lie. “She told me she abused drugs in the past.”
“She did, yes. Which made this awfully convenient. But she did not overdose on heroin. My sources are sketchy, at best, but that much was confirmed. On the streets, it’s called gray death because it looks like concrete. It’s heroin, fentanyl, and an elephant tranquilizer. Dangerous and deadly. Therefore, I have reason to believe she was murdered.”
“By?” My heart gallops inside my chest, and I wonder if he’ll come out and tell me it was Lucian.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now.”
“You think I know who killed her?”
“I think if anyone has insight into who might’ve wanted to kill her, it’s you.”
“I hardly knew her. We worked together for a few weeks, is all.”
“And I know the nature of your working together, for the most part. What I don’t know is what led to her being fired.”
I don’t even know if this guy is the real deal. He could be a reporter. “She was skimming pills and spreading rumors. Look, I’ll admit, I only have a vague understanding of what you do from old eighties shows, but don’t you have access to police reports and stuff? I don’t think the Blackthornes decided to show up at her motel room and pump her full of drugs.”
“She didn’t rent that room. It was under a different name. One I can’t seem to track down, because it doesn’t seem to be associated with an actual body. And in this case, the police haven’t been playing nice with me.”
“Can you just … tell me what you’re thinking, then? Because I really hate puzzles.”
“Are you familiar with Schadenfreude?” Once again, his eyes make a sweep of our surroundings, and he’s practically stretched across the table, leaning into me.
“No. What is that? German, or something?”
“It’s a German word, yes. In essence, it means finding pleasure in another’s suffering. It’s also the name of a secret group I’ve been investigating for a while now. Would you know of any group that might pay for the pleasure of watching someone suffer?”
Again, I find myself contemplating how much I want to tell this guy, and thoughts of Giulia and her daughter pop into my head. “I might’ve heard of it. But I wouldn’t know anything about it.”
“Assuming you did hear about it, how would you have learned of it?”
As paranoid as Giulia was, I’m not going to throw her into this guy’s lap. “Who hasn’t heard of it?”
“A number of people, that’s who. They happen to be very good at keeping themselves hidden below the radar. I’m only privy to their name through a contact who was found dead in a New York hotel room, a month ago. I’m here to investigate the activities of this group.”
“Who hired you?”
“I can’t divulge names, but it’s the family of a girl who ended up dead.”
“Local?”
“Again, I’ll not go into detail, except to say, I believe she may have somehow gotten tangled up in this group.”
“What do you want from me?”
“Tell me what you know about Lucian Blackthorne.”
At the mention of his name, I instinctively look away, for fear he’ll see the obsession written all over my face. “I don’t know anything about him. He’s not a very transparent man.”
“I know that you and he have become quite close.” Jesus. Did Nell tell this guy everything? “I did a bit of digging into your background, as well.”
Trying to keep a poker face, while my whole body is screaming from the inside, is impossible.
“I know there was an incident a few months ago at a party. I know you spent some time in a therapist’s chair.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with your investigation.”
“I know you live with your aunt, because your mother is a drug addict who gave up parental rights when you were ten years old.”
Pushing the plate of food away, I slide along the booth to leave, and at a grip on my arm, a flare of panic explodes through my muscles. All I have to do is scream, and damn near everyone in this bar would be on this guy.
He reaches into a bag that’s on the seat beside him and pulls out an envelope. “I have a feeling you’ll be quite interested in knowing what’s inside.”
Gaze on the envelope, I suddenly wish I had X-ray vision, because no way this guy is about to hand over whatever he seems to think would be important to me without some condition. “What is it?”
“Tell me