Page 69 of Mine

“I don’t know where Susan Steadhill is,” she repeated flatly.

I sighed. I leaned back in my chair and downed the rest of my wine. It frustrated me beyond end to not have any leads. I didn’t know whether I hoped that she was telling me the truth or if I hoped she was lying. If she was lying, then there was still a possibility I could find Susan tomorrow before Vale came. If not…

“Why do you care?”

I shook myself out of my reverie.

“I need to give them teeth.”

“Teeth?” Her voice rose in disbelief.

“Proof, I mean. Teeth are proof. I was supposed to kill her. I need to find her. I need to kill her. That bastard on the table says she’s in Brazil.”

“So are you going to go to Brazil?”

“No. I don’t believe him.”

“Why not?”

“Because if she left for Brazil already, the feds would have been on it. They wouldn’t have let you walk through my door. They would have known you weren’t her.”

“So she’s still in L.A.,” Sara said, her eyes narrowing.

“That’s my guess. Pretending to be someone else.”

She let out a breath, and I licked my lips. If she was lying, she was damn good at it. But I had to be sure.

It was time.

“Wait here a moment,” I said. I went to the other room and brought back the dessert I had bought earlier.

“A cupcake!” she exclaimed. “Oh, with raspberries. That’s my favorite!”

“I’m glad,” I said. “It’s soaked in a raspberry brandy coulis. I made that separate.”

“Delicious,” she said, forking a mouthful to her lips. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I wanted tonight to be special.”

I watched her eat, bite by bite. Once she was finished, she took another sip of wine, swallowing. I stood up and put another log into the fire.

“Rien—”

I turned. Her eyes glazed over.

“The real strong have no need to prove it to the phonies,” I said. “That’s Charles Manson. Unfortunately, Sara, I’m not that strong. I need proof.”

“What… what do you…”

“I need to trust you. Wholly. Completely. And there’s only one way I know of to do that.”

“Rien, I don’t—I feel...”

She stood up from the table, her hand reaching out to steady herself. She knocked over the wine glass.

“Rien—” her voice rose in panic.

“Don’t worry, my little psycho,” I said, stepping over to her. She swayed and fell, but I was there to catch her in my arms. “Don’t worry.”

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