Drawn in Blood (39 page)

“I think you should sit down,” Sloane suggested.

An odd expression crossed his face, a mixture of apprehension and worry. “Al right.” He walked around and sat down behind the desk. “This sounds very serious.”

“It is. And I wish more than you could ever imagine that I didn’t have to tel you this.”

“Go on.”

“It concerns Meili.”

Wal ace started. Clearly, it was the last thing he’d expected. “Your father told you about Meili?”

“He didn’t have to. I found out about her from her closest friend. The friend is here in New York, recovering in a women’s shelter from an abusive marriage.” Sloane pul ed out the photo of Lucy and Meili and handed it to Wal ace.

He studied it for a long time, his gaze growing soft and faraway. “Meili. Beautiful and unique.” His head came up. “You said her friend is in New York. Is Meili here as wel ?”

“No.” Sloane uncapped her water and took a fortifying gulp.

Something in Sloane’s tone must have served as a warning, because Wal ace tensed. “She’s stil in Hong Kong then,” he decided aloud. “What did her friend tel you?”

“About your relationship. About what happened once it ended. Everything except your name, which Meili never revealed. I only learned it was you Meili’s friend was describing this past Friday. At Phil’s wake. After I met Cindy. I dragged the background story out of my father. He didn’t want to tel me. But the situation was critical, far more than even he knew. He stil doesn’t know everything. You had to hear it first.”

“What situation?” Wal ace demanded. “Why is it critical? And what is it about Meili that I have to hear?” Sloane steeled herself. “There’s no easy way to say this. Meili is dead. She died three weeks after she broke things off with you.” Wal ace winced, lowering his gaze to stare at the floor. “How?”

“Suicide.” Sloane made it as short and devoid of details as possible.

“Suicide?” Wal ace’s head snapped up. “Impossible. Meili was a survivor. Strong and independent. She’d never take her own life. You must have the wrong woman or the wrong story.”

“I wish that were so. But it’s not. Wal ace, Meili was pregnant,” Sloane told him quietly. “It was your child. She didn’t realize it until after she’d sent you away.”

“Pregnant…oh dear Lord.” Wal ace’s water bottle struck the desk with a thud. “And she didn’t even contact me…”

“She was too proud to contact you. She went to her father. But he turned her away. The shame and dishonor were too much for her.”

“So she kil ed herself.” Wal ace’s voice was choked. He was also stil clearly in shock. “She kil ed herself and our child. Al because I wasn’t there for her.”

“Wal ace, you couldn’t have known—”

“How?” he interrupted, not even hearing Sloane’s words.

“How what?”

“How did she kil herself? Pil s? Drowning? How?”

Sloane gritted her teeth. “She slit her wrists.”

Wal ace shuddered, and his Adam’s apple began furiously going up and down as he choked back emotion. “Sloane, I’d like to be alone now.”

“I understand. But I can’t leave yet. There’s more.”

“More?” He stared at her. “How much more can there be?”

“Quite a bit.” Sloane was gripping the water bottle so tightly, the plastic was buckling. “Meili’s family name was Liu. Johnny Liu was her father.” This time, Wal ace jerked backward as if he’d been punched. “What?”

“Johnny Liu. Meili was his only child. That explains her strong resemblance to Cindy. They were cousins. And Wal ace, Meili left a suicide note. Her father knows everything—

your name, the way your art investment group offered her an absurdly low price for the second Rothberg, the bet you guys made during your poker game, the fact that Meili ended your relationship when you told her about it—everything.”

Wal ace had gone so stil and was staring so intently into space that Sloane wondered if he was absorbing al her information.

When he spoke, she realized he was, and that he’d been processing everything she’d said and al the ramifications associated with it.

“If Liu’s known al this time, he must despise me. I don’t blame him. I’m not sure I don’t despise myself. But the pretense he’s kept up…”

“It was planned. Liu has spent these past few years obsessed with getting revenge.”

“Al our business dealings, the favor he asked of me when it came to Cindy…” A painful pause. “Cindy’s appearance in my life isn’t a coincidence. And the relationship is al a facade. Liu wanted to rub my nose in her resemblance to Meili, and then make sure I relived our break-up as painful y as possible.”

“Cindy and her uncle are very close,” Sloane confirmed softly. “I haven’t confronted her, but my guess is you’re right.”

