Point Last Seen by Christina Dodd

Author:Christina Dodd
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HQN Books
Published: 2022-04-02T18:55:59+00:00

39

ZSÓKE STEPPED OUT OF the stairwell and up onto the Live Oak’s roof and looked up at the stars, twinkling so brightly in the midnight sky, and laughed. Who would have thought everything about this job would be humorous?

Zsóke dialed the private hospital, asked for Stephen Penderghast and was put through far too hastily. He must be acting up, and of course, if he was recovering, he would be.

Stephen answered the phone with a snap. “What?”

“How are you doing?”

“This surgeon is an arrogant ass. I’m in pain, and he doesn’t care. He’s gloating. Why? Because he saved my life? That’s his job. I should be well by now. As soon as I can get off oxygen, I’m getting out of here.”

“Darling, don’t. You were badly hurt.” A faint trail of smoke rose from the firepit where earlier the acting group had gathered to discuss Clarice’s role.

“Yes. I was. That bitch. Who knew that short shrimp of a thing could manage to bring me to my knees. Report!” He barked the command like a military dog. “What do you know about her?”

“You were right. She made it to shore.”

“Of course I was right.” He was savage in his satisfaction.

“You’ll love this. She doesn’t know me.”

“She only met you once, and briefly.”

Zsóke prepared to deliver the punchline. “She has amnesia.”

Stephen’s snort was loud, explosive, disbelieving.

“Seriously. You know I wouldn’t tell you if I didn’t know it was the truth.”

Stephen mulled that over.

“They call her Elle.”

He riled right up. “I don’t give a fuck what they call her. I don’t even give a fuck if she has amnesia...” He calmed again. “Although, yeah, that’s kind of funny. She must have hit her head. I didn’t do that, though.”

“Definitely hit her head. She’s still bruised, and Clarice tells me she looks better than the day after she came ashore.”

“Clarice? Who’s Clarice?” Stephen developed that possessive, jealous note.

Which was fine with Zsóke. Jealousy kept him distracted and less irritable. “Clarice Burbage. Actress. Gothic is a provincial town with one road in and out, and everyone knows everyone. I came in as one of Burbage’s team.”

“Right. Of course you did. You and that dumbass job.”

“That dumbass job keeps me busy when you don’t.” Zsóke was used to Stephen’s contempt, but that dumbass job brought in a lot of money, and one never knew when one would have to escape just ahead of the police. Stephen would not care. He was as cold as his father, as hard as the gold statues he sought, his only interest in the attention he would receive when he brought them forth from the ocean.

“Tell me what you’ve accomplished. Tell me Elladora Varela suffered—” Stephen’s voice grated with cruel desire “—and is going to be dead.”

“Elladora’s not dead—yet. But soon, I promise.” From one of the chaise lounges by the firepit, Zsóke heard a faint gasp.

“Why not yet?” Stephen snapped. “If she doesn’t know you—”

“She’s made friends, and it’s impossible to get her alone.” Zsóke stepped to the short wall that rimmed the building and looked down.

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