CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

On the walk to the room, I told Gabriel that Macy knew who I was and seemed to think I was going to axe-murder her.

He snorted. “Twit.”

“That’s Ricky’s opinion, too, though he’d make it ‘ungrateful twit.’ He snapped at her, and now she’s scared of us both. We should have handled it better, considering what she’s been through.”

“She should have considered what you’ve both been through, coming after her here. Ricky is correct. She’s an ungrateful twit. I’m surprised you didn’t stuff her back in the box.”

“Ricky threatened to.”

“Hmm, well, sadly, that would be considered forcible confinement, so I’d have to advise against it.”

I felt a little sorry for Macy. She really deserved nicer rescuers. More sympathetic ones, at least.

“Well, it’s not boding well for polite conversation,” I said. “Which I need to have with her. That Tristan guy suggested she’s not a random victim. She has answers even if she doesn’t realize it. Maybe you can play good cop.”

He turned his cool gaze on me.

“Or not.” I rapped on the door and called, “It’s us,” then walked in.

Ricky was standing there, waiting. Macy was huddled against the wall. When she saw Gabriel, she pressed against it, her eyes rounding.

“Wh-who’s that?” she asked.

“Our lawyer,” I said.

She tried to glare at me, though it was about as intimidating as a kitten’s snarl. “That’s not funny.”

“Because it isn’t a joke.” Gabriel turned to Ricky. “Have you done anything to her?”

“Besides rescuing her ass?”

“It’s not an unreasonable question, considering you’ve obviously been involved in an altercation.”

Ricky touched his split lip. “Right. Separate incident.”

“It’s been a long and interesting night,” I said.

Gabriel turned to Macy. “You will agree, then, that they have done nothing to you? And that your unfounded fear is simply a by-product of your captivity?”

She stared at him as if he were speaking Greek. “I-I want to go home.”

“We will escort you out.”

Ricky started to protest, but Gabriel said, “We don’t want to detain the young woman against her will,” in a tone that warned that, too, would be forcible confinement.

Ricky nodded.

Gabriel waved her to the door. “Macy, is it?”

“Y-yes.” She skirted wide around him.

“And that would be Ms. . . . ?”

She didn’t answer.

Once we’d descended the ladder, he continued, “I have not yet telephoned the police. I’m presuming you’d like that done now? I would offer to drive you to the station, but I suspect you would prefer a police escort.”

“I can’t call the police. My—my brother. There’s a warrant out for him, and if I report this to the police and they come to our house . . .”

“Yes, I can see how that could be problematic.”

Gabriel could have pointed out that the police didn’t need to come to her house. But she wasn’t paying him for legal advice. And calling in the police would be problematic. For us.

“You should report it,” he said. “However, you have no legal obligation to do so. Be aware, though, that the chances of being believed if you report it later decrease significantly.”

She nodded. As soon as Gabriel walked outside, Macy bolted past him. I lunged forward. Gabriel’s arm shot out, practically smacking me in the face as he stopped me and stepped into Ricky’s path.

“She’s getting—” Ricky began.

“I know. And as your lawyer, I would suggest you do not pursue her. Even if you manage to catch her, you’d need to hold her, which is a felony.”

“But we haven’t questioned her,” I said. “We don’t know where to find her. All we have is a first name and—”

Gabriel handed me a plastic rectangle. It was Macy’s driver’s license.

“How the hell—?” I began. “That’s why you so kindly helped her down the ladder. I should have known you were up to something.”

“Yes, you should have,” he said, taking no offense.

“You knew she was going to run.”

“We made her nervous. I have no idea why.”

I snorted and shone my flashlight on Macy’s card and squinted at the photo. “Does she look familiar to you?”

“Yes, she bears a striking resemblance to the young woman who just fled.”

Ricky laughed.

I glared at both of them. “I couldn’t see her very well inside. Besides the lack of light, she was filthy and disheveled. This photo, though . . .” I looked again and shook my head. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out later. So now what?”

“Now we get ourselves looking less filthy and disheveled,” Ricky said. “Whose place is closer? Gabriel?”

Gabriel hesitated. Last month, during another long night, he’d been about to stop at his apartment. Then I suggested I wouldn’t mind using his bathroom and suddenly his place was no longer on our route.

I was sure he had an apartment. A very nice one, given that he’d had no qualms about taking me as far as the building. I now suspected it was a matter of privacy. That was his home. Private and off-limits.

“Your place is closer,” I said to Ricky.

Gabriel acknowledged my save with a nod of thanks.

“I’m parked over there,” Gabriel said. “I presume you’re elsewhere?”

“At the golf course,” I said. “Can you give us a lift?”

He waved us to his car.

—

“Well, I guess we didn’t hide it as well as we thought,” I said, standing beside my car, looking down at the slashed tire.

“Got a spare?” Ricky asked. “I can change it.”

“So can I. Unfortunately, I noticed last week that the tire isn’t in the trunk. It must be at my parents’ house.”

“No problem. A couple of our garages have twenty-four-hour service. I’ll get one to fix it.” He looked at Gabriel, still in his Jag, window down. “That okay? You can give us a lift?”