Page 187 of You Betrayed Me (The Cahills 3)

“Well, just so you know, I’m good with all this,” he said, though he didn’t look convincing. “There’s still a lot of things to work through, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Still a lot going on that needs to be straightened out.”

No shit. He was talking about Megan going missing and the murders. The cops had been everywhere and seemed to be zeroing in on Gus. Which was already a major worry. And now . . . on top of all that, she had to pretend to be pregnant?

“We’ll find a way to get through it,” he said as his phone rang and he looked at the screen. “I gotta run. Bobby’s ready to close up the shop and needs me to check out some of the work.”

“Okay.” God, her voice sounded weak. Strangled.

For a second, she thought he would lean over and kiss her. Wouldn’t that be the normal reaction after a conversation like this? He didn’t. Instead, he walked out the back door, and Julia felt as if she really could be sick. But not yet. She had too much to do.

She screeched back her chair, hurried through the Christmas shop, and found her coat in the closet behind the counter. Her thoughts spinning a million miles a minute, she snapped out the lights and walked outside, where the air was cold and bracing, hoping her head would clear.

Pregnant. Sophia was pregnant.

And she didn’t tell you!

That stung.

What else had Sophia kept from her?

Julia started walking to her car. Maybe there was a way she could make this work to her advantage, she thought. Could she press James for a quick marriage—maybe suggest eloping for the baby’s sake—and then have a miscarriage right away? Would that work? Or should she hold him off and start wearing a baby-bump? But, no, he would expect sex . . .

Still thinking, Julia slid into her car and turned on the wipers, watching as they slapped the snow from the glass. She was so close to getting everything she’d ever wanted, being rich beyond her wildest dreams.

But one wrong step would spell disaster, and she’d end up in a prison cell for life.

Or she could run.

But just how far would she get?

As she drove away from the café, she imagined the cops chasing after her, relentlessly chasing her down, determined to destroy her.

Screw that!

She hadn’t come this far to quit now.

No way. No how.

CHAPTER 49

December 22

“Let’s just hope Jardine’s as talkative as Porter,” Rivers said as he slammed the door of his Jeep closed after parking on the street in front of a two-story Victorian blazing with Christmas lights, a fake Santa halfway down the chimney, only his rear end and a big sack of toys visible, a decorative sleigh and reindeer mounted along the roof ’s ridge.

Jardine lived behind the main house, in a garage that had been converted into an apartment.

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” Mendoza adjusted the hood of her thick jacket, faux fur framing her face, as they started walking down the long drive. She’d thawed a little toward him, and they were working as a team again. “We got lucky with Porter.”

“We’ll see.” They had more to persuade Jardine with.

The lab reports had come in on the scrapings beneath Charity Spritz’s fingernails; the skin had come back as male. They would have to compare DNA samples, of course, and Rivers doubted Jardine would give a sample of his spit voluntarily, but they had the bite marks, security footage, and Porter’s statement.

A row of arborvitae, branches dusted with snow, separated the backyard of the main house from the little garage. On one side of the hedge, the colorful lights of the main house twinkled and shone, and on the far side, the area surrounding Jardine’s home, the area was dark. Two vehicles, a truck and a small Honda, were squeezed into a small parking apron.

The garage was devoid of any Christmas decorations, but light filtered out from behind the blinds, and Rivers knew that Gus had been released from the hospital the day before.

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