Chapter Thirteen

Olivia turned to Covington. "I'm sorry about all of this. How did Nutsbe even know that Mickey was breaking in?"

"He heard a motorcycle and said that you'd been bothered by the noise circling the neighborhood late at night for over a week now."

"That's true," Olivia said slowly. Were Mickey and his riding pals out trying to wear her down? Mickey knew she was a light sleeper. And that going without sleep wore on her.

Olivia sat quietly mulling. She was caught on Henrietta fighting to get out of Mickey's arms.

Why was Mickey trying to dognap Henrietta?

Thinking back to his begging phone call that she shouldn't have answered, Olivia had to conclude that Mickey wanted to use Henrietta as a ploy—a lure—to get them in the same place for some reason.

He sounded desperate when he'd called earlier, begging to see her. Olivia had assumed he was panicking about the divorce being finalized. He had a whole future mapped out for himself – a financial future—and Olivia, the sole heir to her great aunt's fortune, played a starring role in his aspired-to multi-million-dollar lifestyle. So yeah, he had an incentive to stop the divorce.

And he had tried to stop the divorce.

But after two years of stalling, they were days from their marriage finally being over.

That earlier sense of terror washed over Olivia again. She had been a criminal prosecutor for over a decade and knew the calculation. The only way that Mickey could keep the future millions was for Aunt Jo to die. Then, because of how the will was written, Mickey had to wait at least twenty-four hours after Aunt Jo's death to kill Olivia, or the fortune would go to a woman's shelter. If a double homicide was his plan, he had until Tuesday and court to make it happen. As a cop, Mickey knew how to get the job done. And he knew he might even be able to rely on the support of his fellow brothers in blue to make any evidence or investigation disappear.

But what explained Mickey's face?

He looked like he might have finally run up against a criminal who could outfight him. But that couldn't be right. When he changed his uniform, he would have at least washed his face, right?

Olivia grabbed her phone. Shooting a quick "excuse me" toward Covington, she dialed her Aunt Jo. She could hardly breathe as the phone sounded once, twice, three times, panic rose, four—

"Hello?"

"Oh! Thank goodness." Olivia put a hand over her heart. "Are you okay?"

"I was just about to head to bed to read for a bit. This rain has made me feel creaky."

"Aunt Jo, I need you to do me the biggest favor I've ever asked of you." She moved her shaking hand to her forehead as she stood and pulled her shoulders back, trying to give her lungs more room to function.

"What is it that you need, Livy? You sound agitated. Is something going on?"

"Aunt Jo, I need you to listen to me. This is urgent. I'm afraid you're in danger."

"How—"

"I'm going to make a hotel reservation for you, Aunt Jo. And I'm going to send a taxi to your house. It will be there in about ten minutes. I need you to pack a bag fast. Just throw in your medications, computer and chargers, comfy clothes, and toiletries. Don't overthink it. If you need anything, I'll get it for you later."

"Olivia—"

"I need you to stay at the hotel until my divorce is finalized next Wednesday. Okay?"

"Mickey?" Aunt Jo whispered.

"Is out of control. And I don't know if he's heading your way. Please only go out the door when the taxi shows up. You're too far away for him to be to you yet. Just pack fast. And this is extremely important, Aunt Jo, you can tell your friends that you're away, but for your safety and mine, that is all you can tell them."

"Oh, dear."

"The cab is coming," Olivia could hardly push the words from her mouth. What if something happened to her beloved aunt? What if that something was caused by her marriage to Mickey?

"Yes. I need to dress then." Her aunt's voice warbled.

"Aunt Jo, I'll take time to explain and apologize later. I'm hanging up now. I love you."

As soon as Olivia tapped the button to end the call, she was scrolling for the name of the Philly hotel Jaylen had told her about, which was safe and comfortable with a good restaurant. She used a new credit card from a new bank to which Mickey had no connection. Then she pulled up the taxi app and sent a car heading to her aunt's house—fifteen minutes. Thank goodness her aunt lived in Philly, which was a good two hours away from Alexandria.

