Ashleigh's new guy, aren't you?” I neither confirm nor deny it as I meet his gaze with my own. “Are you going to see Julia? Will you tell her I understand why she shot me? Tell her I'm not mad anymore, and I want her to come home. I've wanted it for a while, but I'm not supposed to contact her.”

I bristle. The last time I’d heard, Julia and Wayne were ignoring that rule and talking on the phone. And suddenly it falls into place. Had Julia told Wayne, and Wayne passed the information on to the ADA? So that's how Wayne knows I’m involved with Ashleigh; he's been using Julia to keep up with what’s happening in the places he can't physically access. “Can you give Ashleigh a message too?”

My brows lift.

“Will you tell her I said thank you? She's such a sweetheart for taking care of Julia for me. I don't know what I'd have done through all of this if it wasn't for Ash, even after I broke it off with her. I mean, she didn't have to get her dad involved. She could have easily left Jules to rot in prison, and my wife wouldn't be a problem for us anymore.”

“In that case, why would she help Julia?”

“Because I asked her to.”

“You asked your mistress to save your wife from prison?”
Does he honestly think I'll fall for this?

He nodded.

I’m really going to enjoy fucking with this guy's mind.
“Must feel really great to know you have that fine piece of ass sitting at home, all loyal and looking pretty and none the wiser, while you're sneaking out to fool around with the bad girl who's not really available to play with.”
Nope, no admission we were involved. Just some good old fashioned tinkering with the mind.
For good measure, I slap him on the back, “Well done!”

“Look, man, I'm sorry for messing with your girl.” He rubs his uninjured hand across the back of his neck. “And I was stupid to do that to Julia. But everything got so hard, and so regimented at home while we tried to get pregnant, I just wanted to have a little fun. And Ashleigh was up for it too; it was her idea to use Mimi’s apartment. She said New York was the perfect cover and Julia wouldn't suspect a thing, because she was dating Dex. It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

“Well, aren’t you a lucky son of a bitch that it’s me living at Ashleigh’s? I like my women with some fire.” I wait for him to look at me. I want to know if he’s really talking to Julia. And I know he’ll get my message loud and clear. "Inside, and outside my bedroom.” Envy pools in his eyes as they narrow at me; I know he gets the double implication in that message. “You know that fine piece of ass you call a wife sits next to me at breakfast. And if I was some other guy I might choose an all loyal and pretty looking kind of girl when the fire gets a little too hot. If you know what I mean…”

“Touch my wife and I’ll fucking kill you!”

“You’re not up for a little wife swap?” I ask, a little amused. "Funny, me neither!” Then I smile. “How about I make a prediction instead."

He lifts a brow.

“By this time next year, you’ll be a lonely divorcee sitting in a prison cell, your wife will be in my bed, and your baby will be calling me Daddy. Because sick, twisted fucks who frame their wives for attempted murder get found out!”

He blanches. For a moment, he stares at me before stuttering, and he stumbles. “She’s still pregnant?”
Fuck! This is why I don’t play mind games. I always manage to screw them up somehow.

“Fat lot of good it’s going to do you, unless you start unravelling that evidence, because if I can see through it, then William is going to obliterate it when Amelia comes to present it in court.”

He nods. The panic in his eyes tells me the threat of losing Julia—and by her choice, not his—is a huge problem for him. "I’ll see what I can do.”

I watch him walk down the corridor, turn the corner, and disappear. I shudder. I have never been more like the bastard who killed my sister than I am at this moment. I’ve played Wayne at his own game and won. But now I need to shower. I shudder again.

But not before I tell Julia I’ve just outed her pregnancy to Wayne. I hope I’ve done enough to force him into backtracking and saving her from prison. I'll even tell her I threatened to steal her from him. She’ll be mad at me. Of course she will. She’s barely spoken to me since I returned with Lisa, so there really isn’t any truth in my threat, is there?

I apologize to the receptionist for ignoring her question, and ask her for Amelia’s card. “Thank you.” I already have Amelia’s number, but I smile at the pretty lady as she hands me the card. “Umm, have you seen Krystal?”

“Not for a while, Doctor Hawthorne. She and Mr. Swift had a heated discussion. I couldn’t hear what they said, but she told him to leave her alone and walked off. He followed her into the stairwell, but she never returned.”

I mutter my thanks and head toward the stairwell, expecting to find Ashleigh there. I even jog down all seven flights and into the lobby, but she’s nowhere to be found. I hand my pass to the security guy at the desk.

