The Heart Has Reasons (46 page)

He’d
deal with whatever happened.  The important thing was that Larissa didn’t
spend any more time in jail.

CHAPTER
32

Larissa remained in secretion for six
days, before monetary concerns forced her back to work.  Her eye was still
marred by a mottled, greenish-yellow bruise, but at least the swelling was gone
and it was now fully open.  Lipstick hid the scar on her lip, and the
tapestry of bruises covering her body had faded to a sickly mélange of green,
brown, and yellow.

Unwilling
to hear any details about the deaths of the three women in California, she’d
refrained from watching the news but, according to Brendon, the FBI still had
their “person of interest” in custody.  She prayed Chase was holding up,
and that he knew she’d not identified him.

She
began her first day back with no appointments on the book, intending merely to
take the walk-ins.  But as word spread of her return, Charleston’s latest
celebrity was quickly booked up, not only for that day, for the rest of the
week as well.

When
several local camera crews arrived — she and Brendon suspected Sherry had
called them — Brendon stationed himself at the front door, refusing to allow
them admittance.

Unfortunately,
he couldn’t protect her from the customers, all of whom hoped to extract the
juicy details regarding what exactly had happened between her and her
kidnapper.  No one, apparently, believed she’d spent four nights with such
a man without him having subjected her to all manner of lechery and
depravity.  She assured everyone that her kidnapper had not molested her,
but politely declined to discuss anything regarding Brian Sparrow.  By
five o’clock, she was about to drop from both physical and emotional exhaustion.

As
if the day hadn’t been harrowing enough, she arrived home to find that, as
promised, Agent Jarvis had returned to Charleston.  He and Doctor Harris
were idling at the curb in front of her house, and she reluctantly invited them
in.

The
two agents had brought an assortment of Chinese take-out.  She set three
plates on the table and, when she made no effort to serve herself, Agent Jarvis
took it upon himself to fill her plate.

The
meal began amicably enough with Jarvis and Harris conversing on everything but
the purpose of their visit, as if hoping that, amid all the pleasantries, she
might forget the reason for their being there.  Jarvis mentioned that he
had brought his wife with him to Charleston and, after Doctor Harris had
offered several suggestions of places they should visit, Jarvis asked Larissa,
“Where would you suggest I take her?

She
shrugged lethargically as she rearranged the food on her plate with
chopsticks.  “Magnolia Plantation.”  Jarvis gazed at her, clearly
expecting her to elaborate.  Shrugging, she said simply, “I’m sure your
wife will like it.”

Dishing
a little more
chow fun
onto his plate, Harris agreed.  “I’ve never
been there, but I’m told the gardens are breathtaking.”

Jarvis
paused with his chopsticks halfway to his mouth.  “Ms. Santos, you need to
eat something.”

“I’m
not hungry.”

“How
much weight have you lost?”

“Who
says I’ve lost any?”

“I
do.  How much?”

She
blew out an irritated sigh.  “Eight pounds.”

“Eat.”

“If
you’re so worried about my lack of appetite, then maybe you should stop coming
around harassing me.”

Harris
stopped eating to regard her solemnly, his colorless eyes grave with
concern.  “Would you like a prescription for an antidepressant?”

“No.”

“May
I ask why not?”

“I
don’t need them.”

“Ms.
Santos, it’s painfully obvious to me that you’re severely depressed.”

“To
me, as well,” added Jarvis.

She
dropped her chopsticks on the table and blotted her lips on a napkin. 
“One of my co-workers went on antidepressants.  Not only did she gain
thirty pounds in three months, the pills made her so apathetic she didn’t even
care.”

“Not
all antidepressants cause weight gain.”

“No,
thank you.  I’ll pass.”

Jarvis
and Harris cleared the table of plates and empty take-out cartons, and she
turned the conversation to the business at hand by asking the question that was
always foremost on her mind.  “Is Mr. O’Malley still in jail?”

