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“Think back to the night Mia died, Saxon.”
Saxon began shaking his head, back and forth, his breathing came faster.
“No, it’s all right, Saxon. Breathe slowly, relax, that’s right. Tell me about that night.”
“It was our six-week anniversary and I wanted everything to be perfect.”
“When you picked up Mia at her apartment, what was she wearing?”
“An amazing black dress, short and elegant. It had almost no back. She had a beautiful back. And high heels. She came to my nose. I remember she laughed and kissed me right outside the restaurant with a half-dozen people around, said it was hard to compete with me I was so handsome.”
He swallowed. “She fixed my tie before we went in.”
“Where did you go?”
“Luigi’s in Alexandria. My dad loves their risotto, told me if I ever wanted to impress someone, it was the place to go. He and I went there sometimes. I ordered spaghetti and meatballs.”
“What did Mia order?”
“Some sort of weird salad and a small antipasto we shared. She wasn’t a big eater.”
“What did you order to drink?”
He frowned. “I think Mia asked me if I’d ever had a cosmopolitan and I said no, I’m not much of a drinker—she knew that—except for a little wine sometimes. She told me she wanted me to try one, said it would make our time later more fun.” He blushed, actually blushed. “She meant sex, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Savich said. “You ordered a cosmopolitan.”
“Yes. I liked the taste, and she was right. It loosened everything up, made what I wanted to say come out easier. I laughed a lot, with the second one. And then she wanted to leave, go to her apartment, said we were going to have a fantastic time.” He stopped, ran his tongue over his lips. “And then it simply stops, I don’t remember anything more. I woke up the next morning in my own bed in my apartment.”
“I want you to picture you and Mia leaving the restaurant, asking the valet to fetch your Toyota.”
He slowly nodded. “Yes, I see him, a really young kid, with acne scars. He stared at Mia, but I was used to that, all the guys did. He brought the car around, and I helped Mia into it. We were laughing. I don’t know why, everything seemed so funny. I was driving, and she put her hand on my leg and started talking about what we were going to do in her bedroom.”
“You drove to her apartment in Carlan Heights.”
He nodded. “She lives”—he swallowed—“lived, on the third floor. Usually we take the elevator, but that night she wanted to climb the stairs, and we kissed all the way to her apartment door.” He paused, his face lighting with the memories. Then his face tightened, and he swallowed hard.
Savich squeezed his arm. “It’s okay, Saxon. You’re walking down the hall, kissing, laughing, and then you’re facing her front door. What color is it?”
“It’s red.”
“Did you unlock the door?”
“No, she did. She did it while she was kissing me, and the door opened, and she grabbed my tie and pulled me into the apartment. I nearly stumbled. I remember now. I was getting woozy and I guessed it was the cosmopolitans, but I was so happy. Well, tired, too, I guess.”
“Did you tell Mia you were woozy?”
“Yes. She laughed, said that was part of the fun, it didn’t matter. And she started taking off my shirt and pulled me to her bedroom.”
“Did you make love?”
45
Saxon licked his lips again, frowned, and slowly shook his head. “No, I felt weird, not drunk weird, I know what that feels like, but her bedroom was spinning and there were three of her and her laughter was too loud and I wanted to throw up and sleep at the same time. I don’t remember anything after that, really, it’s all gone—”
Sherlock lightly laid her hand on Savich’s shoulder, and he moved back. She leaned in close, took a leap. “Saxon, do you remember me?”
“Yes, you’re Agent Sherlock. You have beautiful hair.”
