A Tangled Truth (Stonewall Investigations Book 3) Read online

  “Oh shit,” Liam whispered excitedly. “This is my first stakeout!”

  I smiled, kissed him again real quick, and got back to explaining. “Stay in the shadows, keep all your senses sharp, and if you see anything, anything at all that you think might help, take a picture. Photographic evidence is a must.”

  “What are you expecting?”

  “No idea, honestly. Probably nothing, but just to be safe, I’d want to do some surveillance before we announce ourselves.”

  “Right, right, good idea.”

  “Let’s do this,” I said, starting my way up the path, then moving to the side and making a path through the trees so we stayed concealed. Liam stuck close behind me, mimicking my steps almost exactly, neither of us saying a word. I could sense he was nervous, through the quick touches he’d give my back and the way he was tugging on his earlobe whenever I glanced back to check on him. Adrenaline was eating away at my nerves like a frat guy tearing through a six-pack of natty light. This was the best part of my job, and it always filled me with a thrill that was incomparable.

  And Liam was right. What was the worst that could happen? Diana was going to open the door and see us standing there, and she’d know the gig was up.

  We turned a corner through the trees and saw the front of the house for the first time. Mansion was a better word for it. It looked like something out of a history textbook, like some kind of head of state would live there, with grand pillars and massive windows giving the facade a deceivingly open and welcoming aura. There were perfectly trimmed hedges surrounding the front patio, where a few white swinging benches sat. There was a light on in the second floor from what appeared to be a bedroom, although I couldn’t be sure with the angle we were at. There were two cars parked at the front, both of them old and beat-up, neither of them seemingly belonging to Johnny.

  So Diana and Marah were here, then.

  I motioned toward the left. There was a small stone path through the trees that we could use to get around the house without having to go through the open. I wanted to make a full circle before we knocked on the door. Liam started down the path, quiet as a mouse. He was actually doing really well, considering this was his first stakeout as he so excitedly realized earlier.

  I started after him. Then I made a mistake. I was so busy looking at Liam being a professional sleuth that I didn’t see the upturned rock resting at my feet, just waiting to complete its life goal of tripping me up. And, sure enough, I was tripped. I went flying to the ground, catching myself with my hands. But the damage was done. I wasn’t a cat, okay? My fall wasn’t graceful, and the noise of my struggle seemed to echo around the entire property.

  For a loaded moment, I stayed on the ground, looking down at the dirt and the smooth rock path, hoping no one else heard that. Liam was also similarly stone still, neither of us making another sound.

  The silence was shattered by three loud barks. Four. Five. Eight barks. All louder, all getting closer and closer.

  31 Liam Wolfe

  I’m a dog person. I’ve been one my entire life. Love them. Give me a big cuddle puddle filled with my canine friends and I’ll have the best goddamn day ever. Dogs really were man’s best friend.

  But there was something about the sound of anonymous, snarling barks ripping through the darkness that made me suddenly consider becoming a cat person.

  Mark shot to his feet. My feet were frozen, as if quick-drying cement had just been poured inside and around them. My hands were moving, though—if you consider shaking like a broken vibrator movement. Mark grabbed them and looked at me. The barks were louder now, getting so much closer.

  “We can’t outrun them,” I said. Or was that Mark yelling over the barks? I couldn’t really tell. Fear was frying my brain.

  “Get behind me, Liam.” I was shoved behind Mark, and I protested, some kind of sound coming out of my mouth, but that didn’t do much. The barking was practically on us now. My forehead was beaded with sweat. I could practically taste the fear at the back of my throat. It was too late to run—it had been too late the moment we heard the barks. And running would have only made them want to chase us down and tear us apart even more. Besides, I wasn’t even sure I could run.

  “We have to scare them off. Be bigger than them.” Mark’s voice was steady, surprising me. In fact, he was a solid column of muscle right now, not a tremble anywhere, unlike me who felt like a newborn fawn. My jaw was trembling, my teeth clattering. They sounded loud in my skull although I doubted they were louder than the barks.

