"You're in a good mood today," Leo says quietly.
"We had a good night." Good probably isn't the best way to describe it; many people would say it was very, very bad. She's limping. Intense is a better word; I think she bruised my hips. "And trust me, today is going to be a very good day."
She eyes the news screens over my shoulder. "Maybe."
I give Leo a slow kiss and then watch her heart shaped ass sway as she leaves the room, thinking back to my research last night.
Sociopaths cannot love in the same way as others...but they can and do still fall.
Sociopaths love with an all-consuming, dangerous passion.
The sociopath, who seeks to manipulate all things, may only retain interest in a woman who disturbs the power balance he is used to, rather than one who continues to submit. If she challenges him adequately, he becomes addicted. His attachment to her deepens until he believes himself to be in love.
When should I tell her the good news...?
And where the hell is Tuija, anyway? She's hardly ever this late unless I've sent her out on some errand. I'm about to call her on my cell...until I realise it's still smashed up on the carpet. Fucking brilliant.
I left my temporary cell...I don't even remember. I'll call through to Fliss and get a spare.
My hand is hovering over the office phone when it begins to ring. Harvey's cell number flashes up on the call ID.
"Harvey." I find myself grinning. "Your photos have gone down very well."
"Sir." His voice is unusually subdued. "Are you alone?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Is...is there something we need to talk about? For last night."
"What?"
"Were you at my house?" His emphasis is unusual, and it takes me a second to realise what he's talking about.
No, I do not need an alibi.
My stomach lurches.
What? What the fuck would I need an alibi for?
"I was at Leo's all night," I say quickly. "What's happened?"
"There's something you need to see. Tuija's apartment. How soon can you be here?"
"I...twenty minutes." I swallow a lump in my throat. It seems there are things he can't tell me over this phone line.
"I'll see you soon," says Harvey, and then he hangs up.
Nothing about this is right. Harvey provided the escort for me and Leo this morning; he should be back in the building, not at Tuija's place. She has her own security—why would he need to be there?
A sharp ache claws at my temples, only worsening when I get out into the corridor's florescent lights. I hear every footstep ring loud in my ears. When I pass Tuija's office, Leo steps out, a plastic wallet in her hands.
She frowns. "Where are you off to?"
"Have to step out for a while."
"Oh." She's wound all tight, that tilt to her chin I remember from when we first met; as if she eyes the entire world sideways. "Will I see you later?"
"I don't know." I stop pacing, yank her against me, and crush my lips over hers. She yelps into my mouth, her arms rigid against my chest.
"A—Aeron—"
"See you later." Then I leave her sagging against the wall, my fists balled tight. There's nobody I don't glare at.
Fifteen minutes later, my driver pulls up outside Tuija's downtown apartment building. Fortunately, I can't see any press; Harvey waits in the sparse, modern lobby, his big dark frame in stark contrast with all the white plastic and glass.
"Come on," he says, leading me straight to the elevator.
"You going to tell me what's going on?"
"We need to get up there first."
The seconds drag, their claws squeaking along the wall. Tuij has done something stupid. I always thought she was smart, but maybe I'd been wrong; maybe I haven't paid enough attention to the way she's unravelled since Leo came on the scene. Nausea churns in my belly, and the bacon and eggs I ate with Leo earlier suddenly taste foul in my mouth.
Finally, the elevator beeps and we step out on to Tuij's floor.
"She didn't come down to her escort this morning," Harvey says in a low voice as we approach her apartment. "We waited until eight thirty and then we came up to see what was going on."
It occurs to me suddenly that nobody else is here. The hall is quiet. There's no ambulance outside, no police; you could hear a fly sneeze in the silence beyond our carpet-cushioned footsteps. If Tuij is hurt...why is everything so still?
Outside Tuij's thick wooden door, Harvey knocks once, and another member of his team lets us in. Their faces are identically creased. Quiet.
"She's in the bedroom," says Harvey. "Don't touch anything. You've got five minutes before the police arrive—we couldn't stall calling them any longer."
I say nothing.