Till Death(89)

Swallowing, I nodded for a third time. “I understand.”

He leaned forward, resting an arm on the table. “What we’re guessing is that someone moved the body in here at night. You have an alarm. Who knows the code?”

“Not many. My mom,” I said. “James Jordan—our chef. So did Angela and Daphne. But that’s it.”

“Do you think there is a chance that someone moved her in here before you set the alarm?” he asked.

“It’s . . . it’s possible. We don’t watch the entrances, but I think we’d hopefully notice someone carrying in . . . in a body through the front doors.” I reached up, tucking my hair back. “The only other way would be through the back entrance. Someone could carry someone in that way, up the back stairs, and not be seen, but we keep that door locked and the tunnel leading into the cellar is closed off.”

“Is it possible that someone could’ve gained a key to the back entrance?”

My first response was to say no but it wasn’t impossible. “Nothing is impossible.”

“You keep extras with the rest of the keys in the back room?” he asked.

When I nodded, he patted the table and told me he would be back down. Tyron made good on his words when he walked back through the dining room with another officer and the forensic investigator who’d been here before.

Then I was alone, and I didn’t know for how long. All I could think about was the fact that someone had been in here again without our knowledge, but this time they weren’t just snatching a key. They were carrying a body upstairs.

Could it be Currie?

He’d been here yesterday morning. Maybe he grabbed a key and made a copy at some point. God knows how many times he’d used that entrance before I’d run into him. He could’ve taken her upstairs, found an empty room and left her body there, jacking up the heat before leaving—leaving and coming to me.

If it wasn’t him, then was it the mayor? Killing someone and leaving their body here was enough to make me want to leave, but again, his involvement made no sense.

Footsteps snagged my attention, and I lifted my head.

Cole appeared in the doorway, his jaw a hard line and eyes icy. He said nothing as he stormed forward, brushing Myers aside. I hadn’t even realized the agent had entered the room. How long had he been there?

I honestly didn’t care about him at the moment.

I rose and went to Cole, meeting him halfway. His arms came around me, his fingers digging deep in my hair.

Pressing my face against his chest, I felt the burn in my throat and behind my eyes, but the tears didn’t come. No matter how tight Cole held me or how hard I squeezed him back.

But I wasn’t numb.

I was scared.



“I want you to pack a couple of days’ worth of clothes.” Cole was standing in the center of the kitchen. Twenty minutes ago, the FBI agents had filed out. “Same with your mom. She can stay in my guest room. Tomorrow, when the cleanup company is scheduled to come over, I’ll meet them here.”

I nodded slowly, this time not arguing. I didn’t want to stay here. Even with the . . . the body gone, this place, as terrible as it was to admit, was tainted for me. I knew, or at least I hoped, it would fade one day. It had to, but right now, I needed the distance.

So did Mom.

“She’s not going to be happy with it,” I said, placing the salad Mom had been making in the trash. “But I agree. We both need to get out of here.”

“It’ll do you both some good.” He leaned against the island while I grabbed the cutting board and took it to the sink. “But it’s more than that, Sasha.”

My stomach tightened as I added the board to the bowls and turned on the water. “I know.”

He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to scare you.”

Swallowing, I looked over my shoulder. “I’m already scared. You can’t scare me anymore.”

The skin around his lips tensed. “Sasha—”

“I know.” I turned back to the sink and picked up the sponge. “I know what is happening,” I said, scrubbing at the bowls. “I know that Angela and the woman from Frederick suffered horrible deaths. I know that the woman—that Liz—died in a horrific way. It doesn’t matter if it’s a copycat or if it’s someone who was working with the Groom ten years ago. They all died in horrible ways.”

“Stop,” he said quietly.

Turning the bowl over and running it under clean water, I kept going. “And I know that whoever is doing this is going to come for me. I know.” My throat dried. “Or maybe he won’t. Maybe he’s just doing this because—”

“Sasha.”

“Because I got away.” My voice cracked as I picked up another bowl. “Maybe this is punishment. Maybe—”

“Stop,” he said, closer. “Stop and look at me.”

“I need to clean these dishes,” I told him, clearing my throat. “I don’t want to come back to a bunch of dirty dishes. And I don’t want Mom—”

“Babe . . .”

Inhaling slowly, I squinted at the bowl. Was that a seed stuck? I started scrubbing again. “I’m almost done and then I will go pack—”

Cole reached around and turned off the water. Then he took the sponge from my hand and tossed it into the sink. “These bowls can’t get any cleaner.”