The Masseuse (23 page)

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. And with that, he left.

He walked right out the door.

I scrambled up, cracking my knees on the floor when they gave way. Adrenaline shot through me, giving me strength. No. He couldn’t leave. Not after that. He loved me.

I snagged my robe and stumbled toward the door, but already I could hear the car engine turning over in the street below. I ran for the window, looking down as Alec’s Jeep pulled away. My hands banged on the glass. I didn’t understand what had happened, what I’d done.

The dark street was filled with patrons, making their way to the restaurants and bars, but Alec did not return.

Over the ringing in my ears, I heard the buzz of a cell phone. I turned numbly, finding it on the kitchen counter. It was his; he must have left it when he’d taken off. I lifted it, and pressed the button to light the screen.

Sender: Charlotte

Need to see u right now. Can’t wait any longer.

There were two previous messages that had come earlier.

Where r u? Said you would b here.

Not going to wait all night.

I threw the phone across the room, watching as it hit the wall and shattered pieces of glass and plastic across the floor.

F
or a long time I sat on the couch. It was still damp from our lovemaking and smelled like oil. After a while I couldn’t stand it, so I moved to the bed. We’d lain together there too, though, and the soft bedspread and rumpled sheets did nothing but remind me of the last time he’d spent the night. I couldn’t even shower because it made me think of him.

Alec loved me.

Alec had been missing for two days.

Alec was on his way to another woman.

He had a record—drugs, which he claimed not to have used in a long time, and assault, one count against a woman who had dropped the charges. I didn’t know that person. He wasn’t my Alec.

But then again, apparently Alec wasn’t even my Alec.

I stripped the sheets off the massage table and put them in the hamper. Gaining speed, I cleaned up the oils, put away my materials, and blew out the candles. I turned on the lights and sprayed air freshener to kill the sandalwood scent still heavy in the air. I put on sweatpants and a T-shirt—nothing I’d ever worn around him. I swept up the pieces of his cell phone and dumped them in the trash.

Alec loved me.

Alec was a liar.

The constant voices in my head would not shut up, so I turned on the small TV in the corner. I didn’t have cable and only got four channels. One was a Mexican soap opera, but kissing was the last thing I wanted to see, so I flipped to the news.

As we had made love, Alec said he didn’t want it to end. He’d already known he was leaving. He’d come to say good-bye. That’s why he’d looked like hell. That’s why he’d objected to me giving him a massage. He didn’t want my kindness, because he was there to end our relationship.

He had already chosen Charlotte over me.

I was the biggest idiot in the world. The proof had been right there—phone calls in the middle of the night, unexplainable disappearances, Derrick had even seen them together—and still I’d believed Alec.

I glanced at the clock. It was just past midnight. Alec had been gone hours already. Was he back in Charlotte’s bed yet? Was he fucking her, the way I’d seen Maxim Stein fuck her?

Sick bastards, passing around women like they were possessions.

I wanted to throw up. I found a sweatshirt, but even that didn’t stave off the cold. I grabbed my phone and opened the Internet. So Florida had a chill, but Southern California didn’t. Maybe it was time for a trip to the West Coast. I’d never been to L.A. Maybe I could be a masseuse for movie stars.

“. . . breaking news coming across my desk . . .”

I glanced up, distracted by the pretty Asian reporter with a graduated bob.

“A fatal car crash has blocked both lanes of traffic on the Sunshine Skyway between Terra Ceia and St. Petersburg. At approximately ten thirty p.m., the driver of a red sports car lost control of the vehicle, knocked down the median, and drove off the bridge into the water. Rescue crews on site have recovered the body of Charlotte MacAfee.”

The picture of a woman with orange hair and flawless white skin appeared in the corner of the screen. The photo was clearly professional, and she was smiling and wearing a charcoal suit jacket.

“Holy shit,” I said.

“Police are still trying to identify if there was anyone else in the vehicle, investigating a broken passenger-side window, but at the present time, no other bodies have been recovered. The late Ms. MacAfee was the president of Green Fusion, an alternative-energy company on the verge of declaring bankruptcy, according to the
Times.
The cause of the crash is not yet known. In other news, cat fever is hitting the Tampa Bay area tomorrow . . .”

