“Either way, you put Julian through unnecessary pain when you don’t really need to,” Regina said.
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing,” Mena said, absently chewing on a tamarind glazed goat tender.
“I hate to say this, but Julian being locked up in Tiverton gives you a chance to get out of this mess without him finding out,” Regina added.
“What was the offer your slimy husband was alluding to?” Omar asked.
“An indecent proposal,” Mena murmured.
“He wants you to have sex with him to get him to sign the divorce papers?” Regina whispered angrily.
“Not that indecent. He wants me to spend this weekend with him at the Blue Moon Resort so he can convince me to give him a second chance,” Mena said.
“And if you do that and still aren’t convinced, then what?” Omar asked.
“He signs the divorce papers in front of the hotel’s notary, and I get to file them first thing Monday morning,” Mena said. “I just know he’s going to find a way to weasel out of it. He can’t be trusted.”
Omar and Regina exchanged a conspiratorial glance.
“What are the two of you up to?” asked Mena.
“Sweetheart,” Omar started. “Why don’t you text Michael and tell him you reconsidered? You will take him up on his offer and check in at the resort tomorrow night. In your own room, of course.”
Regina nodded her head. “I’ll get the room booked for you now. There are ways to make sure Michael doesn’t renege on his end of the bargain. With our help, you’ll be a divorced woman after the weekend is over.”
Omar reached over and gave Regina a high-five. “We guarantee it!”
Chapter Twenty-One
The twenty-foot barbed wire fence topped with spikes surrounded the expansive rectangle known as the yard. Gray clouds billowed across the sky, casting an ominous shadow on the inmates as they dispersed across the space that stretched the length of two football fields.
Julian trudged across the dirt worn path leading to the outer gravel running track. The meeting with Octavia had gone worse than he expected.
The look on Octavia’s face when she entered the holding room of the prison had said it all.
“I got the report from Des about what the police found when they searched your penthouse and yacht,” Octavia had begun, unable to hide the frustration and bewilderment in her tone.
“What are you talking about? There was nothing for them to find. Nothing that connects me to the attack on Dumay,” Julian said, leaning forward. The search had started shortly after sunrise yesterday and had concluded earlier this afternoon. Almost thirty-six hours scouring through his home and yacht, the cops had forced Mena to stay with friends until they were done.
“If by nothing you mean the same poison that was injected into Priscilla Dumay, then yeah, you’re right. The cops found nothing.”
“What the hell?” Julian said, forcing himself to stay calm. “I didn’t poison that bitch and I don’t make a fucking habit of keeping poison lying around my home.”
“On your yacht, the cops found a bloody shirt in the dirty clothes hamper. Inside one of the pockets was a vial that contained the exact same poison that put Dumay in a coma. Your fingerprints are all over that vial. The police are testing the blood to find out who it belongs to. Care to explain?”
Julian slumped into the chair as the memories hit him like a freight train. “It’s Mena’s blood.”
“Mena? Your girlfriend?”
“I had that shirt on when Adam Russell kidnapped us in Kenya. After the pilot shot Mena in the arm, I had to get the bleeding under control. There was a first aid kit with the vials, gauze, wraps and the like,” Julian said, remembering the odd configuration of six vials filled with clear liquid lined neatly inside the kit. “I put one of the vials in my pocket just in case her pain got too bad, but then I forgot all about it when the plane was going down. I didn’t even remember I had that vial after we survived the crash.”
“So, you thought the vial was a painkiller, and that’s the only reason you had it?” Octavia asked. Her eyes bored into him, likely searching for any sign that he was lying to her.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t labeled, which was why I didn’t give it to Mena immediately,” Julian explained, grateful he hadn’t accidentally poisoned Mena.
“I may be able to use your version of events to help poke holes in the police investigation. I’m guessing Des feels like he found the smoking gun with that vial on your yacht. When you add that to the video footage from the courthouse showing how you bypassed the normal security entrance protocols with Kendrick to get inside, it looks a lot like premeditated attempted murder.”
Julian took a deep breath. The soft drizzle of rain tapped against his skin as he jogged along the trail. Despite the gloomy weather, none of the inmates at Tiverton had opted to stay inside. Recreational time was the highlight of being in this hellhole. Pumping his arms faster, Julian increased his speed as thoughts hounded his mind.
