Chapter 24
The front door opened before I had a chance to knock. Mia had been expecting me, and she wasn’t alone. A man stood just behind her. He was well over six feet tall and neatly dressed. He looked like someone who took pride in his appearance.
“Hey, Mia,” I said.
“Hey,” she replied, stepping aside. “Come on in.”
As I stepped inside, she turned, gesturing toward the man. “This is Simon Sullivan, the man I told you about. The one I met at the conference.”
He smiled, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
His grip was firm.
“All good things, I hope,” I said.
He nodded. “She said you’re already making progress on her sister’s case, which is impressive.”
“I’m doing my best.”
He gave a slight laugh, like he appreciated my honest answer.
“Mia told me about your theory regarding the killer’s motive,” he said. “If Wren was killed by mistake then I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. I don’t think she should be alone until we know who’s after her and what they want. Which is why I’m here.”
Until we know who’s after her?
He’d said it in a way that was protective. Almost too protective.
As far as I was concerned, there was no we.
They were just starting to get to know each other.
I wasn’t sure why it bothered me, but it did.
“I was just on my way out,” he said, turning back to Mia. “I’ll come by later and bring dinner, like we talked about.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
He smiled, tipping his head at me as he headed out the door, and I turned, watching him walk down the path, noticing the confident and controlled manner in which he carried himself.
The door closed behind him, and Mia let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. When you texted me, I meant to let you know he was here, and then we got to talking, and I lost track of time.”
“When did he arrive?”
“Last night,” she said. “He’s staying at the Cliffton Villas in town.”
I nodded. “Did you invite him to come for a visit?”
“No, he surprised me. We’ve been talking a lot more about seeing each other in the last couple of weeks, but I didn’t expect him to show up without talking to me first.”
“Do you think he came because he’s worried about you, like he said?”
She hesitated, then said, “Part of me thinks it’s because of everything that’s happened. He knew it might be a while before we saw each other again, and he wanted to see me as much as I wanted to see him.”
“And the other part?”
“Even though I told him about the patrol car out front, he’s worried about something happening to me.”
It explained why he’d come across as protective as he had, though I was still bothered by it.
“He also didn’t like the idea of being so far away from me, so he decided to come for a visit, hoping I’d be okay with the idea,” she said.
“Are you okay with it?”
“Because he’s not staying here, I am.”
“How long is he staying? Has he said?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it yet.”
It was a question that needed to be asked.
“Do you mind if we sit?” I asked.
“Not at all.”
We stepped onto the porch and sat down. Coco wandered outside behind Mia, settling near her feet, her tail giving a slow wag.
“In your text, you said there was something you needed to tell me.”
“I went to Paso Robles this morning,” I said.
“To see Christian?”
I nodded.
“And?” she asked.
“What I’m about to say next is going to be a little hard for you to take.”
“Oh … kay.”
“Christian is dead.”
Mia stiffened, her fingers gripping the arms of the chair.
“What do you mean he’s dead?” she asked.
“He was in a car accident two months ago.”
She shook her head. “No, that can’t be right.”
“I wish it wasn’t,” I said. “I spoke with his mother, Bernice. She was at his house when I arrived, packing up some of his things.”
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then her eyes filled with tears.
“I had no idea,” she said. “No one told me.”
“I don’t think anyone knew what to say,” I said. “Or maybe they assumed someone else had already reached out.”
“It doesn't change the fact that I deserved to know. Things between us weren’t good, but I never stopped caring about him. I wouldn’t have wanted this for him.” Her gaze drifted away. “What did his mother tell you?”
“She told me you called her when you were thinking about breaking up with Christian.”
“I did. I didn’t know how else to handle it, and I needed advice.”
“She had a lot of nice things to say about you.”
I paused, trying to decide whether I should mention the fact that Christian was attempting to send her a text message when he died, which could have been the cause of the accident.
Telling her wouldn’t make a difference now, and it wouldn’t change the outcome, but if she was going to hear it from someone, I’d rather it be me.
“There’s something else you should know,” I said. “When the accident happened, the police feel confident Christian was writing a text message, one he planned to send to you.”
“Me? Is that why he had the accident? You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I don’t even want to think about it. It’s too much right now.”
“I understand.”
I allowed the topic of Christian to settle before shifting back to the case. “Mia, I’ve spoken to almost everyone we’ve discussed so far. Christian and Renee are no longer possibilities. I’m running out of people to question.”
She nodded but said nothing.
“It means one of two things,” I continued. “Either the murderer has done a great job of eluding me, or we’ve overlooked someone and why that person would want you dead.”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about the names I gave you since we last talked, going over everything and everyone.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. No one else stands out.”
“I’d like you to give more thought to your past and your present. People at work, people you’ve dated. Friends, past and present. Neighbors. Anyone you might have crossed without realizing it.”
“I will,” she said.
For now, it was all I could ask.
We chatted for a few more minutes, and I stood. “I should get going.”
“Thank you for telling me about Christian, even if it wasn’t easy for me to hear.”
“You deserved to know what happened.”
As I walked away, my thoughts moved in too many directions at once. I tried bringing them into focus, and I thought about Simon. I couldn’t get him out of my mind. There was something about him. Something almost familiar. But I was certain we’d never met before.
I pulled away from the curb, my mind turning it over, trying to place him.
His face, his voice.
I drove down the street, the house shrinking in the rearview mirror as I got farther away. Halfway down the block, it hit me, hard, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
Simon Sullivan had lied to me.