Page 17 of Deadly Attraction
The knife went into the sink with a clatter. Emma glanced at him as she brushed crumbs from her hands. “Me and Victor what?”
The jeans and shirt upstairs certainly didn’t look like Victor Dupé attire. She hadn’t said anything about the man that made Mitch believe she’d slept with him. And certainly not with her hired hand, Will.
And yet…
The thought of her with Director Dupé wouldn’t leave his mind. From her story the night before, she obviously thought highly of him and there had been a touch of awe in her voice.
He raised one eyebrow and shrugged. “You seem to know him well, that’s all.”
An odd look crossed her face. She tilted her head slightly. “We’re friends.”
“Dupé doesn’t have friends.”
“Is that so?” Two more pieces of bread went into the toaster and she pushed the lever. “Well, if you’re concerned about the status of my relationship with him, I suggest you talk to Victor about it.”
Right. Likethatwas going to happen.
She’d shut him down, yet there was no subterfuge, no embarrassment. If anything, she seemed amused by his little display.
He suspected he’d put his foot in his mouth. The clothes upstairs didn’t belong to Victor, nor had Emma ever had an affair with the man.
Good to know.
Not that he cared.
“Is Goodsman as wacky as they say?” he asked after a sip of coffee.
She handed him a piece of toast. “Definewacky.”
“He encourages his fans to believe in the fantasy world of Tom Monahan, cyborgs, and the Resistance. He glamorizes that world and glorifies anyone who claims it’s real. He even has a fund set up to bail fans out of jail who’ve committed a crime in the name of Tom Monahan. Who does that?”
The second piece of buttered toast made its way to the table with her. She took a bite as she put her reading glasses back on. “He’s clever, but I assure you, he’s sane by psychology standards.”
“I don’t know.” Mitch sat and started on one of the eggs. “I think there might be some validity to that psychotic break he had when he killed his girlfriend. He perpetuates the idea that he’s still Tom Monahan.”
She shuffled papers, read, and chewed. “When it fits his purposes, it’s easy for him to pretend he’s the fictional character Tom Monahan. His fans and the press eat it up.”
“You don’t agree with the other experts who claimed he has grandiose delusions that he’s the savior of the world?”
“Oh, I believe he has grandiose delusions, but they’re bigger than the Tom Monahan world and they are firmly based in reality.”
“What do you mean?”
She gathered up her file and her toast and headed for the stairs. “Chris is extremely convincing, and the most dangerous liars are those who believe they are telling the truth, but during my one-on-one interview with him, I saw a crack in his facade. I saw past the lie. So what I mean is Chris Goodsman is the best actor I’ve ever seen.”
Disappearing from his sight, her footsteps echoed overhead as she hoofed it up the steps to the second floor.
Bending over, Mitch took a peek under the table. Sure enough, there was a .380 pocket pistol taped to the underside.
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he finished his breakfast. A minute later, Emma reappeared, heading for the tiny mudroom off the kitchen. She pulled on a barn coat, flipping her ponytail out from under the collar.
Mitch jumped up and stuck his plate in the sink. “Where are you going?”
She tugged on a boot. “I have a client at ten.”
“Seriously? Not only are you putting yourself in danger but you’re willing to risk the safety of your client?”
“Good one.” She winked at him and pulled on her other boot. “But it’s not going to work. My client is coming from a juvenile detention center where her health and well-being are at risk on a daily basis. Trust me, even if a killer is on the loose here at the ranch, my client is safer with us than where she currently lives.”
Mitch rolled his eyes at her back, then followed her out the door.
