“What fire?” I squeaked.
“The one I started.”
“You burnt my stuff!” I sputtered. “Why would you do that?”
“It was the only option I had on short notice. You neglected to mention that Theodore Gavin, whose body I disposed of, had his car parked at your complex. When he was reported missing, GPS tracking led the cops to his vehicle. This, in turn, had them questioning residents to see who last saw him. Turned out someone witnessed you two arguing. Add in your recent court case, and you became a person of interest. I acted just before the cops managed to get a warrant to search your apartment.”
“Oh no. I’m a murder suspect!” My hand went to my mouth.
“Actually, the police are theorizing that Gavin killed you and went on the run.”
“That doesn’t explain why you torched my place.”
“To get rid of the blood you left spattered after your mishap with the microwave as well as to incinerate the body of the woman in your apartment.”
“What woman? I only killed Gavin,” I huffed.
“Given we needed to establish a narrative, a female corpse was planted so that the coroner would declare you dead.”
My eyes widened. “You did what? Jesus Christ. I have to let my family know I’m alive.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“But my sisters?—”
“Will grieve and recover. Let’s be honest, you weren’t close,” Randy pointed out.
“How would you know?”
“You think we didn’t dig into you?” he scoffed.
“Cillian had you spy on me.” I stiffened with indignation.
“Hardly. A good security team studies everyone who comes into contact with their VIP. So yes, we know everything about you, including the fact that you saw your siblings only once or twice a year in the last decade.”
My lips pinched. “I’ll admit, we’re not close, but still, to let them think I’m dead seems kind of icky.”
“Let me ask you this, if you announce you’re alive, then how will you explain the woman found burned in your apartment and the missing Gavin?”
“I don’t know.” I chewed my lower lip.
“Even if we didn’t have a problem with the cops, what are you going to say about the fact that you’re looking decades younger?”
Decades? I almost preened. Would Cillian see the difference? That was, assuming he ever stopped ignoring me.
“Fine. You’ve made your point. I can’t go home and I can’t call my sisters. What can I do?” I might be almost fifty, but I could still pout like a pro.
Randy eyed me head to toe and grimaced. “I’d recommend you go shopping.”
“With what money? I assume I can’t use my credit or bank card.” Not that it would matter as one was maxed out and the other had something like twenty dollars.
A black plastic card suddenly dangled in front of me. “This is for your personal use.”
I grabbed it and ogled the fact the card had no numbers or a name, just a magnetic strip and a shiny iridescent chip.
“How much can I spend?”
“As much as you like.”