Charlotte MacAfee—Maxim Stein’s mistress, Alec’s girlfriend, the
president of Green Fusion
—was dead. And another person may have been in the car.

My brain was sprinting a mile a minute. Alec had left around nine. Charlotte was in the crash around ten thirty. That was enough time for them to have been together.

I hurriedly dialed his number and swore when it went to voice mail. Of course, he wouldn’t answer. He couldn’t. I’d smashed the hell out of his phone.

The phone that may have had Charlotte’s last communication with him.

Pacing, I scrolled through other numbers. My pulse was thumping in my eardrums. It felt as if there were ropes tightening around my chest. Finally, I came to Ms. Rowe’s number, from when she’d called last to schedule Maxim’s massage, and pressed Send.

Only Ms. Rowe didn’t answer.

“Force Enterprises,” came a creepy male voice.

“Bobby?” I said. “Bobby, it’s Anna. The masseuse.”

“Okay,” he said after a moment.

“I saw the news about Charlotte . . . I know this is probably crazy . . .” I pulled my hair back out of my face and forced myself to take a breath. “Do you know where Alec is?”

A pause.

“What about Charlotte?”

“Nothing,” I said. “I mean, I just heard that she died on the Skyway.”

“You did,” he said slowly.

“Alec,”
I said. “He might have been with her. I need to find him.”

I closed my eyes, imagining what Charlotte must have seen in her last moments. The dark drive, the lights from the bridge. The crash as she hit the cement median and then swerved off the bridge. Had Alec been with her? Was he still alive?

“He has a cell phone.”

Dammit.

“I know. I know he does, only he left it with me, and I was thinking that maybe you knew another way to reach him.”

“Why would he leave it with you?”

My jaw clenched. Bobby probably thought Alec and Charlotte were together. There would be no reason for him to leave his phone with me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said quickly. “I just need to talk to him. Is he there?”

Please. Please let him be there.

“Hello?” My voice broke.

The line went dead.

Bobby had hung up on me.

“Goddammit!” I nearly threw my phone, too, but thought better of it. With shaking hands I found the non-emergency police number.

“My name is Anna Rossi,” I said when a woman answered. “I’m looking for information on the Sunshine Skyway accident. There was a woman who drove her car . . .”

“Are you family, ma’am?”

“No, but my friend may have been—”

“Did you witness the accident?”

“No . . .”

“All information will be available to the public as we receive it. At the present time we have nothing new to report.”

I punched my thigh in frustration. “Listen, I know you’re very busy . . .”

“Ma’am, if you’re not family of the deceased, there’s nothing I can do.”

“You can tell me if they found a man in the car with her!” I shouted.

She was quiet. “Ma’am, I’m going to ask you to lower your voice.”

“You’re a huge fucking help, thanks.” I hung up, and dialed my father, hoping his connection in the Tampa police department might have some friends working the accident, but after four rings, my call went to voice mail.

“Where are you?” I demanded as his greeting played.

Bowling. I dug my thumb into my temple. It was bowling night. Did he always stay out so late when he was out with the guys? Rattling off a message that I needed to talk ASAP, I slipped on my sandals and grabbed my keys. I couldn’t sit by and do nothing. Bobby was clearly awake, and if anyone had the clout to find Alec, it was Maxim Stein.

At the front door I paused, forcing myself to take one second to think. If I showed up frantic in the middle of the night looking for my non-boyfriend, I was going to lose my position there. Hell, I might not even get through the gate.

Alec had chosen Charlotte over me. If he had been in the crash, he had been with his girlfriend. I was nothing to him.

But I loved him, and betrayed as I felt, imagining him dead hit me like a punch straight through the chest.

I turned on the security system—the precaution Alec had insisted on—and ran down the stairs and through the parking garage to my car. The drive took far too long, and I prayed that there was no law enforcement to pull me over as I drove thirty miles over the speed limit.

How had Charlotte lost control of the car? The news had said her company, Green Fusion, was bankrupt. Had she tried to kill herself? Taken Alec with her?

No. I couldn’t think that way. I would get to Maxim’s house, and they’d tell me Alec was alive and well and I had nothing to worry about.

