Just like Jeremiah had suspected for a long time, she had not jumped. She’d been murdered and here, at last, was the terrible proof.
The long-range shot of the man’s outline came to a halt. Then the video cut to the still frame Nathan had mentioned to Jude—a close-up of the man’s chest, shoulders, and head.
Though pixelated and hazy, the face was recognizable for the first time.
It was Anton.
The sight drove the air from his lungs.
Anton. The name rattled around his head like a stone in a Mason jar.Anton. His best friend had been having an affair with his wife. The betrayal of it coursed through him like acid.
Anton and Alexis had spent more than enough time together to develop a secret flirtation. They had proximity. They’d have been motivated to cover their tracks well because they were both married, and Alexis would have told Anton that she’d been caught in her first affair. Jeremiah had been home from racing when Alexis had taken the trips Kimley had found suspicious. When Jeremiah was home from racing, Anton was home from racing, too. And available to travel.
Anton lived in Groomsport so it would have been simple to sneak onto theCamdenball, first to poison his drinks and then to remove the remaining drinks. He’d have known when to do that because Jeremiah himself had kept him in the loop about everything.
All of his memories had come back now. Just in time for several memories of Anton to taunt him. The countless work trips. The times they’d laughed. The times Anton had encouraged him after a bad race. The thousands of hours Anton had spent as his physical trainer. The times Anton had functioned as a bodyguard or a press secretary. The trip to Ibiza he and Alexis had taken with Anton and Camille.
Wait.Camille.
Icy realization split into his consciousness. “Remy is going to Anton’s house today to have lunch with Camille.”
“What? When?”
Jeremiah’s attention raked over the computer’s screen. In his panic, he couldn’t remember where to locate the time. There, in the corner. It was twenty after twelve. “I think Camille told me Remy would be there at twelve thirty.” He’d intended to stop by a little after one.
“We’ve got to keep her from going over there.”
His hands were shaking, but he managed to bring up the last text he’d received from Camille. “Yeah, twelve thirty. That’s when Remy will be there.” Ten minutes.
He dialed Remy. An eternity of time passed between every ring. It went to voice mail. He dialed her again.Remy. Once in your life, just this once, have your phone on and answer.
Problem was, even if she had her phone on, she wasn’t likely to answer a call from him seeing as how she’d asked him not to contact her. He shot her a text message.
Jeremiah
Anton killed Alexis. Do not go to Camille’s house.
“Jude. Try to call and text Remy.” If she’d blocked his number, maybe Jude could get through.
“Number?” Jude asked.
Jeremiah read out the digits. Jude punched them in and held his phone to his ear.
“Do you have your gun on you?” Jeremiah asked.
“Always.”
“Let’s go.”
Dialing Remy again, Jeremiah sprinted toward the garage.
She still wasn’t answering.Remy!Answer!
He went straight for the Ferrari, one of the fastest street-legal cars in the world.
“Why isn’t she picking up?” Jude asked as he slid into the passenger seat and Jeremiah into the driver’s seat.
“She never answers her phone.” Jeremiah fired up the engine, then slammed the car into gear, peeling into a reverse spin from the garage, and shooting down his driveway.
