Max swallowed. “I do, too. A bit.” In many ways, she’d felt she’d lied to Julia, too.
Julia had been used and lied to her entire married life. She didn’t deserve the same from Max, even if she had finally struck out and killed her tormentor. Had Lance known about her deepest desires and used them to structure his life the way he wanted it?
After a deep breath and a sigh, Max admitted her feelings. “I don’t want her to be her husband’s murderer.”
“She’s not,” Angela shot back.
“That was a little too quick.” Max crossed her arms, hooking the strap of her purse between her thumb and forefinger. “Bud also told me that Julia went to her office the night her husband was killed. She discovered her husband there. With you.” Max didn’t add that she’d watched the scene herself in psychic replay.
Angela’s gaze suddenly clouded. Tears misted her eyes. “Yes, that’s true.”
Max took a step closer to Angela. “Tell me what happened.”
Angela looked up to the corner of the ceiling. “She found us. I felt like shit. I didn’t want her to find out that way.”
“What happened?” Max repeated, the horrible urge to fold her arms around Angela almost overwhelming.
“I thought it was their business, not mine. She needed to deal with him first. Then me. So I left.”
“You left Julia alone with her husband?”
“Yes,” voice small, quiet, but not weak.
“So you know what she must have done.”
Angela sniffed but said nothing.
“She might try to kill you, too, you know.”
Angela finally met Max’s stare, her brown eyes soft and hurt like an abused animal. “She didn’t kill Lance. She couldn’t have. Someone else came in after her. I know it.”
“No, Angela.”
“Lots of people hated Lance. They could have—”
Max cut her off. “No, Angela.”
Angela shook her head, then answered as if Max had asked another question. “I’m not turning her in. I’m not telling the police.”
“I’ll do it for you.” Yes, she would. Moral obligation, civic duty and all. Forget friendship and caring. God, she could really hate herself sometimes.
“Max, don’t—” Angela stopped, started again. “Let me talk to her first. Let me ask her.”
Max shook her head, the cold and damp beginning to seep through her jacket. Or maybe it was the thought of Julia at the mercy of the press and the blind justice system. “What did she say to you last night at the Embassy?”
Angela’s head tipped to the side. “Last night?”
“So you didn’t see her.” Max crossed her arms. “Well, I saw her there as I was leaving. And I think it means she was spying on you.”
Angela said nothing.
Max wanted to take her arm and shake her. “She’s dangerous. She could hurt you. We need to tell the police what really happened.”
Angela took a deep breath. “You said you liked her a little.”
“Actually I used the word love. Don’t make her do any more than she’s already done, Angela. It isn’t fair to her. Help her by telling.”
“Come with me, Max.” That swimming brown gaze pleaded. “Let’s try it my way first. Please.”
Max thought how real life wasn’t like the movies. Julia, upon hearing that Max knew about the affair, the video, and the broken alibi, would probably crumble. Chances were slim she’d try to kill the two women confronting her. Very slim. Not like the movies where the killer whipped out her Uzi and mowed down her enemies in a wild gun battle ending in death by police SWAT team. Julia was too refined for that.
“All right.”
Angela jumped forward and threw her arms around Max’s neck, hugging her, the scent of wet hair and perfume enveloping Max and damn near bringing a tear to her eye. No woman had hugged her since her ex-best-friend Sutter Cahill. Before Cameron died.
Was it possible to be friends with a hooker? Derogatory term. She’d call Angela a working girl.
Aren’t you forgetting something? Cameron whispered. She set you up with Traynor.
Okay. She’d forgotten. For a moment.
Because you wanted to. You’re so good at that, Max.
Besides, it wasn’t important now. When it had started, Max was probably nothing more to Angela than another potential video.
She was part of a blackmail scheme. But go ahead, Max, delude yourself.
Angela held up her keys. “I’ll drive. I know where her house is.”
“Don’t you want to call her office first to make sure she’s not there?”
Angela grinned sheepishly. “I already talked to her this morning. She’s at home.”
“What did she say?”
She shrugged. “She didn’t confess, if that’s what you’re asking. She just cried a lot. I was trying to calm her down.”
“Is that why you didn’t answer my page? I put 911.”
“I didn’t recognize the number. And the 911 was sort of creepy.” She looked over at Max after they’d climbed in. “Stalkerish, you know?”
“I was worried about you.”