“That’s whatI heara lot. And you know what I say?”
“Don’t move?”
“Exactly. Now we’ve had you well checked out. You’re going to be just fine, so I’m going to let you finish your chat with Mike.” She slides the call remote into my hand. “If you need me, just hit the button. And, Mia? I’m Mia, too. Bet you won’t forget my name.” She winks and then backs away from the bed.
Mike remains out of sight until the door to the room opens and closes. That’s when he rolls a stool to my side. “You up to talking now?”
I try to sit up and grimace. He captures my arm. “Not a good idea.”
“I guess not, but yes on talking. I need to know what happened. I need to know—so many things. Like how are you here? They told me you wouldn’t get my letter until Monday.”
“They being the Adam you left the letter with?”
“Yes. Yes, him. I was afraid he was working with the other Adam.”
“Adam is just a barista who happened to be on duty when our team called in a big order that afternoon. He delivered it and your letter. I was surprised you left something for me, so I opened it right away. Needless to say, you got my attention. I was working on finding the other Adam and getting you help, but you had to get yourself stabbed before I got the job done.”
“I see,” I whisper, memories flooding my mind. My lips curl, biting back the question I have to ask, my lashes lowering as I whisper, “Jess?”
“She’s dead, Mia.”
My lashes lift again, tears burning in my eyes. “I killed her?”
“You hit a major artery. She bled out before we ever found you in the back parking lot behind the library. Neil has cameras in each records room. It’s all on film. We know it was self-defense.”
“I don’t care what you know,” I say, my voice lifting. “I care that she’s dead. I care that I killed her.” I huff out a breath, my voice lowering, rasping painfully from my throat. “I loved her. I didn’t want—”
“I know you loved her, and I know you didn’t want her dead. Believe me, I’ve done enough research in the past twenty-four hours to know more than you think I know.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“Start with what you do know.”
“Jess said she hired Adam and a team of men to basically fix my broken life.” I swallow the bile in my throat. “I think she paid them a lot of money.”
“She did,” he confirms. “Based on Jess’s journals now in our possession, and the contracts and communication we found on her electronics, Adam and his team of men were part of a black ops mission. Once we saw their contract, which wasn’t new to us, we pinpointed who they were, and the investigation came together. The FBI is actually aware of this group, and while they’ve proven slippery, we’ve compiled a great deal of data on them. Pulling that prior knowledge allowed me to demystify a lot of information related to your case.”
Perhaps the whole black ops mission should be where I home my thoughts, but the very nature of Jess was to go big or go home. Adam was an actor is what plays out rather brutally for me, and with a sharp twist of shame in my belly. I bared my soul to that man. I dressed up and let my hair down for him. Iexposed myselfto him in all kinds of emotional ways, and even now my cheeks heat with the idea of hismen listening in to our conversation, perhaps laughing while they did. I wonder if Jess listened and judged me incapable of functioning on my own.
Even beyond the murders, how could she not see the betrayal of trust all this created between us? I answer my own question. She didn’t. Jess really believed she was my guardian angel—she always did. No one has to tell me—she planned to fix my life and ensure I never found out.
Now I wonder if she’s actually made me a target for killers. “Am I in danger? Will I be considered a liability?”
“I’ve talked to the task force. This group, DC9 is their name, operates with strict rules, no credit, and no favors. They only do what they are paid to do and nothing more.”
“What if she prepaid for their services?”
“Again, we have her communications with DC9. She only gave them one name at a time. She paid them a lump sum up front. Then her estate paid them a bump fee every time she added a name. The estate had no idea what they were paying for. The bottom line: they’re gone. You’re safe.”
“I’ll be safe when they’re in custody. Please tell me that’s happening.”
His expression is grim. “They’re slippery, Mia—we don’t even know why they call themselves DC9—but they’ve moved on. And I promise you: this is now personal to me. I’m going to push for answers.”
“She had Akia and Big Davis killed. And Kevin.” My throat is dry and raw as I add, “She killed my ex-boyfriend, Kevin.”
“I know. You told me in your letter, remember?”
“Did she have anyone else killed?”