  And then the first dog broke through the line of trees, leaping, paws outstretched. I shrieked. I’m not going to deny that. I shrieked like a little girl finding a roach in her Hello Kitty pencil case. It was shrill and loud and made me leap backward, grabbing Mark instinctively by the elbows and pulling him back with me. This may have been a mistake, since it sent us both down to the floor. We were on their level now. There wasn’t much we could do from here. I had royally fucked up, and now Mark was going to suffer, too. I tried to roll so that I was on top of Mark. I wanted them to take me first. Maybe I’d taste so good, they’d get distracted and give enough time for Mark to run.

  That’s when I felt it. It was long and wet and slapped right up against my cheek. Then another one on the other side of my head. A huge weight jumped on top of me and pushed me down harder onto Mark.

  I looked at him, shielding my head, unable to believe what was happening.

  Instead of being mauled by a pack of rabid guard dogs, we were being licked to death. “Okay, okay, whoa there, Fido.” I swatted the more persistent ones away and got up onto my feet, helping Mark get up. Surrounding us wasn’t the pack of rottweilers I was expecting. Instead, there was a group of five smiling golden retrievers looking for some kind of treat.

  “I’m assuming you don’t carry around a bag of dog treats, do you?” I asked, catching my breath.

  “I’m going to start now.” Mark was petting one of the dogs, the matriarch by the looks of her. Her golden mane was faded with age, especially around her eyes where the fur had gone a stark white. It was dark out, but there was enough light from the front porch to see that none of these dogs were going to do us any harm. If Johnny had them as guard dogs, he was going to need to rethink more than just his choices regarding assistants.

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Hello?” It was a voice, and it came from the front entrance. “Who’s there?”

  It was Diana. Mark and I both looked at each other, her voice almost as scary to me as the barks. One of the goldens perked up and looked her way. I thought she was going to keep quiet, but she went full Lassie and started barking and running toward Diana, as if showing her exactly where the intruders were.

  “Let’s go,” Mark said, starting to walk toward Diana. My heart, still racing from the fear of facing death minutes earlier, only beat faster. I followed Mark down the stone path and through the trees, walking out into the open, paved area in front of Johnny’s mansion. Diana stood like a speck of dust framed by the huge doors marking the entrance, some light from inside shining behind her and outlining her shape.

  “Diana,” Mark said, his voice deep and commanding. Thank god he was the one doing the talking because my vocal chords were so tight with nerves that I would have sounded like I had a helium balloon permanently stuck in my throat. “Diana, we’re here to—”

  “Oh, thank god! Help! I need your help!” She ran out of the doorway and straight for us. She was wearing a T-shirt with some faded superhero on the front, and her feet were bare, her hair a mess. The black shorts she had on were frayed at the edges. The dogs surrounded her, but she didn’t pay them much attention. Her focus was pinned on Mark now, and her energy was frantic.

  “Hurry, you have to help,” she said, almost in tears. She grabbed Mark’s hand and started pulling him toward the house. “She did one line of coke and just collapsed.”

  Mark took his hand from Diana and looked to me. “Stay here.”

&n
bsp; “With the Air Buds? No, you might need my help more than them.” I started toward him. “Besides, I was never good at basketball.”

  Mark shook his head and turned to follow Diana into the house. I wasn’t far behind. We walked in through the wide double doors and entered a dark foyer, with a vaulted ceiling that made it feel as if we were walking into a cave minus the bats and stalagmites.

  “When did Johnny get those dogs?” I asked as we walked, shocked I hadn’t seen them before when I was surveilling the house.

  “He had them with his parents for months while he traveled,” Diana answered, her tone panicked. We hurried through the shadow-filled room and went into a hallway, all of my senses on high alert, the only source of light coming from one of the rooms at the far end. Diana was almost in a run as she led us toward the light but there was no way I was letting her out of my sight. There was something very wrong here, and I knew Diana was the center of it.

  A few of the goldens followed us into the house, their claws clicking on the hardwood floor behind me. As we sped walked through the long, dark endless hallway, I noticed there weren’t any personal photos hung up on the wall. It was all framed awards for different films Johnny had worked on, but nothing else.