“I am. The way she said good-bye to me today seemed oddly final, considering we’d just spent the weekend together. And in the car, she apologized for how her priorities would affect us. I assumed she meant her being a workaholic. I told her that I understood, that I’d been there. She averted her gaze and said she doubted that. Now it al makes sense.

And that exquisite painting she gave me of the little Chinese girl—she said it was a heartfelt thank-you gift from her uncle and herself. I assumed it was meant to be a tribute to Sophie.

Now I know it wasn’t. It was a reminder of Liu’s loss, a way of taunting me about my own, rubbing salt in wounds that wil never heal. My precious Sophie. And the unborn child I never even knew existed…”

Sloane saw where this was headed. Wal ace’s thoughts were turning in the exact direction she’d feared. Soon he’d come to the logical conclusion about Sophie’s death that would send him into a murderous rage. She had to tel him the truth. She had no choice.

“Wal ace, this is even bigger than you realize,” she began. “Liu isn’t just a wealthy entrepreneur. He’s head of the Liu Jian Triad. He has loyal members helping him with this plot to avenge Meili’s death. And that plot doesn’t just involve you, although you’re his prime target. Al your partners are on his victim list. He’s slowly destroying each of them because of the slimy way the group did business with Meili, topped off by that ludicrous bet you al made. He’s going for everyone’s jugular—especial y yours. Which brings me to Sophie…” Sloane was interrupted by the ringing of her cel phone. She was tempted to ignore it, but given the precarious state of the investigation, she couldn’t.

“I have to take this,” she apologized to Wal ace.

Vaguely, he nodded. His mind had already returned to processing mode.

“Hel o?” Sloane said into the phone.

“Sloane? Thank God you answered. I just got it. It’s a year and a half later, and I just got it. They made sure I got it. I read it three times. Then I saw the Post-it they attached.

They’re going to kil her. I’m sick to my stomach. And I don’t know who to cal —the police, the FBI. Tel me what to do.” It was Leo. His voice was tear-clogged. And he was distraught to the point of hysteria.

“Leo, calm down,” Sloane directed. “You’re not making sense. What is it you just got and read, and what Post-it was attached? Who’s going to kil who, and how do you know the information is authentic?” She covered the mouthpiece with her hand. “Something’s happened at Leo’s end. I need a few minutes.”

“Take them. I need time to think, anyway.” Wal ace crossed over and left the office. He looked il .

Sloane was just finishing up with Leo, assuring him she’d take immediate action with regard to his situation, when Wal ace stormed back into the office. He was positively shaking with rage, out of control in a way Sloane had never seen him.

“A messenger service was here,” he announced, ignoring the phone in her hand. “They delivered these.”

He opened the manila envelope, pul ed out the contents, and flung what turned out to be some photos and a newspaper clipping across the desk at Sloane.

She glanced down at them and froze.

The photos were of Ben. Passed out drunk at the wheel of his white Mercedes. His front fender was badly dented. Blood was splattered al over the front gril and hood of the car.

The date stamp on the photos was April 11, 2006. And the newspaper clipping was Sophie’s obituary, dated a few days later.

The nightmare had just exploded into a hel ish reality.

“Leo, I’ve got to go,” Sloane said into the phone. “Don’t touch the letter, the Post-it, or the envelope again. I’l have someone at the FBI pick them up. The Evidence Response Team wil check for fingerprints. But we both know who’s responsible. I’l cal you back.”

She snapped her phone shut and reached for the photos, holding them gingerly at the very edges in case there were prints to pul off. But there wouldn’t be. Any more than there’d be prints on Leo’s letter.

“Ben kil ed my child,” Wal ace said tonelessly. “Ben. Sophie’s godfather. My lifelong friend. He helped make her birth possible. He was there the day she was born. He was there the day she died. He stood by my side at the funeral. He puts daisies on her grave every month. She adored him. He kil ed her. Then he drove away. He didn’t even stay to help her or to see if she was alive. He didn’t turn himself in. He didn’t come to me. He ran and hid, passed out in a drunken stupor. And when he came to…”

“Wal ace,” Sloane tried. “Johnny Liu is the one who arranged…”

“I know who sent me these pictures,” Wal ace snapped. “I’m not an idiot. But that’s irrelevant.” His index finger jabbed at the images. “Ben kil ed Sophie. The evidence is staring us in the face. I’m sure Liu’s been blackmailing him. None of that matters. My friend kil ed my little girl.”

