“From your sister’s shop, right?”
I grinned. “Good memory, I see.”
Nina peered out her window. The ground was still wet, but there were no more drops threatening. When she turned back to me, her mouth twitched with a hidden smile.
“Incorrigible,” she mouthed at me before turning to the driver. “Ninety-Second and Lexington, please. The west side of the street.”
The cab took off into the night, and for a few minutes, we sat quietly as the park raced by, the lit buildings of the Upper East Side beckoning us forward. I stared at Nina’s lap, where her hands were folded together, the diamond on the left flashing with every passing streetlamp.
“I still don’t understand,” I said. “The night I met you, you said it was your fault. But I know this case, Nina. I know it like the back of my hand. John Carson is a fuckin’ monster. And Jane and Eric are two of the most stubborn people I’ve ever met. I don’t really see how you could have caused anything that happened to them. But you were upset. You kept saying something about how it was your fault. Even before she was taken.”
Nina tensed visibly, but didn’t look up. Nor did she answer. I was quickly realizing she had that strange ability people with power possessed to control a conversation simply by pretending it hadn’t occurred. It happened on the witness stand a lot. I’d ask a question, and the rich assholes or kingpins would give an answer to a completely different one. Or sometimes they would act like I hadn’t said anything.
But it was for that reason that I’d also learned to drill down until I got the answer to the actual question.
“Nina,” I said again, watching her face very carefully. “Did you feel personally responsible for what happened to Jane and Eric in January?”
She blinked. “I didn’t have anything to do with Eric going to jail. Or with Jane going to Korea, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s not my question. I asked if you felt personally responsible.”
“I—” She shook her head back and forth. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“It’s a yes or no question, baby.”
“It’s not that simple!”
The car turned up Madison, barreling past the patrician apartments and posh storefronts that were mostly closed for the evening. I had no problem imagining Nina wiling away her days here. Pointing her elegant finger at shop girls. Sipping on a cappuccino before starting her day.
It was a wonder, really, that I hadn’t run into her all the times I’d walked around. Something in me knew from the start she belonged here.
But honestly, I had no idea what Nina de Vries did with her days. Whether she was a vapid socialite who shopped and spent money, or if she had a real job, even if it was one that didn’t pay anything. I didn’t know who she was at all.
The guilt etched across her face told me I needed to find out.
“Listen,” I said as the cab took a right onto Ninety-Second. I only had a few seconds. Then who knew when I was going to see her again? “If you have any additional information about what happened with Jane and Eric, anything at all, I need to know about it. They don’t have to know we talked, but, Nina, if I’m going to have any chance at putting this asshole behind bars, we do need to go over this. You want to do right by your cousin? Make up for whatever part you think you played? Tell me what you know. I can help. Right now, I’m the only one.”
The car stopped at the corner of Ninety-Second and Lex, in front of an old, impeccably maintained brick building that was partially sheltered by restoration scaffolding.
“This all right?” the cabbie asked in a thick accent.
Nina looked between me and the driver. “I…oh, this is fine, thank you.” Her eyes widened, but she didn’t move. She seemed stuck in place. “I…do you need the car?”
“Here.” I slipped the cabbie a twenty through the plastic barrier, then nodded for Nina to get out.
I followed her across the empty street until we were standing under the awning of what I assumed was her building. Through shining, brass-trimmed doors, a doorman looked at us curiously. Nina waved at him and maintained a careful distance from me. Much too far for my preference.
“Well?” I asked. “You know I’m not going anywhere until I get my answer.”
“You must be very good at your job.”
I just tipped my head. “Nina. Come on.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, a voice interrupted us as the door to her building opened.
“Mommy?”
Nina’s eyes widened, and she turned. “Oh! Hello, darling. What are you doing up?”
I stared at a small blonde girl who was yanking on the arm of a very tired-looking middle-aged woman.
“Patricia said we could come down and wait for you after you texted, Mommy. We thought you’d be home forever ago!”
I watched, dumbfounded as Nina carefully embraced the girl, whose head rose approximately to her rib cage. She was slim and delicate, with ribbons of wavy blonde hair that reached her shoulders. I wouldn’t have noticed much else about her until she set her eyes on me. Those eyes. They were wide and curious. Completely familiar. Completely mesmerizing.
“Who’s that?” she asked.
I started to reach out, but Nina gently turned her away.
“I’m glad you came out to greet me,” she said, “and I’m sorry I’m late. But it’s really time for bed, my love.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Gardner. She really wanted to see you tonight,” said the older woman with a curious glance my way.
“That’s perfectly fine. We don’t get to see enough of each other as it is.” Nina stroked the girl’s hair away from her face with a tenderness that made my chest ache. “Go with Patricia, darling. I’ll be up to kiss you good night.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Mother and daughter hugged again, blonde touched blonde before Nina set a kiss to the little girl’s forehead. The girl scampered back to her nanny, and it wasn’t until the doorman ushered them both inside that I finally found my voice again.
“Who—who was that?”
Nina turned back to me, those bright gray eyes shining again, wide and without guile. “I should think that clear from the way she addressed me. That was my daughter.”
“Your…”
Suddenly, it all made sense.
Her caginess. Her guilt. Her insistence that she was happy when she clearly wasn’t.
Nina wasn’t just married.
She had a daughter. A family.
And the little girl was absolutely perfect. Just like her mother.
Guilt shot through my chest, and at first, I didn’t understand it. After all, I wasn’t the most upstanding guy. Considering my track record, it’s not like I’d never been with any moms. Caitlyn Calvert, for instance, had two children herself.
But in those situations, the kids were an idea. A theory, at best. This one was very, very real.
I watched the girl disappear into an elevator, then looked back at Nina, whose gaze hadn’t wavered. Something had changed. She wasn’t scared of me anymore.
Progress, I thought. But toward what? This woman was as off-limits as it got. Not only was she a daughter of one of the most powerful families in the city, she was married. She was a mother. And she was now part of an investigation.