“You
seem quite concerned about his welfare,” Doctor Harris observed.

“What
concerns me is that an innocent man languishes in durance vile.”

Jarvis
appeared to find this statement amusing.  “I assure you, O’Malley has
nearly all the amenities of home, including cable television.  Perhaps
you’re concerned he’ll be attacked and injured while incarcerated?”

“I
doubt a man skilled in martial arts would have anything to fear from his fellow
inmates.”

Like
a great white suddenly scenting blood in the water, Jarvis was instantly
alert.  As his unblinking shark’s gaze locked on hers across the cleared
table, she knew she’d just made a dreadful mistake.  She struggled not to
fidget as the tension in the room ratcheted up several notches, until it was
almost crackling, the way it does sometimes before a storm.  Clearly aware
of the sudden change in atmosphere, Doctor Harris remained silent.

White
teeth glimmered as a slow grin spread across Jarvis’ dark face, and his gaze
lowered from her eyes to her throat, where she could feel her pulse going at a
frantic rate.  His chair scraped back as he got to his feet.  “If
you’ll excuse me.”  She watched, frozen, as he let himself out her back
door.  A moment later, she heard his voice, indistinct and muffled by the
intervening rear wall of the house.

To
Harris, she said, “I need a glass of water.”  Getting a glass from the
cabinet, she opened the faucet at the sink, and parted the café curtains
above.  Jarvis was on his cell phone.  Although his movements and
facial expressions were quite animated, his voice was too low to make out what
he was saying.

As
she studied his profile, he suddenly turned and locked eyes with her through
the window glass, his gaze cool and speculative.  She jumped and shrieked
as, directly behind her, Doctor Harris asked, “Is something wrong?”

She
spun around to scowl at him.  “No.”  Shutting off the water, she returned
to the table and seated herself, steeling her face into what she hoped was a
calm, placid expression.

Dr.
Harris rejoined her.  “Ms. Santos?”

“
What?
”

“You
forgot your water.”

She
glanced down at the empty glass.  Well, crap.  “I decided I wasn’t thirsty
after all.”

Jarvis
returned shortly to regard her with a bright, cheerful, and utterly predatory
smile.  “How did you know Mr. O’Malley was skilled in the martial arts?”

“Agent
Sengupta said something about it.”

“I
just spoke to her, and she’s quite adamant that she never mentioned that
particular fact to you.”

She
shrugged.  “Then maybe I just assumed it.  If you’ll recall, I’ve
been taking martial arts classes.  And, remember I told you about Steve,
the ex-boyfriend who’s semi-stalking me?  He’s a martial arts
instructor.  He owns his own dojo.  That’s where I met him.  I
was taking karate classes there.”  She was talking too fast, and too much,
but couldn’t seem to stop herself.  “From what little I saw of Mr.
O’Malley, he’s muscled like a martial artist, and he appears to be a man who
can take care of himself.  And, besides, in order to single-handedly beat
up a whole group of men, wouldn’t he
have
to have had some martial arts
training?”

“You’re
in love with Mr. O’Malley, aren’t you?”

She’d
already put her foot in her mouth, so why not just shove the whole freaking leg
in after it?  “Agent Jarvis, please don’t be such an asshole.”

This
ill-phrased request apparently made him decide to take a more aggressive
approach in his questioning.  He got to his feet to loom threateningly
over her.  “I would appreciate not being insulted.”

“As
would I.”  She got to her feet as well and squared off with him. 
Jarvis still towered over her, but not quite so much now that she was
standing.  “How could I possibly be in love with someone I met only
briefly?”

“We
both know you and O’Malley had five days in which to become acquainted. 
Sit down.”

She
defiantly remained standing.  “Don’t tell me what to do in my own home.”

“If
you aren’t in love with O’Malley, then why do you continue to protect him?”

She
folded her arms across her chest.  “I have told you a thousand freaking
times I don’t know Mr. O’Malley.  Nor am I in love with the man who
kidnapped me.”

