* * *
Thad had left his sport coat in Olivia’s suite. She didn’t answer the door, so he let himself in with the duplicate copy of the key he made sure he had in every hotel.
The shower was running in the bathroom. His sport coat lay on the couch, right where he’d left it. On his way to retrieve it, he spotted an unopened brown manila envelope on the table by the door. It was addressed to her. He picked it up without a qualm and opened it.
Inside was a glossy photograph of a .38 pistol with the Smith & Wesson logo stamped on its grip.
12
Thad wasn’t an indecisive person. His job required instant decision-making, yet all through their client dinner in the hotel dining room, he wrestled with whether to tell Olivia about the photo. She knew someone had it in for her, and nothing good would come of showing it to her. The aria she’d sung this afternoon might not have been up to her standards, but it had given him goose bumps. One look at that photo could completely derail her. It would be like showing a horror movie to a kid who was already spooked.
But Olivia wasn’t a kid.
As Henri escorted the last of their guests from the hotel dining room, Thad and Liv headed for the elevator. He inserted his room card and pushed the button for the top floor. “Something came for you in the mail.”
“I didn’t see anything.”
“I grabbed it before you could open it.”
She cocked her head, waiting. He hesitated. “It’s from whoever’s playing mind games with you.”
“What is it?”
“A photo. You don’t need to see it. There’s no new information, and nothing will be gained from looking at it.”
“Don’t you think that’s for me to decide?”
“That’s why I’m telling you.”
The bell dinged for their floor. She nodded slowly, considering.
The door opened. He blocked it with his body to keep it from closing but didn’t get out. “You sang again today, and you can’t let something this stupid derail you. That’s why I’m asking you to let it go.”
She touched his arm. “I understand you’re looking out for me, but I have to see it.”
He’d known she’d say this. They stepped into the empty hallway with its plush carpet and softly glowing wall sconces. “I’m going to tell you what it is first,” he said.
She stopped walking. “Okay.”
“It’s a photograph of a gun.” He kept his voice calm and level. “A Smith & Wesson pistol.”
She sucked in her breath.
“My guess is that’s the kind of gun Adam used.”
She gave a short, tense nod.
“I suspect whoever is behind this wants you to think it’s a photo of the real thing, but it’s been copied from a site on the Internet.”
“I want to see it.”
“Leave it alone, Liv. There’s no point.”
“I have to see it.” She set off toward their rooms, her stilettos sinking stubbornly into the carpet.
He came up next to her. “If you even think about freaking out, I’ll never let you forget it.”
“Fair enough.” She passed the door to her suite and stopped in front of his, waiting for him to unlock the door. He needed to prepare her as best he could. “One more thing . . . There’s a bullshit message written across it.” He hated what he was about to tell her. “It says, ‘You made me pull the trigger.’ Now go ahead. Do your big freak-out just like whoever’s behind this wants you to do.”