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“Are you certain,” I ask, frustrated. “He seems to have a very intense past with Eve. She said something about him trying to hurt Mila.”
My father studies me. “And yet you sit here without going after the man? If he tried to hurt your daughter, you would have every right to hunt him down.”
I clench my fist. “If I went after him, Eve wouldn’t trust me ever again.” The cruel smile that plays on my lips has my father sighing in satisfaction. “I’m just waiting for the day she does tell me. All bets are off then.”
I am going to crush that man under my foot, till there is nothing left.
I saw marks on Eve’s body. Small scars that she couldn’t explain. Scars that I knew had been left there deliberately.
Oh, Thomas Richards has a lot to answer for.
“He’s not capable of something like this.” My father’s smooth voice breaks into my thoughts. “Besides, I’ve been keeping an eye on him. He’s not your man.”
Frustration licks at me, and I frown. “The police are not yielding any results. Even your sources fell short.”
My father doesn’t look insulted in the least. “These things take time. For now, we have two or three eyewitnesses placing a blonde woman at the scene.”
“But nobody saw her face, just her back,” I hiss. “She might as well be a ghost!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I am chided, and Elijah looks thoughtful. “I looked into your past for all the blonde women who have passed through your life.”
The sense of invasion of my privacy makes me knit my brows, and I say, sarcastically, “Try asking next time.”
My father just gives me an amused look and continues. “There is one woman that stood out. Sheila Masters. But apparently, she’s a difficult woman to get a hold of.”
I remember Sheila.
She was a stunning woman with golden locks that would fall to her waist, fair skin with wide blue eyes. She looked hauntingly beautiful in a white dress.
“I had an on-again-off-again thing with her,” I mutter.
“I’m aware,” Elijah’s gaze rests on me. “You two were pretty close.”
I choose not to reply to that.
Underneath her wide-eyed countenance and faerie-like looks, Sheila liked violence in bed and she enjoyed manipulation games a little too much for my taste.
“We weren’t very compatible.”
But now that Sheila’s name is mentioned, suspicion starts creeping up on me. “Her description matches the ones Ron and Lorraine gave.”
“And Eve’s neighbor from the floor below, the one who reported the fire. She said she saw a woman with golden hair and a white dress fleeing the scene; he didn’t get a glimpse of her face,” Elijah says, calmly. “It’s intriguing that there have been three witnesses and yet nobody managed to see the woman’s face.”
I consider what he is saying. “Sheila and I—we didn’t part on the best of terms. But she did make it clear that I was welcomed back into her bed if I changed my mind.”
My father arches a brow and says a simple, “Oh?”
“I can probably get in touch with her. She won’t say no to meeting up.” I say, slowly, ignoring him.
“Even after your delightful interview?”
I frown. “Caught that, did you?”
My father smiles, faintly. “Henrietta cut it out and framed it in my study. She enjoys scrapbooking about you.”
I feel uncomfortable at that, at the idea of my father and Henrietta being so intimate. “Yeah, well. It was okay.”
After a long silence, my father says suddenly, “I cherish her.”
