Kate Donovan - Spin Control

“It’s not a confession, is it?”

He laughed. “No such luck. It’s my friend’s phone number. If something goes wrong—if I get killed, for instance—”

“Killed?” Suzannah bit her lip. “You think the murderer might come after you?”

“I’m a loose end. Plus, I’m determined to solve Horace Masterson’s murder. And now Gia’s, too. The real killer would be smart to get rid of me.”

“Oh, God, I never thought of that.”

Justin flashed a reassuring smile. “The good news is, he’s also got a strong incentive to keep me alive. If he kills me, then everyone will know I was innocent. Right now the evidence against me is so strong the authorities aren’t looking anywhere else.”

“But you’re looking.”

And so am I….

He must have heard her thought, because he patted her hand and assured her, “The bad guys don’t have any reason to come after you. As far as they know, you’re handling the legal angle, not the investigation. And it was clear in the courtroom today that you were a reluctant participant. So I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”

She held up the envelope. “But if something happens…?”

“Right. If something goes wrong, call that number. It’ll connect you to SPIN. Have you heard of it?” When Suzannah shook her head, he explained. “It’s a backup agency for agents like me. The Strategic Profiling and Identification Network. They call themselves spinners and they’re effing geniuses. Literally.”

“Wait! Are you sure it’s okay to tell me all this?”

He laughed. “Yeah, it’s okay. The only confidential info is the actual identity of the spinners. Their whole system is based on anonymity. They use aliases, and our only contact with them is by phone.”

“So you have a friend, but you don’t know his name?”

“Her name.”

“Oh, right.” Suzannah rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.”

“Her code name is S-3. I nicknamed her Essie.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I’ve known her real name for a while now, but I never use it. Anyway, she can get you any information you need. Plus, her instincts are stellar. Downright eerie, really. No matter how bad things get, she can always figure out a solution. So…” He squeezed Suzannah’s hand. “If something goes wrong—if I get killed or you get scared or start to doubt my innocence, anything like that—call S-3. Got it?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” she told him, pulling her hand free. “Let’s call her right now.”

“Huh?”

“She’s your friend. And she’s brilliant. We’ll brainstorm with her. Three heads are better than two, right?”

His eyes clouded. “It’s not that simple, Suzy. She’s not assigned to this case, so she’s not supposed to work on it. I’ve gotten her into trouble a couple of times over the last few years. I’ve promised myself I won’t do that anymore.”

“Too bad. We could use the help.”

“She’s got a tendency to go rogue, especially when her friends are in trouble.” He cleared his throat, then admitted, “I rely on her too much sometimes. It’s not fair to her. So I’ve gone cold turkey. I won’t call her. But if things go really wrong, I want you to.”

Suzannah studied his forlorn expression. “Are you in love with her? Even though you never met her in person? That’s so romantic.”

“I love her like crazy, but I’m not in love with her,” Justin said, chuckling. “I like my girlfriends to have bodies.”

“Like Gia?”

“Gia had one helluva body,” he agreed, fishing in his briefcase again until he found a folder containing a dozen or so photographs. “Here, see for yourself. The best rack money could buy.”

“Good grief.” Suzannah bit back a smile, wondering how such a tall, skinny woman had managed to carry herself upright with the giant breasts she had apparently bought for herself. “You said she was sweet. I’d say she was a little vain, too.”

“You’d think so,” he murmured. “But you’d be wrong. The boob job wasn’t because she wanted to look better. She just wanted to look different.”

“Pardon?”

“Look at this. It’s Gia nine years ago. Before she started having plastic surgery.”

Suzannah stared at the second photo, shocked to see a girl who only vaguely resembled the busty woman in the first picture. “She didn’t just have her breasts enhanced. She had—what? Her eyes? Her cheeks?”

“Eyes. Cheeks. Jaw. Bust. Six surgeries over a seven-year period.”

“She changed her hair color, too.”

“And wore blue contact lenses so her eyes wouldn’t look gray.”

“I don’t get it.” Suzannah shook her head. “She was so pretty.”

“So was her mother. So was her sister Mia.” His tone grew pensive. “Do you remember what I told you? That she was desperate for her father’s approval? But unfortunately she looked just like her mother and sister, the two females that had made him so angry. He apparently told her more than once that he could barely stand the sight of her.”

“Oh, my God. She actually did all this for him? And he didn’t try to stop her—his own daughter!—from mutilating herself? I mean, the end result was attractive, I suppose….”

“But it wasn’t her face. Or her body. She said that to me more than once. That she felt like a stranger to herself when she looked in the mirror. But at the same time, she kept having surgery. Breast implants. Then her eyes. Then the cheek implants—she had those after Horace went into the coma, by the way.”

Suzannah gasped. “Why?”

“She said she was sure he’d regain consciousness one day, and when he opened his eyes, she didn’t want the first face he saw to remind him of his unfaithful wife.”

Suzannah grimaced. “No offense, but that was one sick chick.”

“One sick father,” Justin corrected her. “The more I found out about Horace Masterson, the less sorry I was that someone had offed him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his company did top-secret research, I would have considered his murder a petty crime.”

“Poor Gia.”

Justin nodded. “She was a lonely, frightened, sweet girl. It was pitiful. And it made her bizarrely irresistible. Not sexually but emotionally. I wanted to make her feel better. Feel loved. I screwed up, but it wasn’t what it looked like. Not lust, Suzy. Just…”

“Compassion?” Suzannah slid the photos of Gia back into the folder, then buried her face in her hands and peeked through her fingers. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, it’s rough. Maybe we should change the subject.”

“Okay.” Suzannah gave him a hopeful smile. “You said you’d give me more details about the Night Arrow project. Maybe now would be a good time for that.”

He beamed. “You’re fascinated by it, too?”

“Nope. Just fascinated by your obsession with it. There’s a difference.”

Justin’s cell phone began to ring, and he winced as he asked, “Do you mind if I take it?”

“No, please do.” Suzannah jumped up and went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water, glad for the chance to digest the information he had given her about Gia Masterson. The idea that any father could be despicable enough to contort his daughter’s affections the way Horace had done made Suzannah sick.

Then she scolded herself, remembering that Gia Masterson had been a wealthy, powerful woman who had turned her back on her little sister just when the girl had needed her most.

So get a grip, will you? Worry about Justin, not some crazy dead heiress.

He was arguing softly with someone, but his eyes were on Suzannah, and she realized he was looking a little guilty around the edges, which told her the caller was probably one of his girlfriends.