Only Trick

“But we got a little reckless. I’d forgotten about my lunch date with Paula. The door to my office wasn’t locked and she walked in on us.” Rachel clears her throat. “But I have to hand it to Paula, she made the most of the situation. I thought we were friends, but then she threatened to expose us. That’s when your knight in shining armor saved the day. He offered to let Paula in on our fun.”

Oh my God!

I pull away from Tamsen and hug my stomach. It’s too much.

“Don’t act so disgusted. I’m sure during those two years you spent dressed in black, whoring around campus to piss off your father, you surely fell into the occasional threesome or orgy.”

I shake my head. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I slept with more guys than I should have, and I did do it in a sort of rebellion, but that’s it. They were just one-night stands, nothing sick and twisted.

“I’m sure you know he’s a drug addict. Eventually that’s all Paula craved … drugs, sex, and Trick.” Rachel picks up the drawing and laughs. “I bet he drew the last thing he remembered. Do you know what this is, Darby? Do you know what happened that night, the night he was hit by a car?”

I shake my head. “Stop … no more.”

“She’s not sleeping in this picture … she’s dead.”

“No! Stop it!”

Tamsen helps me to my feet.

“He drugged her, fucked her, and killed her.”

“I hate you!” I lunge for her but Tamsen holds me back.

“Don’t! She’s not worth it.”

Rachel smirks, stepping to the side as Tamsen pulls me toward the door. When we reach the elevator, I lean against the wall and collapse.

“I hate her …” I sob. “I hate him …” I clench and tug at my hair. “I hate this fucking life. Make it stop.”

“Shh …” Tamsen hunches down in front of me. “I’m so sorry, sweetie.”

“D-did you kn-know?” l lift my head to look into her eyes.

“No, I didn’t.”

I trust Tamsen. I know she wouldn’t lie to me. She’s my friend … my only friend.

Chapter Forty-Eight

“Cocaine?”

I shake my head.

“Alcohol?”

Another head shake.

“Have you fucked anyone but your wife in the past twenty-four hours?”

“No.” Lifting my head from my hands, I watch Grady sit in the chair opposite of me. “How much did you know?”

Grady rubs the back of his neck and sighs. I’ve always known that Grady knew more than he was telling me, but in spite of the fact that he was driving the car that caused my memory loss, in a weird way I’ve felt like he saved me by not telling me everything and getting me the hell out of New York. I trust Grady; he’s protected me. Until last night, I had no idea to the extent that he’s had to go to protect me.

“I knew you were with Mayor Bailey’s wife the night she died. There was a message on your phone from her earlier that evening.”

I nod, rubbing my hands over my face. “She wanted to come over.”

“Yes.”

“Where did you get my phone? We couldn’t find it after the accident.”

“You couldn’t find it. I took it from your belongings at the hospital. I was looking for family … clues to what had happened. The morning after the accident all the headlines were about the tragic death of Paula Bailey. Mayor Bailey arrived home late and discovered that his wife had OD’d.”

I stare at my hands. My whole fucking body feels numb.

“Someone moved the body, but I’m quite certain it wasn’t you. However, when I had someone check into your phone records you made a call to a private number about fifteen minutes before you ran into the street. Do you remember who you called?”

I press my fingers to my temples. “The strongest memory I have is just how fucked up my memory was back then from the drugs.” I look up. “Rachel Hart is the only person I would have called.” I shake my head. “I think I called her … I don’t know. I came out of the bathroom and Paula was …”

“Jesus, Trick … it was her, Rachel?”

I nod, eyes slipping to my hands as I clench my fists in front of me. “Why didn’t you tell me when I sent you the picture of the drawing?”

Grady sighs. “For the same reason I didn’t tell you years ago. Without your memory you wouldn’t know what to do with the information. What was I supposed to say? ‘Yep, that’s Paula Bailey, the mayor’s wife whom I imagine you snorted cocaine off her tits, then fucked her right before she died of an overdose.’ What were you going to do with that little nugget of information? Tell Darby? Call the mayor and apologize?”

“And I know now?” I yell, not really meaning to lash out at Grady.