Simon Says Die Page 14

  “Those were my words, by the way, not Pierce’s,” he said. “Pierce was much more diplomatic when he explained about the breakup.”

  “I’m not talking about that anymore.”

  “What were their names?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The guys you dated. You did tell Pierce you were”—he raised his hands and did air quotes—“ ‘moving on.’ ” He lowered his hands. “What’s wrong? Can’t make up any names fast enough to answer the question?”

  “Of course I can.” She flushed, realizing how that sounded. “I’ve met several . . . ah, really nice guys.” She waved her hand in the air, desperately trying to think of a name, any name. “There was, um . . . John, and uh, Mike, of course.”

  “Do John and Mike have last names?”

  “I came in here to help you, not play games.” She shoved her chair back again.

  He grabbed her arm when she started to get up, holding on with surprising strength. “You know what I think? I think you lied to my brother. I think you’re still hung up on him. I saw the way you were looking at him when he opened the door. That’s not the look of a woman who has moved on.”

  She shook off his hand and shoved back from the table. “My feelings for Pierce are none of your business. What is it with this family? First, Alex, now you. You sure know how to make a stranger feel welcome.” She gripped her chair to stand, but he moved forward, using his wheelchair to block her way.

  He grinned. “Did Alex lecture you? He’s good at that.”

  She glared at him and wondered why she’d liked him earlier. She didn’t like him at all right now.

  He cocked his head again. “If you really wanted to date other guys, you wouldn’t act so defensive. So I have to conclude you lied to my brother.”

  She clutched the chair in frustration. “What do you want from me?”

  “Tit for tat. I shared personal details with you.” He waved his hand toward his wheelchair. “How about you do the same? Just between you and me. Answer one question, honestly, and we’re even.”

  She crossed her arms. “What’s the question?”

  “Don’t insult me by pretending you didn’t lie to Pierce when you broke up. The real question is . . . Why did you lie?”

  She forced a swallow past her tightening throat. “I never wanted to hurt him. I hated leaving the way I did,” she whispered.

  “You still care about him.”

  “Yes. Always”

  “Then why did you lie?”

  “Because I couldn’t tell him the truth. I needed him to let me go. I had to tell him something awful, to make sure he wouldn’t try to stop me.” She drew in a ragged breath.

  He backed away, his expression smug. “My work here is done. I’m starving. I think I’ll go outside and grab a thick, juicy steak.” He looked past her shoulder. “Oh, hey, Pierce. I didn’t notice you there.” Austin winked at Madison and wheeled out of the kitchen.

  Damn. Madison’s pulse thudded in her ears. She took a deep breath and slowly turned around.

  Pierce was standing in the kitchen doorway. His jaw was tight, his eyes narrowed. She braced herself for his accusations, his barrage of questions.

  Without a single word, he turned and walked away.

  THE RIDE BACK to Pierce’s house was taut with silence. Madison kept waiting for him to demand that she tell him why she’d lied. But just like their earlier car ride from Mr. Newsome’s house, he was completely silent.

  As soon as he opened the front door of the cabin, she tried to rush past him, fully intending to spend the rest of the evening in the bedroom, hiding like the coward she’d just discovered she was.

  But his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, preventing her escape. She glanced up at him uncertainly, but he wasn’t looking at her. He disabled the alarm, locked the door, then reset the alarm, before turning and giving her his full attention.

  His jaw muscles were tight, and he looked more serious than she’d ever seen him. Calm, too calm, like a dormant volcano ready to explode. “We need to discuss a few things.” His words were short, clipped.

  Her stomach sank. He towed her the few steps to the couch. She plopped down, but instead of sitting next to her, he stepped to the small desk against the wall and powered up the laptop sitting there.

  He typed for a moment, then he swiveled the laptop around so she could see the screen. “This is your home security alarm company report for the past month, the report I requested after you realized some pictures were missing from your albums.”

  She frowned, puzzled. This was what he wanted to talk about? Not why she’d lied when she broke up with him? She got up and crossed to the desk to view the report. It had yesterday’s date. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”

  “I guess I forgot. Kind of like you forgot to tell me about the note and phone call Lieutenant Hamilton mentioned at Newsome’s house.”

  She winced, but she didn’t respond to his goading, which she thought was admirable. Instead, she scrolled through the report. “The alarm hasn’t been tripped. I already knew that.”

  “What about the dates and times the alarm was set or disabled? Do they look right?”

  She pressed the keys, paging through the report more slowly. “I couldn’t swear to every time, of course. I didn’t exactly keep a log. But overall, it looks right.”

  “No one else knows the alarm code?”

  “I already told you and Hamilton that I changed it after I moved in. I haven’t shared it with anyone—not even you.”

  He swiveled the laptop back toward him. “Did you use your birthday for the alarm code? Or some other date your husband might be able to guess?”

  Her pulse sped up, and she moved back to the couch. “Ah, no, Damon wouldn’t know the code. It’s not significant.” To him. It was, however, significant to her.

  “You’re sure?”