With all that in motion, Olivia plopped back in her seat, sending a tight-lipped smile toward Covington.

"It sounded like you handled that well." His southern drawl was warm and slow. It was a balm. Olivia bet he could lead the jury by the nose in a courtroom. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No." She shook her head. "But thank you."

The door opened, and Wannamaker leaned in. "If you'll follow me, Ms. Gladstone, the magistrate can talk to you about a restraining order now." He shifted his focus. "And Mr. Covington, they're bringing Mr. Crushed here to join you. The charges have all been dropped."

"And Mickey Pauley?" Olivia asked.

"I have to talk to the judge to get an arrest warrant. That's next."

Olivia stood. "Mr. Covington, I'd like to say something to Nutsbe before you leave, if I may." She didn't wait for an answer but gathered her purse and phone to follow Wannamaker to the magistrate's office.

It was a fairly quick process. Olivia knew the drill from helping many witnesses along the way. As she headed back toward the conference room, Olivia found Covington and Nutsbe standing at the entrance, waiting.

Covington was on his phone, looking out toward the parking lot. When Nutsbe turned her way, she saw relief light his eyes. The fatigue fell off and was replaced with a smile.

Olivia wanted to run into his arms and hold him tight, to thank him for protecting Henrietta and for putting up with Mickey's bullshit.

But Nutsbe was a K9 handler, a neighbor, and a brand-new acquaintance. So she walked over with her hand on her heart, contrition on her face, and said, "Nutsbe, I am so, so sorry."

Covington looked up from his phone and focused first on her, then Nutsbe. "This is urgent. I need to go."

Nutsbe stretched his arm long, pressing the door wide for Covington. "Good luck."

Covington raised his hand as a goodbye and strode into the night, seemingly unfazed by the cold drizzle.

When Nutsbe turned toward her, she lifted her keys toward the parking lot. "Can I give you a lift?" He didn't answer; he just followed along beside her.

What do you say to a man who just fought your husband for your dog? She landed on the mundane. "I haven't eaten yet. Have you?" She liked that he walked close to her. It sort of felt couple-ish. Once again, her fingers itched to reach out and slip into his hand.

"I know a good pizza place on the way back to our neighborhood. Will that do?" he asked with a smile. It was a nice smile. It conveyed that he didn't blame her for this. And that he was grateful for the ride.

"Fat and carbs? Perfect."

She drove through the rain while Nutsbe ordered the pizza to go. Both of them liked the same topping, bacon and pineapple. That was interesting since so many found pineapple on a pizza controversial.

The small talk was very small. There was probably as much on his mind as she had on hers. Nutsbe seemed to be engaged in watching out the side mirror, turning every once in a while to look out the back window. Did he think that someone was tailing them?

What if it was Mickey?

"There's a new door in your fence," Olivia said as Nutsbe pointed toward the entrance to the strip mall.

"It felt selfish to have Henrietta suffering from fence envy," he said lightly. "It was a quick fix. No big deal."

"I'm sure Henrietta disagrees, especially tonight." Olivia pulled into a parking space across from the Italian place.

"I'll give you the punch code when we get back. That way, Henrietta can hang out whenever she wants. She's in my yard now." He glanced out the window and then back to Olivia. "There's a good-sized roof over my patio. She's not getting wet." Nutsbe unclasped his buckle and reached for the door handle. "I'll run in. Anything besides the pizza? Canoli? Salad?"

"But—" She wasn't sure what the but was. Just maybe he shouldn't be running out in the rain after everything else he'd been through that night.

"Your feet'll get wet," he said, "and your toes will get cold. I don't have that problem." Before Olivia could say anything more, he was out the door with a light jog toward the sidewalk.

Olivia snatched up her phone, dialed Jaylen, and, with alarming speed, spilled the events that had taken place that evening. It was a relief to get the story out of her system, like unscrewing the top on a soda and enjoying the satisfying sound of the gas hissing out.

"Wait! Take a breath," Jaylen sang into the phone in a lullaby tone.

