Page 84 of Angel

As we head off into the traffic, I call out, “Morning Harry, the traffic must have been bad today.”

He says nothing and I wonder if he heard me. It’s as if knives sharpen on my nerves. Something isn’t right.

I pull out my cell and start tapping, and then a husky voice says. “Did Frankie send you?”

My breath hitches as my voice shakes. “No, Clinton did.”

I drop my phone and my heart is racing as I stare out of the window at the disappearing city, wondering where we are heading to fast.

It doesn’t take long before he drives into an underground car park. It’s an office building and he pulls into a space in the darkest corner and seconds after the engine is cut, he opens the door and slides in beside me.

“I need a word.”

Hope crashes and burns when the eyes staring over the mask are not blue.

He’s not Angel.

“We’ve found your stalker.”

For a moment, I’m not sure I’ve heard him right.

“Who?”

I’m not prepared. This wasn’t the conversation I thought I’d be having this morning.

“Your housekeeper’s son. Ricardo.”

I have no words.

The blood must drain from my face because he says softly, “Breathe, Sophie.”

I’m shocked when he lifts his hand and pulls me close to his chest, his arms wrapping around me while I process what’s happening.

He strokes the back of my hair and says gently, “He has a lock up near his home. When we searched, we found photographs over the walls of you and other women—badly treated women.”

“Photos?” I murmur against his chest, not sure what’s happening right now.

“There’s more.”

“More?”

He pulls me even closer.

“There was a trunk and the smell coming from it was rancid. I’m afraid to say we found a body in there.”

“Oh my God.”

I slump against him, grateful for the support, and his voice cuts through the tension.

“The cops arrested him early this morning. He’s in jail, waiting for questioning.”

I pull back and stare at him in horror.

“Which housekeeper?”

“Rosita.”

“Rosita’s son is my gardener at the mansion.”