52. Lincoln
52
LINCOLN
My gaze swept over the crowd as Luca and Keely did some sort of hopped-up-on-sugar dance in the middle of the gallery, joined by Benny and other faces I recognized from the kids’ workshop. But I didn’t see Arden anywhere.
I tried to pinpoint the last time I’d seen her in the crowd but, honestly, I wasn’t sure. That had an unsettled feeling sweeping over me. Moving through the guests, I found Trace talking to an older woman I didn’t recognize. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said to the woman, then turned. “Trace, have you seen Arden?”
He was instantly on alert. “Not since you had that big showdown with the douchebag.”
The woman let out a laugh. “Douchebag is the right term for him. Good job kicking him to the curb.”
I forced a smile. “Happy to do it.”
Trace placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It was good to see you, Louise. If you’ll excuse me, I need to hunt down my sister.”
She waved him off. “Of course, you boys enjoy your evening. ”
“You, too,” I said, but I was already moving into the crowd, Trace at my side.
Isaiah looked up from chatting with two women. “Everything okay?”
“We can’t find Arden,” I said, my voice tight.
“I think she was going to check on the bartender.”
I nodded, instantly moving in that direction. A female bartender worked the station, handing out glasses of wine, sodas, and mixed cocktails. I didn’t even consider the rudeness of cutting a waiting patron off when I stepped up to the bar. “Have you seen Arden?”
The woman’s brows lifted slightly. “She was going to get me more wine and vodka. But that was a little bit ago.”
I shared a glance with Trace, my anxiety mounting. A muscle in his jaw ticked. “She probably got held up by someone she knows.”
God, I hoped that was the case.
“What’s going on?” Farah asked as she walked up wearing her usual artist’s black. The only color present on her was the red slicked across her mouth.
“We’re looking for Arden,” I said, tension strangling my voice.
She grinned at me. “Man, you really are a goner, aren’t you? Can’t go five minutes without your girl. It’s adorable, really. I?—”
“Farah,” I cut her off. “Have you seen her?”
“She went to get more of the booze I stashed in Hannah’s supply closet.”
I didn’t wait to answer; Trace and I were already moving. We strode through the crowd and down the hall, coming up short at the doorway to Hannah’s studio. As we stepped inside, I heard it. Voices.
“Hannah, let’s just take a breath.”
Arden’s voice sent relief sliding through me, but not for long.
“I don’t want to take a goddamned breath,” Hannah snapped. “I want you to stop stealing all Isaiah’s attention. I want you to stop being such a show-off. It’s always about you . Your art. Your hatred of the press. Your stupid charity projects.”
“I’m not?—”
“But he falls for it every time,” Hannah screeched. “He doesn’t know who you really are. That you’re manipulating him. That you’re just doing it all so he’ll fall for you. But it’s not going to work.”
He doesn’t know who you really are.
The note we’d found on Arden’s windshield flashed in my mind. I KNOW WHO YOU REALLY ARE.
That was what this was all about? Isaiah? The note, destroying Arden’s studio, shooting at us?
Trace held up a hand, silently pulling a gun from the holster under his suit jacket. As he stepped farther into the main studio space, I followed behind. In a matter of steps, the closet’s opening came into view.
Hannah’s back was to us, Arden trapped inside, but it was the glint of silver metal that had my heart lurching. A knife.
My gaze connected with Arden’s over the top of Hannah’s head, and I swore relief swept through those gray-violet eyes. But it only made my gut tighten. Because there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to help her.
And I wasn’t sure Trace could either. The space was too tight. If he took a shot, it could go through Hannah and hit Arden.
“Hannah,” Trace said, his voice taking on a robotic quality, one devoid of emotion. “This is the Mercer County Sheriff’s Department. Put your weapon down.”
The redhead whirled but kept the knife pointed at Arden. “No, no, no.” Her free hand tugged at her hair in desperate jerks. “You can’t be here. You can’t. This is my place. Mine and Isaiah’s. You can’t be here. And she can’t either.”
Hannah lunged forward like a fencer, and Arden narrowly avoided the jab.
“Hannah,” Trace warned. “Don’t do that. You move like that again, and I’ll have no choice but to shoot you. And I don’t want to do that.”
“You do want. You do.” Hannah tugged harder on her hair. “Because then she’ll have him. You’ll kill me, and she’ll take him.”
“She doesn’t want him.” I spoke the words before really thinking them through. I knew you really couldn’t reason with someone whose mind had warped in this way, but I had to try.
Hannah turned angry eyes in my direction. “I feel sorry for you. She’s just fooling you, too. Pretending to be someone she’s not. She’s greedy. One is never enough for her.”
“Linc is the only person for me,” Arden whispered. “The only one I want, now and forever.”
Everything in me tightened to the point of pain, ready to shatter into endless pieces. “Vicious.”
“Love you,” she croaked.
“LIES!” Hannah screamed the word, pulling harder at her hair. “Everything is lies. Even your art. Everyone thinks you’re so good, but it’s just scrap metal and bland paint. It’s nothing. Just like you.”
“Is that why you destroyed her studio?” Trace asked, his voice still remarkably calm.
“I destroyed her lies,” Hannah spat. “Isaiah wouldn’t stop talking about it that day. How amazing it was that Arden had organized all those workshops. How much the kids loved her. I couldn’t take it. I had to let her know that I saw the real her, that she couldn’t hide behind that do-no-wrong facade. She had to stop distracting Isaiah so he could see me .”
Hannah jabbed the knife forward as if to punctuate the point. “I told Isaiah and Farah that I had a headache. That I had to leave. And I did. Her lies make me feel like my head’s going to explode. I’d never lie to Isaiah. Not like you ,” she spat at Arden.
“What did you do, Hannah?” Trace asked softly, trying to keep her talking.
She let out a huff of air. “I know Cope has cameras, so I stole my brother’s football pads, a hoodie, jeans, and that stupid mask he bought for Halloween last year. But it was good because I wanted you scared. It was a warning. But she just wouldn’t listen. She’s too damn selfish.”
I tried to follow her thinking, but the logic seemed to be Hannah’s alone, something that didn’t quite fit. But she held on to it with a death grip .
“So, you tried to shoot her instead?” Trace pressed.
“She deserves to die!” Hannah cried.
Then she lunged again. Arden’s eyes went wide, shock and panic filling them because she had nowhere to go. Hannah let out a scream that sounded more animal than human as Arden tried to evade her. But it was too late.
All I could see was blood.