“Thought you ghosted me,” Nick said once Joey was gone. “Before you ran off, I was working up to a sympathy kiss. How am I doing?”
“Not so great,” I said, leaning a hip against his bed. “Your partner blew your cover. He says you’re not dying and you’re actually going to be fine. It seems you missed your window of opportunity.”
Nick’s grin widened, teasing a lethal dimple from one cheek. He laced our fingers together. “How about sympathy dinner at my place?” He raised a sleepy eyebrow. “I promise, no dumpster diving this time.”
“We’ll discuss it when you’re back on your feet. Meanwhile, you should get some rest. Sounds like you have a lot of paper pushing to do once you’re out of here.”
He groaned, his eyes drifting closed again. “Don’t remind me.”
I gave his hand a squeeze as the painkillers kicked in. “I’ve got to go rescue Vero from the ER, and my sister’s burning up my phone. Call me when you’re feeling up to it.” Nick nodded, already half-asleep. Despite my earlier protest, I leaned down and kissed his cheek. His weak smile still managed to look triumphant. “Be safe,” I whispered.
Vero sent me a text from the car, letting me know she’d made it out of the ER in one piece. I replayed my conversation with Joey all the way to the parking lot, fidgeting with the bullet in my pocket. I had been so wrong about Aimee. Wrong about Joey. FedUp and EasyClean were still out there, nameless and faceless, and while Steven was probably safe on Guy’s couch tonight, none of this felt like a victory. I opened the passenger door to the loaner car, hesitating before getting inside. When I turned to glance up toward the window of Nick’s room, I could have sworn I saw a shadow staring down at me.
CHAPTER 44
The police showed up at the house to take our statements early the next morning. We kept our stories simple and consistent. As far as the investigators were concerned, we’d known Theresa had family in the area, only because Steven had mentioned it before. We’d gone to the Westovers’ home to try to convince Theresa to turn herself in, and shortly after we’d arrived, the shooting had started.
I thanked the investigators and showed them to the door, peeking down the street to find Officer Roddy was no longer parked along the curb. If the DA and the police were all convinced Melissa Fuller was FedUp, as Joey had suggested last night, they probably assumed the threat to Steven was over and there was no reason to continue surveillance. I only wished that were true.
In a few hours, Steven would be on a plane to his sister’s house in Philadelphia. With any luck, we’d figure out who FedUp was before the new year, when he returned.
When the police left, I stared at my phone. How many hours could I stall this before Alan called Irina, searching for his missing Superleggera? Or worse, before Irina figured out what I’d done and sent Feliks’s goons to come after me?
Vero gave me an encouraging nod. I dialed the number for the car dealership and asked for Alan, listening to Christmas jazz through an excruciatingly long hold before he finally picked up.
“Alan speaking.” He sounded anxious, harried. I could picture him tugging at the knot in his tie.
“Hi.” I cleared my throat. “You probably remember me. We spoke last night when I picked up a vehicle with Irina Borovkov? I just wanted to let you know an emergency has come up and there’s going to be a little delay returning it. I’m really sorry. We had fully intended to—”
“There’s no need for an apology,” he said quickly.
“There’s not?”
“We have everything we need. We’ve issued a receipt for the payment, and the title and registration were picked up by the courier thirty minutes ago. Unless you require anything else, there’s no need to bring the vehicle back to us.” I held the phone to my ear, stunned. “Now, if there are no other concerns about the purchase, I’ll be going.”
The call disconnected. I stared at my phone.
“What happened?” Vero asked, setting a mug of coffee in front of me.
“I don’t know. I think Irina paid for the car.” It was the only explanation.
Vero’s body went boneless. She dropped into the chair beside me. “So we don’t have to bring it back?”
I shook my head. “Not to the dealership.” At some point, Irina would probably show up to claim her Superleggera. But hopefully by then, it would be fixed, and this entire nightmare would be behind us.
Vero let out a relieved sigh. She threw open the pantry door and reached up on her tiptoes for her hidden stash of cookies. The doorbell rang. Vero froze, her hand around the bag as our eyes caught.