  “Here,” Diana said, turning the corner into the room spewing out light. “She’s in here!”

  We walked into a small dining room. It was clear this wasn’t the main dining room, since the table was big enough for about four people, but it was still decked out with a chandelier that was throwing fractured light all around the room. There were two plates set out with crackers and cheese on the center of a big wooden block, a long, sharp knife resting next to it. A large window looked out to a very well-maintained backyard. I could see a tennis court at the far back of the property, the tall floodlights left on for some reason.

  By the window, I noticed the crumpled figure on the floor. “We had come in here to chill, and she pulled out drugs.” Diana went over to crouch next to the unmoving shape. “I didn’t want to do any of it. She said she rehearses better on coke. Fine. I let her, and then she just started seizing.”

  I stood to the side as Mark snapped into rescue mode. He went down to the ground and unraveled the twined-up girl. It was definitely Marah; her face was a sickly blue, and her hair was matted around her mouth where she had spit up. Her eyes were shut and her breathing was ragged, but she was breathing and that was a good sign. I knew time was running out though, I pulled out my phone and went to dial 911.

  “What are you doing?” Diana asked, her attention snapping to me.

  “Calling for help,” I said, putting the phone to my ear.

  “I already called,” she said. “They’re on their way.”

  “Good,” I said. “Then maybe a second call can get them to hurry up.”

  “Don’t,” Diana said. She reached for my phone, but I jumped back. Mark looked up from his charge, noticing the sudden outburst. For a moment, the chaos of seeing Marah’s overdose almost had me forgetting the reason we were here in the first place.

  “You didn’t call for help, did you?” Mark asked, looking up at Diana with something like contempt in those dual-colored eyes of his. I’d never seen that look before.

  She looked from Mark to me. The nine-one-one operator picked up then. I gave her the information while Diana started walking backward. “She overdosed! I had nothing to do with it. She’s a sick drug addict—of course I called someone to help her!”

  Her eyes were wide. “Why are you two even here? I need to call the police on you!”

  Just then, Marah started to sputter. Mark held her head up in his lap, making sure her airway was clear. I kept my eye on Diana, who was almost at the far end of the room. She was watching Marah, her hands squeezing the other so that they were pale white. The call with the dispatcher disconnected, but they had already confirmed help was on the way.

  “Dia… She…” Marah was coughing, clearly weak. There was a glass of water on the table. I grabbed it and brought it to her, tilting it slightly so she could wet her lips. Her eyes were having trouble focusing, but she was coming back to us and that was important. “She did this.” Marah was looking in Diana’s general direction. “Whatever she gave me. Laced.” Her eyes fluttered shut again as consciousness escaped her.

  “Bullshit! She’s lying!” Diana’s face was turning beet red. “I’d never do that!”

  Mark laid Marah gently down on the ground, making sure she was on her side, and stood up, shielding her. I stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder in the small dining room. “Diana, we have proof that you’d do anything if it meant getting Johnny to yourself.”

  She stuttered, her brain frantically trying to put together sentences. “I… no, what? That’s crazy. What are you talking about?! She needs help!”

  “You ordered the drugs used to kill Johnny’s ex-wives and frame them both as suicides.”

  Diana’s face went paper white before flushing a deep red. It was like watching a chameleon changing colors right there in front of us. She was just as cold-blooded, too.

  “She was next,” she started saying, her eyes looking at us but not really focusing anymore. “I saw Johnny playing favorites with her after she came back. I wanted to end it before it started. A third suicide would have been way too suspect, but an overdose would be perfect.”

  “You gave Marah the laced drugs?” Mark asked. God, I had to give it to him for keeping his cool. His voice was measured, and his demeanor was controlled. I barely noticed when he slipped his hand in his pocket and pressed the side button, activating the recorder.

