“That’s ridiculous,” Plum told him, and Ford’s vision didn’t dim. It wasn’t a lie, but she did look nervous. “Besides, I told you, I was in Paris.”
“He called me from that phone right before he was killed.” Ford’s eyes bored into hers.
“So?”
“That means either James was killed here or someone brought you his phone after he was dead. You must know something.”
Her hand came out from behind her, and it had a kitchen knife in it. Apparently she hadn’t just been opening and closing drawers. “I know I want you to leave. Now. Or I’m going to call security.”
Ford laughed. He grabbed her wrist and twisted it until the knife fell into his other hand. “Tell me what happened to my brother.” He held the knife by the side of his leg, not outright threatening, but there.
“I don’t know,” Plum said, her eyes going from the knife to his face. “The day after I got back from my trip I heard something ringing in the couch and found the phone. It was you calling, actually.”
Raw pain struck Ford, and hazy images formed of him alone on a street corner, in the shadows of the living room, in the morning at work, by the lake, dialing James’s phone just to hear his voice. “James. Message. Bye,” playing an endless loop in his mind.
“That’s how you got my number,” he said, shaking off the memory. So it had been the right wrong question, Sadie thought.
Plum nodded.
“Why did you keep the phone? And keep it charged? I stopped calling because I figured it would be disconnected.”
Plum’s eyes went behind him. “Sometimes I like to make calls I don’t want anyone to know about.”
Ford nodded sagely. “Must be hard having to sneak around. Your sugar daddy is a resourceful guy. His thugs found me in the middle of—”
“I told you, there is no daddy about it,” Plum interrupted him, but Ford wasn’t listening. He was thinking about his question when he regained consciousness, how the thugs who told him to stay away from Plum had found him at the tree house.
The chip, Sadie breathed, her thoughts keeping time with his. Of course. Just like the gunmen at the theater. The Pharmacist’s men. Which meant—
“Your patron is the Pharmacist,” Ford said.
Plum twisted her hair to one side. “You’re boring me. I’d like you to leave now.”
Ford toyed with the handle of the knife in his hand. “Can I meet him?”
“I’m going to call security.”
We should go, Sadie urged silently.
“He murdered James,” Ford said.
Plum picked up her phone and dialed. “Please send a security officer up to my apartment. I have an unwanted guest.”
“Don’t you care? Even a little?” Ford demanded.
“He has a knife,” Plum said into the phone. “Yes, right away.” She hung up and her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “You think you’re the only one who cared about James? You didn’t even know him. He loved me more than he loved you.”
“Right,” Ford grunted.
Plum’s eyes flashed triumphantly. “He was going to run away with me to Paris. Did you know that?”
“Sure he was,” Ford said. Thinking, Not likely since James didn’t even have a passport.
“That’s why I was in Paris when he died. James was supposed to meet me there two days later.” Plum bit her lip. “He was going to set me free. And we were going to have breakfast together every morning for the rest of our lives.”
Sadie heard Ford thinking that the setting-free part sounded like Lulu’s story about James slaying the monster. Only her version didn’t end with James leaving them and moving to France with the monster’s mistress.
Security is on the way up. You should go, Sadie thought.
Plum held Ford’s eyes as if daring him to look away or disbelieve her. Ford stared back at her levelly, but his mind was churning. Could it be true? Had James been ready to abandon them?
Ford said, “If you loved James so much, why are you protecting his murderer?”
Plum’s eyes hardened, becoming two glittering dark stones. “You don’t know anything about love.”
There was a heavy knock on the door. “This is Security Officer Milan. We had a call from this apartment. Are you all right, ma’am?”
Go, Sadie urged.
Ford ignored the knocking. “I’m going to get him,” he told Plum. “I’ll make sure he pays for what he did.”
Plum gave a high, brittle laugh. “Not if he gets you first.” Beneath the hardness in her eyes, Sadie saw a glimmer of something else: fear.
Another knock. “Ma’am? I’m coming in.” They heard the sound of a keycard sliding into the front door lock, and Sadie yelled, What are you waiting for?
Ford growled at the sound of her voice, but he listened. He crossed to the back door, ran down four flights, and called the elevator from the fifty-ninth floor. He rode all the way to the garage and was already on the street when the two security guys with their walkie-talkies burst out of the stairwell.
He had no idea how he was going to get home, but he started walking, and Sadie heard him thinking he wanted to get as far as possible from that nutcase.
You mean the one you had sex with, she thought, but did not say out loud. A white van passed him and he stiffened, like muscle memory, until it drove by.
“Ice!” a voice shouted from behind him.
Ford’s head swung around, suspicion and anger flaring to life. It dispersed when he saw that it was Willy calling him from the driver’s seat of an old yellow Camaro.
“Get in, man,” Willy said, throwing open the door. “You’re in trouble. Big trouble. They’ve been looking for you all night.”
“Who?” Sadie felt Ford’s mind scanning Willy for signs of deception. Out of the corner of his eye Sadie saw another white van turn onto the street. “Why?”
“Get in the car. If you’re with me they won’t be able to track you and you’ll be safe, at least for a little while. It’s the only chance you have.” Willy looked over his shoulder. Another white van went by. “They ordered a large with anchovies for you.”
“A what?”
“Large means the recipient is an adult male. Anchovies means he should swim with the fishes. Which means—”
“I know what that means,” Ford said, getting into the car.
CHAPTER 29
Where are we going?” Ford asked as Willy careened through the streets.
“I have a little bolt-hole. Nothing fancy, but should be comfortable enough. That okay with you, Citizen?”
Sadie counted a fifth white van.
“Yes, absolutely,” Ford said, as Willy floored it through an intersection. “You sounded like Bucky just then.”
Willy laughed. “Guess I did. Funny how things come bubbling up.” He stepped on the gas, taking a corner on two wheels.
Ford gripped the armrest. “When you said they ordered a large with anchovies you meant—”
“From the top.” Willy pointed at the ceiling. “Rush too. But don’t worry, if we stick close together, you’ll be okay.” He reached out and patted Ford’s leg. “Granted, it’s only a short-term fix.”
“Why are you helping me?”
Willy swerved across four lanes of traffic. “You’re smarter than those other guys, but you never hold it over people.” Horns blared. “Always liked that about you.”
Sadie felt a lick of the warm, golden caramel feeling that was Ford’s friendship. It made him think of Mason. Was he all right?
“I did that demo work with James for a while,” Willy went on. Traffic had thinned, and he was weaving in and out smoothly. “Couldn’t stomach it. Wanted to build something, not destroy it. Seems like you understand that.”