Insidious (FBI Thriller 20)

Delsey’s face was utterly blank. Was history repeating itself? Could Griffin be right? Could her luck in men be that sucky? Was she that much of a pushover? “You said Dillon and Sherlock met his girlfriend Tuesday night? There’s got to be a mistake here, Griffin. They mistook things. They had to.”

“Marsia Gay lives in Millstock, Maryland. She’s a successful sculptor, or getting there. Savich said he and Sherlock asked her about her intentions toward Rob, if she was serious, if she was thinking about marriage. She said she hadn’t made up her mind. But they were tight, and he introduced her to his family as practically his fiancée.”

Delsey stared down her spaghetti, very carefully laid her fork on the table. She looked sick, leached of color. “There has to be an explanation.”

“I just gave it to you, straight from Savich’s mouth. You think either he or Sherlock would say that if it wasn’t true?”

“He didn’t mention her, not at all.”

“I’m really sorry, Delsey. Do you want me to bust him up?”

She hunched in on herself, shook her head. The man who’d loved her the whole afternoon and evening, shared all of himself with her, told her he’d never felt the same about another woman in his life. She’d believed him because she felt the same way. They’d sat cross-legged on the rumpled bed, room service sandwiches, potato chips, and a bottle of wine between them, talking and laughing, and touching, always touching, kissing between bites. He’d spoken so freely, with such enthusiasm, such openness, she had no doubt he’d meant it. She remembered her ex-husband’s golden tongue, how she’d believed everything out of his mouth until she’d nearly drowned in his lies. “Griffin, am I doomed to always fall for the wrong guys?”

“Stop looking pitiful, the moron’s not worth it.” He eyed her, watched her pick up a roll, look at it as if she didn’t know what it was, set it back down on her plate.

“I thought he was the one, Griffin, finally, the perfect guy for me. I never thought to ask him if he was unattached. I mean, of course he had to be or he wouldn’t have come on to me, he wouldn’t have wanted to have—” Her voice wobbled. She wet her lips. “And now you’re telling me he was cheating on his girlfriend?”

Griffin, always more cynical than his sister, said, “At least you found out before things went any further. You need to step back right now, Dels. I don’t have to bust him up, but I could have a chat with him, set him straight.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Delsey said. She looked down at her congealed spaghetti and wondered what would happen if she threw it against the wall.

“A week in Paris might be just the thing for you. You’ve still got plenty of time before your grad classes start up again at Stanislaus.”

“Yeah, it sounds lovely. All alone staring up at the Eiffel Tower.”

“There would be advantages. The Eiffel Tower’s got a great view from the top. If you happened to spot a single good-looking guy, you wouldn’t be able to get back down fast enough to catch up with him.”

* * *

Rob called her on her way out of the restaurant to ask her if he could make dinner for her that night at his apartment.

“I was thinking sushi. Do you like sushi? I miss you, Delsey, you can’t imagine how much I miss you, how much I want to see you again.”

It hurt so bad to form the words, to open her mouth. Then she thought of his girlfriend and felt a clean spray of anger. “You should invite Marsia Gay, not me.”

She heard him groan. “How did you find out about Marsia? Oh, I see, Savich told you about her. Delsey, it isn’t what it seems. I know that sounds lame. But listen, I was planning on clearing things up with her this weekend. Really, Delsey, she’s been more than a friend, I’ll admit that, but there’s always been something missing. It won’t go any further. Now it can’t. I only took her to my grandmother’s mansion Tuesday night so I wouldn’t have to face the family alone. She helped me by running interference. You and I, it happened so quickly, I haven’t had time to speak to her, but I will.”

She said clearly, “I’m not going to start another relationship with someone who lies to me, Rob. I don’t want to hear from you again.” She punched off her cell. Sometimes, she thought as she walked the three miles back to Griffin’s condo, life smacks you in the head.

45

* * *

LOST HILLS SHERIFF’S STATION

CALABASAS, CALIFORNIA

THURSDAY MORNING

Cam and Daniel sat across a scarred table from John Bayley, aka Blinker, in the only interview room at the Lost Hills station, Chief Dreyfus Murray watching and listening behind a two-way mirror. Daniel had processed Blinker at 3:00 a.m. into one of Sheriff Murray’s jail cells, and they’d all gone home for a few hours’ sleep.

Blinker looked pathetic this morning, his chinos and shirt wrinkled and dirty from his face-plant in Missy’s yard. It was obvious he hadn’t slept, and he looked scared, his eyes darting back and forth between them. It was odd, but he looked even scrawnier this morning than he had lying in Missy’s yard.

Daniel said, “Mr. Bayley, you’ve had ample time to think of a better story than the lame one you told last night. So tell us exactly why you were at Missy Devereaux’s house after dark, well after midnight in fact, when it was obvious she’d be asleep?”

“I told you when you were shoving me into a cell last night, Detective Montoya, that I occasionally have insomnia and I’ve found that walking around helps. I like Malibu at night, it’s quiet and smells nice, you know? And all the movie stars are sound asleep and I can picture how it must feel to live like that.” He shot Cam a look. “Don’t you ever wonder what the movie stars look like without makeup?”

“No,” Cam said.

“Okay, okay, just a little joke. Listen, I thought the house was empty and I liked it. My lease is coming due and I’ve been thinking about maybe renting something in Malibu. I didn’t know it was her house, I didn’t. It’s a weird coincidence.” Blinker fanned his hands in front of him and went hopefully silent.

Cam said, “But you didn’t walk far, did you? We found your car parked a block from Ms. Devereaux’s house.”

“I live in Santa Monica—you know that. It’s way too far to walk, so I drove to Malibu, then I began walking.”