Makaio falls into the driver’s seat, and for a moment, he sits quietly, not bothering to look back. “Are you okay?”
I sniff, blinking to hold back the tears. “I don’t know.”
“If I tell him what happened tonight, he’ll want them properly punished.”
Properly punished. What does that even mean, with the information I’ve been given about Lucian in the last few hours? What would he do, if given the opportunity?
I have nothing to say in response, because the truth is, if Lucian was standing here now and asking me if I wanted Makaio to go back and punish the hell out of them, I’d probably tell him yes. “How did you find me?”
“The bracelet.”
Frowning, I stare down at the adornment on my wrist. “You tracked me?”
“For exactly what happened tonight. He wants to keep you safe.” The engine roars to life and lurches forward, and Makaio turns out of the parking lot.
“Can you please just take me back to my aunt’s house? Please, Makaio.”
“No. You’re safer with Lucian now.”
Chapter 54
Lucian
The investigating officer sits across from my desk, his partner in the chair beside him. From the looks of it, the rookie was trying out the big boy wheels, by asking all the questions, while his mentor sat quietly beside him. Observing me, no doubt.
Too bad for them, I hold fucking degrees in bullshitting. It’s wound up in my DNA alongside my eye color, dark hair, and penchant for rough sex. These guys will be lucky to walk away with one straight answer by the time this inquiry is over.
“I understand she worked a couple years for you, as a nurse to your mother.”
Rookie boy’s attempt to sound official is thwarted by the uncertain glance toward the seasoned cop beside him, the sight of which, tugs at my lips for a smile. I’ll give the kid some credit--he’s trying to be thorough, just doing his job, but if they think they’re pinning another murder on me, after the bullshit I’ve gone through with my dead wife and son, they’re nuts. I’m not going to be this town’s designated scapegoat every time a body floats to the surface.
“She worked for an agency that we hired.”
“Okay. And, um …” Face buried in his notes, the kid doesn’t seem to have a single thought of his own about this investigation. He’s spent most of the time staring at whatever he wrote down before knocking on my door. “She was fired the week before. What was the nature of that?”
“My mother’s pills have gone missing.”
“So, you fired her because she was stealing pills?”
“I fired her because she wasn’t the right fit. Happens, sometimes. Some people just aren’t cut out for certain jobs.”
His partner rubs his hand across his face as if to hide the smirk I catch, and I eye the signet ring on the older man’s finger. With his cockeyed, misbuttoned shirt, and hair that looks like he trims it himself, the guy seems the type to harbor little patience for anything, especially some wannabe badass on training wheels.
“We did find a prescription bottle for Laura Blackthorne.”
“And is that why you decided to interrupt my evening?”
The kid looks to his partner, then back to me, frowning. “We’re just following up.”
“Was there evidence of foul play?”
“No, we … dusted for prints. Didn’t find any outside of the maid and Miss Anders, of course. The lab is checking out what she injected in the syringe. But the room was rented under a James Smith. Does that name ring a bell?”
“Yeah. It’s probably the most common name in this country. You got a credit card? Camera footage?”
“No. It appears the room was paid in cash for the week. And the Crow’s Nest doesn’t have any outdoor cameras, from what we understand. Just one in the office to make sure their employees aren’t stealing anything.”
“Then, my guess? She wanted a place to get high without anyone finding her.”
“Funny, that was my guess, as well,” the older officer says, leaning forward. “I think that’s all the questions we have for you, Mr. Blackthorne. Thanks for your time.” Pushing to his feet, he reaches out a hand, which I shake from across the desk.
“Of course. Anything I can do to help the investigation, I’m happy to assist.”
“One more question.” Once again, the rookie buries his face in his notes, his eyeballs shifting back and forth as they scan the page. “She worked for you a couple years. Why would you suddenly decide she wasn’t the right fit out of the blue?”
“I try not to delve too deeply into the personal affairs of those I employ, but I will say, there’s been a gradual decline in her performance. We recently had an incident where she left without informing anyone, which put my mother at risk. I also found her to be increasingly impatient with my mother.”
“Do you mind if I … chat with your mother for a minute?”
“I do. My mother won’t be any assistance to you. Her mental faculties aren’t what they used to be.”
“Still, it might be--”
“We’re not chatting with Mrs. Blackthorne. We’ve got more pressing issues than a drug addict who decided to hole herself up for the weekend and overdose on heroin.”
“Of course. Thank you for your time, Mr. Blackthorne.”
The officers exit my office, along with Rand, who didn’t bother to say a word from the time he showed them in up until now. I pour myself a drink, carrying the glass back to my desk, and pulling out my phone, I check my texts.
The last one I received was Makaio, telling me Isa had apparently left the bar to walk back home. Why? No idea. On the way back, though, it appeared she caught on and ran from him, through the park. And that’s when Makaio got in touch with me.
I dial his number, which he answers on the second ring. “Yeah, Boss, I found her.”
“And?”
“She’s okay. Shaken up a bit. Some little pricks in the park were messing with her.”
“I trust you intervened.”
“That I did.”
“Everyone still has a pulse?” I pitch back the entire glass of liquor, trying to erase the mind-numbing exercise of having entertained an infant cop for the last hour.
“Yes.”
“Good. I don’t need another investigation thrown in my lap.”
“Rest assured, I only smacked them around a bit.”
“Enough to serve as a warning, I hope.”
“I don’t think they’ll mess with her again. And if they do, I’ll be sure to make it clearer.”
The comment makes me smile as I fill another glass of bourbon. “I want her brought directly to my office when you arrive.”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
As I hang up the phone, the elevator dings, and Rand strides toward me.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” I ask, falling back into my chair and kicking my feet up on the desk.
“I can assure you, I carried out your orders to the T. I let the woman know we were aware of the private investigator, and I let her go. That was the last I saw, or heard, from her.”