Julianne had been a police officer herself, had worked on the CSI unit in Detroit, but this didn’t seem like the right time to mention that. If Blake took it the wrong way, if he assumed she was here to betray him or turn him in, she didn’t stand much of a chance of walking out of this room alive.

She had no weapon. Yes, she was strong in her one good arm—she’d had to compensate—but she was no hand-to-hand fighter and absolutely no match for Blake’s enormous bodyguard, who might very well have been three times her size.

“Have you chosen your side?” Blake asked her.

“Yes. That’s why I’m here.”

“Did you love my brother, Julianne?”

“I didn’t know him for long, but yes, I loved him.”

“You’re the one they never found, I mean, after he was killed. His partner.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re telling me you want to find someone with his interests?” he said, circling back to what she’d told him earlier when she first came in.

“That’s why I’m here. Yes.”

“What makes you think I can help you with that?”

“You chose your side a long time ago. I’m newer at this. Besides, I believe that Dylan would have wanted it.”

Blake considered that. “I can do some checking. Perhaps offer an introduction, but I can’t make you any guarantees. The person might not be to your liking.”

“A name is all I need.”

“No doubt. And you might not be to his liking. Have you considered that?”

“I can take care of myself.” She handed him her card. “My number.”

He studied it. “Mourn in peace?”

“It’s my website. Photographs. It’s for mothers. Call me.”

++++

Blake entrusted Mannie with leading Julianne Springman back downstairs.

She’d exhibited admirable initiative and courage showing up here tonight, and Blake respected her for that. He decided that if he could help her, he would, in honor of his brother and the love Dylan had apparently shared with her.

“That’s enough,” he said to the escort.

She compliantly stepped away from the mannequin and eyed him alluringly.

“Come here.”

She sashayed toward him, took his hand, brought one of his fingers to her mouth, kissed it gently, and then traced his fingertip in a circle over her moist lips. Then she said softly, “Are you ready to get started now with just the two of us?”

“I’m ready.”

“Well, then.” She reached for his belt buckle. “Let the games begin.”

STAGE II

Anger

Vapour. Photos of the dead.
Barbed wire. Julianne’s proposal.

7

Saturday, November 3

Nearly all of the trees at the graveyard had already turned, and most had bare branches. Now, in the wind, dried leaves skittered before me across the ground, creating an iconic Halloween-ish feel.