"Oh. Sorry. Are you putting Tilly down?"

"She's putting up a last fight against her drooping eyelids." There was the sound of a kiss. "Aren't you sweetheart? It's so exciting to be awake and exploring the world. It's so hard to shut your eyes. But Mommy really needs you to go night nights."

"Should I call you back? Is my voice waking her?"

"I have my earbuds in," she sang. "And her eyelids are heavy. She'll be out any moment now. This is what I got. You left the police station, and you're getting pizza."

"Yes."

"And you're with your next-door neighbor, Nutsbe—the one who is all kinds of uncomfortable around a crying woman—that Nutsbe?"

"Yes."

"Why was he in your backyard? You have that huge fence back there. He'd have to have walked—yeah, I don't get that."

"He was making a door in the back for Henrietta so she could go run around his backyard when she wanted to hang out outside. It was really very kind of him."

"Dog poo and all? He was down with that?"

"I guess." Olivia laced her fingers and pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, feeling the throb in a steady, insistent beat. "He didn't talk to me beforehand."

"Do you feel comfortable with that?" Jaylen asked. "I'm a little ambivalent. It could be nice, but it could be creepy, right?"

"Creepy? No. Having met Nutsbe, that didn't cross my mind. First, the door saved Henrietta and possibly me—I don't know what Mickey was up to trying to dognap Hen like that. Second, people have doors in their fences. I don't have to use it. There was no presumption, just an invitation. And third, he's just too solid of a guy, you know? There is nothing about him that puts up even the tiniest of red flags. Especially because Henrietta doesn't like men, and she loves Nutsbe. She looks forward to his jogs and mopes when he doesn't run by. But I will tell you I'm processing this for the first time. When I found out about the door, I thought it was his coping reflex."

"Yeah, sure, people reflexively cut doors in their fences all the time." There was the squeak of hinges from Jaylen's rocker as she lifted up. "Tilly's out like a light. I'm going to lay her down in the crib."

Olivia stretched the seat belt out and adjusted it across her chest. "It was the crying thing when we met this afternoon. He was struggling with the tide of cathartic emotions. I think it really bothered him that he couldn't do anything about all the pain."

"It was the witness crying, right?" Jaylen asked. "Not you?"

"Me? Why would I cry? When have I ever cried?"

"I'm just trying to follow why you think that your witness crying made him reflexively cut a hole into the back of his fence so Henrietta could go poop on his lawn."

"Yeah. That might be a leap." Olivia looked through the rain toward the restaurant door. She should have just pulled up and parked along the curb. "In my mind, he felt bad and needed to do a good deed to balance his world. And when I say that out loud, that feels right to me."

"Whew! Done for the day. Heading for a glass of wine and a piece of chocolate." There was the snick of a door. Okay. "I'm in the kitchen. I have my computer fired up. Send me a picture of this guy."

"I don"t have a picture to send you. It would have been weird for me to take out my phone and take a picture of him. And no, Jaylen, I didn't get a copy of his mug shot. I think Iniquus will get a judge involved and make that go away. That group is very secretive."

"Social links?"

"Nope." Olivia turned her head and scanned the parking lot.

"Nope as in he doesn"t have one?" Jaylen asked incredulously. "That"s suspicious."

"Nope, as in I didn"t ask, and I didn"t look." With all the carjackings in the paper, Olivia didn't love sitting out here with her engine running, even if the heat from the vent felt good. She put the car in gear and backed out. "Can you imagine how inappropriate that would have been?"

"Not that inappropriate, you're neighbors. You have a community group to share neighborhood news, right? I"ll look. What"s his full name?"

Olivia focused over her shoulder as she wheeled herself around. "Thaddeus Crushed. That"s on his court paperwork. He told me I can call him Nutsbe."

"No Nutsbe anythings. Thaddeus's diminutive is Tad. Okay, there are five Tad Crusheds. That's hard to say—Crusheds. Here's one. He's in his seventies, it seems. Columbus, Ohio."

