Chapter 47
“Sorry, we’re closed.”
Liam’s bright blue eyes glow in the dark with something wicked and manic. He takes one look at the “weapons” in my hands and smirks.
Well, it was worth a shot.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, mustering all the confidence I can into my shaky voice.
“I believe you have something of mine.” He’s still the smooth-talking Liam women might throw themselves at, but there’s a desperation in his demeanor. A man with something at risk.
“If you want the dog sweaters back, you’ll have to call 1-800-Suck It.”
“Ah, Amelia, you are so fun.”
“I’d like to think so. Now where’s Leah?”
“Who?”
“The woman you’re holding hostage. I swear if you hurt even one hair on her head we are going to have words.”
He flashes me a British flirt kind of smile. “Are we not having words now?”
“Nope. Put that charming accent away. It won’t work on me, conman.”
He lifts an amused brow. “That is truly unfortunate; I was having such a good time with you.”
“Watch it, buddy.” I hold the hair dryer higher and he throws both hands up in front of him like I’m wielding a real weapon. “Now I want you to leave and call the police.” For my first time arguing with a criminal, I think I’m doing quite well. It’s all about confidence.
He laughs and drops his hands. “Why would I call the police?”
“To turn yourself in.”
“Turn myself in?” he rolls his lips, playing with the words like they are foreign. “But I didn’t do anything wrong.”
The lies these criminals tell themselves.
“Then give me your phone so I can call the police.”
He lifts a brow. “You don’t have your phone? That’s not very responsible. What if you come across someone dangerous?”
“Like you?”
He rolls his eyes and takes a step closer.
I hold the hair dryer higher and pull the aerosol out of my shirt.
He cocks a brow. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Is that what you told Justin right before you stabbed him in the heart?”
His eyes narrow. “I didn’t kill Justin. I didn’t kill anyone!” he yells.
“Careful, you’re becoming unhinged.” Like a psychopath.
He steps closer. “Look, I just need that box. Tell me where you hid it and I’ll disappear again.”
“Why?” I counter his movements, stepping back when he steps forward.
He scrubs a hand over a beard that’s new since the last time I saw him. “Why do you keep asking questions?”
“Because that’s what they do in the movies. The villain always explains their motives, giving the victim time to think of an escape.” Shoot, I just gave up my whole plan!
His lips curve up. “And did you?”
Not even a little bit. It’s harder than it looks trying to get the killer to confess, and look for an escape route, and not die in the process. “Not yet. Keep talking.”
Amusement dances in his eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous, Amelia. Put your toys away and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“I’ll keep my hair products, thank you. But feel free to spill your guts. How did you know my parents?”
He purses his lips, debating for a full minute before finally speaking. “I met them twice. Once in New York.”
Hearing him say those words knocks the breath out of my lungs. I wanted him to deny that he knew them, that it was all a big misunderstanding. But it wasn’t.
My hand holding the hair dryer trembles. “Explain.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “They caught me at a bad time. I was…running from something. I knocked over your poor mom and felt terrible. I knelt down to help and accidentally grabbed your dad’s black bag instead of my own when I left. I didn’t notice until I made it to, uh…safety.”
“The jewelry box was in your bag?” I ask. It was never my grandmother’s.
He nods. “It took me a couple of weeks to track your parents down, and when I finally found them again, they were in Italy.”
The blood drains from my face and I stomp toward him, hair dryer raised high. “Did you run them off the road? Did you kill them for a stupid box?”
He jumps back. “No! I just searched their room. I quickly realized they were on vacation and didn’t have the box with them. I approached them then and told them what had happened. But they didn’t believe the box was mine. They thought I stole it. They were correct on that one.” He smirks. “I did steal it.”
“You talked to them?” I whisper, like that last conversation was something special simply because it was their last.
“They’d already had the box appraised and realized it was worth a lot of money. They weren’t going to hand it over to just anyone. But they hadn’t realized it was stolen until I approached them about it,” Liam continues like he didn’t hear me. “They didn’t know it was Scarlett’s, or I assume they would have turned it over to the police. Along with me.”
Scarlett…Winthrop. His girlfriend.
“They told me to leave, so I did. But I kept an eye on them. Saw them buy a painting, and saw your mom in the room taking the painting apart and making her own. It looked suspicious, so I snagged my own from the local museum and tried to intercept their painting, but it got lost. I’d planned on following them home, but…”
They never made it.
“I’ve been keeping an eye on you ever since.”
“What?” He watched me…for years?
He purses his lips. “But I didn’t come in person until that package addressed to your parents was scanned into the States.”
