Watch Me Die (21 page)

“Are you glad your friend is dead?”

“No. It’s not true.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Think whatever you like. It’s your right.”

Malone opened the file folder. He slid the top page across the table to Scott. “What is that in reference to?”

“‘He cast out Seven Demons’? No clue.” He slid it back.

“Is it biblical?”

“Like I said, no clue.”

“How about these?” He slid two more sheets across the table, reading them aloud as he did. “‘He will come again to judge the living and the dead’ and ‘Jugment Day’?”

Scott cocked an eyebrow. “What it refers to? I think it’s pretty obvious.”

“Humor me.”

“It refers to the Judeo-Christian belief in heaven and hell and a God who decides who goes where.” He glanced at the printed words. “And, just so you know, you spelled judgment wrong.”

“Pardon?”

“Left out the
d
.” Scott tapped the page.

Spencer looked at it and feigned surprise. “That I did. Thanks for pointing it out.” He refocused on Scott’s confrontation with Anton Gallier. “What was Gallier urging you to tell his daughter-in-law?”

“I have no idea.”

“Why’d you join the marines?”

“I had my reasons.”

“I’d like to know what they were.”

“Too bad. It’s none of your business and has nothing to do with Anton’s death.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Malone leaned slightly forward. “You’re very secretive.”

“Everybody has secrets.”

“But not everyone would kill to keep a secret.”

“But some would.”

“Exactly. What would you do to keep your secrets safe?”

He held Malone’s gaze evenly. “I didn’t kill Anton Gallier, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Am I finished here, Detective? Or do I need to contact my lawyer?”

Spencer stood. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Scott.” He walked him to the door and opened it. “Officer Armstrong will show you the way out.”

A moment later, Bayle was at Spencer’s side. “That’s one cool customer.”

Malone agreed. “And he knows how to spell.”

“Which doesn’t mean jack. The guy’s smart. Could’ve deliberately used the misspelling as a way to throw us off.”

“True, but he didn’t seem that interested. If they’d been his, he would’ve shown a little more interest. Preened a little, something. He hardly even glanced at them.”

Bayle agreed. “The only time he really came alive was when you asked about Mira Gallier.”

“What do you think he’s going to do now?”

“Run straight to his good friend—”

“Mira Gallier.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Tuesday, August 16

10:00
P.M.

Unable to sit still, Mira paced. Jeff’s father was gone. Murdered.

She had despised him. Many times, secretly, she had wished he would disappear. Be struck by lightning, a bus or a fatal heart attack. That’s how angry she had been.

But now he was gone and it hurt. How could she feel grief over the death of a man who had been so cruel to her? Who had attempted to ruin her life and reputation?

Because he’d been Jeff’s father. She didn’t mourn the loss of Anton Gallier. No, she mourned the loss of yet another piece of her past with Jeff.

Time to let go, Mira.

She stopped and brought her hands to her eyes. She couldn’t let go. She wasn’t ready.

Her doorbell sounded and she ran to the door, Nola at her side, and peered through the sidelight. Connor. With a cry of relief she flung the door open and flew into his arms. “Did you hear? Anton’s dead! He was murdered this morning.”

He held her tightly. She felt that he trembled. “I heard,” he said.

She tilted her head back to look at his face. “They think I might have done it, Connor. They took me in and questioned me. I was there for hours.”

“Maybe we should go inside?”

Mira realized he was right. Mrs. Latrobe was probably getting an eyeful right now. Spinning some sort of tall, sordid tale about what was going on.

She closed and locked the door behind them, then turned to find him gazing at her, his expression twisted with some strong emotion.

“What’s wrong?”

“They questioned me, too. They suspect me as well. Maybe both of us.”

“It’s crazy!”

“Not really. Not from their perspective. We had a public confrontation with him. It looks bad.”

“I know.” She brought her hands to her face. “I wish I could take it back.”

“Mira?”

At his tone, she dropped her hands and looked at him. “Yes?”

