Midnight Betrayal (Midnight #3)(71)

“Evil?” Conor filled in.

“Yes. Killing two girls to force me back to Maine would be the ultimate self-centered act of evil.” She straightened. “Blaine is both selfish and deviously intelligent, so yes, it’s far-fetched but possible. But it is far more likely that he had a burst of temper over my rejection.”

“If I can’t have her, no one can?”

“Yes.” Louisa nodded. “That I could believe.” She took a long breath. “When we were children, Blaine had a small sailboat. As a punishment for some misdeed, his father took it away and gave it to Blaine’s younger brother. Blaine sank it out of pure spite.”

The fact that Blaine could be crazy jealous, emphasis on the crazy, scared Conor even more. “So you’ll talk to the police again?”

“If you think Blaine could have killed Riki and Zoe, then I’ll have to.” But her discomfort was clear on her face. “They know who Blaine is because he showed up at the ER that night, but even though it’s impossible to prove, they should hear what he did.”

Probably not a good time to go to sleep. Conor located the remote and found the movie they’d been watching in the other room. But no amount of clever cinematography could possibly make an old ghost story as frightening as real-life murder.

His mind reeled with all of Louisa’s revelations about her father, her aunt, and Blaine. Their relationship seemed to have turned a corner tonight, but how could he be sure she wouldn’t hold back on him again? Was she even capable of being in a long-term relationship? And if she wasn’t, what would it do to him?





27


Louisa awoke in a cold, empty bed. Her hand automatically swept the sheets next to her, seeking him.

Where was Conor? She got up, picking up her robe from the floor and putting it on. She tied the sash, remembering the look of raw hunger on Conor’s face when he viewed her naked body. Then his resignation when he refused to have sex with her a second time.

She remembered every moment of the previous night.

He’d been right. Blaine must have put something in her drink at the party. Why did that make her feel better? If anything, the truth made her more of a victim. But it also verified what she’d always known inside and never admitted, not even to herself. Blaine had done more than capitalize on her vulnerability and take advantage of her sadness at her father’s absence, and he’d been lying about that night ever since.

But did Blaine’s actions mean he could kill two young girls? The police hadn’t said whether or not the girls were sexually assaulted. Blaine clearly didn’t have a conscience, but was he a murderer? The theory felt like a huge stretch.

By the time she’d turned sixteen, she’d already fielded his advances numerous times. So Blaine obviously did whatever it took to get what he wanted. Was he doing that now?

Later this morning, she would call Detective Jackson and tell him everything. Perhaps the information, even unsubstantiated, might make the detective look at Blaine more closely.

Fortified by her resolve, she went into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Today was Monday. She had work, she had purpose, and she felt a lot less helpless than she had the night before.

The door opened, and Conor walked in with Kirra. He had a grocery bag in one hand. He unsnapped her leash, and the dog trotted to Louisa for a head rub.

“Has she eaten?” Louisa asked.

“No.” Conor walked into the kitchen and kissed her. “We’re going to have scrambled eggs.” He unloaded eggs, milk, and bread onto the counter. Then he took out a frying pan and went to work on breakfast with the efficiency of a short-order cook. Ten minutes later they were eating eggs and toast at the island.

Kirra sniffed the eggs with little interest, went to the corner, and curled up in the dog bed.

“Her appetite doesn’t seem to be improving.” Louisa pushed her own breakfast away half-eaten, but she doubted the dog’s appetite was affected by worry.

“I’m going to take her back to the vet today. She doesn’t act sick, but she isn’t behaving normally either.” Conor frowned from the dog’s nearly full plate to Louisa’s. “You’re not hungry?”

“Not really.”

“How do you feel?” He turned her head to examine her jaw. “Your bruise is turning a nice shade of green.”

“Terrific. I’m definitely less stiff today, and I think I can do without the Band-Aids on my hands.” She paused. “I remember everything about last night.”

“I knew you would.” His eyes sparked with fierce possessiveness that heated her blood. “I want to track Blaine down and pummel his face.”

“But you don’t think less of me?”

“God, no. Why would I? What I feel for you has nothing to do with anything that happened to you in the past.” He locked gazes with her. His was unyielding. “But I wish you would have told me earlier. I would have been more careful with you.”

Frustration bubbled into Louisa’s throat. “I don’t want more care. I want normal. I want you to treat me like a normal, whole person. If you want to take me standing up against the elevator wall, then I want you to do that without worrying about hurting me.”

“I wasn’t talking about sex. I meant I would have understood why you find it hard to trust. But you are a normal, whole person.” He swiveled his stool to face her squarely.