And then I could hate him for breaking my heart.

My tires squealed as I tore through the ritzy neighborhood like a drag racer. When I reached the front gate of Maxim’s estate, I slammed on the brakes.

The gate was open. It was never open.

I rolled inside, nerves raw. The property was still, though well lit by the security lights that bathed the circle around the fountain in an eerie yellow hue. I didn’t go all the way to my usual spot; it was too dark in that direction to tell if any other cars were there. Instead I parked behind the black SUV directly in front of the main entry. My eyes were drawn to a long scrape down the side panel. Apparently someone had had a hard time parking.

I climbed the steps on weak legs, doused by a sudden terror. I’d hoped Maxim would help me get information about Alec, but what if he already had the information? He might already know that Alec was dead.

“Please be alive.” I knocked on the door.

No one answered. I moved to the window and looked inside, but the interior of the house was dark. There was a high likelihood that Maxim wasn’t even here—he could have been anywhere in the world.

Voices drifted toward me on the breeze. I recognized Bobby’s, though I couldn’t tell what he was saying. Making the split-second decision to take my chances getting arrested, tazed, or, worse, shot by Maxim’s security, I crept around the far end of the house, keeping my steps as quiet as possible.

The manicured grass gave way to the stone path that led to the guesthouse, the same place I’d found myself trapped my first time here. I snuck toward the lights that glowed in the window, listening for news I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear, much like before. The irony of the situation was certainly not lost on me.

I reached the wraparound deck and plodded along the floorboards, telling myself I should stand and walk to the office door. Knock, like a normal person. Instead I found myself crouched below the same window, scarcely breathing so that I could hear what was being said.

“It’s not my fault she drives like a bat out of hell. It was an accident—don’t look so fucking glum. Now we don’t have to keep watching our backs.” I recognized Bobby’s voice.

“A woman’s dead,” came Maxim Stein’s low rumble. “A woman I had relations with. You don’t think someone will look into this?”

Bobby stammered. “There’s no chance of a kickback. I swear. Not on the redhead’s end anyway.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There may be a problem on Alec’s side.”

“What kind of problem?”

Maxim’s demand was met with a period of silence, then a third voice entered the conversation.

“I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Alec.

Alec was alive.

Alec was here.

I sobbed, and then silenced it in my shirt sleeve. I should have left; I had the information I’d come here for. But I couldn’t bring myself to stand. I’d been so afraid he was dead, I just needed to hear his voice one more time.

“She called here, asshole,” said Bobby. “Your assignment. The
masseuse
.”

My ears perked up.

“When did she call?” asked Maxim. “What was said?”

“She said she knew about Charlotte and needed to talk to Alec,” said Bobby. “It was about an hour after I got back.”

“What did you tell her, Alec?” Maxim demanded.

“Nothing,” said Alec. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“You took her to New York,” insisted Bobby.

“How was I supposed to keep eyes on her if I was out of the state?” Alec shot back.

My spine zipped straight.

“Why would she call here?” asked Maxim.

“She said he left his cell at her place.” Bobby cleared his throat. “Maybe if he wasn’t so busy fucking her, he might have paid more attention.”

Something smashed against the interior wall of the office directly behind me, hard enough to send reverberations through the window above my head. Surprised, I jumped, and straightened one leg out on the deck. It had to be visible from the window above if someone was looking. As fast as I could, I pulled it back to my body.

“Knock it off!” shouted Maxim.

“Fuck!” Bobby’s voice was muffled now.

“She doesn’t know anything,” Alec said again. His tone was cold as ice.

An overwhelming need to run kicked through my body. I crawled across the deck in the direction I’d come, and when I was clear of the office lights, I ran down the path, hard breaths louder than my footsteps. The sinister shadows of the foliage reached toward me. The uneven stones threw me off balance. Before I reached the driveway, I fumbled with my keys and dropped them. It was so dark I had to get on my hands and knees to feel across the ground.

“Shit,” I hissed.

Hurry, hurry, hurry
chanted through my brain.

Finally, my fingers closed around metal. I rose. My car was ten feet away, clear of the looming shadow of the main house.

A second later someone grabbed me from behind, and a hand clamped over my mouth to stifle my scream.