“That’s not why I’m here tonight. There’s something I have to tell you.”

Suddenly, like a child, she wanted to press her hands over her ears. It was going to change everything. She didn’t know why she was certain of it—maybe the timing, maybe the tone of his voice or the sadness in his eyes.

“All right,” she said instead, softly. “Maybe we should sit down?”

“I think that’d be good. But not the kitchen.”

She nodded and led him into the front parlor. She sat on the couch, he in the chair across from her.

He looked her in the eyes. “I need to tell you why I joined up. I want you to hear it from me.”

“Okay.” She laid her palms on her thighs. “I’m ready.”

“I left because of you. Because I was in love with you.”

She stared at him, her heart thundering, every fiber of her being recoiling from his words. She wasn’t certain what she had expected him to say, but not that.

She shook her head. “We were friends.”

“It was agony being around you all the time. He was my best friend. And I was in love with his wife.”

He stood and crossed to the fireplace. “It was eating me alive. Being around you, wanting to touch you, keeping up the ‘just friends’ charade. I told myself a million times to just let it go. Stay away, find someone else … I couldn’t make myself do it.”

He turned and looked at her, taking in her shocked expression. “Come on, Mira. Think back. How could you not have suspected?”

She searched her memory. At first, all she recalled was the three of them together. Nothing to indicate he’d felt something different for her than she for him. Then a moment leaped to the front of her brain. Of catching him gazing at her, longing so palpable in his eyes she had been uncomfortable.

She had blown that off as nothing. Just as she had blown off other things. The way he would sometimes jerk away from her touch. The way he would glance away when she and Jeff kissed, or the times he had seemed angry with them for being so obviously in love. The New Year’s Eve when he had kissed her and it had gone beyond the brush of one friend’s mouth against another’s.

Why hadn’t she seen it then?

She hadn’t wanted to. Because she hadn’t wanted anything to change. She had been happy.

But he had been in pain.

She looked at him, heart breaking. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t want to. I respected that.”

She stood and crossed to stand before him. “You could have told me. Sometimes, getting things out in the open changes them. Maybe you would have realized—”

“I wasn’t in love with you?” He let out a bark of laughter. “I repeat, he was my best friend. And I was in love with his wife. What was I supposed to do? Tell you? Ask you to choose?”

She opened her mouth to tell him there would have been no choice. He held up a hand stopping her. “I know how that would have gone. And I wouldn’t have done that to Jeff, anyway.”

“But you didn’t have to leave. We could have worked it out.”

He swung away from her, rigid with anger. “How? Gone on the way we had been?”

“No. You two could have done things without me. The things you used to do before Jeff and I got together.”

“You don’t get it, Mira. I didn’t want to spend time with him.” His voice lowered. “Only with you.”

She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she could hug him but not daring to. It still felt wrong to her. What could she do but accept it?

“But to go away without a word? Forget my feelings. What about your folks? Jeff called them. They didn’t know where you were.”

“They knew, Mira. Of course they knew.”

“They lied for you like that? My God.” She thought back to the calls Jeff had made. The times he had begged Connor’s folks to tell him where their son had gone.

Her eyes burned. “Jeff was devastated when you left. He called everyone, including your parents. Not once, but many times. When I think of all those calls, all those times—”

“Jeff knew.”

For a moment she was sure she had misheard him. When she realized she hadn’t, she caught her breath. “That’s not true.”

“I told him the day I left for basic.”

“No.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t have kept it from me. We didn’t keep secrets from each other.” She brought a hand to her cross, curled her fingers around it. “He wouldn’t have lied to me. Not that way. Never.”

“I told him why I was leaving. I thought he should know. I thought it was the honorable thing to do.” He paused. “I left it up to him whether to tell you or not.”

She began to tremble. “Why are you doing this?”

His expression hardened. “You wanted the truth.”

“The truth,” she whispered acidly, “yes. But not this. He would not have kept this from me. Would not have … pretended not to know where you’d gone. Or to be so hurt.”

