What's Done in Darkness (26 page)

“Oh my God.
After
the wedding?” I guffawed. “Do you know how that sounds?”

“I do. Which is why I need to head back to Florida. Once Melody starts weaving her sordid tale, I might be detained here. And I don't plan to live out my days in a Mexican jail.”

My head was spinning. My whole world was spinning. I didn't know what to believe anymore. If Katrina loved Christian and was on her honeymoon, why the hell had she been all over those guys in the bar? Unless she didn't really care about Christian but had married him for what he could do for her.

Even Ramirez's question didn't seem so far-fetched anymore:
Do you think Miss Hughes could have killed her boyfriend?

“I spent the last hour looking into flights,” Katrina said, jarring me from my thoughts. “I'm leaving later today.”

I gaped at her. “And what about me?”

“Why do you think I'm telling you?” she asked, an edge to her tone. Then she sighed softly. “Look, Christian's dead, but his sister's here now and she can deal with getting his body.”

“You're his
wife
.” I couldn't keep the biting tone from my voice. “Aren't you the one who's supposed to make the arrangements?”

“And piss off his family? We've been married less than a week. It's only fitting that his sister deals with the body, takes him back to England.”

“So that's just it? Christian is dead, and you go back to the States as though nothing happened?”

“I loved Christian, but he's gone. So there's no point in me staying here. Yes, I'm heading back to the States. Are you coming or not?”

So cavalier … so nonchalant. Or was I judging her?

“I'm coming. Obviously.”

“Good. There's a flight in four hours. If you're coming with me, you better get ready.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

SHAWDE

Shawde paused the television and picked up her phone. Her adrenaline was pumping after seeing this news report, and she
needed
to talk to Gordon.

Instead of ringing as the phone had the last time she'd called him, it went directly to voice mail. “The mailbox of the cellular subscriber you are trying to reach is full.”

Shawde swiped her screen to end the call, frowning. She had a niggling feeling in her gut. Where the hell was Gordon?

He hadn't gotten back to her after she'd left him the message about the promising phone call she'd had with Monica and now his phone was going straight to voice mail?

Unless …

Unless he'd learned of Katrina's plans and was in Mexico.

Of course! That would explain why she hadn't been able to reach him. He'd learned that Katrina was heading to Cancun, and he'd quickly gone there as well to continue to keep an eye on her. He just hadn't been able to contact Shawde yet. Not with all the hell that was breaking loose in Mexico.

Shawde turned her attention back to the television. Using the remote control, she rewound the news story and watched it again, a sense of hope filling her despite the story's gruesome nature.

A British tourist had been killed in Cancun. His throat had been slashed from ear to ear. The man's sister had appeared on television, talking about the killing, letting the world know that she and her family were completely devastated by what had happened.

It was a devastation that Shawde understood. She'd seen her only brother laid to rest five and a half years before.

Although how could his soul be in peace when his killer was still on the loose?

“I am hopeful that the police will soon have the killer arrested,” the distraught sister said. “This crime will not go unpunished.”

The spark of hope from this tragic story had come for Shawde when she'd heard the name of one of the women who had gone to Mexico with the murder victim.

Katrina Hughes.

“I believe that my brother's new wife, Katrina Hughes, holds the key to this murder. They were honeymooning in Mexico at the time. If she has nothing to hide, where is she now?”

Katrina Hughes.
Shawde's lips had parted in shock when she'd first heard the story, and her pulse had picked up speed. Now, as she watched it again, her feeling of elation was so intense she literally thought she could float.

Looking heavenward, she said, “Thank you, God.”

For five and a half years, Shawde had prayed for justice. For five and a half years, she had feared that Katrina had gotten away with cold-blooded murder. Shawde had tried overturning every stone from the past for a real lead that would nail that bitch once and for all, all the while praying that Katrina would make a mistake.

And she just had.

Shawde was damn sure going to capitalize on it.

Judging by the tone of the woman on the television, she had her own suspicions about Katrina. But she was doing a good job of reining in her emotions and not coming right out and accusing Katrina of cold-blooded murder. She had far more restraint than Shawde did.

Of course, it had only been thirty-six hours since her brother had been killed. Not five and a half years.

My brother's new wife …
When the hell had that happened? It must have been a secret wedding, because Gordon hadn't known about it. But if Katrina had married this Christian Begley guy, it had been for one reason. For the financial gain that would come from his death.

There wasn't a doubt in Shawde's mind. Katrina had killed her own parents for the same reason.

But why had Jade Blackwin been on the trip? Gordon had mentioned that she'd been working for Katrina. Jade's older sister, Marie, had gone to school with Katrina. Had Jade been involved in the murder plot?

“Of course not,” Shawde said, and couldn't help chuckling as the answer came to her. “She's Katrina's alibi. Or her scapegoat.”

Katrina never did anything without thinking it through. And for her to bring a third person on a honeymoon with her meant she'd planned to use Jade in some way.

Shawde watched the news story for a third time, then jumped up from the sofa. Nervous energy flowed through her, and she simply couldn't sit still. She was anxious, excited, and wanted to do a happy dance. Instead, she forced in slow breaths to calm the adrenaline flowing through her veins.

Then she looked heavenward again. “Katrina made a mistake, Shemar,” Shawde said softly. “She's finally made a mistake, and now she's going to pay.”

Instinctively Shawde raised her phone and started to punch in Maurice's number. Then she stopped short.

No, not yet.

She was far closer to her dream of seeing Katrina punished once and for all, but Shawde couldn't contact Maurice until the task was done. Only then would there be any hope of them reconciling.