  The code was the month and day of her first date with Pierce. She swallowed, her throat tight. “I’m sure.”

  “What’s the code?”

  “Why?” She tried to think of a reasonable excuse for not telling him the code, but just like when she was talking to Austin, her mind was coming up blank.

  “I want to judge for myself if the numbers are a pattern Damon might be able to guess.”

  “How would you know if it was?”

  He waved toward the computer. “Casey e-mailed a file with some information on Damon. I read some of it on my phone earlier. Before I go through the rest, I’d like that code. There might be something in his past, your shared past, that would make him able to guess the code. I’ve got to figure out how he got in your house to take those photographs from your albums—or even if he did get inside your house. Sometimes moving companies store everything for a short period in a warehouse before making the final delivery. He might have searched through the boxes at the warehouse.”

  The thought of Damon going through her things had the hairs standing up on her arms. “I suppose that’s possible. After the movers packed my apartment, I stayed in New York a few days wrapping up loose ends before I flew down here. They delivered my furniture the day after I arrived. They would have had to store my belongings.”

  “The code?”

  Guys didn’t remember things like when they had their first date, did they? Especially when the relationship ended so badly. She drew a deep breath and told him the code.

  His dark gaze flew to hers, and for a moment she thought maybe he’d realized the significance of those four numbers. But then he simply nodded, and looked back at the screen.

  She let out a relieved breath, feeling as if she’d just been given a reprieve. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  “Not yet. I want to know about the note and the phone call.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  MADISON SHOULD HAVE known Pierce wouldn’t let her escape without another inquisition. She sighed and scooted back on the couch. “The note was taped to my front do
or when I got home, a couple of days after the first time I saw . . . someone . . . watching my house.”

  “Typed out, not handwritten.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do I really have to ask you to tell me what it said?” He stared at her, waiting.

  “It said, ‘You’ve been a very bad girl.’ ”

  His brow furrowed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  She felt her face heating with embarrassment. “Damon said that to me, once, after an argument. He was upset that I’d been on his computer.”

  He sat silently for a moment. “Does anyone else know he said that to you?”

  “Probably. I was pretty ticked the first time he said that. I called my mom and vented with her. She’s not the best at keeping secrets. For all I know, she blasted it all over the Internet on those social media sites she’s so fond of.”

  “The first time?”

  She wrapped her arms around her middle. “He said it one other time. His voice was . . . cold, angry. I’ll never forget the tone of his voice that day.”

  He stared at her intently. “What did Hamilton say about the note?”

  “That it was probably some neighborhood kid, playing a joke on the new lady who’d just moved in. In all fairness, he wasn’t sarcastic and didn’t dismiss it, not at first anyway. He looked into it. He sent his officers to ask my neighbors if they saw anything.”

  She laughed harshly. “Not that anyone on my street would see anything. Most of the homes around me are vacant for the better part of the year, vacation homes. Right now, with it getting cold, most of the owners are in South Florida.”

  “So, no one saw who left the note.”

  “No.”

  “Tell me about the phone call.”

  She kicked her shoes off and tucked her legs beneath her on the couch. “It was after I saw the man in my backyard, by the storage shed. I was eating breakfast. The phone rang. When I answered, a voice on the line said the same thing the note said. And before you ask, no, I didn’t recognize the voice. It sounded . . . odd . . . distorted, like the person speaking was purposely changing his voice.”

  “But you could tell the caller was male?”

  “Definitely. That much I was sure of.”

  “You think it was Damon.”

  “Wouldn’t you? Knowing what he’d said in the past?”

  He didn’t answer. He typed a few notes on his laptop. “You mentioned you had files from Damon’s computer. You still have those files?”

  “Yes, on my laptop, back at my house.”

  “We can go get your computer in the morning. What about the pictures you think are missing? Are you certain you saw them before you moved, that you didn’t throw them away when you were packing?”

  She blew out a breath. “We’re back to that? Seriously?”

  He studied her for a moment. Then he closed the laptop and turned toward her, resting his forearms on his knees. “I’m re-looking at all the evidence, trying to figure this out. Casey texted me earlier, saying he wants a sample of Damon’s handwriting to compare to those bogus contracts you gave me. Do you have a sample?”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Of course not. That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” She rested her head against the back of the couch. “I had no reason to keep anything personal of his after he died. The only reason I kept those contracts was because they had to do with finances. At the time, I thought they were valid investments. But other than those, I don’t have anything with his signature.”

  “You’re not giving me much to go on here.”

  She rolled her head back and forth against the couch, so frustrated she wanted to scream. It was either that, or shoot someone. And since the only other person in the room was Pierce, she didn’t exactly have any options along those lines.

  Drawing a deep breath, she tried to focus on answering his questions without totally losing her composure. “I’ve given you plenty to go on. You saw him yourself. He shot you. He’s real, flesh and blood, and he’s after me. Why? I don’t know. You know everything that’s been happening—the notes, the shooting. He killed that boy this morning, and Mr. Newsome’s missing.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? Maybe he killed the boy, or maybe he did something to Mr. Newsome?”

