He Will be My Ruin

“Would you know anything about that?”

“I know absolutely nothing about how a technology genius the likes of which no one has ever seen must have waited for the sleeping baby to wake from his drug-induced nap to ensure that he was not in fact murdered, and then wiped out all traces of Ms. Evil ever being there, not only from J-Man’s security video but also from the building’s video.”

“So all that stuff Doug said, was he just covering his ass?”

“He meant it and he was covering his ass.” Zac shoots a sideways glance to me. “What Doug doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

So Zac did this of his own accord. I sigh. “I owe you, big-time.”

“You do.” His gaze wanders over to the slit in my dress.

“Not happening. Ever.”

“A simple thank-you would suffice.”

“Thank you.”

“And maybe some new equipment,” he adds, before he’s stopped by Doug’s pounding feet. A waft of cigarette smoke trails in with him. That wasn’t five minutes. That wasn’t even one minute.

“I want to know everything there is to know about J. Grady. Where he was born, what he eats, where he shops. The more I think about it, there’s something not right with him,” Doug demands. I guess nicotine really does help Doug think.

“If I find a reservation, I can pull up his credit card bill,” Zac says.

“Seriously, is nothing safe online?” I mutter.

“You know what they say about getting on a good hacker’s bad side . . . don’t.”

“Do you have his fingerprints?” Doug looks at me.

“Yeah, in my back pocket.”

He rolls his eyes. “In the apartment. Has he touched anything in there?”

The mattress, which was pitched, but he had gloves on. The window, the night he came in . . .

Me.

He’s touched me.

I shudder. “I’m not sure.”

“I need his fingerprints. I’ll see if I can lift some from around the building.”

“Okay, hold on. We don’t even know if Grady’s worth this level of scrutiny yet. Consider our source of informa—”

“Found him.”

I turn to see the name “James Grady” on the screen.

My heart sinks.

CHAPTER 31

Celine

July 16, 2015

I inhale deeply, forcing my anxiety down, and then knock on the door.

I’ve met clients at the Langham twice before. It’s one of a handful of high-end hotels that I agree to, as a requirement of Larissa’s. No seedy motels, no private homes. No backseats.

It’s probably my favorite. The décor is classic, the details are elegant, and the doormen are discreet.

I stick a piece of spearmint gum in my mouth while I listen for the approaching footfalls.

The door finally opens . . .

And I stifle my gasp.

We stare at each other for a few agonizingly long and painful seconds before he steps back to make room for me to enter.

I’m frozen in place. Do I walk in? Do I say there’s been a mistake and leave?

Finally he smiles at me, a secretive lopsided smile. “Call me Jay.”

“Maggie,” I manage to get out, even though we both well know that’s not my real name.

I can’t believe this is happening. I’m sure this moment is changing his opinion of me. It’s definitely changing my opinion of him. Is this a complete coincidence? Did he somehow figure out how I make money?

“Well, Maggie . . . Your secret is safe with me.”

His words, spoken softly, remind me that I’m standing in the middle of a hotel hallway and anyone in the rooms nearby can hear this conversation. A quick glance out their peephole and they’ve seen our faces. I have two choices: I either leave or step inside.

If I leave, will my secret stay safe with him?

Taking in a deep breath, I step inside.

And prepare to offer my services to my building super.

CHAPTER 32

Maggie

December 14, 2015

The brakes on Doug’s Ford Taurus squeak as he pulls up to the curb outside Celine’s apartment building. It’s two in the morning.

And I know that Grady lied to me.

On July 16, the same night that Celine met a new client who she was familiar with, and who introduced himself as “Jay,” Grady rented a hotel room at the Langham under the name James Grady.

Was it just that night, though?

I watched Zac go through every high-end hotel reservation from July through November. There were no more rooms booked by a James Grady beyond that one.

“No reservations means either he didn’t see Celine again, or they weren’t meeting at hotels anymore.” Doug leans forward to study the fire escape in the alleyway. “Ruby may not have heard any man coming to Celine’s door, but that doesn’t mean none came to her apartment.”

My stomach tightens, the same way it did the first time Doug suggested that Grady and Celine had used the fire escape to maintain discretion and minimize cost, especially if he became a “regular” that Celine knew and trusted.

He used the fire escape when he came to me, claiming he didn’t want to disturb Ruby. He had even called it “more romantic” than using the door.

At least he didn’t leave any bills on the table for me.

It still doesn’t make sense. “Do you really think he could afford her?”

“Not with what Zac found in his bank account, but he could have another one somewhere else. But he’d also have to be making some serious cash outside of this gig,” Doug reminds me. “Zac will get into his electric bills to see if he’s growing enough marijuana. I’m guessing that’ll be a dead end though.” Doug purses his lips. “I still think he has a connection to Vanderpoel that we don’t know about yet. There’s a link and we’ll find it.”

It’s late, and I’m exhausted, and yet I know that I won’t be falling asleep anytime soon, so I’m reluctant to leave the warmth of Doug’s car. “So, what’s the plan going forward?”

“You and I are going to walk into that building as if nothing is out of the ordinary, and then, after we part ways, I’m going to go and lift some prints off his door handle.”

“Right now?”

“Zac’s busy digging up everything he can remotely,” he goes on, dismissing my shock. “And you are going to stay the hell away from that guy. I know you’re angry, but don’t say another damn word to him about Celine. You’ve already put the guy on high alert.”