I wasn’t the only one who noticed Jade and Ryan together. From a nearby booth, Elissa Daniels stared over at her sister, a faint smile lifting her lips.
Jade had been calling me every day with updates. Elissa was seeing a therapist and trying to cope the best she could with everything that had happened. Bria had been able to keep Elissa out of the official police investigation, so no one knew that she’d almost been the Dollmaker’s next victim. The last thing she needed right now was to be hounded by the news reporters who had been covering the story nonstop.
Jade had told me that Elissa just wanted things to go back to normal—or as normal as they could be—so I’d decided to help with that. Three other girls were sitting in the booth with Elissa: Eva Grayson, Owen’s sister; Violet Fox, her best friend; and Catalina Vasquez, Silvio’s niece.
Eva, Violet, and Catalina had all been through some pretty horrific things themselves, and I thought that the four of them might be able to help each other. That they might be able to talk about things together in a way that maybe they couldn’t with the older people in their lives. At the very least, Eva, Violet, and Catalina could show Elissa that this too would eventually pass, that the pain and fear would slowly lessen, and that there were still plenty of good things and people left in the world, instead of just the nightmare that she’d experienced.
Plates of food were spread out across the table, along with their laptops and textbooks. Ostensibly, they’d come here to study, although they didn’t seem to be getting any work done. Eva was doing most of the talking, throwing her hands up into the air as she told some story, with Violet and Catalina both chiming in occasionally. Elissa sat there, nodding her head instead of talking, but every once in a while, her eyes would brighten, and she would smile a little at something one of the other girls said. You couldn’t get more normal than gabbing with some new girlfriends. I just hoped that it helped her.
Mosley looked over at Elissa. “She seems to be doing well.”
“As well as can be expected, I suppose.”
Elissa noticed Mosley sitting at the counter. She hesitated, then raised her hand and waved at him. He waved back at her, a strained expression on his face. Elissa went back to her conversation with the other girls, and Mosley turned around and faced me again.
“I reached out to Ms. Jamison as soon as Finn told me what happened,” he said. “Jade told me that they were coming here today. I didn’t want to intrude on Elissa’s recovery, but I wanted to see her for myself. Make sure that she was really okay. Physically, at least. I’ve also set up a trust to pay for whatever she needs now and in the future.”
“That was nice of you.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not. Not since all of this is my fault.”
“How do you figure that?”
“If I hadn’t gotten sick that night, Elissa would have been at that charity dinner with me,” Mosley said. “She never would have gone to Northern Aggression, and Bruce Porter would never have gotten his hands on her.”
“No,” I said. “He would have kidnapped some other poor girl, someone whose sister didn’t come to me for help, and we might never have found her, much less stopped him for good. Believe me, Mr. Mosley, I am well acquainted with guilt. None of this is your fault. It’s all on Porter. He’s the one who chose to kidnap and kill all those women.”
“Including my Joanna.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.
I didn’t say anything. Nothing I could say would take away Mosley’s grief over his granddaughter’s murder.
He stared down at the counter for several seconds, slowly tracing his fingers back and forth along the smooth, shiny surface, lost in his own thoughts. Finally, he cleared his throat and looked up at me again.
“There’s no need to stand on formality. You can call me Stuart.” His mouth quirked with a bit of amusement. “After all, you have seen me in my pajamas now.”
“Only if you call me Gin.”
He nodded and steepled his hands together, finally getting down to business. “Seeing Elissa isn’t the only reason that I came here today. I wanted you to know how grateful I am for everything that you did for her, my granddaughter, and all of Porter’s other victims. I only wish that I’d been able to get my hands on him myself.”
For a moment, his face darkened, and cold, calculating rage glinted in his hazel eyes. And I realized that Stuart Mosley was not a man you wanted to mess with.
He looked at me again. “I also came here today to tell you that my offer still stands.”
“And what offer would that be?”
“Any favor you want, any boon or consideration that you, Finn, or the rest of your friends need. I am not without money, resources, and influence.”
First Jade, now Mosley. I should take down serial killers more often. Everybody wanted to do me favors now.
I wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity.
“I have questions. About Fletcher. And the Circle. Did he tell you about them?”
Mosley nodded. “Yes. Fletcher didn’t tell me much about what he was up to or about the group itself, but I’ll be happy to answer what I can. Perhaps over dinner one day soon?”
“I’d like that.”
He smiled at me. “I would too.”
“But first things first.” I stabbed my pen at him. “You need to order some food. Fletcher would never forgive me if I let one of his friends leave without a good hot meal.”
Mosley chuckled, thinking that I was joking. But when he realized that I was serious, he ordered a platter of pulled barbecue chicken, along with baked beans, a garden salad, and a basket of Sophia’s homemade sourdough rolls. I also threw in a heaping serving of blackberry cobbler with vanilla-bean ice cream for dessert.
Some more folks came in to eat, and we were suddenly busy again. Sophia helped me fix Mosley’s food, and I’d just set it on the counter in front of him when the bell over the front door chimed. I looked up to call out a greeting to my new customer, but the words died on my lips when I realized who it was.
Hugh Tucker had just strolled into the Pork Pit.
30
I had two knives in my hands before Tucker took another step into the restaurant. Silvio was also on his feet, his tablet clutched in his hand as though he planned to brain the other vampire over the head with it. Sophia was at the far end of the counter at one of the cooking stations, but she had a death grip on a cast-iron skillet, ready to wade into the fray.
Mosley turned his head, wondering what had alarmed the three of us. I didn’t know if he recognized Tucker, but his eyes narrowed, and he tightened his grip on the knife and fork in his hands. Everyone else was still absorbed in their food and conversations, and they didn’t notice the sudden tension in the restaurant.
Tucker held up his hands and slowly walked toward the cash register where I was standing. “I’m not here to fight. I just want to have a simple conversation.”