Fiancé by Friday Page 36

“Neil…can you come here?”

He moved into the tight space of the bathroom and found Gwen with a large sticklike bug in her palm.

“Is this a praying mantis?” she asked, laughing.

“I think so. Where did you find it?”

“On the less than clean towel.”

The stained towel may have once been white, but now leaned toward a shade of gray. “You said a bed and running water.” He reached over and turned the knob in the sink. “Water’s running.”

She laughed and handed him the bug. “I’ve slept among the insects for two nights. Kindly take this one outside.”

The bug accepted his ride outside and sat on the railing before lumbering away. Once again, Gwen impressed him. Not only was she not squeamish about the bug taking up residency on the filthy towel, but instead of turning around and walking out the door of the dive, she laughed.

When he stepped back into the room she’d stripped the comforter from the bed and placed it on the dirty chair. She changed her mind and spread the cover on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“The floor is filthy and everyone knows hotel bedspreads are never cleaned. No need to shower and end up with dirty feet.”

This woman didn’t cease to amaze him. Just when he thought she’d lost some of the Ladyship, the Princess in her came out to play.

“You shower first,” he told her.

She rummaged through her bag and held up two bottles of hair dye. “Brunette or redhead?”

He loved her hair as it was. “You don’t have to—”

“Neil. Please, look at me. I’m dressed like a common street girl. Surely a different hair color would aid in my disguise better than the clothes on my back. I’m not suggesting anything permanent. In fact, the box says this washes out within a week.” She waved the boxes in the air.

He couldn’t argue. “Surprise me.”

She gathered her bag and disappeared into the bathroom. “Hot shower…here I come.”

Chapter Seventeen

Blake waited patiently for introductions to finish before he encouraged everyone to sit so they could start to piece together all the information.

They met in Eliza and Carter’s southern California home. Dean and Jim sat on opposite sides of the room. Karen and Michael faced each other across the living room. Carter hadn’t arrived from Sacramento and planned on joining them the next day.

Blake glanced at Eliza, whom he knew better than Karen. He didn’t like the fact they were talking in front of Michael, but it couldn’t be helped.

Dean directed the conversation. “Eliza said you felt Neil was justified in hiding Gwen. Can you tell me why you think that way, Karen?”

“It started a couple of weeks ago. Right after Michael and I met. The more I think about it, the more I realize how off things have been at home.”

Jim waved a hand in the air. “You need to start at the beginning.”

“First were the cameras. Neil called on several occasions asking us to check the yard. The videos were fuzzy or something. Then I found a dead crow with its beak stuck in the screen. The window was open…which I don’t remember opening. I could have forgotten, I guess. It’s been so hot lately, we’ve had the air-conditioning on most of the time.” She shivered. “I hate birds,” Karen said with a grimace. “Gwen was great. Just knocked the bird free of the screen and tossed it to the ground below before throwing it in the trash. We didn’t think of it after that.”

“Until?”

Karen sighed. “Until dinner…a couple nights before we got married.” Karen played with the diamond on her finger and smiled at her husband.

Michael winked at her.

“What happened then?” Dean asked.

“We went to dinner. On our way out we found another crow…Gwen called it a raven, by my side of the car. I thought the birds were on a suicide mission or something. Gwen wasn’t convinced. Seemed to think the bird was there deliberately.”

“Why?” Blake asked.

Karen glanced at Michael again. “Michael and I’d been seeing each other daily. She thought maybe someone found out I had a thing about birds and was planting them to scare me.”

Michael sat up. “I’ve had fans do some crazy shit to get my attention in the past.”

Dean directed his attention to Michael. “Do you have a restraining order against anyone?”

Michael shook his head. “No. I get my share of hate mail. Goes with the territory.”

“I’m going to need copies of anything you have,” Dean told him.

“I’ll have my assistant drum them up. We keep everything in case of an issue like this.”

Birds nesting in a Jacuzzi and causing some kind of electrical issue Blake could stretch…but three different incidences. His brain didn’t stretch that far.

“So you think the dead birds are directed at you?”

Karen shrugged. “I hate birds. Serious phobia. I suppose if someone was determined to press one of my hot buttons, the dead birds could be directed at me.”

Michael moved to the edge of his seat. “I’ve had missed calls and paper mail with strange ‘gifts,’ but I’ve never had anyone leave dead animals where I can find them.”

“I’ve watched enough crime fiction to know that dead animals eventually progress into people. Do you think that’s what’s going on here, Dean?” Eliza asked.

Dean and Jim looked at each other, their nonverbal communication written on their faces.

“That’s one theory.”

“So it’s not implausible that there is a rabid fan of Michael’s out there who isn’t happy with his relationship with Karen?” Eliza asked.

“Could be.”

Blake shook his head. “Then why would Neil pull Gwen away?” Why leave the letter behind about contacting the damn president if he didn’t call? And if he didn’t call…did that mean he and Gwen were dead? He hated this. The not knowing. The inability to control the chaos of the situation.

“Neil must believe this has something to do with him,” Jim added.

“Why? Why would someone use Karen and Gwen to get to Neil? Neil works with me.” Blake stood and started to pace. “Why not go after Neil’s family…someone he’s involved with romantically?”

“Does Neil have a family?” Dean asked.

“I’ve heard of a grandmother. I think his parents are dead. I’m not sure.” Damn if Blake wasn’t sorry for not knowing that now. When he looked up, he noticed a look between Eliza and Karen.

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