  “Both.”

  That was it. She’d had enough. She uncurled her legs and stood. “We’re done here.” She’d just reached the hallway when he was suddenly in her way, blocking her. She shoved at his chest. He winced, and she jerked her hands back.

  “I’m so sorry. I forgot about your ribs. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” He blew out a breath. “Don’t run away from this. I’m trying to help you, and I can’t do that without the facts.”

  “I’ve given you the facts.”

  His brows drew down. “I don’t think so. How did you push a divorce through for a man who’d been declared dead?”

  She froze. “Push it through?”

  “No court is going to continue proceedings on a divorce when one of the parties has been declared dead. What did you do? Bribe a judge?”

  Her fingers curled into fists. “This is ridiculous. Why would I do that?” Her heart was hammering so loudly she could feel the blood rushing to her ears. She couldn’t tell him she’d wanted that divorce in case her worst nightmares were true, in case the man who’d died in that car wasn’t Damon.

  “There’s only one reason I can think of,” he continued, relentless now that he was grilling her.

  “I don’t want to hear this.” She turned, but he grabbed her arm.

  His eyes flashed as he leaned down, inches from her face. “Eighteen months ago, a man died in a fiery car crash. You buried him in a grave with your husband’s name on the tombstone. But you never cashed in the life insurance policy.”

  Panic twisted inside her. She tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron.

  “You didn’t think I knew about the insurance did you? It took some digging, but Casey found it. There’s only one reason I can think of for someone not to cash in a life insurance policy. You knew Damon was alive. All this time, you’ve known.”

  She pulled her arm, desperately trying to free herself.

  “You pushed that divorce through so you wouldn’t feel guilty sleeping around with other men. Did that make you feel less guilty when you slept with me?”

  She jerked as if he’d struck her, pain twisting inside her chest. He was treating her like a tramp, as if she’d slept with tons of guys since Damon’s death, and after she’d left Pierce. Was that really what he thought of her? She blinked, determined not to let the threatening tears flow. She wasn’t going to let him know how much he’d hurt her. After Damon, Pierce had been that one bright spot in her life, the light that had made the darkness of her past fade away, if only for a brief time. Pierce was her only lover, besides her husband. Ever. “Let me go,” she demanded.

  Instead of releasing her, his grip tightened, and he yanked her closer.

  His face twisted with anger. “Did you lie about Damon? Was he really the terrible husband you portrayed him to be? Or did you make all that up?”

  She gasped. “What? No. No, I didn’t lie. He was . . .” She glared up at him. “I didn’t lie. He was an evil man.”

  “But he never hit you.”

  She clenched her fists. “No. Not once. No bruises. He was far too clever for that. Just like now. He’s being far more clever than you, or anyone else realizes. He’s turning everyone against me, making me look like a hysterical female, a fool. He destroyed my family, and they don’t even know it. I alone bear that burden. I alone live with that pain every day.”

  “What did he do?” He enunciated each word, slowly, clearly, as if she were a child, and he was forced to speak that way so she’d understand him. “How did he destroy your family?”

  She twisted her arm, trying to get him to let go. When he wouldn’t, she jerked her knee up toward his groin, but he ant
icipated her action, twisting sideways.

  “Let. Me. Go.” She gritted out each word.

  They stared at each other for a full minute, their eyes clashing like swords on a battlefield. Finally, Pierce released her.

  She fled into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  THE SOUND OF the bedroom door slamming echoed through the hallway. Pierce closed his eyes, and leaned back against the wall. He hated that he’d hurt her, but from the moment he heard her security code, his frustration and anger had started a slow boil. How could she use their first date as her alarm code, as if she cared about him, and then continue to lie to him?

  His shoulders slumped, and he shook his head in defeat. He didn’t know how long he stood there, in the dark, thinking. It was the sound of Madison’s soft snores that finally broke through his haze, and had him trudging back to his computer desk.

  He plopped down in the chair and powered up the laptop again, to read the files Casey had sent him. Nothing earth shattering, nothing about Damon’s life in New York that seemed any different than any other businessman. Either Casey had been a boss too long and had forgotten how to investigate, or Damon really didn’t have anything lurking in his background worth finding.

  If it weren’t for the shooting that had started all of this, Pierce would probably be sitting in Hamilton’s camp right now, thinking Madison was a crazy woman, desperate for attention, inventing shadows, faking notes.

  He didn’t doubt that she believed what she was telling everyone. She genuinely believed her husband had come back from the dead to stalk her. But what if her bitter relationship with Damon was clouding her judgment? What if the shooter was just a simple burglar, casing her house, as Casey had suggested? That scenario was just as plausible, hell, more so, than the scenario she believed.

  He scrubbed his hands over his face. Logan was due back home from his honeymoon in a few more days. As soon as Logan was back in the States, Pierce was going to call him and tell him to get his butt to Savannah to take over guard duty for his sister. Her baby-blue eyes had sucked him in once, and he was hearing that sucking sound again. He needed to get out while he still could.