When
he moved even closer, she forced herself to stand her ground.  “Apparently
you’re not aware that making a false statement to government agents carries a
penalty of five years in prison, a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar fine,
or both.”

Panic
grabbed her heart with an icy hand, the chill assiduously working its way to
her extremities.  Would Jarvis really charge her with a crime?  He’d
have to prove she was lying and, with only the testimonies of the thugs to go
on, that would be difficult.  However, if a jury
did
find Chase
guilty, then her only plausible defense would be Stockholm syndrome.

Her
skin felt icy, her lips so cold she could scarcely form the question, “Agent
Jarvis,
why
would I lie to protect the man who delivered me to a serial
killer?”

An
ominous smile spread across Jarvis’ dark face.  “All along, I’ve assumed
your feelings of loyalty stemmed from the fact that O’Malley saved you from the
men in the alley.  However, last night in our hotel room, my wife made an
offhand comment that made me realize something. 
You
didn’t kill
Sparrow, did you? 
O’Malley
did.”

A
bead of sweat trickled down her side.  “That doesn’t even make
sense.  If he killed the very man who hired him, he wouldn’t get paid.”

“He
could have killed him after he collected his money.  I’ve seen the
Photoshopped portrait of you and Sparrow, so it’s clear Sparrow misled
him.  O’Malley delivered you, collected his money, and left.  But
something apparently didn’t set quite right with him, so he went back. 
And when he discovered exactly what Sparrow had in store for you, he killed
him.”

Despite
the chill that gripped her, more sweat trickled down her back and ribcage,
feeling like phantom spiders crawling on her skin.  “Now you’re grasping
at straws.”

When
she tried to step around him, his arm shot out, barring her way.  “And
because he saved you from an unspeakably horrible death, you’re willing to
overlook his previous transgressions and protect him from prosecution. 
Not only that, he somehow managed to talk you into claiming responsibility for
Sparrow’s death, knowing full well that, as his intended victim, you’d never be
prosecuted.”

It
was all Larissa could do not to shout at him, that wasn’t
Chase’s
idea,
it was
mine. 
When she shoved the blocking arm, it didn’t
budge.  “And after he killed Sparrow, my kidnapper — who was
not
Mr.
O’Malley — then left me alive to testify to the fact that he’s a
murderer
as well as a kidnapper?”

“O’Malley
was counting on not getting caught and, had it not been for the incident
between him and the men in the alley, he probably wouldn’t have been.”  He
finally lowered his arm, and she shoved past him.  “In any case, I’d like
to go back over the events that occurred after your arrival at Ms. Keswick’s
estate, up to and including the point where
someone
shot Sparrow.”

“We’ve
gone over that a hundred times!”

Jarvis
jabbed one huge finger at her.  “And we’ll continue going over it until
I’m satisfied with your answers.  But this time, I want you to tell it to
me
backwards
.”

She
plopped down onto her chair.  “Why?”

From
an inner jacket pocket, Jarvis produced his leather-bound notebook.  “When
lying, it’s nearly impossible to tell the story backwards because there’s no
real
memory of what happened.  Liars rehearse their stories in order, so prove
you’re not lying by telling it backwards.”

She
uttered a mental sigh of relief.  Thanks to Chase, she could do
this.  Playing their rehearsals through her mind in reverse order, she
said, “I shot Sparrow the second time, to make sure he was really dead. 
While he was on the floor trying to rise, I shot him the first time.  I
grabbed the gun after kicking him aside.  He dove for the gun after I
kicked it out of his hand.”  As she continued, Jarvis studied his
notebook, his dark eyes only occasionally flicking to hers.  She ignored
Agent Harris, whose colorless eyes never left her face.

When
she arrived at the point in the story where her kidnapper had delivered her to
Sparrow, she stopped and regarded Jarvis with brows raised in silent
challenge.  Now he’d
have
to believe her.  “Well? 
Satisfied?”