When I march out onto the street her car isn’t parked in the place where we’d left it. In fact, it’s not there at all.
Where the hell is she?

Chapter Nineteen

IT’S NOT THE CAB FARE
I’m pissed off about, it’s the fact she's abandoned me in Downtown L.A., with no way of getting back to Malibu. I pay the cab driver, climb out of the car, and walk toward the gate but I’m met by a roadblock in the shape of a seven-and-a-half-ton truck, parked across the entire entrance to the drive.
Huh?

I round the vehicle to find the security gate is busted before being stopped by a clipboard wielding security guard I haven't seen since Ashleigh left my office in New York weeks ago. He shoves the clipboard under my nose. “Code black, Dr. Hawthorne. I need to see some ID.”

My heart leaps into my throat. “There's a bomb scare? Where's Lisa?”

“No, sir. Code black is the highest security alert. No one comes in or gets out without a signature and Mr. Leighton's clearance.”

Mr. Leighton?
Lisa and I have only been in L.A. for a week. We’re here, not because the ADA wanted to speak to me, but because I know Rylan has the contacts to ensure I give Lisa the opportunity for a normal life. He even flew down to Hawthorne Creek with one of his team, insisted I hand over the keys to Ashleigh’s car, and marched us both onto her plane. He’s of the opinion Ashleigh’s home is safer than any other place in L.A. It was built that way. He knows that because he chose the land, approved the plans, and managed the entire project when it was built. Ashleigh has refocused his attention on Lisa and keeping her safe, without her knowledge.

“Even Ms. Jordan signs in and out during a code black, sir!”

“Stop calling me ‘sir’." When the security guard refuses to budge, I dig my wallet out of my pocket and take out my driver’s license. “This is ridiculous!" I scrawl on the clipboard and notice that the code black went into effect little more than an hour ago. “What happened?” I ask, but he doesn't reply. “My sixteen-year-old niece lives here too. I need to know what's going on, and that she is safe.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Leighton has made sure all the residents here are safe.” He takes a swipe card from his pocket. “You'll need this to enter the house.”

There’s electronic keycard access to the house?
I slip through the two-foot gap between the van and the wall, and come up against another security guard. He’s resting a laptop on the hood of an SUV and observing a grid of nine smaller inner screens, all with people in them. I step up to the hood of the car. Lisa is in one picture and Julia in another.
Has Ashleigh got security cameras inside too?
In all the time I've been here I’ve never seen anyone but Rylan, and now the place is crawling with security.
What is going on?

I begin the kilometer walk to the house and see tire tracks cut across the manicured gardens. The cute little hedgerows and expensive rose bushes, even the fountain in the turning circle, have all fallen victim to whatever wannabe tornado blew through here. At the end of the path of destruction sits Ashleigh's Bentley convertible with a mashed-up fender. Something is wrong. Something is very wrong, and with Ashleigh!

I break into a sprint across the grass, calling out the second I get a visual of another person. “What the hell happened?”

Rylan stands up from inspecting the damage to Ashleigh’s car. “How dare you show your fucking face here?” He charges toward me, like a bull at a matador. He thinks I'm to blame?

I stand stock still. “But you gave me clearance.”

“I gave you clearance, so I could kick your fucking head in!”

Rylan grabs me by the shirt collar, rips me clear of my feet, and squeezes against my windpipe. I claw at his wrist with both hands, struggling and kicking, but it has futile results.
What the hell is going on?

“Was this fun for you?” he spits. “Do you feel like a man now?” I gasp for air. “Give me one reason why I shouldn't snap your neck in two!”

“Don’t… know…” I choke. My neck feels like it
is
going to snap at any second. “What… you’re talking about!”

“Don't lie to me!” he yells, his hand squeezes tighter. “I've seen the bruises you left on her neck!”

“Swear…” I stop struggling. The tips of his toes just reach the soiled garden floor as I fix my gaze on the roaring fury in his eyes. “… not me!” I take another strained gasp and add, “with Rose.”
Damn, breathing is hard.
“She …” I gasp, “left me … there.”

“You see Swift?”

I attempt a nod and he drops me like a brick.

“I fucking knew it!”

I crumple to the ground. I’m too weak to stand, as I fill my lungs with as much air as they’ll hold.
God, that feels good.
“You knew what exactly?”