“I’m sorry.”

Susannah sipped her coffee. The steam rose in front of her face. She’d said she was devastated at the loss of her daughter, and I’m sure she was, but Susannah Chance didn’t show emotions easily. Her husband was the poet, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve.

“You can stay here tonight if you like,” she added.

“Thanks. That’s nice of you. But I just needed to feel her again. That’s why I came.”

Susannah looked around at the dollhouse and gave me a numb smile. Maybe loss always brings self-reflection. “I don’t know if this is the right place to do that. I think Karly felt like a doll herself when she was here. Artificial. Unreal. A plaything. That’s my fault. The truth is, she was never really happy until she met you, Dylan. And if you sometimes felt that I didn’t like you, maybe that was the reason.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I said nothing at all.

“She told me what happened between her and Scotty Ryan,” Karly’s mother went on. “She was inconsolable over what she’d done. It was a stupid, drunken, onetime mistake and had nothing to do with how she felt about you. I hope you know that.”

“I do now.”

“Did you forgive her?”

“I never got the chance.”

“Oh, Dylan.” Susannah drank her coffee and looked away, with a teary shine in her eyes. She got up and went to the sink in the kitchen, where she washed the mug carefully and dried it with a towel. Susannah was always neat and precise. She put it away in a cabinet and then tugged her robe tighter around her body. She went to the door and opened it as if she were going to leave without saying anything more, but with the night air coming in, she hesitated. “I should tell you something. I know what you did. I understand it, even if I can’t condone it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you confronted Scotty about the affair.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Dylan, why? Why couldn’t you let it go?”

I shrugged, because I had no excuse for the assault. “I didn’t plan to see him. It was chance. He was there, I was there. I should have walked away, but I gave in to my temper. I blamed him when I should have been blaming myself. That doesn’t change what he did, though.”

“Well, the police know,” Susannah said.

“The police?”

“Yes, they called me. The house was one of our listings, so they called to see if I knew anything about it. They had a description of you, Dylan. They had a witness who saw you leaving the house. They knew about the fight. I’m sorry, I couldn’t lie to them. I told them about the affair with Karly. I’m afraid it gives you a motive on top of everything else.”

“Susannah, what are you talking about?”

“They know you killed Scotty,” she replied. “They told me you stabbed him in the heart. He’s dead.”

CHAPTER 9

I expected to find the police waiting to arrest me when I got back to the hotel. Instead, at five in the morning, the lobby was quiet and empty. Apparently they didn’t know I was sleeping here. I was relieved, because I needed time to think, to figure out what to do and where to go. Scotty Ryan was dead. The man who’d had an affair with my wife had been murdered. I’d killed him.

Except I hadn’t.

I’d hit him in the face and left him alone, bleeding but very much alive. Yes, a part of me wanted to kill him. That was true, and I couldn’t deny it. When I walked into that house, I’d been consumed with rage and out for revenge. But if I’d taken a knife and plunged it into Scotty’s chest, I’d remember doing it.

Wouldn’t I?

Or had a different personality taken control of my mind? A personality that was here to kill. Just like my delusion had promised.

I took the elevator upstairs and let myself into my hotel room. I was exhausted. When the door closed behind me, I leaned back against it and measured out my breathing, trying to relax. Trying to think. To grasp at some kind of explanation for what was going on. Except I noticed almost immediately that something was wrong. There was a foreign smell around me, a sharp, sweet fragrance that lingered in my nose. I took stock of the room, suddenly awakened by a rush of adrenaline.

The bed was undone. The blanket lay on the floor, the sheets tangled. That wasn’t how I’d left it. The maid had done the room long ago, and I hadn’t slept since then. When I’d left to see Eve Brier, I was certain that the blanket had been folded into crisp corners.

Someone had been here. In my room.

It was like a macabre joke: Who’s been sleeping in my bed?

Slowly, my eyes filled in the details. I saw an empty bottle of Jim Beam on the window ledge, reflecting the lights of the city outside. That was the bottle I’d opened earlier. I’d had three glasses myself. Or was it four? Regardless, the bottle was empty now, and there were two lowball glasses beside it. I went to take a look at the glasses and saw water in the bottom. Melted ice.

Ice? I never put ice in my drink.

I picked up the second glass and saw a red smear on the rim. Lipstick. Two people had been here, a man and a woman.

I examined the room again. This time, I spotted clothes scattered near the bed. Women’s clothes. A beaded, multicolored dress lay pooled in layers like an accordion, as if it had dropped straight down over bare shoulders and hips. Near it was a lacy bra. Lavender bikini panties. Black high heels, kicked off.

The sweetness I’d smelled wafted like a freshly opened flower from the clothes and the bed. I recognized the perfume now. Obsession.

Then the rattle of a doorknob startled me. I wasn’t alone. I glanced at the bathroom door and saw a bright light go off under the crack of the frame. When the door opened, Tai emerged into the darkness of the hotel room. Chicago’s glow through the window lit up her naked body, which had a sheen of dampness from the shower. She had a towel in her hands, drying her long hair, her face obscured. I could see the prominent swell of her collarbone, her narrow hips and bony legs, and everything else, too. Chocolate-brown erect nipples dotted her shallow breasts. The triangular thatch between her legs was black and full.

She dropped the towel and noticed me. Her bright-red lips made a sexy smile, and her dark eyes devoured me.

“Oh, hi. I thought you had to go. I’m glad you stayed.”

I didn’t have time to ask her what was happening. She crossed the space between us, laced her fingers through my hair, and molded her lips against mine. Her nude body pressed against me, soft and sensuous.

“You’re cold,” she murmured. “Did you go out and come back?”

I still couldn’t find any words.

“Let me warm you up,” she said, her hand traveling down my body, slipping inside my pants. As much as my hormones didn’t want her to stop, I separated myself from her and backed away. She gave me a confused look.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this.”

She smiled at me again. “Oh, I bet you can. I could already feel things waking up.”

“Tai, it’s not that.”

“Then, what is it?” She tried to read my face, and something about my expression must have made her feel very naked. She sat down on the bed and wrapped the rumpled sheet around herself. Her smile fell away. “Ah. I get it. You feel guilty. You’re sorry we did it, aren’t you?”

I studied the bed, which looked and smelled of sex. Tai and I had made love here. In some part of my memory, I could feel her beneath me, feel her legs tightly wrapped around my back, feel myself deep inside her. But it wasn’t really my memory. It wasn’t me.

“It’s okay,” Tai went on. “I said no strings, and I meant it. I’m still glad you called. You turned to me when you needed someone, and that’s what I wanted. But I know you’re dealing with a lot of pain right now.”

“Tai, I’m sorry—” I began.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll go. When you told me you needed to leave, to clear your head, I should have guessed.”

I sat on the bed next to her and tried to figure out what to say. What she’d told me, what I saw in this room, was making my head spin.

“Tai, this will sound crazy, but I need you to tell me exactly what happened between us tonight.”

“I don’t understand. Why?”

“Please. Humor me. Did I call you?”

“Are you saying you don’t remember?” she asked, with an irritated frown.

“Actually, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Are you kidding? You don’t remember what we just did?”

“I wish I could explain it to you, but I can’t.”

Her expression turned to concern. “Are you okay?”

“I have no idea. I just need to know what happened.”

She hesitated. “All right. Yes, you called me.”

“What time?”

“I don’t know. Sometime after midnight, I guess. I wasn’t asleep yet. I know it was one in the morning when I got here.”

“One o’clock?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yes.”

I shook my head. “Is there any possible way you made a mistake?”

“Dylan, I saw the clock in the lobby. I’m telling you, I got here at one o’clock.”