  “I did,” she said. “Johnny took me in when I was kicked out and left homeless by my parents, all because I had an addiction I couldn’t control. Johnny took me, he gave me a job, a roof over my head. He gave me love, support. But he could never settle with me.” She was shaking her head, holding herself. I was in shock, watching her unravel right there, feet in front of us. “I couldn’t take it, seeing him with his wives. I could handle girlfriends. Well, I thought I could. But his wives, it was just too much. You have to understand. It was too much.” She was openly crying without sounding like she was crying. It was one of the most unsettling things in the world. “And then I thought, maybe if I prove I’m loyal, the most loyal person in his life, he could see what I see. I wrote the email with all those lies about you, Liam.” Another confession, and wow did it feel good getting it confirmed. And that soundbite would be all I needed to clear my name. There’d be no doubt now. “I did it, because I knew how much he disliked you. How he hated working with you.” she continued. “And wow was Johnny happy with what I did.”

  “So he was in on it?” Mark asked, an edge of anger sneaking into his words.

  “He was. Not in on me x-ing his wives—I don’t think, at least. Either way, he was so proud of me with that letter idea. And then again when he asked me to break into your apartment, Mark. I did it without question. He wanted me to find out what your deal was after that interview. But damn it, someone saw me. I ran. And Johnny was still so proud.”

  “Not proud enough to date you, huh?” It was me. I spit out a ball of acid, one I’d been holding down but just couldn’t anymore.

  Her face snapped. The tears stopped and her lips twisted. “Fuck you. We dated, we’ve been intimate. He’s shared me with his partners. It’s just one last step I need him to take with me. That’s all.” Her pupils were blown. I wondered if she had done some of the drugs she’d ordered before she laced them.

  “Diana,” Mark said, putting his hands up. “I think you can understand, it’s over. There’s no getting out of this.”

  She was shaking her head, her eyes darting all around the floor, as if she were searching her thoughts for a plausible excuse or looking for a trap door to escape through. That would be all I needed—for her to pull a Houdini and vanish in a puff of smoke. Then I noticed her jumpy gaze settled on something. I followed it. My muscles tensed. We were all looking at the glinting knife setting n
ext to the cutting board—a massive, sharp, smooth-as-butter knife with a blade as big as my fist.

  There wasn’t any time left.

  Mark exploded into action first, lunging past me for the hilt of the blade. His fingers glided across the wooden base before it was snatched away. Diana was closer, faster. Her hand closed around the blade and pulled it from Mark’s grasp. When she let go, the damage was clear, a thick ribbon of crimson spreading from from her palm, dripping down to the floor. She swapped hands so that she held the knife in her clean hand, the deep wound on the other didn’t seem to be fazing her much.

  “Diana, don’t do anything you’ll regret,” Mark said. I swallowed, but it got stuck in my throat. My tongue was sandpaper dry, sticking to the roof of my mouth.

  That’s when Diana did something we would all regret.

  A cornered dog is what she was, and what does a cornered dog do when baring her teeth and growling aren’t enough?

  They lunge. She lunged.

  Time stopped. I could make it all out so clearly, every tiny little detail, from the tag of Diana’s shirt which was peeking out from under the hem, to the splotches of blood that flew from the blade with the momentum Diana used to thrust forward. I saw something else, too. I saw the blade plunging straight down and tearing right through Mark’s chest, slicing into his heart and ending it all. Destroying my world and everything in its orbit.

  I saw that happening in my mind, and I sure as fuck wasn’t going to watch it happen in real life. I moved faster than I had ever moved in my life, with a strength I was never aware I had. I gripped Mark, my fingers digging into his arm and whatever else I could grab, hard, and pushed, shoving him to the side seconds before my vision became a reality.

  This move had a curious side effect. One I hadn’t foreseen. In fact, I felt it first before I really saw it. It was a sharp, icy-cold feeling, like an icicle had just punctured through my skin, just down and across from my shoulder bone, that quickly morphed into a lava-type heat that spread out and around and through. I cried out as the icicle dug an inch deeper before it was yanked out. My vision clouded with black stars, the edges looking as if someone was setting fire to the film reel in my brain. I stumbled back, tripped, then fell onto the floor. Diana was coming back toward me, knife raised, face twisted and bent on ending things. Once and for all, she was going to finish it.