“No. He didn’t.” Sloane gave a hard shake of her head as she finished scrutinizing the photos. “Wal ace, this is a setup. Ben didn’t kil Sophie. Xiao Long did.” That name made Wal ace go very stil . “What the hel does Xiao Long have to do with this?”

“He’s Liu’s henchman, a valued member of his triad. He’s loyal to his Dragon Head. And he’s the instrument Liu’s using to carry out his vendetta.” A spark of realization flashed in Wal ace’s eyes, and Sloane could see his wheels turning. What he was thinking, she wasn’t sure. Nor did she have time to ponder it.

“But it’s Ben who’s behind the wheel,” Wal ace maintained. “The car is definitely his. I recognize the Saint Jude medal hanging from his rearview mirror. How do you explain that?”

“I can’t speak to how Xiao pul ed it off. Only Ben can. But I can tel you that these photos have been doctored. Look. Ben is posed. He’s completely unconscious, literal y drooling. His head is propped against the headrest, yet his hands are on the wheel.”

Wal ace was staring at the photos. Sloane didn’t know if he was buying her explanation. But at least he was hearing her. She was thankful for that.

“See the background here behind the car?” she pressed on, pointing. “The sun is barely up. That means these photos were taken at the approximate time Sophie was kil ed.

There’s no way Ben would have been cognizant enough to drive. But even if he had been, he’d be out of control, physical y and mental y. He could never have made the rational decision to speed off after plowing into the car Sophie was in. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Your points are wel taken. But…”

“Think about it. The accident happened on Eighty-ninth Street, near Sophie’s school. That’s a busy residential neighborhood. Ben would have swerved al over the road. Cars would have been bashed in. Pedestrians would have been injured or kil ed. And Ben would have ended up crashing into a tree or causing a pileup at the intersection of Eighty-ninth and Park. The cops and PIs who investigated the accident were convinced that the hit-and-run driver was fleeing from something or racing to something. He was purposeful, deliberate. So much so that not one of the dozen witnesses interviewed managed to identify his vehicle as anything but a white Mercedes sedan. They didn’t catch the model, or make out even a few letters or numbers off his license plate. The driver was too quick and too focused.” Again, Sloane pointed at the photos. “Does that man look like he’s either of those?” Wal ace shut his eyes and sucked in his breath. He was clearly desperate to believe her.

“Coincidental y, Leo just told me he got a delivery about the same time you did.” Sloane went for her trump card. “It was from a courier service. Inside was a handwritten letter from his fiancée. The envelope it came in was addressed to Leo and was postmarked June 23, 2007—their scheduled wedding day. It had clearly been stolen from his mailbox. In the letter, she begged his forgiveness and understanding. It seems that some Asian thugs had just left her condo, having held guns to her two children’s heads, threatening to kil them. She was informed that the only way her children would remain alive and unharmed is if she packed her bags immediately, took her children, and moved away. Her orders were to disappear and to never contact Leo again. If she did, or if Leo discovered her whereabouts and tried to contact her, her children would die. She had no choice but to run. But I don’t need to tel you what her leaving Leo standing at the altar did to him.”

“No, you don’t,” Wal ace replied, stil hovering between shock, anger, and pain.

“There’s more. Evidently, Liu is having Xiao Long track down Amalie. Because there’s a cryptic Post-it attached to the letter, tel ing Leo as much, and informing him that once Amalie’s been found, he’l have the luxury of watching her die.”

Wal ace swore, squeezing his eyes shut.

Sloane gripped his arm. “Don’t you see what’s happening here? Liu has ordered Xiao to destroy every member of your group. His timing is based on circumstances, some of which I can’t share with you, some of which I don’t even understand. But I wil tel you that Phil’s bookie was paid off by Xiao—and now Phil is dead. Ben’s employment agency was purchased by Xiao in March 2006—and Ben is about to self-destruct. My mother was kidnapped and almost kil ed, and I was attacked at knifepoint. And you? You’ve had your soul torn out. Sophie died a few months after Meili committed suicide. Cindy—who’s a dead ringer for Meili—came into your life less than a month ago. Now, these photos of Ben arrive. Don’t you see the pattern?”

Slowly, Wal ace nodded. “I see the pattern. I see what Liu is doing. But al that proves is that he’s trying to destroy us. It doesn’t prove that Ben wasn’t driving the car that kil ed Sophie.”