Trust Me (41 page)

My stomach drops, and Sam grabs my free hand.
That could have been me. Just a few more minutes, and I would have been one of his victims.
It’s hard reconciling the fact that not too long ago, he seemed harmless.

I know it’s difficult for Sam to hear this, considering the guilt she feels from that evening, but I’m glad she was here to hear it firsthand. Hopefully, this news helps us all heal from that horrific experience, and we can be the wiser for it in the future.

She starts her rant, “I still can’t believe his parents pulled what they did. What a couple of sorry pieces of shit. They’re all sorry assholes. I hope they fry his ass.” Taking a breath, she adds softly, “Those poor girls.”

I shiver, thinking about someone getting pregnant from a night she’ll never even remember. I just have no words.

“Baby, I’ve already made arrangements to get those girls help if they haven’t received it already.”

Rubbing my arms to chase away the goose bumps, I respond, “Thank you. I love you.”

I think even Sam is touched by his gesture. At a loss for words, she simply squeezes my leg lovingly.

Since I have to leave at the crack of dawn for tomorrow’s photo shoot, I’m laying out my clothes now. At that time of morning, every minute of extra sleep is precious. I choose a pair of jeans and a dressy green semi-fall sweater that swoops barely off my shoulders. I still haven’t found my black chunky necklace that I wore to the football game. I’m going to have to learn where the staff is putting my things or ask them to leave it for me.

Just as I finish getting dressed, there’s a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

The door slightly cracks open. The security detail states, “Miss Scott, Mr. Wales has requested your presence in his office.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll be right there.”
Why didn’t he come get me himself?
He must be in the middle of something.

The way these guys are so formal wears on my nerves. I make my way toward the office with security in tow. I’ve given up on attempting to have a conversation with any of them as I only receive one-word answers or nods.
Stupid nodding.

As I walk into the office, Damien and Bane are in a heated discussion. It’s not toward each other, but something is going down. Their heads snap up at my presence.

Damien is the first to speak. “Alli, Bane has found some new evidence regarding Becky and the person he believes is sending the notes. I would prefer that you not listen to everything, but I promised you equal footing in this, so I wanted to give you the choice.”

Uh, that’s a no-brainer.
I go to take my seat next to him on the couch, silently conveying my decision. He gives me a loving smile as I grab his hand. I need the connection while I hear the new developments.

Damien instructs Bane, “Continue on.”

“Miss Scott.” He nods in greeting, and I return the nod.

In my mind, I’ve nicknamed us the
nodders
because of how much our heads bobble all the time.

“As I was telling Mr. Wales, I believe someone from the party he threw at his parent’s house that evening was involved with the kidnapping and murder of Rebecca. I’ve been up to Mr. Wales’s parents’ home under the premise that I was investigating their daughter’s disappearance. They were very accommodating and asked if reporters would be by later to take additional statements.”

I’m seeing red when I hear all his parents can think about is getting more publicity for an already horrifically tragic event. Damien tenses beside me.

Bane continues, “What I found and they confirmed is that there is one door in the pool house that appears to be monitored, but it really isn’t. They have never had the camera hooked up to the monitoring system, so there are technically seven cameras but only six feeds. Therefore, someone could have left the party at any time and come back, essentially moving about unnoticed with the inebriated state everyone seemed to be in. The cops notated the observation regarding the camera feeds, but they never put two and two together.”

I hear Damien swear under his breath as Bane continues, “From there, I went to the site where Rebecca’s body was found. I knew nothing would be there after all this time, but I needed the lay of the land. After looking at records and nearby places, I found a connection. On this piece of property,” he says, pointing to a section on a map that means absolutely nothing to me, “was an abandoned shed. It was probably built some fifty plus years ago. When I searched it, I found this.” He grabs a photo from a folder. “It has been properly tagged and secured for the time being.”

The moment Damien sees it, he sucks in a harsh breath, and his muscles go taut. The veins in his arms are pulsing. It’s a picture of a yellowed quilt that was probably white at some time, and it has some faded flowers on it. I remember Bane’s words from our last discussion.
The only thing missing was a white quilt with pink flowers.

Oh shit!
Bane found it. After all this time, badass Bane found it.

Without having to be asked, Bane continues, “This was found on Mr. Mills’s property, Mr. Wales. Technically, one of the subsidiaries he has formed to protect his assets owns the property, but it’s been in his possession or his family’s for the last fifteen years.

“From there, I cross-referenced other properties that Mr. Mills owns with the cities noted on the postage of the articles you’ve received. Mr. Mills has hotels in all of those towns. I am working to see if we can put him in each city around the time the articles were sent, but that’s going to take a little longer to correlate.

