“He has his uses,” Miller said mildly, and when I glanced his way I saw he was wearing a small smile. “Listen, is there some way to find out who the guy is that the cops have nailed for Annie’s death, or do we have to wait to find out with the rest of Hollywood? Because my father isn’t going to tell me anything.”
Thinking of Miller’s father riled me up in a whole new direction. We’d said no more about the mark on his face, but every time I looked at it, it made me want to track Edgar Beaumont down and take a wrench to his kneecaps.
I’d told Miller I didn’t care about loyalty these days, but that wasn’t entirely true. I cared abouthim. I cared about what happened to him. I would do anything to protect him.
And that terrified me, because the man I worked for wouldn’t look kindly on my loyalties shifting around like that.
It terrified me for other reasons, too.
“JJ?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Yes, we could find out about this guy.”
The whole circus was waiting there for us at the house when we arrived. The emergency response to a break-in at Miller’s mansion was a lot different than what it would have been in my neighborhood, and even compared to Anaïs Beaumont’s. A fire truck, a crime scene van, and two black and whites—one belonging to the security company and the other to an old enemy: the LAPD.
“Don’t go into the house,” I told Miller, “but you can talk to the security team, see what they have to say. Then come back here and let me know.”
He hesitated. “You’re not coming with me?”
I gave a significant look toward the cops. “We don’t need extra problems right now. My face showing up here? They’ll waste our time. But I’m going to be watching you like a hawk, you get me?”
“Don’t run off, will you, JJ?” he threw over his shoulder as he got out of the car and made his way around to the driver’s side, where he leaned down to the window and gave me a crooked, wan smile. “I do love your company, despite the circumstances.”
Why the hell had he said a thing like that?
And why the hell did my heart beat a little faster to hear it?
I pulled my hat down over my eyes as I watched him jog across the road and up to the little knot of people who were conferring at the large gate to the driveway entrance. There were no ambulances on site, and the cops didn’t have their guns out, which suggested the problem was under control.
I took the opportunity to text Freddy and ask him to look into who the police had in custody for the Anaïs Beaumont killing, and I spent the rest of the time keeping a close eye on Miller.
After a few minutes of consultation, he headed back to the car and leaned down to talk to me through the window again. “Some asshole came into the house right through the front door, just before noon. Alarm wasn’t on, and none of the staff saw him, but the security cameras caught him. He went straight to my wing, and he tried to put in the code—but he had the wrong one. Security said he keyed in the old code one too many times. That’s what set off the alarm.” He looked troubled. “I asked security to email any video to me, like we asked for the video from Annie’s house. But the cops still want to check the house, and let the crime scene people in to take prints—in case it has anything to do with…”
“With your sister’s death,” I finished gently.
He nodded, looking away. “Weird, huh? If it’s case closed, like my dad said. Anyway, they want my permission.” He hesitated and turned back with a frown. “Should I give it? My father left last night, and I guess he’s still in transit. They can’t contact him.”
“Give them permission and let them run their checklist,” I said, “butyoudon’t go in yet, no matter what they want you to do. You keep your feet outside and you stand where I can see you. Once they’ve all gone, I’ll go in and do my own sweep.Thenyou can go in. Not before. Get it?”
“I get it.” I even got a brief smile.
I settled in to wait, hitching my seat back a few notches and pulling my hat down even further. It was a long time before the police were satisfied—I guess the very rich get treated like they’re a little more valuable than the rest of us—and I started puzzling again about exactly who had killed Anaïs Beaumont, and why.
Anything to avoid thinking about the feelings Miller kept churning up in me.
CHAPTER37
JACK
It waslate afternoon by the time the cops left. An actual valet came out to take my keys when I drove up to the front of the house.
“Nope,” I told him, shoving the keys in my pocket. “Car stays here. We won’t be long.”
The valet pulled a face that reminded me of a sheep. “Uh, sir, Mr. Beaumont prefers that all vehicles be stored—”
“Mr. Beaumont wants my car right here. Don’t you?” I gave Miller a significant, Do What I Tell You glare, but there was an awkward pause. I glanced between Miller and the valet. “What?”
“Tony meant my dad,” Miller said. “My dad prefers all cars to be parked in the garage. Keeps the front of house…tidy. Or something.”
