Chapter Thirty-four
It’s so obvious that someone other than Liam is texting me.
No way would Liam commit to helping me find Zoe and then take an out-of-town job so quickly.
No way he’d make those promises to me and then turn around and break them.
So if it isn’t Liam, who is it?
It doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.
Zoe’s killer. It has to be. After he said goodbye to me in the shower, he left my apartment and followed his lead, whatever it was. He must have actually found the guy. And now the guy has Liam.
I breathe deeply through spike after spike of adrenaline. The phone shakes in my hands.
Why this person is texting me instead of turning the phone off, I don’t know.
Phones are traceable, aren’t they? But there are more pressing questions.
Namely, is Liam OK? Is he even still alive?
And why didn’t he wait until I could go with him?
If he hadn’t struck out alone, if he’d had me for backup—
But this is not the time for what-ifs. I have to deal with what’s happening. I have to think clearly.
And the first thing I have to do is make extra-extra sure this isn’t Liam. Because if I want Barnett on my side, I can’t just call him with a theory. I need proof.
With trembling fingers, I type. OK. Before you go, is that Ramone guy you mentioned still a suspect?
If it’s really Liam, he’ll either be really confused, or remember it’s the name I christened the ceramic squirrel with.
I stare at the three dots as they appear and disappear. I’m surprised my phone doesn’t burst into pieces from how hard I’m gripping it. Finally, a response appears.
Haven’t ruled it out. Sorry, really have to go. Catch you around?
And there’s my proof. Which is good. And … fuck. So, so bad.
I thumbs-up his text.
I dial Barnett immediately. Of course it goes to voicemail; story of my life.
I try to pace myself, stay calm and coherent.
‘Hi, Detective Barnett. It’s Margot. You know Liam Porter, the guy I thought was a serial killer?
Well, now I know he’s a PI, and I’m guessing you do too, since you didn’t arrest him …
Anyway, he left yesterday morning to follow a lead related to Zoe, and now someone is texting me from his phone and I know it’s not him.
I think Zoe’s killer has him. I need your help to find him before it’s too late.
’ I share Liam’s cell number, then mine for good measure, and hang up.
For a second, I debate calling 911 – but I’m not sure they can do anything, since I don’t even know where Liam is.
Maybe they can trace the cell towers where these texts pinged, and get closer to his location?
But how long will that take? Too long. And if he’s still alive, I have to get to him now.
‘Think, Margot,’ I say out loud, even though my thundering senses are making it difficult.
If I could just figure out what this ‘lead’ was …
I try to remember our last conversation.
He was making eggs. I walk into the kitchen.
Even though this morning I grabbed the purse essentials before heading to the gallery, there’s still a big mess on the counter that hasn’t moved.
I close my eyes. He said he’d been up since five, and had done some reading about Brooke Walsh but found nothing.
We ate. We talked more. Then I went to the shower. He came in to say goodbye …
Wait.
The kitchen feels different. I don’t know why, I just feel it. I open my eyes again and scan slowly. Skillet in the drying rack … stove looking really clean … overfull trash, as usual … and my purse mess – Rubik’s Cube, ratty tissues, photo book …
Photo book. It’s open. I snatch it up. It’s a page I haven’t seen yet.
The picture on the left is just of Zoe, smiling in front of a birthday cake with candles and a big, frosted number sixteen. But the picture on the right—
Holy fuck. I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Zoe, in black jeans and a band T-shirt with her hair long down her shoulders, her arm slung around someone else. And even though his hair is shorter, I’d know those haunted eyes anywhere.
Devin.
My brain pulses in my skull as things snap into place.
Devin knew Zoe in high school. And it looks like they were close.
Oh my God – Devin Donaghy. Deedee. He was Zoe’s best friend.
I’d always assumed Deedee was a girl, but I was wrong.
Devin is the one Zoe ran away with at sixteen.
The one who was sent to military school as punishment, before they lost touch.
They must have reconnected at the funeral home, whether by chance or on purpose.
Maybe he was in love with Zoe. Maybe Zoe didn’t reciprocate.
This has occurred to me before, but now that I know how far back they go, it seems even more likely.
I could absolutely see him being one of those possessive types that think, if I can’t have her, no one can have her.
He’d lost her once after their high school escapade.
Maybe he wasn’t willing to lose her again.
He had a weird vibe from the start that I was an idiot to dismiss so quickly.
Funny that the documentary I have on is talking about dragonfish, since that’s the first fish that came to mind when I met Devin, freshly ascended from the dark depths of the crematory.
What are the odds that this segment would come on today?
I don’t believe in signs, but damn, this feels like it could be one, nudging me toward the predator.
He must have been the one to steal Zoe’s ashes after all.
I pace the living room. My skin itches, like ants are racing up and down it. OK. Liam saw this picture. Recognized Devin. And went – where? To Anderson & Pulaski? To Devin’s house? I don’t have his address – but I can get it.
I grab my phone and dial work.
‘Anderson and Pulaski, how can I help you?’ says Elsie’s voice, as flat and personality-less as ever.
‘It’s Margot. Is Devin there?’
‘I’m sorry, he’s not available.’
‘But is he there?’
‘I’m sorry, but—’
‘Cut the shit, Elsie! I need your help! I think Devin—’ Do I say it? Why the hell not. ‘I think Devin is hurting my friend right now. I need to know, is he at work?’
She pauses. ‘He’s not here. He hasn’t been in since yesterday around lunch. He got a call and said he had to go take care of something.’
Oh, no.
‘I need his home address.’
‘You know I’m not allowed to share—’
‘Someone could die!’ I shriek. ‘This is real, Elsie! Shit is going down! Please stop being so calm and give me his fucking address!’
There’s a silence, and then, miraculously, she’s reciting it.
I quickly write it down. Based on the street numbers, it’s an address on the South Side.
I can practically hear Elsie’s lips purse through the phone. ‘If this really is life and death like you’re saying, you should call 911.’
‘Yeah, they’re not going to do anything.’
I hang up before she can say anything else.
I do call Barnett again and leave another message with Devin’s address. Then, as per usual, I text the address to George next with a I need you to call the cops if I’m not in touch within 2 hours.
I wait for her to acknowledge it, but nothing comes. Well, I can’t wait for backup. Liam’s life could depend on it. I’ve sent my pleas for help and now I move forward.
I grab my purse and check all the weapons while my mind also tries to go through the steps of getting out of a chokehold, but it’s been a while, dammit, and I don’t have time for a refresher from the old spandex lady.
As I approach the door, the TV cuts into my awareness again.
‘… the female black dragonfish, meanwhile, thanks to the nanocrystals in their teeth, possess a bite stronger than that of a shark. In fact, it is only the females who feed, hunt and possess the distinctive fang-like teeth that allow them to …’
I stop cold. The screen is displaying shocking images of the extremely ugly female black dragonfish.
Huh. I could’ve sworn I’d heard every bizarre fish fact out there, but somehow, I missed this one.
I click the TV off even as something scratches at my brain – but it’s no time to be thinking fish thoughts.
Liam’s life is on the line. Maybe Brooke’s too.
It’s finally time to put my weapons to good use.