“What’s up?”
“A package was delivered downstairs,” she said, “without my full address.”
“Have you looked at it?”
“Hell no,” she said. “I don’t even want it up here.”
“Good decision,” he said. “I’ll swing around in about thirty minutes.”
She smiled, and hung up.
When her doorbell rang close to thirty minutes later, it startled her because she’d been sitting in a daze in front of the fire, trying to remember the beautiful model Liana had been. And it was sad that she could barely even remember her features. She had pictures of her from the art installation, but not of this young woman who she was at her core.
She walked to the door, opened it, and there was Richard. He looked at her and said, “You get a houseguest tonight.”
Her jaw dropped. “Why the hell would I need that?”
“Because that parcel wasn’t anywhere near innocent. I can’t stay though. I’m heading back to the station.”
“Who’s coming to stay with me?” she asked in confusion.
“I have a security guard coming.”
“And that won’t make any bit of difference,” she said. “You saw that Graham kept that package from getting to me.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. He turned to motion behind him.
She saw a big man in a police uniform. “Who is he?” she asked in a soft voice.
“Your guard,” he said, “until I get back.”
She glared at him. “Will you tell me what was in that parcel?”
“Do you really want to know?”
But something in his gaze made her wince. “I gather I don’t want to know.”
“Let’s just say, it’s a piece of the last victim.”
The breath washed out of her all at once. “Oh, God,” she said.
He leaned forward, kissed her hard, and said, “Stay put.”
As he walked away, she could hear him giving instructions to the guard. When he was gone, she stepped out, looked at him, and said, “I’m so sorry. This is not a good way to spend your evening.”
The guard looked down at her, grinned, and said, “Standing at your door is a lovely way to spend the evening. It’s what I do. Now please go back inside and stay there.”
She frowned up at him. “Fine,” she said, “but tell me if you want tea, coffee, water, bathroom, et cetera.”
He gave a clipped nod of his head and said, “Not to worry. I’ll be just fine, ma’am.”
She had to be satisfied with that. She didn’t like it, and there wasn’t a whole lot she could do about it. She walked back inside, sat down again, her mind tumbling, yet avoiding the one topic that she knew she needed to consider, which was, What was in that damn box? The thought that somebody had sent her a gift, or was it another payback? Or was it something else? She just didn’t know. It was seriously difficult to understand anything at this point.
Knowing that she was struggling, she headed upstairs and had a long hot bath. As she got out, she checked her phone, but she still had no messages from anybody, so that suited her. She got dressed in her nightie, and, with her wine, sat down on her bed and picked up the book she’d most recently been reading.
Just as she finally got into the story, even though it took her several minutes to reread the same page over and over again, her phone buzzed. Instantly she snatched it up. Sure enough, it was Richard.
“On my way,” he said.
She shook her head. Now what the hell was she supposed to do? She glanced at the massive bed that she took up only a small portion of. She didn’t think he was planning on sleeping with her. But that thought sent her out of her bedroom and over to the spare room, wondering just what shape it was in.
As soon as she opened the door, she realized it was neat and perfect as it always was. She turned back the bedding and walked over to check that towels were in the small bathroom. She didn’t know how long it would take him to get here, but she put on a robe and wandered back downstairs anyway. The stars were out tonight, and the city lights burned bright in the darkness. She stayed downstairs, until the doorbell rang. Finally.
She raced to the door and, when it opened up to reveal Richard, she threw herself into his arms. He hugged her close and whispered, “It’s okay.”
“It can’t be okay,” she said, tears blocking her sight of him. “Three people are dead.”
“And all connected to you, yes,” he said. He quickly ushered her in and closed the door.
She looked at the door, then at him. “Is the security guard still there?”
“No, he’ll go home now.”
“Meaning, you’re staying?” She could barely get past the relief in her voice.
“Yes,” he said, “I’m staying.” He opened his arms; then she stepped right into them. “I know it’s tough. I know this is really a difficult time,” he said, “but I promise. We will get through it.”
“I don’t know how,” she whispered. “How is that even possible?”
“Because, unfortunately—”
She shook her head wordlessly and just pressed tighter against him.
He held her close. “You were in bed?”
She nodded.
“Any chance I can have a shower?”
She nodded again, turned, shut off all the lights downstairs, and led the way upstairs. She motioned to the spare room. “This is your room,” she said. “There’s the bathroom, and towels are in there.”
He nodded.
That was the first she noticed that he had a small overnight bag. He dropped it on the bed, turned, and said, “Can you sleep?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “In all of this, I’ve never been worried for my own safety. It’s all been about my poor models.”
“Any thoughts about putting a halt on everything until the investigation is closed?”
“As soon as you tell me that’s what I need