Right now, it was time for Shawde to head to Key West. She wanted to be there when Katrina's life imploded.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I started packing the moment Katrina left my room.

I was no fool. If Katrina was getting out of Mexico, I wasn't about to stick around. This was a completely different country, with a whole other justice system. We'd learned that firsthand when that cop had extorted cash from us on the side of the road.

This wasn't a country where my rights would necessarily be respected. Rumors of police corruption ran deep. I remembered seeing a documentary about a man who'd been thrown into jail here without a trial as a drug charge was sorted out. It took a few years of the U.S. government and his supporters raising a stink before he was finally released for lack of evidence.

That wouldn't be me.

At least I knew that I was innocent.
I
had nothing to hide.

I wasn't altogether certain that I could say the same thing about Katrina.

I knew that I needed to call my sister before heading to the airport. I'd turned on the television, and of course the story had made the news. Complete with my name and all. Melody had already been interviewed and was publicly questioning Katrina's involvement. She must have left the hotel and gone straight to a press conference with the media.

Which was another reason that it made sense to get the heck out of Mexico. With news outlets coming here to report on the latest grisly tourist death, I didn't want to get caught up in the spotlight.

I punched in Marie's number and was glad when she answered after the second ring. “Jade?”

“Yes, it's me.”

“Thank
God
! What's going on?”

“I take it you heard the news.”

“Of course. It's all over the major news networks. Why the hell are you even in Mexico?”

“Kat wanted me to come along.” I exhaled harshly. “Look, I can't get into this now. I just wanted you to know that I'm on my way back to the States. We're leaving the hotel right now.”

“Thank God. Are you okay?”

There was a knock at my door. I heard Katrina call, “Jade, are you ready?”

“Kat's at my door right now. We have to leave. But yes, I'm okay. As okay as I can be, under the circumstances.”

“Good. Call me the moment you're back on U.S. soil.”

“I will,” I told her. Then I hurried to the door and opened it.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah. I just called my sister to let her know what was going on. Let me just get my luggage.”

A minute later I had my small suitcase, purse, and carry-on bag and was joining Katrina in the hallway. Together, we made our way downstairs.

As we made our way through the lobby, my eyes registered what was outside. The small crowd, the cameras.

“Oh my God,” I uttered, my feet halting. “Shit!”

“Damn, what do we do?” Katrina asked.

Looking at her, I saw her chest rise and fall with a heavy breath. “What
can
we do? There's only one way to the taxi stand. Let's check out first.”

There was a handful of people in the lobby, and they were watching the media with curiosity. Once Katrina and I checked out and returned the room keys, she announced, “Wait here. I have a plan.”

She went over to the concierge, leaving me with the luggage. She spoke to the man there, then came back over to me.

“He's going to make sure a taxi's ready for us before we go outside.”

The minutes that passed seemed much longer, and then the concierge came back into the hotel and beckoned to us.

“Ready?” Katrina asked me.

“As ready as I'll ever be.”

We had no choice but to exit the hotel doors and face the media scrum. They rushed toward us, like a wall closing in. Which meant they knew what we looked like. Video cameras went onto shoulders. Microphones and portable recorders were thrown into our faces.

“Girls, what happened? Who do you think murdered Christian Begley?”

“Did you have anything to do with the murder?”

“Is Christian's sister right about this being a cold-blooded murder plot?”

So many questions at once, and it was hard to concentrate. Katrina was pushing her way through the crowd, trying to follow the concierge, who was leading us to the taxi. He splayed his arms wide in an effort to try to shield us from the reporters, but it was no use. Their bodies crushed against ours as we tried our best to hurry to the car.

“Katrina, Christian's sister Melody says that you married her brother weeks after his vacation in the U.S. and that your interest in him was financial. Is there any truth to her claims?”

Katrina stopped then, faced the cameras as the concierge opened the back door of the taxi. “Yes, I did marry Christian. Because I loved him. I had no interest in his money. As for what happened, I have no clue. I only know that I came here to celebrate our new marriage and now he's dead.”

A microphone appeared in front of my face. “Was this some sort of twisted love triangle?”

For a moment I was like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen and unable to speak. But as the question registered—the preposterousness of it—I found my voice. “Of course not. Look, I don't know what happened to Christian, but please, focus the attention where you should. Make sure the police fully investigate this case. There were people in the bar that night who might have answers. Put pressure on the police to do their jobs.”

There were more questions, but both Katrina and I ignored them as we stuffed our belongings and our bodies into the back of the taxi. Katrina passed the concierge a ten; then he closed the door.

“Airport, please,” Katrina instructed the driver.

“Are you two famous or something?” the driver asked, gesturing to all of the reporters surrounding his car.

“Just drive,” Katrina said. “Please.”

The taxi driver began to move, and slowly but surely he passed the reporters without killing anyone.

Only then did I draw in a relieved breath.

Then I reached for Katrina's hand and gripped it, happy to be on our way home.

*   *   *

I couldn't remember ever being more relieved than when our plane began to taxi down the runway. A part of me feared that as we tried to leave Mexico we would be told that we were on a no-fly list. That we were being detained for further questioning.

But we boarded the plane and then the plane took flight. And both Katrina and I relaxed.

If anyone recognized us from the news broadcasts, they didn't show it. Though I'd made sure to tie my hair back and I never took my sunglasses off during the flight.

Katrina and I hardly spoke. What was the point in engaging in small talk? With the gravity of what happened, I appreciated the time to be alone with my thoughts.

I was still afraid while on the plane, fearing that once we landed in the States there might be hurdles. Perhaps more reporters. Or I wouldn't have been surprised to find FBI agents coming onto the plane before anyone disembarked.