“She’s my cousin and my friend. I’m guessing she needs one of those these days.”
I lean toward her. “Stay. Away.”
She swallows hard and steps backward.
Satisfied, I walk to the door. I have my hand on the doorknob when she speaks.
“What will you do to her once the baby’s born?”
My jaw tenses. I turn.
She must see some weakness in my expression, my posture, because she stands up taller. An ugly grin appears on her too-perfectly made-up face.
“Bury her like you did your fiancée? Like your ancestor buried Nellie Bishop?”
I snort. Walking back into the room, I’m pleased when she hurries to back away from me. “Stay away from my wife and my family or I’ll come for yours.”
Low blow. I know it. To threaten her kid.
Her face pales. Her mouth moves but she doesn’t say anything. Or if she does, I don’t hear it because I walk out of that office, out of that house, feeling like I want to scrub my skin raw to get the poison that is Julia Bishop off me.
4
Jericho
I fly alone to Austria. I’d have taken Dex with me but given the turn in circumstances, I want him home to watch over Isabelle and Angelique. He’ll also be interviewing three men who will possibly guard Isabelle. I know I can’t keep her locked away in the house forever. It’s not good for her or the baby. But she won’t go anywhere without a personal guard, especially now after my visit with Julia Bishop.
My gut feeling about people is always right. Always has been. The one time I didn’t listen to it led to Kimberly’s murder. I’d felt the same way toward Felix Pérez that I do Julia. But I’d shoved it aside. I was doing business. Necessary business that had been left unfinished and needed to be finished. That was all.
But that wasn’t all.
No one apart from Dex knows about my trip to Austria. And Zeke can’t know. Because after my meeting with Santiago I am more curious than ever about what he and Zeke aren’t telling me.
My father was on a ski holiday in Austria when he died. I know he’d met with some men on that trip regarding business that wasn’t exactly above board. But from what I’ve been able to learn, those meetings had gone well. Those men wouldn’t have had cause to harm him. The opposite.
He’d also been with one of his mistresses. I’m glad now that he’d taken that woman and not my mother or she’d be dead too.
The accident had taken place late at night. They were on their way back to the chalet after dinner. It was late and dark, and a fresh snow was falling. All things that could lead to a man inexperienced driving in those conditions to veer off the road.
But my father wasn’t inexperienced. He lived in New Orleans for the second half of his life, but he was born and raised in Colorado. A ski junkie who spent winters for much of his youth and early twenties in the mountains. He was a good driver. Solid.
Their SUV had gone off the road at a hairpin turn coming down the mountain just five minutes from the chalet where the guardrail was already damaged. It had been slated to be repaired the following week. By the time the police got there, snow was coming down hard. Any evidence on the road like skid marks or animal prints or anything that would give a reason as to why it happened were gone. They blamed icy conditions, but it wasn’t icy. It was snow and my father could handle snow.
The car itself had exploded upon impact once it had gone over the cliff causing a minor avalanche. There was nothing left of driver or passenger but charred bones.
The thought turns my stomach.
My father wasn’t a good man. I know that. He was abusive toward our mother. Toward us sometimes—more Zeke than me. But he was my father.
I make a point to drive past the chalet we sold after the accident. It looks the same, just older. I park outside and look at it. The place holds no memories for me. We never came here. Only our parents, mostly our father. I don’t think he brought mom more than a handful of times.
A light goes on inside and someone pulls the curtain back to look out onto the road. It’s a quiet road. No reason to be here unless you’re going to the restaurant at the top of the mountain and the restaurant is closed in the off season.
I put the SUV into drive and make a three-point turn to head back to the hotel. I don’t drive the five minutes it would take me to see the place where their car went over the guardrail. Maybe I will after. But I have an appointment with the manager of Hotel Petterhof.