Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Dante
Jasper stops in front of my desk and cocks a hip. “You were asking for me?”
Suppressing a sigh, I close my laptop. The caffeine from my morning coffee has barely kicked in. I’m not ready to deal with her attitude.
The best way to shut her up is to just take her phone and purse from the drawer and hand them to her.
She stares at the items in her hands as if they’re two-headed snakes.
My tone is dry. “A simple thank you will do.”
“Fuck you.”
There we go.
I narrow my eyes. “I’d choose my language more carefully if I were you.”
She holds up the phone. “What’s this supposed to mean?”
Dismissing her with a wave of my hand, I open my laptop again and turn my attention back to the screen. “You’re free to go.”
Instead of being pleased, she sounds downright angry. “Just like that?”
I look back at her. Yep, definitely angry.
Ah. This is the part where I’m supposed to express my gratitude.
My smile is flat. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Noah and Tatiana.”
She presses her splayed fingertips on the edge of my desk, putting us on eye level. “Why?”
I return my focus to the document in front of me. “Why what?”
“Why are you letting me go?”
I meet her gaze again. “I told you I would once I’ve brought Tatiana and Noah home.”
Her upper lip curls. “You mean once you’d married her and taken her shares.”
“Yes,” I say, not missing a beat.
“Aren’t you scared I’ll go to the authorities? I may. I know you know that. How do I know you won’t order Reino to put a bullet in my brain the moment I turn my back to walk through the door?”
“Jesus, Jasper. You can turn down the dramatics a notch. If anyone has to shoot you, it’ll be me, and you know very well I won’t shoot you in the back. That’s not my style.”
“How comforting to know.” She straightens and crosses her arms. “At least you’ll look me in the eyes.”
Giving voice to the sigh I repressed earlier, I lean back in my chair. “I won’t have to shoot you because you’re not going to run to the police. You’re cleverer than that. Doing so will only create more problems for Tatiana, and you care too much about her to put her life in danger.”
She pales. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Did you find out something about her disappearance?”
I lie without blinking. “No.”
She drops her arms at her sides. “Is she going to be all right?”
“If it’s up to me, yes.”
Biting her lip, she considers me for a moment. “She asked me about the scars, you know.”
I tense. “What did you tell her?”
“The truth. She wanted to know if I were aware of how it happened, so I said yes. She didn’t want me to go into the details. She said she wasn’t ready.”
I steeple my fingers, recalling the moment she saw those marks in the mirror. “She told me the same thing.”
Jasper’s eyebrows knit together. “Sometimes, I think it’s better that she doesn’t remember.”
I study her. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to send her packing so soon. The main reason I want to get rid of Jasper is because I’m worried that she’d say something to Tatiana about the past that could upset the apple cart. Jasper is a good friend to Tatiana, but I’d rather not take the risk.
Understanding only too well, I nod. “Me and you both.”
And although I do want Tatiana to get better, I also prefer that she doesn’t remember the traumatic parts of her life, including the fact that I killed her parents. That’s the naked, ugly truth.
Yet she has to recover her memory. There’s no other choice.
If she doesn’t, I may never know what she did with the necklace.
I’ve turned this city upside down, and I haven’t dug up a single clue.
Tatiana could’ve hidden it in a million-and-one places.
She hadn’t stripped the diamonds and sold them on the black market.
If she had, I wouldn’t have found her in such poverty in Denver.
Jasper lifts her chin. “I think I should stay. She still needs me.”
“She needs time alone with her family.”
She pulls her eyes into slits. “Are you saying I’m a third wheel?”
“I’m saying you’re overstaying your welcome.”
She gasps. “I’m not the one who kidnapped myself.”
“You’re un-kidnapped. Ulysses will drive you home. I suggest you start packing.”
She glowers, cutting me to pieces with her gaze.
The ringtone of my phone saves me from having to continue this conversation. I grab my phone from the desk and check the screen.
Jasper spins on her heel and marches from my office.
“You’re welcome to come visit,” I call after her as I swipe the button to answer the call.
She slams the door behind her.
Raking my fingers through my hair, I take a deep breath. “Tell me you have answers.”
“I sure do,” my forensics expert says in a southern drawl.
Armand is as little French as his name. He’s originally from Louisiana. Maybe his mother had a crush on some old European dude.
“I found traces of gunpowder and hydrogen peroxide, which confirms that your wife had been in an explosion.”
“Is there anything particular about the components, maybe an ingredient that’s rare?”
“I’m afraid not. You can buy that stuff at any hardware and ammunitions store.”
“What else?”
“The clothes only contained DNA of Mrs. Morici, but there’s a fingerprint on the pearls that doesn’t match hers.”
I still. “Have you sent it to me?”
“I’m doing so as we speak.”
“Anything else?”
“Nothing useful. Do you want the clothes back?”
“Destroy everything.”
“As you wish. I’ll send you the bill. You can use the usual account number.”
The line goes dead.
A notification announces the arrival of a message in the encryption app on my laptop. I open it to confirm that it’s from Armand before I send the fingerprint to our hacker to see what he can find in the public and police records.
Someone knocks on the door.
Reino opens it without waiting for my invitation, which means whatever business brought him to my study is urgent.
I give him my full attention.
He only speaks when he’s entered and closed the door behind him. “I found a body.”
“Where?”
“Colorado. A private helicopter is waiting at the landing bay on the quay.”
“Go with the pilot. Make sure our tracks are clean.” I give him a meaningful look. “No matter how you have to do it.”
“Got it.”
He leaves fast, knowing what he must do.
After sending another message to my hacker, warning him to be on standby, I get to my feet and grab my jacket from the back of the chair.
In a couple of hours, Stacia Delacy will be dead, and so will the bank employees. I check my watch. The catamaran the PR agency rented for their team building session has just left the harbor for the open sea.