Allison Brennan - Playing Dead

“No.”

Mitch visualized a probable scenario. “I think he stopped his car for some reason on Delta Road after leaving Isleton. Maybe to let a car pass. Maybe to help a stranded driver. Maybe someone set a blockade and he had to stop, or he felt sick or needed to take a leak. Whatever, he stopped. He got out of the car and someone attacked him from behind.”

“Why would he turn his back on someone he didn’t know?”

“He must not have thought the person was a threat.”

“So when did he swallow the flash drive?”

“I don’t know.” Mitch rubbed his face. “But he had to have had a reason, unless swallowing computer chips is the nerd equivalent to frat boys swallowing live goldfish.”

“Okay. It’s plausible. So then you’re thinking the killer somehow got Maddox to stop his car and clocked him. The killer puts him back in the car and pushes it into the river?”

Mitch nodded. “That week in January was wet. The river was running high. It wouldn’t have been too difficult. The Explorer was in neutral, making it easier to push.”

“But wouldn’t it have gotten stuck in mud? Wouldn’t there have been tracks of some sort? We didn’t find anything.”

“Four months ago?” Mitch shook his head. “Not a chance. Between the rain, sleet, heat, and ebb and flow of the river, any sign of major disturbance would be long gone after four months. If we had gotten there a couple days after Maddox went in? Yes, there could have been tire marks and other signs in the mud. But remember, most of the shoulder on River Road is gravel.”

“I say I take you to Nolan’s and we both get a good night’s sleep. It’s nine o’clock and we’ve had two full days. I’ll pick you up at seven, okay?”

Mitch relented, though there was nothing more that he wanted to do except sit here and drink away his guilt. But he had to be sharp in the morning. Having a hang-over wouldn’t help anyone-him, Claire, O’Brien, or Maddox.

He paid for the beers they’d drunk and left. If he hadn’t had two pints, he would have seen the sucker punch coming.

Dave Kamanski’s fist connected dead-on with Mitch’s jaw. Mitch’s head twisted around and slammed into the brick wall.

“You fucking bastard!”

Steve pushed in between them, a hand on Dave. “Cool off, Kamanski.”

“You’re no better. You knew he was lying to her. You two give law enforcement a bad name. Would you do anything to close a case? Including destroying a fragile woman?”

“Claire is anything but fragile,” Steve said.

Mitch wanted to tell him to shut up. Claire was tough on the outside and braver than most anyone Mitch knew, but inside? Kamanski was right. She was fragile. She harbored pain and guilt and regret and grief so powerful it controlled her life.

“Back off, Dave,” Mitch said.

“ Me? You set her up. You couldn’t just keep an eye on her, you had to date her? Lead her on? And it’s been going on for months. Months! You think you can just throw her dad back in prison and walk away and she won’t care?”

Kamanski looked like he was going to hit Mitch again and Steve stepped forward. Mitch straightened and said, “If you care about Claire, you’ll keep an eye out for her. She’s in the middle of a dangerous situation.”

“Tom killed his wife under extreme emotional duress. He wouldn’t hurt Claire for the world.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Mitch moved his jaw back and forth, spit out blood-tinged saliva. It hurt, but there was no permanent damage.

“Are you threatening me? Are you threatening Claire?”

Kamanski made a move toward Mitch, and Steve put a firm hand on his chest. “You got one freebie. Next time I’ll arrest you for assaulting a federal officer.”

Kamanski barked out a laugh. “That’s rich. You fucking Feds.”

A group of patrons walked out of the club and suspiciously eyed the three men before quickly crossing the parking lot.

“Claire is investigating Oliver Maddox’s death. He was murdered, Dave,” Mitch said quietly. “That puts her at risk.”

Kamanski glared. “That’s none of your concern. I’ll keep my eye on Claire. You stay the hell away or I’ll file charges.” As he said it, he realized it was a dumb thing to say. “Just stay away from her.”

Mitch knew Kamanski was right. Claire was none of his concern. He’d lied to her, and she’d found out in the worst way possible. If only he could take it back. If only he could have told her himself. But what good would that have done? The truth was still the truth, and Claire wasn’t going to forgive him.

Mitch couldn’t forgive himself. The pain of losing Claire, from I love you to the betrayal on her face. . Mitch wouldn’t sleep well tonight, or any other night.

Steve said, “O’Brien is in Sacramento.”

When Kamanski didn’t say anything, Mitch knew the cop suspected the same. “Have you heard from him?” Mitch asked.

“No. If I did you know damn well I’d bring him in. I’m not harboring a fugitive, or helping him, and neither is Claire. You obviously don’t know her as well as you thought.”

Mitch shook his head. “You don’t know her as well as you thought.”

“Stay away from her.”

“You need to go now,” Steve said seriously.

Kamanski turned and stormed off. Mitch watched him drive away. Was his rage justified? Was it brotherly love. . or something more? Mitch squeezed his eyes closed and rubbed his temples.

Steve slapped him on the back. “Let’s get out of here. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

Claire pulled herself up from the floor and staggered like a drunken old woman to her bathroom. Her entire body felt bruised and sore, as if she’d had the toughest workout in her life, but without the adrenaline of a good hour at the gym.

The physical pain of Mitch’s betrayal stayed with her as she turned on the shower. She looked at her pitiful reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and red. When was the last time she’d cried over a man? She couldn’t remember when. .

Yes, she did. Her father. When she believed he’d killed her mother. She’d cried then, too.

But none of her boyfriends until now were worth crying over. Claire might have been angry, upset, or relieved when a relationship didn’t work out, but she’d never been so shattered.

You fell in love with him. You fell in love with a lie.

The tears flowed again and Claire clenched her fists, slamming them on the vanity. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to feel anything. She wanted to forget she’d ever met Mitch Bianchi. She wanted to harden her heart and keep the pain out.

“Dammit, Claire! Get a grip. So he lied to you, manipulated you. He fucked you.”

She’d slept with him. God, she’d slept with him and remembered feeling over the moon about it. She’d thought they’d had a connection, that they’d taken an invisible step toward something real and permanent.

You told him you loved him.

Her mirror steamed in the heat of the shower and she could no longer see her reflection. Good. She didn’t want to look at her pitiful self. She’d prided herself for years on being able to detect liars and frauds, but she was only deluding herself.

Stripping off her clothes, she stepped under the hot, pulsing spray. A flash of her and Mitch in this shower last night hit her and she gave into the hurt one last time. Here, in the shower, alone. She let it out. She had to finish with it. She had a job to do. Prove that her father was innocent. That’s all that mattered now.

Forget everything else.

She had to. For herself, and her dad. Later there’d be plenty of time to deal with her hurt feelings about Mitch.