over a seven-year period.”
“She changed her hair color, too.”
“And wore blue contact lenses so her eyes wouldn’t look gray.”
“I don’t get it.” Suzannah shook her head. “She was so pretty.”
“So was her mother. So was her sister Mia.” His tone grew pensive. “Do you remember what I told you? That she was desperate for her father’s approval? But unfortunately she looked just like her mother and sister, the two females that had made him so angry. He apparently told her more than once that he could barely stand the sight of her.”
“Oh, my God. She actually did all this for him? And he didn’t try to stop her—his own daughter!—from mutilating herself? I mean, the end result was attractive, I suppose….”
“But it wasn’t her face. Or her body. She said that to me more than once. That she felt like a stranger to herself when she looked in the mirror. But at the same time, she kept having surgery. Breast implants. Then her eyes. Then the cheek implants—she had those after Horace went into the coma, by the way.”
Suzannah gasped. “Why?”
“She said she was sure he’d regain consciousness one day, and when he opened his eyes, she didn’t want the first face he saw to remind him of his unfaithful wife.”
Suzannah grimaced. “No offense, but that was one sick chick.”
“One sick father,” Justin corrected her. “The more I found out about Horace Masterson, the less sorry I was that someone had offed him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his company did top-secret research, I would have considered his murder a petty crime.”
“Poor Gia.”
Justin nodded. “She was a lonely, frightened, sweet girl. It was pitiful. And it made her bizarrely irresistible. Not sexually but emotionally. I wanted to make her feel better. Feel loved. I screwed up, but it wasn’t what it looked like. Not lust, Suzy. Just…”
“Compassion?” Suzannah slid the photos of Gia back into the folder, then buried her face in her hands and peeked through her fingers. “What a mess.”
“Yeah, it’s rough. Maybe we should change the subject.”
“Okay.” Suzannah gave him a hopeful smile. “You said you’d give me more details about the Night Arrow project. Maybe now would be a good time for that.”
He beamed. “You’re fascinated by it, too?”
“Nope. Just fascinated by your obsession with it. There’s a difference.”
Justin’s cell phone began to ring, and he winced as he asked, “Do you mind if I take it?”
“No, please do.” Suzannah jumped up and went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water, glad for the chance to digest the information he had given her about Gia Masterson. The idea that any father could be despicable enough to contort his daughter’s affections the way Horace had done made Suzannah sick.
Then she scolded herself, remembering that Gia Masterson had been a wealthy, powerful woman who had turned her back on her little sister just when the girl had needed her most.
So get a grip, will you? Worry about Justin, not some crazy dead heiress.
He was arguing softly with someone, but his eyes were on Suzannah, and she realized he was looking a little guilty around the edges, which told her the caller was probably one of his girlfriends.
Did he really think she’d be bothered by that? What an ego!
“Okay, I’ll come over,” he muttered into the phone. “Just don’t do anything crazy. And don’t expect me to stay long. I’m not kidding, Mia. So…huh? Oh, okay…See ya.”
He closed the phone and laid it on the table, then gave his attorney a sheepish grin. “Hi.”
“Mia? As in, Mia Masterson? You’re in touch with her?” Suzannah eyed him sternly. “Do you want to go to prison?”
“I tried to get rid of her. But she’s freaked out about some premonition she had. She thinks whoever killed Gia is coming after her next.”
“Tell her to call 911.”
“I did. But she was crying….” He shrugged as if to say, Consoling beautiful rich girls is what I do. Don’t ask me to stop just because I’m on trial for murder.
Pushing back his chair, he stood and reached for his jacket. “I’ll be back in two hours, tops. I know we still have a lot to talk about—”
“We can talk in the car. You drive, I’ll lecture.”
“Huh?” He laughed warily. “You’re sure you want to come along?”
“Do you have rocks in your head? Or just in your pants?” Suzannah demanded. “Can’t you see what’s going to happen? You’ll go over there. Get your prints all over her and her house. Then after you leave, the Angel will swoop in and murder her, and Taylor the Jailor will lock me up. He released you into my custody, remember? You aren’t going anywhere without me except to your hotel room at night, and that’s only because I’m afraid to sleep with an accused murderer in the house.”
“In other words, it’s all about you?”
“Believe it.”
Justin laughed. “This is actually a great idea.”
Suzannah had to admit she liked it, too. Getting the facts of the case through Mia’s eyes, rather than just through Justin’s, made sense. And aside from Charlie Parrish, aka the Angel of Mercy, Mia was the prime suspect, at least in Suzannah’s mind. The younger Masterson daughter was inheriting millions of dollars from Gia, not to mention control of their billion-dollar corporation. Talk about a motive!
“Give me five minutes to change back into my suit—”
“Don’t do that,” Justin interrupted. Then he explained carefully, “Anyone can look professional in a suit. But you carry it off in jeans. Let Mia see that. It’ll drive her crazy and keep her off balance.”
“I don’t play games.”
“Trust me on this, okay? Sometimes a game is the best strategy.”
Because he cons and seduces people for a living, Suzannah reminded herself. And obviously he’s good at it, so…
“Can I wear heels at least?”
“Absolutely. The higher, the better.” Justin’s blue eyes began to twinkle. “You and Mia—man, this should be good.”
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