CHAPTER 43
DIANGELO
Present
I spendmy afternoon looking into Kristi Kirkland. She supported herself and her son, who has no father of record, as a licensed cosmetologist doing nails at a small salon. Life in the city as a single mother would have been difficult, yet Kristi managed to rent a two-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side. On one small income? I don’t think so.
The discrepancy can likely be explained by the prostitution arrest record I found buried in her file. It happened when she was much younger and was never prosecuted, but it’s telling. I have to wonder what else she got into through the years.
I’ve known plenty of shitty people in my life. Kristi fits the mold. I doubt she has a moral bone in her body, which makes me wonder what kind of person Craig was. He didn’t have a record and managed to graduate from NYU with honors, but I can’t find much online about him as a person. I’ll have to continue my search on the ground at a later time.
While I’m focused on the Kirklands and Rina is napping, I take a moment to get into her phone and block Kristi’snumber. The vitriol she texted Rina was inexcusable. And more to the point, it was unnecessary. I’d say she’s been torturing her ex-daughter-in-law over the years for the pure joy of it. It’s no wonder Rina latched onto the fucked-up belief that she’s responsible for Craig’s death.
I’d say it pisses me off, but that doesn’t adequately capture my feelings on the matter.
I’m a shaken soda bottle full of indignant rage and ready to blow. The fury coiled in my muscles has me so tense, I’ve actually considered doing fucking yoga to relax, and that’s how I know shit’s out of hand.
Yoga is incredibly beneficial. Look at what it’s done for Terina.
Fuck, I’m well aware.
Her supple body is the perfect balance of feminine strength and grace. And the way she presented herself for me? A man could die feeling fulfilled after receiving a gift like that.
I’ve imagined being with her dozens of times since that phone call interrupted us. Reality surpassed fantasy in every way, except for after. I can’t escape the feeling that something was off when she left to shower. She seemed more distant, but I don’t know her well enough to read between the lines.
I may bring it up later after yoga, once she’s had some time to process. The gravesite visit and the shift in our relationship were a lot for one day. I could understand if she needed a little room to adjust.
The mid-afternoon yoga class passes unremarkably. She seems more relaxed when it’s over, and I resolve to keep things light this evening.
“Ready?” I ask after she collects her water bottle, rolled mat, and bag from a cubby.
“Yeah.”
I guide her into the cool lobby toward the entrance with a hand on her lower back. A mix of people, mostly women, crisscross into and out of the classroom. When we exit the studio into the dusky evening air, a woman with a rolled mat strung over her shoulder follows us.
It occurs to me that I don’t remember her being in the class just now, which makes it odd that she’d be leaving. It’s a passing thought that doesn’t trigger an alert, though it does snag in my consciousness.
“Excuse me,” the woman calls from behind us after we’ve rounded the corner onto another street. “I think you dropped this.”
We both pause to look back and see she’s holding up a small towel. She continues to walk closer, the towel extended, and a smile on her face.
“I’m afraid that’s not mine,” Terina says warmly.
Time slows.
My mental alarms finally wail as I catch a flash of silver hidden beneath the towel.
She’s got a knife.
The thought is barely formed when the woman lashes out, her blade aimed at Rina.
CHAPTER 44
TERINA
Present
One minute,I’m smiling at the woman on the sidewalk, and the next, I’m being shoved out of the way as DiAngelo flings himself between us. I’m stunned and confused as I try to figure out what on earth is going on.