Olivia was silent while she edged up to the curb and then backed to be right in front of the restaurant door so that when Nutsbe came out, he could jump in and not get even more wet. Throwing her car into park, she said, "Not him. I"d guess late thirties or a young-looking early forties."

"African American?"

"No. From his build, he's of German descent, maybe? Northern something." Olivia wasn't sure if turning her engine off or leaving it on was safer so she could peel out and get gone if someone approached her car. "What kind of last name is Crushed? English?" Olivia asked as she decided to leave the engine on, the car in gear, her foot on the break.

"Don"t know. Probably something that got changed on Ellis Island. Okay, the rest are Avatars. But did you say he worked for Iniquus? Well, shit. That's why I can't find him. I read somewhere that they act like, I don"t know, super spies or Delta Force operators. They don"t have a public face. They"re all very secretive, cloak and dagger."

"It's security protocols. Like me on social media. I lock everything down. I use an avatar and a fake name; very few people know where I live. You and Mickey Shithead."

"That makes me uncomfortable that he knows where you are," Jaylen said.

"They're putting together a warrant for his arrest, and I have a temporary restraining order. So he should get picked up here in the next few hours."

"I don't want to talk about him. I want to know more about Nutsbe. Much, much more interesting. Infinitely more interesting. Did you see his hands?" Jaylen asked.

"Yes, why? Are you asking about a wedding ring? No ring. No white place where he didn't tan."

"Ha! You looked," Jaylen laughed. "Caught ya. So good. But it wasn't what I was wondering about. Do you think he still has fingerprints? Don"t spies acid them off?"

"Bob said he was a counterpart, so I'm guessing Nutsbe coordinates operations and sends his tactical force into the field. He probably works in the office." Olivia said, turning the heater up another notch. "Okay, here's a question for you. Have you ever heard the term bissextile before? There are so many changes with LGBTQI terms, it would probably be good to know this one."

"Are you sure you heard that word said correctly? Bissextile? Who said it?"

"Nutsbe. Something in passing. He was making small talk about Beowolf with my witness and mentioned that Beowolf had just had a birthday. His dog turned four last week. She said her birthday was two weeks ago but hadn't celebrated. Then Nutsbe looked at me and said, ‘I don't celebrate my birthday often since I'm bissextile.' And when he said it, he winked at me. Does that make sense to you?"

"You didn't look it up?" Jaylen asked.

"I haven't had time yet."

"Hang on." A moment later, Jaylen's laughter was bright with amusement. "That's fabulous. Bissextile has to do with leap year. His birthday must be February twenty-ninth. That's what he meant by not celebrating often."

"What now?" Olivia's lips stretched into a bemused smile; she also registered relief. Interesting. "That little shit."

"It"s pretty funny, actually."

"It's a little bit funny," Olivia admitted.

"Anyway, it's good that he's a Pisces. Well, in bed, at least."

"Yeah?" Olivia looked over at the door, hoping Nutsbe would come out soon. "Why's that?"

"Reading: Non-judgmental, creative, romantic—but not in the run around kind of way. They're intuitive in bed. They can figure out what their lover wants. Water sign. So," Jaylen said, "I'd say you have shower sex in your future if you decide to enjoy this guy."

"Okay what about out of bed?" Olivia asked.

"You're really into this guy," Jaylen accused her.

"I'm not. I'm curious. I've never met anyone like Nutsbe. He's … something. I'm too tired to find the right adjectives."

"And it's not like he'd be a rebound," Jaylen said. "You've dated since your legal separation. That one guy, Chad."

"His name was not Chad. But your point is well taken. We'll see. Now is not a good time to even consider a date. Hey, Jaylen, he's back with the pizza. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Bye."

"Olivia."

"What?" Olivia moaned as she flipped the locks to let Nutsbe in.

"It's been a rough day for you in court," Jaylen said gently. "Take a breath. Eat the pizza with the guy. Have fun. Relax. It's been a soul-sucking case. But it's almost over, right? What more could go wrong?"