Инстинкт Зла. Возрожденная. Марина Суржевская
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felt her movements stiffen. She became distracted and stepped on his toes. “You think I’m right. You think you might know your attacker. And you think he still wants you dead.” The terror was evident in the way she turned her face to him. Then she stopped dancing, dropping her hands and looking away. “It’s all right,” he continued. “You don’t need to respond.”
“There’s nothing to respond to.” The proud tilt of her chin told him the shield was back up, the vulnerability concealed. “I answered Officer Langley’s call last week and came to the crime scene, but in hindsight, that was a mistake. I know it wasn’t Lena, and it wasn’t Valentine, but I haven’t slept much since then. I hope you understand if I decline to review those files. I’m too close to the case to be objective.”
Mia walked off the dance floor and he followed. Gray considered calling her out for using an excuse but then reconsidered. She’d been the victim of a crime, and if she didn’t want to revisit that time, then all the pleading and bargaining and coercion in the world wouldn’t do a damn thing. “Can’t blame me for trying,” he said.
She didn’t reply but simply nodded. “By the way, I think that officer made a mistake in speaking with that reporter last week. He said that the woman found by the Charles was a victim of a copycat killer.”
“So? That’s the truth.”
“You’re dealing with Valentine, who has a significant need to prove his power. When you suggest someone is copying him, you risk flushing him out of hiding.”
She didn’t know how right she was. “What’s done is done,” he said.
“I can give you the name of a colleague of mine to help you with the file. He’s very thorough, and he’s helped private citizens review cold cases. He may have some additional insight.”
Gray shrugged. “Sure, why not? Though it’s not a cold case anymore.”
That caught her attention. “What do you mean, it’s not a cold case?”
“Exactly what you think. I received the call just twenty minutes ago. A young woman disappeared from her Back Bay apartment this afternoon.” He crept closer, watching the effect of his words settle in the lines that were appearing on her forehead. “This time, all of the signs are there. Missing coed. No sign of forced entry. The right kind of flowers. Valentine’s hunting again.”
* * *
Mia’s lungs might as well have been encased in cement. She’d known this day would come. What—did she really believe that Valentine had disappeared for good? That he’d relocated and started killing elsewhere? At best she knew he was lying dormant, possibly finding other outlets for his violent urges, and the fact that he was active again should have come as no surprise. Except that Mia still couldn’t breathe.
“I need to sit,” she managed, then spanned her gaze across the sea of tuxedos and gowns.
“Come with me.”
She didn’t object as Gray took charge, not even when he placed one of his large hands on the small of her back to guide her as if they were intimate friends. She was walking in fog, thinking only about the night her sister vanished. Blood in the hall of her apartment. Broken glass in the kitchen. A front door left wide open. A bouquet of wild forget-me-nots tied with a silk ribbon and left beside a smashed photograph of their family. Mia had been the first to see the scene. Then she called her sister’s cell phone, heard it vibrate on the kitchen counter and called the police.
As wrenching as those first few hours had been, the next hours had been worse, and the hours after that worse still. No initial shock could compare to the reality that her sister was missing and probably dead. Nothing in her education had prepared her for that moment. Just like now, when she could draw on no knowledge to slow the frantic stammering of her heart.
Valentine is hunting. Her stomach roiled.
“Here.” Gray leveled the order and gently guided Mia downward onto a leather chair in the lobby of the hotel, far away from the bustle of the event.
“Thank you.” She leaned back against the chair, cradled by the rounded back and sides. “I knew this moment would come...”
“But that doesn’t mean you were ready for it,” Gray finished, settling himself in the matching chair beside her.
“No. It doesn’t.”
He leaned closer, propping his elbows on his knees and folding his hands as if in prayer. They were quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. “I’m very sorry, Mia. This is a big night for you, and it wasn’t my intention to upset you.”
She was glad she was sitting down for this. This arrogant man—he was actually apologizing to her now? Mia didn’t know whether to be touched or outraged at the thought that he believed she was so fragile. “I couldn’t have predicted how I would react to that news,” she replied carefully, weighing her words. “How could you have known?”
He tilted his head at her and then looked back down at his folded hands. “Well, one thing is certain.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re correct about not being the right person for this job. I won’t bother you again. Not about Valentine, anyway.” He patted her knee as he stood. “Stay here until you feel better. Take whatever time you need. I’ll let the organizers know what’s going on.”
“You’ll do no such thing. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
She didn’t appreciate that. “And where are you going now?”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’m wearing this thing.” He gestured at his tuxedo. “I’ve got front-row seats and dinner at a table with the chief of police, so I’m going back into the ballroom for a couple more hours.”
Something about the tone of his voice tipped her off. “No, you’re not. You’re leaving now, and you’re going to work.”
The double take told her she was right. “Like I said, I’ll be at the dinner.” He turned to leave. “It was nice seeing you again. Thanks for the dance.” Without so much as a glance, Gray proceeded back toward the ballroom and into the crowd they’d just left.
In hindsight, Mia would describe the force that compelled her to follow Gray Bartlett as something outside of herself and very powerful. But in that moment, Mia didn’t think about it. Gray clung to the edges of the room, following the walls until he reached the far exit that would lead to the south side of the building. She didn’t congratulate herself for picking up on his lie. She didn’t think of anything as she was pulled along the current of dinner attendees like a drop of water through a pipe, until she and Gray were deposited into the waning sunlight of that summer evening. He didn’t even notice her until then, when he pulled his sunglasses from somewhere and turned his head and said, “You’re following me.” It wasn’t a question, because he knew the answer.
“I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not.”
Gray turned and marched toward the parking lot. Mia quickened her pace, feeling the effort in the pinching of her high heels. “You’re the one who asked me for help. You said you wanted to help me find closure for my sister. Now you tell me that Valentine is killing again, and I’m supposed to sit around and wait?”
Gray halted and sighed heavily, as if he were dealing with a tedious child. “Mia. Would I like to have your insight on the case? Yes. But you have too many other things to sort out. Let the police take care of this one.” He didn’t bother waiting for a response before turning and continuing on his way.
Mia stood frozen in place between a crosswalk and a traffic island decorated with stumps of peonies and a small tree. She couldn’t be so pathetic as to run after him and demand that he allow her to tag along on his investigation. Except Gray Bartlett was her only remaining connection to her sister, and