“She pissed me off,” I said simply, lifting up and ducking under the yellow crime scene tape splayed across the open front door. “And I didn’t hesitate to let her know it.”
A heavy groan slipped past his lips. “You can’t lose your shit, Spike.Not now.”
He was right.
I couldn’t.
And okay—fine, perhaps I did owe Harley an apology. But she was out of her goddamn mind if she thought for one second that I was going to pucker my lips and kiss her ass, especially not after she’d threatened to ruin our careers. I was still pretty roasted over that bullshit.
“Blaire’s death isn’t a coincidence,” he said, changing the subject. “Karl being framed, Delilah and Amber’s attacks, the packages—all of itis connected.”
“Go on,” I said, thrilled that we were more or less on the same page. “What are you thinking?”
We made it to the car, and Phoenix sighed as he got in and tiredly scrubbed his hands down his face.
“I think we need to say to hell with the evidence for now and start focusing more on what we know about our perp. We both can agree that it’s obvious this bastard is obsessed with Charlotte, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay, so, let’s think about her situation with Karl for a moment.” He sat up straighter and then snatched his keys from his pocket, firing upthe engine and cruising down the road without so much as putting his seatbelt on. “We don’t have any proof yet, but let’s say Karl’s truck really was sabotaged the night his mistress was killed. I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but, what if Kate wasn’t the one who was meant to die that night? What if it was supposed to be Karl?”
“Huh.” I sat back in my seat, contemplating it. “That’s an interesting theory.”
“Just think about it for a second,” he said as he continued to drive, activating his blinker before moving over into the correct lane and stopping at the red light. “I’m not saying I’m right, but it would better explain why Karl is being framed and facingyearsin prison.”
It was possible. I’d admit that much. But without hardcore proof validating Karl and Kate were indeed being followed and receiving death threats, it was going to be extremely difficult convincing Harley and her boss that Karl was innocent. He may not have killed Blaire, but that wasn’t going to mean shit to them, not when we found the “smoking gun” inside his apartment. They’d just come up with some bullshit excuse regardless of the other evidence proving his innocence.
“And if all of thatistrue,” Phoenix continued, “then this bastard was likely stalking Charlotte too, long before the accident ever occurred. And, oh…Fuck.”
Phoenix’s eyes grew saucer wide.
“That means he knows about us too, Spike.” He looked at me, his pupils growing impossibly wider. “What if he tries to come after us next?”
I couldn’t help but release a boisterous laugh. “For one, he doesn’t have the fucking balls. And two, you’re getting off topic. Calm your tits and continue with what you were saying.”
His eyes narrowed to a glare.
Then he shook his head, cursing when the car behind us began blaring their horn. The light was green, and Phoenix hadn’t noticed.
“What I’m trying to say is that Charlotte’s right, Spike. She’s been the target all along. This guy had obviously mistaken Delilah as Charlotte, and then planted Karl’s DNA on Amber after he realized his fuck-up. He sent her the texts and the dead cat to scare her, to tell her that it should’ve beenherthat night,notDelilah. And… And the flowers… He sent them to her to make her believe they were from Karl...”
He began rambling then, going on and on until his face was blistering red, and he was straining to draw in a breath.
Seven
Charlotte
Isat outside of Captain Burgess’s office, my nerves shot and burning hotter than these goddamn tears still spilling down my swollen cheeks. I’d already given my statement, and no sooner than Peter arrived, Cap refused to let me talk to him. Peter was currently enclosed in the doors behind me, giving Cap and Chief his statement.
Minutes passed, and my legs anxiously bounced the longer Peter remained in there. I’d bitten my nails down to the point of drawing blood, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Carter and how the hell I was supposed to tell him his wife was dead. I hadn’t a damn clue if Blaire’s body had arrived to be autopsied yet, and I was certain nobody here would tell me even if I could scrounge the courage to ask.
Blaire’s gone.
My best friend is…gone.
The door opened just before I broke down again, and Peter stepped out, his eyes downcast with a heavy frown weighing down his face.
“I’m so sorry, Charlotte.” He reached out to hug me. I willingly got to my feet and hugged him back, struggling to keep the waterworks at bay.