Page 85 of Z For Butterfly Man
“How?”
“He didn’t go to therapy for anger issues and addiction. You know how charming and convincing Blake could be. He didn’t have a problem lying to a young therapist about the crazy bitch he married, how depressed he was, and she believed the fuck out of him. He even tricked her into giving him more drugs. Can you believe that? Psychedelic amphetamines.” She opens her purse and pulls out what looks like a business card and hands it to me. “Here’s her number. You can check.”
I read the therapist’s data on the card. “Aren’t they supposed to be trained to spot liars and drug seekers?”
“Well, she didn’t. She is young and inexperienced. He chose her on purpose. Blake sure knows how to spot them, the fragile, the prey.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I think it was part of his plan to get rid of me, the testimony of his therapist against me, but it backfired because, eventually, she realized her mistake. Then she cut him off. That was how I found out about this whole fiasco and told him I was done. He needed to leave and give me a divorce…so he beat the shit out of me.” She pulls out her phone from her pocket, scrolls and holds it up for me to see. “I have photographs of the X-rays and the initial report he buried to make it look like I fell down the stairs. I have the name of the radiologist who kept a private copy because she’s been a fan of my work for years and she was worried about me.”
My jaw tightens as I look at the images. That son of a bitch. How could he do that to her after what she’d been through?
She scrolls some more before she shows me more photos. “And he’s sleeping with Gia. My assistant and best friend. In my own house, two days after he left me for dead. I was upstairs, nursing my wounds, and he was fucking her downstairs. She took those photos. I wouldn’t have found out if she hadn’tbacked them up on the wrong cloud, the one I have access to, by accident. Or maybe she wanted me to know.”
I look at the images for as long as they deserve and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Reagan, I don’t know what to say.”
“Me neither. I still can’t wrap my head around it. My husband, for whom I’ve sacrificed everything, wants to kill me to take all my money and be with his mistress.”
“I still don’t understand. Why won’t he just give you a divorce? Is there a prenup?”
“No, but the money he’s made off me as my manager is gone on his drugs. Everything else is in my name. The house, the IP. I also hired a divorce attorney, and with what I have on him, he won’t get a dime.”
“The infidelity photos won’t go so far.”
“I know. But I have this.” She shows me a video of Blake pulling his gun on another man. “That’s how I kicked him out of the house, how I managed to come here, and that’s why he called you now, RJ. Every crime has a motive. There is your motive and evidence.”
I rock my leg, my head shaking. “Blake is a lot of things, Reagan, but a killer…”
She stares at me for a second, and then she smiles in defeat. She collects her things and stands. “I get it. He’s your friend. I shouldn’t have put you in this situation. My apologies.” She walks fast toward the door. “Forget I was ever here.”
No. I let her slip away once, watched him make her his while I stood there pretending it was the right thing. Not again.
“Reagan.” My voice comes out rough, too loud in the silence. She doesn’t stop. I move before I think, cutting across the room, blocking the door. My hand finds the frame—the way I’d corner a suspect. But she’s not a suspect. She’s the one person I can’t lose.
Her eyes flick up, wary. I see the alarm, the anger, the exhaustion, the walls she’s built to survive. And I hate that I’ve helped build them. “Don’t,” I say, softer now, closing the door. “Don’t go. Not this time.”
“I’m used to the police not believing me, but I thought you… I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re his partner.”
“I believe you, Reagan, and he’s not my partner anymore. Blake screwed me bad. After IA found out about the false evidence, they were down my neck, too. They questioned everything, every case he was involved in, and that meant me, too. He never backed me up. He threw me under the bus and retired. You have no idea how hard it was for me to clear my name. How much time I’d lost that got in the way of moving forward with my career. I will never take his side, but murder is a big deal, Reagan.”
“Well, ask yourself one question, RJ. Why did Mason Bloom not survive long enough to appeal his conviction for Abalo’s murder?”
Blake got Bloom killed in prison? “No.”
“Yes.” She stares at me. “You still think he’s not capable of murder?”
“I’m sorry, Reagan. I was a coward before. I won’t be again.” My eyes drop to her lips. The detective in me is gone. There is only the man who’s been dying to touch her, to make her believe him. I cup her face, thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. Then I crush my lips onto hers in a silent confession of everything I’ve never allowed myself to say, not even in my own heart. “Please stay.”
CHAPTER 39
Jacob
Three Months Ago
What is more incredible, having Reagan in my arms all night after all the years of pretending what I feel for her isn’t real or the more vile things she has to say about Blake?
She tells me about the notes. The stalker notes that arrived every time she and Blake had a fight. Every time she needed a reason to stay afraid and dependent. “I thought it was real at first, but then I saw the pattern. I couldn’t prove it until the hotel in Savannah. I saw him in the hallway with my own eyes, crouching at the door, sliding the note under it.”
