Blood Always Tells by Hilary Davidson (always you kirsty moseley .TXT) 📗

“Looking for Tom Klepper.” Desmond feigned innocence. “You seen him around?”

The man gave him the evil eye. Desmond was fairly certain the attorney had hightailed it with his stack of cash. He felt like a fool for believing Klepper would go to the police.

“Do you know where he is?” Desmond asked again.

“Who wants to know?”

“I’m a friend of his.” Desmond knew he didn’t sound convincing. “You know where I can reach him?”

The man only glared. Desmond conceded it was a lost cause, backing off and moving away from the brownstone. Halfway down the block, he looked back and saw the man staring after him. He hoped the cops would be as frustrated as he was whenever they finally tried to question Klepper. By then, the man’s trail would be stone cold.

Chapter 33

Desmond didn’t know where to turn next, not without more direction from Westergren in Pennsylvania. But he was compelled to keep busy—no knowing where his brain would lead him if he let it rest—so he turned his attention to Dominique’s burial arrangements. That was tougher than he expected. He walked out of one funeral home after its director aggressively recommended cremation. He didn’t want his baby sister’s remains scattered to the four winds. She needed to have a final resting place where he could visit her. He could accept that it would be in New York—Dominique loved that city, after all—but he couldn’t cope with the notion of ashes in an urn.

When he got back to the Hyatt, he was planning to head upstairs and shower, but he halted in his tracks when he recognized Sabrina Turner. She was perched on a sofa, waiting for him.

The sight of Dominique’s best friend made his heart lighter for a fraction of a second. Looking at her, he forgot, just for a split second, what he was doing there. Then it rushed back, and he felt as if he were dropping through the sky in what pilots called a nylon letdown—when you ejected from a plane and sailed back to the earth on a parachute. Only, in this case, his chute wouldn’t open.

Sabrina had spotted him first, and she stood and walked toward him, looking as lovely as ever. Her hair was cut into a bob now, which emphasized how pretty and delicate her features were. She wore slim-fitting jeans and a pale green sweater, and her coat was open. The only thing out of place was the redness of her eyes and the swelling around them.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Sabrina said. “I decided to hunt you down.”

“I’m glad you did.”

She put her arms around him and they hugged for a long time.

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Sabrina whispered. As she pulled away, there were tears standing in her eyes.

It was deeply unsettling to see her. He’d known Sabrina for some time; she was one of the first people Dominique met in New York, and they had been roommates for years. He felt like a heel for not calling her, especially because he knew exactly why he’d avoided it: he was genuinely afraid of what she would see in him. Sabrina could read things anyone else would miss. A year ago, after his divorce was final, Dominique had set Desmond up on a date with Sabrina. His sister didn’t call it that, but he knew a setup when he saw one. It had gone well. Too well. Desmond remembered that he’d never had such an easy time talking to anyone in his life. Afterward, there had been a few weeks where he and Sabrina were chatting every day, sometimes more than once. But then he’d realized he was on the edge of revealing things to her that he’d never told anyone, and he pulled away. He’d made a fool of himself explaining that he wasn’t ready to date, but that was just a sorry lie. He was terrified of what those searching eyes would lure out of him.

“I know. I keep turning around and thinking she’s there,” Desmond said.

“She is there. You don’t have to worry about that. It’s just hard for us because we’re left behind.”

He knew that Sabrina had strong religious beliefs. His own weren’t so powerful or clearly formed, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take comfort in the idea that his sister was somewhere close by, aware of what they were doing even though they couldn’t reach her. He’d held that notion in his heart when his mother died, too.

“Let’s sit down somewhere,” Desmond said. “Do you have time for dinner?” He glanced at his watch; it wasn’t quite four o’clock.

“I wish. I have to get home soon. It’s a long story.” She grimaced. “But the short version is that Copper is sick and I have to pick him up from the vet.”

He remembered that Copper was her dog. Sabrina doted on the creature like a child. He didn’t doubt that she was telling the truth, but he wondered if the pup hadn’t been ill, what her excuse would’ve been. “I’m sorry. You want to get some coffee?”

“Yes, even though I don’t drink caffeine.” She smiled.

“I almost forgot you’re the one girl who made my sister look hedonistic.”

They left the hubbub of the hotel lobby for the nonstop commotion of Grand Central Terminal, sweeping up one of its grand staircases to Cipriani Dolci. They found a table overlooking the melee below. Desmond told her about going to the house and finding Dominique.

“I can’t believe this is real. It’s like a horror novel,” Sabrina said. “How could it happen?”

Desmond’s eyes met hers. “I need you to level with me completely. I talked with Dominique on Friday night. She told me she had a plan to blackmail Gary. What was going on with her?”

“She swore me to secrecy, but I don’t think that applies now, does it?” Sabrina sighed. “The only reason she met up with Gary and went to his country house was to get Gary to confess.”

“Confess