Thorne’s glance shot to Gwyn. ‘You did that?’
Gwyn nodded once. ‘Yes.’ Because I was falling apart and had to keep busy. Because you were dying. And because there was a woman in your bed.
Planted there. The woman had been planted there. Those were the facts.
Unless – or until – they were proven false. Because everyone lies about something. Except Thorne. He’d never lied to her. Ever. Not in twelve years.
She shut down the doubts that continued to nag. This was her anxiety talking. And her anxiety was a lying, deceitful bitch.
Thorne’s lips curved. ‘Thank you. I don’t think I’d have had the presence of mind to do the same if I’d found you the same way.’
The praise warmed her, shining light in the darkness of her mind, driving away those nagging doubts. But before she could respond, he’d dropped his gaze back to Jamie’s phone. ‘How did you send Jamie these photos, Gwyn?’
‘I uploaded them to the Cloud, then deleted them from my phone. I called Jamie from a burner phone later and told him how to get the pics.’
Thorne was nodding. ‘Good. There’ll be a trail, but only if they can get a warrant for your Cloud account.’
‘Which is not in my name,’ Gwyn said, miffed that he hadn’t assumed as much.
His grin was quick and sharp. ‘Excellent.’ In seconds, though, the grin was gone and he was frowning at the photos. ‘What was supposed to have happened?’
‘You mean if Gwyn hadn’t shown up?’ Jamie asked.
‘Yes.’ Thorne shot a look at her. ‘Why were you there?’
Gwyn opened her mouth, then closed it, shaking her head. ‘We can talk about it later. In the grand scheme of everything, it’s not important.’ Except that it might be. Especially if Lucy was right and Thorne really did have feelings.
But do I?
Well, yeah. Because to begin with, I’m pissed to holy hell that there was a woman in his bed. Which is irrational under the circumstances. Obviously I have feelings. And those feelings might be important. But later.
Thorne continued to stare at her for another few seconds. ‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘So if you hadn’t come at six thirty-five and found me nearly dead with a dead woman beside me, what might have happened? Would I have died? Was I supposed to die?’
Gwyn bit at her lip. ‘It doesn’t make sense that they’d go to all that trouble only to kill you. They could have just killed you after they drugged you, and left you behind Barney’s Bar. Instead, they dragged you home and staged that.’ She gestured to the phone. ‘I think finding out what drug you were given might help answer that question, but it seems like there were a few possible scenarios.’
Thorne handed Jamie his phone, then lay back in the bed, his eyes closed, his jaw tight as if he were in pain. ‘Like?’
Standing, Gwyn leaned over the bedrail and pressed her fingertips to his temples, rubbing in little circles. He immediately hummed in relief. ‘Your headache’s worse?’ she murmured.
‘Hurts like a bitch,’ he admitted.
‘They probably won’t give you any painkillers. Not until they’re sure all the shit is out of your system.’
‘I figured as much. But that pressure feels a little better. Tell me the scenarios, because Hyatt’s not going to give us much more time.’
‘Well, for one, you might have died and one of us would have found you and the dead woman tomorrow when you didn’t show up for work.’ Which probably would have been me. She sent a little thank-you heavenward. I’m so glad it wasn’t this scenario.
Thorne grimaced. ‘We need to find out if whatever I was given would have worked its way out of my system over a certain amount of time, making it look like I died – and murdered that woman – while stone-cold sober. What else?’
Gwyn saw Jamie punching notes into his phone. The older man looked up and gave her an encouraging nod. ‘Keep going, Gwyn.’
‘Well, you might have woken up on your own and discovered a dead woman in your bed. What do you think you would have done?’
‘Probably the same thing you did. I’d have called Lucy.’ His smile was grim. ‘I mean, why have a friend who’s an ME if you can’t call them when you have a dead body in your bed?’
‘She would have called JD,’ Gwyn said. ‘Just like she did this morning.’
‘I know. I still would have called. I would have called 911 too.’
She watched the two men share a long, long look. ‘What?’ she asked. ‘What was that look for?’
‘This isn’t the first time Thorne’s been set up for a murder,’ Jamie said quietly. ‘The thing that saved him from a conviction the last time was that he made his friend call 911.’
She opened her mouth to ask more questions, because how could she leave a statement like that alone? She’d known he’d been tried for murder and found not guilty, but she had never heard the details. She could have looked them up, but she’d always figured that if he’d wanted her to know, he would have told her.
Thorne shook his head. ‘Keep giving me scenarios. We’re running out of time.’
‘Okay,’ she said unsteadily. ‘If you were supposed to wake up at some point, perhaps someone else might have been supposed to find you. Or maybe whoever did this took their own photos.’
‘Blackmail,’ Thorne said flatly. ‘Or extortion.’
‘Which would only have worked if you’d woken on your own and not called 911,’ Jamie said.
‘What might they have blackmailed you about, Thorne?’ Gwyn asked.
‘Money. Influence on a case.’ Thorne frowned. ‘Or it could have been targeted at the club. I get threats all the time there. Little mobster wannabes trying to distribute through Sheidalin. I threw a sleazebag out just last weekend. He threatened me and my little dog too. I didn’t tell him that I only have a cat.’
‘You didn’t tell me about that!’ Gwyn exclaimed.
‘I don’t tell you about those things.’ He closed his eyes again. ‘You’ve got enough on your mind with running the place.’
‘And you don’t think I can handle a few thugs?’
He sighed. ‘I don’t want you to have to handle them. I was just trying to help you.’ He winced. ‘Don’t yell at me. I have a headache.’
She drew a breath, let it out. ‘Well, when you no longer have a headache, Mr Thorne, we shall have quite a lively conversation.’
‘Then I think I’ll have a headache forever,’ he said glumly. ‘I’m serious,’ he added when Jamie chuckled. ‘Wait.’ His frown deepened. ‘Where is my cat? Is he okay?’
‘Clay came to get him,’ Gwyn told him. ‘He’s got Tweety too.’ Which also gave her peace of mind. Taylor was at Clay’s, watching Lucy and JD’s children, who loved her dog.
‘Good.’ Thorne glanced at Jamie. ‘What should I do next?’
‘For now, nothing. You say nothing to Hyatt. We will investigate this. We have resources. The doctors will tell us what you were drugged with and we’ll start looking into all of these scenarios. I will personally contact Bernice Brown and make sure she is okay. I’ll also ask her who else knew you were coming to that club to help her.’
‘I have cameras at my house,’ Thorne told him. ‘The footage gets uploaded to an offsite server in addition to being DVRed in my house.’
‘We’ll find out if the DVR is still there. If it is, we’ll compare it to the recordings on the server.’ Jamie glanced at his phone. ‘Text from Phil. Hyatt’s coming.’
‘Phil’s here too?’ The hopeful, almost boyish note in Thorne’s voice was hard to miss. The two men were like fathers to him, Gwyn knew. She didn’t know how that had come about, but they’d been part of his life since she’d known him.
Jamie’s smile was gentle. ‘Couldn’t keep him away. He’s been pacing outside in the hall. Don’t worry, Thorne. We’ll take care of this. We’ll take care of you.’
Thorne stared at him, then abruptly closed his eyes and cleared his throat. ‘I could use some more of that water, Gwyn.’
Gwyn swabbed his mouth. ‘Here you go, Mr Tough Guy.’
‘I am a tough guy,’ Thorne muttered, but his voice broke a little.