“I know that Mr. Mills was present at the party where Miss Scott received the note. Also, in both instances of flower deliveries to Miss Scott, the orders were made over the phone, and they were paid for with cash. I am working on tracking down the delivery boys, but I have no verification at this time. I can also put Mr. Mills in North Carolina at the time of the game. He was attending an event of his own.”

My head is swimming with all this information.
Martin kidnapped and killed Rebecca, and now, he’s after me.
He’s obsessed with Damien. He wants everything that Damien has. His infatuation with all Damien’s exes is proof of that.
Ugh, I feel like I am going to be sick.
I look over at Damien and give him a squeeze. This has got to be one of the hardest things to hear. His best friend killed his sister and potentially wants his girlfriend now. I can’t even imagine Sam and I doing that to each other.
What kind of person does this?
The betrayal is unfathomable.

Bane continues on, “Sir, we have tracked Mr. Mills, and he left earlier tonight to go out of the country with his family. We did not get a visual verification. We received this information after they had already departed, but all records show him boarding the plane. Airport footage confirms this. They are due back by at the end of the week. I will continue to monitor him.

“I need further instruction on how you want to handle everything. The suite where Miss Scott will be working in tomorrow has been secured. Her security detail will consist of four people. Three will maintain a perimeter, and one will remain with her. Security has been given detailed instructions on how to handle the situation.”

“Thank you, Bane. Let me reassess, and I’ll get back with you. Don’t let Martin out of your fucking sight. Have someone on the ground to keep track of his every movement when he lands.” Bane goes to stand, and Damien continues, “Bane, thank you for your work. Excellent job. Hopefully, by the end of this week, this sick bastard will be behind bars.”

Bane nods and leaves the room. I immediately embrace Damien in a hug, not knowing what to say. He pulls me with him as he lies back on the leather couch. Remaining silent, we just hold each other. The only sound in the room is his elevated and steady heartbeat in my ear.

Finally, I whisper, “It’s almost over. I’m glad you’ll finally have closure for your sister.”

“Me, too, baby. Me, too. Please don’t talk to anyone about this, including Sam, for right now. We need to be able to surprise him before he’s able to slip away. Bane’s going to use this extra time to further build our case against Martin.” The hurt in his voice is evident.

“I promise.”

He nods, and we continue to just hold each other. I’m sure Damien is feeling all sorts of betrayed right now. It’s one thing to sleep with his girlfriend. It’s a totally different story to pretend to be his best friend and then abduct and kill his sister. Then, Martin continued to pretend to be Damien’s friend after all those years.

Damien is so incredibly strong to have endured what he has and to have come out a better person on the other side versus wallowing in his sorrow. I’m so incredibly proud of him, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life showing that to him.

As I walk through the hotel suite with my coffee in hand, my head is in a fog from waking up so early this morning for the photo shoot. Damien has a few business things he has to take care of, and then he is going to join me over lunch. Even though he seems to be doing okay, I think he needs some time to process things by himself.

Chris is in the kitchen of the suite, making some adjustments on his camera.

“Morning, Chris.”

He’s one of those older men who I just want to pinch on the cheek because he’s so adorable. He’s slightly frumpy around the middle, and his short white hair is always a chaotic mess.

“Morning, Allison. You got some extra friends with you today.” He tips his head to the men in suits following me.

Smiling, I respond, “Protective boyfriend.”

He just laughs and continues messing with his camera.

“Looks like the interior design team made a lot of headway. We should be shooting within the hour with some minor adjustments. I was thinking we could shoot the kitchen and table shots in the morning light to give it a fresh feel,” I say.

Looking out the window toward the dark sky, he responds, “That should work. Then, were you thinking about shooting the bedroom at sunset to give it a romantic vibe?”

“Oh, Chris, you read my mind. I must have been trained well.” I give him a little wink as he chuckles.

He walks up to me and pats me on the shoulder, like a grandparent would do to a grandkid. “Let me show you where they put the extra props in case you need something. Repairs are being done to that room, so it’s been restricted from use.”

With security in tow, I follow him to the office that’s been designated off-limits for shooting.

About an hour later, I am almost ready to begin shooting the breakfast nook. I have about five minutes before the sun rises, and I need a higher basket to give the table height and dimension. I remember seeing one in the office where we are storing the extra décor.

Walking into the office, I spot it immediately. Belatedly, I remember I should have told the security guy where I was going. He’s posted right outside the breakfast room, and I left through the opposite entryway. I hope he doesn’t notice. If Damien finds out, he will be so agitated with both of us.

Right as I grab the basket, I hear the door shut, causing me to spin around.

Oh shit!
I drop the basket on the floor. My world stops, and panic consumes me. Martin is standing in front of the door, blocking my way, with a silver object in his belt. His hair is shorter, and he looks tired.