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“OKAY.” CECE SAT IN the interrogation room, shrugging. “I met Lang while I was with PC Express. I barely remember her.”
“Bullshit.” Connie stood beside him. “Since when do you ever forget a beautiful woman?”
He cocked his head in her direction. “You have a point there, Detective.”
Dee asked from across the table, “Did you see Lang Latimer the night she died?”
“Here we go again.” His eyes followed Connie as she walked around the room. “Because I met her while I was a salesman for only about two weeks I might add, I killed her?”
Connie crossed her arms. “Why didn’t you tell us you knew her?”
“I didn’t have to.” He pulled at his collar. “Is there a law that every person who met Lang has to tell you?”
“It doesn’t seem realistic that this is a coincidence,” Dee said. “What’s the chance you knew two women who ended up dead?”
“I’m sick of people bringing up Jeanette Dobbins. I was cleared of her murder. Look, you have nothing on me.”
“That’s not how I see it.” Connie stood from the wall.
“Can you put me at the scene of the crime, Connie? Got any evidence pointing to me? I doubt it. Hock Meadows killed Lang.”
Connie rocked. “I can’t shake this feeling I got about you.”
“I hope it’s a good feeling.” He smiled at her. “All I did was sell Lang something. What’s next? Bringing her mailman in here?” He waved his hands. “Or what about her doctor? Oh, don’t forget her beautician.”
Dee stroked the table with her finger. “What about harassing her?”
“It wasn’t harassment. Jeez, I asked her on a fucking date. Isn’t that what guys do? I found her attractive. Sue me but I bet every straight man you meet would’ve found Lang Latimer attractive. She was gorgeous.”
Connie held her hip. “Bet her turning you down pissed you off seeing how you hate rejection.”
“I asked her out,” he spoke slow. “She said she had a boyfriend, and that was the end. No big deal.”
“Did something else happen while you were at Lang’s?” Dee asked.
“I’ve had enough of this shit.” CeCe stood, shoving his chair to the table.
“Did you want to teach her a lesson for rejecting you, CeCe?” Connie blocked him. “Did you kill her?”
“Nice try, Connie.” A seductive smile covered his lips. “I was nowhere near The B-District that night. I was at my aunt’s place. We watched the Saw marathon. I was there all night.” He slithered between them, heading for the door. “I got to get back to work.”
Connie pointed at him. “This isn’t over, CeCe.”
He blew her a kiss and left.
Connie sat, huffing. “Cocky son of a bitch.”
Dee pressed her butt against the table. “You think he killed Lang?”
“I think he killed Lang, Jeanette and Jessica Jacobs.”
****
LYDIA AWOKE IN A LAVISH bedroom on a king-sized bed covered in a quilted spread with golden roses scattered throughout the material.
She widened her heavy eyelids and struggled to rise but her head felt as though it weighed a million pounds. “Ooh.” She pressed her temples, focusing on the ivory walls and stunning oak furniture.
She couldn’t remember beyond fighting with Lucian as he forced her onto a jet.
“God.” She eased off the bed and stumbled to the door, her sneakers squeaking on the marble floor. “Help!” She beat the door. “Let me out of here!” She yanked the gold knob. “Help me, please!”
She ran to the gold-trimmed windows to find them bolted shut. “Shit.” She stared upon a humongous garden of lush bushes and flowers of every color.
For a moment, Lydia lost herself in the small valleys and hills of emerald grass in the distance.
She shook her head, breaking her trance from the dazzling foliage and fragrance of spicy and smoky flowers so powerful it came through the walls.
The door opened.
Lydia snatched the cordless lamp off the end table and held it above her head.
Lucian stepped in with a key in his hand. “Lydia.”
“Ah!” She threw the lamp at him and ran.
Lucian grabbed her as she passed, clamping his arms on her waist. “Listen—”
“No!” She punched his solid chest. “Get off me.” She dug her fingernails into his cheek.
“Ow!” He let her go, clutching his face.
Lydia ran into the hall of polished wood and sparkling crystal.
Lucian caught her. “Listen.”
“Let me go!” She kicked as he carried her back into the bedroom. “No, no!” She swerved around in his strong arms, beating his chest with her frail punches. “Just let me leave. Why can’t you let me leave?”
“Lydia.”
“No.” She pushed him and grabbed the Louis XIII chair by the fireplace. “Come near me and I’ll beat you with it.”
“Come on.” He leaned over, clutching his knees and coughing. “You’re making this worse than it is.”
“Where am I?”
He flinched, standing straight.
“Why are you doing this?” She swayed the chair. “Is this about Cam?”
He squinted. “Why would this be about your boyfriend?”
“Cam and I are archeologists.” She panted. “We’ve found rare jewels and statues. Stuff ruthless, bad people want.”
“Lydia—”
“Is this what this is about? Did Cam take something from whoever wants me here?”
“This has nothing to do with your boyfriend.”
“We’re not in the states. I’ve traveled all over the world. I can tell.”
“This is Wales. Red Marrow to be exact.”
“Wales.” Lydia dropped the chair and snapped her fingers, thinking. “Who would Cam know in Wales?”
“It’s not about him.”
“Then why the fuck am I here?”
The door opened and a young woman with yellowish-green eyes and her dirty-blonde hair bound in a braid, entered. “Is everything okay?”
Lydia watched her every move. “Who are you?”
“Are you okay?” the woman asked.
“Just peachy.” Lydia scoffed. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Lucian shook his head.
“Why the fuck am I in Wales?”
“For happiness.” The woman watched Lydia with an aloof gaze. “To experience everlasting love and peace.”
“What the fuck?” Lydia pointed at her, grimacing at Lucian. “Is she on something?”
The woman frowned. “You should be grateful he wants you so much.”
“Who wants me?” Lydia gestured to the scar on the woman’s neck. “You’re that girl that was almost killed. Candra Martel.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” She beamed. “Jonathan’s been waiting.”
“Jonathan?” Lydia fell back on the bed as butterflies circled in her gut. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Candra spread her arms wide. “Welcome to Jonathan’s Palace. He’ll make your dreams come true.”
Lydia’s knees shook. “Jonathan’s dead,” she whispered.
“Not really.” Candra giggled, locking her arms behind her back. “Who else would’ve thought of such a plan?”
“No.” Lydia ran to Lucian, grabbing his shirt. “She’s crazy, right? This bitch is crazy. Jonathan’s dead. Lucian?”
He stood stiff as a brick with a vacant stare.
“Oh my god.” Lydia covered her mouth. “He’s alive? Jonathan’s alive?”
“Yes and he wants you.” Candra pouted. “You should be proud.”
“Lucian, you gotta get me out of here.” Lydia shook him. “Jonathan’s crazy.”
He patted her arms. “It’ll be all right.”
“Lucian, there’s good in you. I see it. You can’t let this happen.”
He caressed her hands as he pulled them from his shirt. “It’s done.”