“Are you certain of that?”

“Stop it!”

“Maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought.”

“Get out!” She marched across to the door and yanked it open, shaking with fury. “Leave me alone!”

“He wasn’t perfect, Mira!” Connor grabbed her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “He was just a man.”

“He was your best friend! Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m still in love with you, dammit!” He set her away from him, expression twisting with pain. “But not only are you still in love with him, you’re more in love with him than before. You’ve made him into a saint. The perfect husband. But he wasn’t. People have secrets. Even from their spouses. Jeff had them.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Trying to tear him down. Trying to take away all I have left of him.”

“I’m not trying to destroy your memory of him. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Why do you think I left?”

“Get out.”

“I wanted you to hear the truth from me, not the police or anyone else.”

Then she understood. “That’s why you’re here. The police questioned you. You had to tell me because you told them.”

“I didn’t tell them. But I know I’m going to have to and I didn’t want you to hear it from them.”

“That’s what Anton meant,” she realized. “When he said you were happy Jeff was dead. Because now you might have a chance with me?”

“I’m not glad he’s dead. And I hate that his death has you clinging to a memory that’s a lie.”

“Get out, Connor.” She jerked the front door open. “I don’t want to see you or hear from you. We’re no longer friends.”

CHAPTER FORTY

Tuesday, August 16

10:55
P.M.

The moments ticked past, becoming minutes. Still Mira stood frozen, his words—and hers—ringing in her head: “
I was in love with you … I’m still in love with you, dammit … Jeff knew … I told him the day I left … Jeff had secrets…”

“
I don’t want to see you or hear from you … We’re no longer friends.
”

She brought a hand to her mouth to hold back a cry of despair. She didn’t want to lose him. Not again. She wanted him in her life.

She didn’t know how they could stay friends. But she wanted to try.

She yanked the door open. The driveway was empty, the street dark. He was long gone.

Gone.

Mira sagged against the door frame, tears choking her. Maybe it was for the best. She could forgive him for saying those things about Jeff. But if he couldn’t stop loving her and she couldn’t love him back, how could they have any kind of relationship?

They couldn’t, she acknowledged. It’s why he had exited her life the first time.

From deep inside the house came the chirp of her cell phone. Connor, she thought. Calling to talk it through. Start over.

She ran for it. “Connor?” she said. “I’m so glad—”

“Hi, babe, it’s me. Hold tight, I’m almost there.”

The voice moved over her like thunder. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Jeff’s voice.

The phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a sharp crack. The sound penetrated her shock, and with a sob, she scrambled for it, dropping to her knees, bringing it to her ear. “Jeff? Jeff, I’m here!”

Nothing.

She checked the display; it had gone dark.

No, no … it couldn’t be broken. What would she do? She had to call him back. Hands shaking so badly it took three tries, she restarted the phone.

As it came to life, her landline rang. She leaped to her feet and ran to the kitchen, snatching it from its cradle and bringing it to her ear.

“Jeff!” she cried. “Don’t hang up! Where are you?”

“Mira? It’s Dr. Jasper. Are you all right?”

She careened back to earth. Not Jeff. Maybe never again.

“Are you all right?” the therapist asked once more, this time in a tone that demanded response. “Talk to me.”

Her head went light. She grabbed the counter for support. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Find a chair or sit on the floor.” Mira sank to the floor. “Did you do that?”

“Yes.”

“Deep breaths,” the therapist said. “In and out. If you still feel dizzy, lie down or put your head between your knees.”

Mira did as she suggested, lying back on the wooden floor, breathing in and out, mind racing. Did it really happen? she wondered. Did Jeff just call her? Or had she imagined it?

“Mira? Are you there?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Talk to me, Mira. What’s happening?”

Concern resonated in the woman’s voice. It penetrated Mira’s shock. “I’m fine now. I just— Why are you calling me, Dr. Jasper?”

“I saw on the news. About Anton. Have you heard?”

“He’s dead. Yes, I heard. The police questioned me about it.”