Mena felt her stomach sour.
Stella continued, “The man gave me a syringe to smuggle into the courthouse. Once I was inside, I had to tape the syringe under the table in Anteroom F.”
“That’s how Priscilla got the syringe,” Mena said, stunned by this revelation.
Kendrick said, “Stella is going to be facing some serious charges for this. I need to figure out the best way to help her through it—”
“Who gave you the fifty thousand dollars?” Mena demanded.
Stella looked up at Mena. “He said his name was Adam Russell.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Mena returned to the penthouse, easing the door closed behind her. The stone floor was cool on her bare feet as she stepped out of her flats. The room was dark. The night sky devoid of stars stretched ahead through the floor to ceiling windows. She’d spent the last couple of hours with Kendrick and Stella, discussing the next steps they needed to take to introduce the new evidence to the police. Adam hadn’t bothered to hide who he was from Stella when he approached her with the unsavory deal. He knew she was desperate and would keep her mouth shut about who paid her.
Stella’s confession and the burner phone Mena had gotten from Farouk Essa might not be enough to get Julian out of trouble. With Uma and Adam still missing, there were too many ways the evidence could be misinterpreted. There was no guarantee the cops could prove that the number texted on the phone belonged to Adam Russell, either.
Kendrick’s concern for Stella had annoyed Mena. He was delaying bringing the evidence to the station until tomorrow, to give Stella time to hire a good attorney. Mena didn’t understand why the burner phone had to wait. She’d given him a critical piece of the puzzle, and he wasn’t acting on it fast enough. She’d insisted Kendrick take it to be evaluated tonight, but he’d resisted and asked her to trust him.
She wondered if giving the burner phone to Kendrick was the best move? Should she have taken her chances with Detective Francois and given it to him instead?
No. Julian trusted Kendrick. He’d told her to take the information to Kendrick to handle. She might not have faith in Kendrick, but she always trusted and believed in Julian. This is what he’d want her to do.
Mena reached inside her purse for the burner phone Julian had given her and turned down the wide hallway that led to the master bedroom. She knew he was going after Adam Russell, hoping to force him to reveal Priscilla’s plans to the police. Mena hoped she got a call from him soon. She stepped toward the open doorway, then paused. She hadn’t been home in over twenty-four hours, having spent last night with Julian in the basement of the Genesis Gallery, but she hadn’t left their bedroom in disarray.
She took another tentative step forward, leaning slightly to get a better angle of the room. Pillows and sheets were tossed across the floor. The mattress had been upended and leaned at an awkward angle against the wall. The glass lamps were shattered, littering the carpet with reflective shards. Moonlight poured into the room from the open draperies.
Had someone broken into their home?
The penthouse was quiet. The subtle hum of the bars and restaurants on King Street and Bishop Avenue could be heard faintly in the distance.
Mena eased into the closet, quickly turning the combination on the safe. Opening the door slowly, she grabbed one of the guns from the top shelf and closed the door. Julian’s clothes had been tossed onto the floor. Jagged cuts ripped the fabric. With the weapon gripped firmly in her hands, she stepped into the oversized room. The photos of the two of them that had rested on the bedside table were cut into shreds. The glass of the frames resting nearby shattered against the floor.
Mena heard a low moan, a slight grunt. She approached the en suite bathroom. Stepping over the littered contents of Julian’s life. She reached the bathroom door.
A scream bubbled within her, but she held it in.
Sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi tub, Michael leaned slightly against the wall. His trousers unzipped. His hand wrapped around the shaft of his penis, pumping furiously as sweat beaded on his upper lip. His eyes stared intently across the room. Mena followed his gaze. Pictures of her had been taped to the mirror.
Michael moaned louder, grunting as he continued to masturbate until Mena saw the cloudy semen spurt across the bathroom floor. Michael exhaled softly, slowing his movements as he closed his eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mena pointed the gun at Michael.
Michael’s eyes opened slowly and rested on her face. He didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see her or concerned about the weapon in her hand.
“Waiting for you to come home to me.”
“I could shoot you. You broke into my house!” Mena screamed. “It would be self-defense.”
“You could, but you won’t. How would Julian feel when he finds out the man you killed was your husband? Think he would forgive you? I don’t.” Michael said. His hand moved slightly against his penis as it swelled. “I dream about making love to you every night. This penthouse should be ours, Mena. I should be the man fucking you in that bed. Not Julian fucking Montgomery. He doesn’t deserve to take my place. No one does.”
“Get out of my house. I’m not going to ruin my life by shooting you. But I will call the cops if you don’t get out of here,” Mena said.
Michael smiled. The same smile she’d seen years ago that had stolen her heart. Now it made her sick with regret.
“Not yet, my love. I finally put all the pieces together of what happened last weekend. One minute, I’m walking you to your casita after an amazing dinner,” Michael said, his hand moving up and down his penis. “The next I’m waking up alone in my apartment in New York City. How does that happen, Mena?”
Mena lowered the gun slightly. A chill ran down her spine.