My brain is a muddled mess, on the verge of combusting. He knew we had received that package and came looking for it. He saw the painting in the museum and took it, but the key wasn’t there. That’s when he went to my apartment and found Justin. And killed him.
“There was something with the painting, wasn’t there? And you found it?” Liam asks, advancing on me like a lion sneaking up on its prey. “Let me guess, a key to a safety deposit box?”
I flinch and he grins. “Americans. So predictable.”
“You said you watched me before you came…but how?”
“I have my ways.” He shrugs.
“Justin?”
He purses his lips. “He helped a bit. But darling, you should really leave your webcam off when you’re using your laptop. And install a firewall on your devices.”
The ground sinks away below my feet and I will my body not to fall through the hole he created in my world.
“No.” I stagger back. What did he see? But more than that…“Justin used me?”
He sighs like I’m being dramatic. “That’s not your biggest problem.”
He’s right. He’s my biggest problem and it’s time to get rid of him. “I don’t want to hear anymore.” I shove the bottle of hairspray at him, finger pressed down on the nozzle.
Nothing happens. Stupid hairspray.
“Okay, please put that away. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He sighs and pulls a gun out from behind his back. “Just give me the box Amelia, and no one will get hurt.”
A shiver wracks through my body, I’m cold and wet, and now very upset. I eye the evil device. “I’ve never had a gun pulled on me before. I’m not a fan.”
“You get used to it.” He shrugs.
What about Leah? Am I supposed to believe he’s going to release her if I give him this box? A jewelry box isn’t worth someone’s life. I don’t have a choice. I can’t fight him, but even if I did and happened to overpower him, how would I find Leah?
“Okay, okay, the box is in my locker,” I say, defeated, for the moment. I’ll figure a way out of this somehow.
“There, was that so hard?”
“Just so you know, I was on your side. I didn’t believe you could do horrible things,” I say, fumbling with my locker.
“You did provide the FBI with an excellent distraction, so I thank you for that,” Liam says.
I pause. “How did you know the FBI was following you?” He must have gotten rid of the agent posted at my door.
“One, I’m not dumb, and two, they aren’t very subtle. But I let them have their fun and think they were doing the world a favor by following me. It was incredibly easy to lose them. You’ll have to tell your boyfriend to work harder.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I throw my hip into the locker then punch it when it still doesn’t budge.
Liam raises his brow at my antics. “Do you need help?”
“No. Please continue your guilty monologue, I was enjoying it. Why did you date me anyway?”
“I’m not going to lie, I thought that would be the easiest route. Women can’t resist an accent.”
“You assumed I’d roll over and give you whatever you wanted?” I heft the jewelry box out of the locker, testing its weight in my hands. It’s dim in here. He might not see it coming. But I’ve never been very confident with my aim. And what if I miss? I die. Leah dies. I can’t risk it.
Crash.
I turn, startled to see Gary standing over Liam’s body on the floor, the potted plant I used to talk to smashed to pieces around Liam’s head.
“Gary?” I half squeal, half yell. Hope soars in my chest.
“Did I get him?” Gary asks, his eyes still closed.
“What are you doing here?” I shove the jewelry box into my bag and leap over Liam’s unconscious body in the doorway, feeling weightless. We can make it. I’ll call Caleb and everything will be okay.
“You told me to come get my hair cut yesterday, remember?” Gary says. “I want to look my best for Darla. She’s coming tomorrow, you know.”
I told him that two weeks ago. But I’ve never been so grateful for his faulty memory.
His expression turns from wistful to concerned. “That man had a gun.”
“He’s a bad guy. We need to leave. Hurry.” I grab his arm, hurrying him to the door. “How did you get here?”
His eyes twinkle as he holds up his keys. “I drove.”
I snatch the keys out of his hand. I’ll have to address that problem later, but not right now. All that matters is getting to safety. Gary opens the passenger door and I run to the driver’s side of the car and jump in, locking the door behind me. “I can’t believe you saved me,” I say, reaching over to squeeze his hand. I’ll bring him tacos every Tuesday, forever.
“I told you I used to be a Navy Seal.” He puffs out his chest.
“Yes, you did. Are you okay?” I ask, trying desperately to conceal my anxiety. It’s not like we are running for our lives or anything.
“Almost.” Gary pulls something from behind his back and—
Gun. He’s got a gun.
“Give me the jewelry box.”
“Gary?” I squeak.
He flicks the safety off and my pulse skitters to a stop. “You should have drunk the tea, Amelia.”