The Stars of Mithra: Hidden Star

“It comes in blips.” She struggled to breathe past the pressure in her chest. “When you had the knife…” Fear clawed through her again with razored talons.

“I scared you. I’m sorry.” He took her hands, held them. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes again, let the sun beat hot on the lids. “There was a knife. A long blade, curved. It’s beautiful. The bone handle is deeply carved. I’ve seen it—maybe I’ve used it.”

“Where did you see it?”

“I don’t know. There were voices, shouting. I can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s like the ocean, all sound, roaring, violent sound.” She pressed her hands to her ears, as if she could block it out. “Then there’s blood, everywhere there’s blood. All over the floor.”

“What kind of floor?”

“Carpet, gray carpet. The lightning keeps flashing, the knife keeps flashing.”

“Is there a window? Do you see lightning through the window?”

“Yes, I think…” She shivered again, and the scene fighting to form in her mind went blank. “It’s dark. Everything went dark, and I have to get away. I have to hide.”

“Where do you hide?”

“It’s a little place, hardly room, and if he sees, I’ll be trapped. He has the knife. I can see it, his hand on the hilt. It’s so close, if he turns—”

“Tell me about the hand,” Cade said, interrupting her gently. “What does the hand look like, Bailey?”

“It’s dark, very dark, but there’s a light bouncing around. It almost catches me. He’s holding the knife, and his knuckles are white. There’s blood on them. On his ring.”

“What kind of ring, Bailey?” His eyes stayed intent on her face, but his voice remained calm and easy. “What does the ring look like?”

“It’s heavy gold, thick band. Yellow gold. The center stone’s a ruby cabochon. On either side there are small diamonds, brilliant-cut. Initials. T and S in a stylized sweep. The diamonds are red with blood. He’s so close, so close, I can smell it. If he looks down. If he looks down and sees me. He’ll kill me, slice me to pieces, if he finds me.”

“He didn’t.” Unable to bear it any longer, Cade drew her up, held her. “You got away. How did you get away, Bailey?”

“I don’t know.” The relief was so huge— Cade’s arms around her, the sun warm at her back, his cheek pressed to her hair—she could have wept. “I don’t remember.”

“It’s all right. That’s enough.”

“Maybe I killed him.” She drew back, looked into Cade’s face. “Maybe I used the gun that was in the bag and shot him.”

“The gun was fully loaded, Bailey.”

“I could have replaced it.”

“Sweetheart, in my professional opinion, you wouldn’t know how.”

“But if I—”

“And if you did—” he took her shoulders now, gave her a quick shake “—it was to protect yourself. He was armed, you were terrified, and it sounds as if he’d already killed someone. Whatever you did to survive was right.”

She shifted away, looked out over the yard, past the flowers, the leafy old trees, the tidy fence line. “What kind of person am I? There’s a very real possibility I saw someone murdered. I did nothing to stop it, nothing to help.”

“Be sensible, Bailey. What could you have done?”

“Something,” she murmured. “I didn’t get to a phone, call the police. I just ran.”

“And if you hadn’t, you’d be dead.” He knew by the way she winced that his tone had been harsh. But it was what she needed. “Instead, you’re alive, and bit by bit, we’re putting it together.”

He rose, paced away, so that he wouldn’t give in to the temptation just to cuddle her. “You were in a building of some sort. In a room with gray carpet, probably a window. There was an argument, and someone had a knife. He used it. His initials could be T.S. He came after you, and it was dark. More than likely it was a blackout and the building had lost power. A section of North West D.C. lost power for two hours the night before you hired me, so we’ve got somewhere to look. You knew the building well enough to head for cover. I’d say you belonged there. You live or work there.”

He turned back, noting that she was watching him, paying close attention. Her hands were steady in her lap again. “I can check if there was a knifing reported that night, but I’ve been watching the papers, and there hasn’t been any press on it.”

“But it was days ago now. Someone must have found—found a body, if there was one.”

“Not if it was a private home, or an office that shut down for the long weekend. If there’d been someone else there, other people in the building when it happened, it would have been reported. Odds are you were alone.”

It made his stomach crawl to think of it—Bailey alone in the dark with a killer.

“The storm didn’t hit until after ten.”

It was logical, and the simple movement from theory to fact calmed her. “What do we do now?”

“We’ll drive around the area that lost power, starting at the hotel where you ended up.”

“I don’t remember getting to the hotel, whether I walked or took a cab.”

“You either walked, took a bus or the metro. I’ve already checked on cabs. None of the companies dropped off a fare within three blocks of the hotel that night. We’re going to move on the assumption that you were on foot, dazed, too shaken to think of hopping a bus, and since the metro only runs until midnight, that’s too close to call.”

She nodded, looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry I shouted at you before. You didn’t deserve it, after everything you’ve done for me.”

“I deserved it.” He tucked his hands in his pockets. “I refuse to accept the term snit but I’ll allow the phrase out of sorts.” He enjoyed seeing her lips curve in one of her hesitant smiles as she lifted her head.

“I suppose we both were. Did I hurt you when I knocked you down?”

“My ego’s going to be carrying a bruise for a while. Otherwise, no.” He angled his head. There was a quick cockiness in the movement, and in the eyes that glinted at hers. “And I didn’t try to seduce you on the dance floor, Bailey. I did seduce you on the dance floor.”

Her pulse stuttered a bit. He was so outrageously gorgeous, standing there in the bright morning sun, rumpled, his dark hair thick and untidy, the dimples denting his cheeks and his mouth arrogantly curved. No woman alive, Bailey thought, could have stopped her mouth from watering.

And she was certain he knew it.

“Your ego seems to function well enough, bruised or not.”

“We can always stage a reenactment.”

Her stomach fluttered at the thought, but she worked up a smile. “I’m glad you’re not angry with me anymore. I don’t think I handle confrontations very well.”

He rubbed his elbow, where he’d lost several layers of skin on impact. “You seemed to do well enough. I’m going to clean up, then we’ll take ourselves a Sunday drive.”

There were so many kinds of buildings, Bailey thought as Cade tooled around the city. Old ones, new ones, crumbling row houses and refurbished homes. Tall office buildings and squat storefronts.

Had she ever really noticed the city before? she wondered. The sloping stone walls, the trees rising up from the sidewalks. Belching buses with whining air brakes.