I blinked. "Shopping? No, Daisy. Shopping, sadly, is not going to fix this, honey. I don't even know if shopping will put a Band-Aid on this. Listen, I'm in the city at Brogan's. He's working, and I'm here alone. Do you want to come here? We can talk."
"Brogan's?" she asked.
"Oh Daisy," I sighed. "I have so much to catch you up on. But that can wait. We're going to talk about you first, okay?"
"I don't want to be alone right now," she squeaked. "Is that okay?"
"Yes. Just drive carefully, and I'll be waiting. I'm going to text you his address. There's a garage under his building, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, Lydia."
"Of course, Dais." We said goodbye and I hung up and texted her Brogan's address, pursing my lips with anger. That jackass! How could he? I kicked the chair next to the couch, which only resulted in a dull ache in my foot. "Fucker," I muttered aloud.
As I blow-dried my hair and put on a little makeup, I felt so angry. Gregory was such a bastard. No woman deserved to be cheated on. Ever. I wasn't sure how Dais would rebound from this. Just as I was sliding some gloss onto my lips, I heard the doorbell ring. It was Saturday, and Brogan had told me he had some work to do, but had acted a little dodgy about exactly what it was, just as he'd been doing a lot of lately. He promised he'd be back early and take me out to dinner. This was good as it meant he was less concerned about the potential safety issues involved in going out in public.
I pressed the button on the camera to the street and saw my brother. Frowning, I pressed the intercom. "Stuart?"
He looked around as if expecting someone to suddenly attack him and then leaned in to the intercom. "Lydia. Let me up. Hurry."
Hesitating and biting at my lip, I said, "I don't think that's a good idea, Stu. Let me come down."
"No! Someone's following me. Let me up, Lydia." He sounded so panicked, my skin prickled. Hesitating again, but only briefly, I pressed the button allowing him entrance. I waited by the door until I saw him outside on the other camera screen. I opened it and he rushed in, practically barreling me over.
"Whoa. What the hell, Stuart?"
"Why are you still here?" he demanded. I shut the door, turning toward him. "I saw him leave a while ago. I waited for you, but you never came down. Now's your chance to leave."
"Brogan's not keeping me here against my will," I said. "He just wanted to be sure the men who held your loans didn't pose a threat any longer," I explained, walking past him into the kitchen and behind the island. I had never even told him about the stabbing. What was the point? It was over, and there was nothing he could do about it now.
He followed me into the kitchen, standing across the island from me. "He supposedly paid off those loans," he said. "But he lied. He lied. There are men following me. And if they don't get me first, he will." He glanced to the window as if, even now, they could see him. "There are men trying to kill me. And he knows they'll kill you, too. That's why he's keeping you here," he growled, twitching in what turned into a sort of grotesque shudder.
I frowned. "Stuart, what's wrong with you?"
He threw up his arms. "I don't sleep!" he yelled. "You wouldn't either if you had a hit out on your life!"
I shook my head. "You're wrong. Brogan paid off your debts. You're free and clear, Stu. No one is trying to kill you."
He shook his head almost violently. "No, no, no. You're wrong. He lied. He won't be satisfied until I'm dead and then he'll ruin you, too. He'll make you fall in love with him and then he'll be the one with all the power. Whatever you do, Lydia, don't get feelings for him. He's a liar and a cunning devil."
"Stuart, God, do you hear yourself?" He sounded insane.
"I have proof," he said, taking something out of his back pocket. He unfolded a piece of paper and threw it on the counter.
"What's that?" I asked, looking down at it suspiciously.
"He owns our old house in Greenwich," he said. "He bought it two months ago. I looked it up on the Internet. He bought it through a corporation, but he owns it. It all came back to him."
I frowned, picking up the paper, a printout from the Fairfield County auditor's website. It took me a minute to read through it, but it looked like Stuart was right. I knew for a fact Brogan owned the company that now owned our old property in Greenwich because of the work I'd done for Brogan. I tilted my head in confusion, trying to understand why Brogan would have bought our house and not told me the day we went there.
"It's all part of his master plan," Stuart said, twitching again and rubbing at his neck. "Me, dead, you under his thumb, and him," he gestured his hands around as if he was trying to communicate what he was thinking but was having a hard time getting there, "master of the domain where he once worked as a servant," he finally blurted out.
"He was our gardener, not a servant," I mumbled, casting my gaze to the side, confusion overwhelming me. "And that sounds pretty dramatic, Stu."
"This whole fucking situation is dramatic, Lydie," he said, using a nickname he hadn't used since we were kids. "Machiavellian revenge plots, mobsters, hit men? I didn't make any of that up."
A cold lump of dread was sitting in my belly. "I just need to talk to him," I muttered. "I just need to ask him . . . I'm sure . . ."
Stuart stared at me, a horror-stricken look on his face as he began to back up. "Oh my God," he breathed out in a sudden rasp. "It's already done. You're in love with the devil."
I met his red-rimmed gaze. "He's not a devil, Stu. He's-"
He spun away, his hands on his head as he let out what sounded like a growl of defeat. "I have to get out of here."
I came from around the island, holding my hand out to him. "No, Stu, please, you look so tired. Let me make you some tea, and we can sit down. We can talk about this. And Brogan will be home soon-"
"No, no, no." He shook his head. "They're following me. I need to leave."
"No one's following you."
He scrubbed at his face. "I need some money, Lydie. Just whatever you have. Please. I can't go back to my apartment."
"I . . . I only have about fifty dollars on me." And that was only because Brogan had given me cash to pay for the dinner delivery we'd ordered the night before, but then gotten out of the shower before it arrived. He'd paid and the cash had remained in my wallet.
"Whatever you have, I need it. Now. Right now."
I took a long look at him. He truly looked awful, as if he hadn't showered in days, or slept, or eaten. But there was also a fear in his eyes I'd never seen before. Were people really after him? No, surely not. Surely he was sleep deprived, possibly still drinking . . . "My purse is upstairs," I muttered. "I can make you some food here, though."
"No. I need to go before he comes back. Give me the money." He held out his hand, moving his fingers back and forth. Jesus.
I stared at him a moment longer, not knowing what was best in this situation. "I'll be right back," I finally said, going toward the stairs.
He followed me. "You can come with me."
I shook my head and looked back at him. When we got to the landing, I said, "Where, Stu?"
He scratched at the inside of his elbow, his eyes jumping around the empty hall. "No, you're right. You can't come with me. You'd just be in more danger. But you need to get out of here. Promise me you'll find a way to get out of here and . . ." His words faded away.
I stared at him for a moment, waiting for him to finish, but it didn't seem he was going to, and he obviously wasn't waiting for an answer from me, so I simply turned and went into the guest room where my purse was on the dresser. I dug in my wallet and pulled out the money, two twenties and a ten. I opened my change purse, too, to see if I had a few dollars in quarters. I did and collected those as well. I turned and handed the money to Stuart. "Stuart-"
"Thanks, Lydia, I gotta go," he said, moving past me and out into the hall.
"Wait, Stuart!" He bounded down the steps and was already opening the door by the time I got to the bottom. "Wait, I-"
He turned, pausing, his eyes seeming to clear for just a moment. "I love you, Lydie. Mom and Dad would have been so proud of you." And then he walked out the door, closing it behind him. I stood in the foyer, staring after him for long minutes, rattled and confused.