Page 85 of Shattered Dreams

“Your mother knew?” he asks, confused.

“She had an affair with Stephen Mallory. I’ll explain everything later. Can I get a ride?”

“I’m on the way. I’ll have Stella order you some clothes. Text her your sizes.”

He disconnects before I can thank him, and I lean against my truck breathing in the stink of wet smoke. “I’m coming, baby,” Imurmur. I’m this close to finding Zarah, and after I do, I hope to God she still loves me because I am never letting her out of my fucking sight ever again.

Max’s diary pokes me in the back, and I pull it out of my waistband, grateful I had the time to save it. The fire ate a huge, black hole in the side of the building, the wall of my apartment and the roof over my living room and loft the most damaged.

Baby presses into my leg, and I open the truck’s door. She jumps in, and I sit with her, my feet needing the slight warmth. My socks are frozen and I’m cold, but the temperature is mild, in the lower twenties if I had to guess, and at this time of year, it makes a big difference.

I text Stella and ask her for socks, work boots, and a winter jacket.

She replies,Glad you’re okayand nothing more, but I know she’ll find me the things I need. Probably more than what I need, and food for Baby, too.

I’m in with good people.

While I wait for Zane, I call Pop.

“Your mother already told me what happened. Are you hurt?”

“No. It wouldn’t have done as much as it had if it weren’t for those pussy curtains Mom put up when I moved in. After those caught, it spread pretty quick, but I got out through the loft window.”

“Baby okay?”

“Yeah. She let me carry her down the fire escape. Zane’s on his way to pick us up. Mom and Stephen Mallory were having an affair. That’s why he and Jerricka didn’t get married.”

Pop sucks in a breath. “Are you sure?”

“I was reading Max’s journal. A couple of years ago he went to dinner at their house, and Jerricka Solis and Stephen Mallory were guests. Max watched them together and did the math.When Mom helped me clean out Max’s apartment, she told me she had an affair, but she never said with who.”

“What does that mean for the case?” Pop muses.

“I don’t know. I’m sure Rourke knew—nothing gets by him. He couldn’t have liked it.”

“You’re saying he wanted revenge.”

“What better way than to frame your wife’s lover for murder?”

“Would have worked, too, if the cops had done their jobs.”

“Yeah.” I lean my head against the seat. “Are you still with Lucille?”

“Yeah, but we were thinking of going into the city.”

“Don’t. Keep Arya and Sansa close and stay there. Without evidence, what we have is all speculation, but if they think you have the same information I do, they’ll go after you, too.”

“I’m not going to hide, Gage.”

“No, but it’d be nice if you didn’t die. I’m going to marry her, Pop. And I need you there when I do.”

“You know where she is.” It’s not a question.

“Yes, and we’re going after her.”

“Be careful. This goes way back, and there must be a lot at stake. We only know half the story.”

“But the other half is becoming clearer every second. Here’s Zane. I gotta go.”

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