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her mother was, but obviously Stella had never loved her.

It made her so sad. She felt disoriented, like an orphan with nowhere to go.

And then, like a light in the darkness, Jake Sica, the guy she’d met in L.A., had come into town. And this time he was free, with no romantic entanglements.

They’d spent an incredible week together holed up in her apartment, until he had to take off for an assignment in Europe.

Being involved with Jake had made her feel good again. She needed someone who cared about her, because Michael sure as hell didn’t.

A few days after Jake left, Michael phoned her. She really didn’t want to talk to him. Not yet. She had too much information to process.

‘I have something important to tell you,’ he said.

‘What?’ she answered coldly.

‘It’s about Stella,’ he said.

Like she could care about Stella, although she was planning on going to see her when she could summon the mental strength to do so.

‘Go ahead,’ she said wearily.

‘Stella’s dead,’ Michael said. A long beat. ‘The funeral’s tomorrow. I’d like you to be there.’

Stella’s funeral was a sombre affair. Jamie and Peter drove Madison to Connecticut, and stayed by her side, looking out for her.

As soon as she arrived at the house, she attempted to comfort Michael–not that he deserved it–but she felt she should make an effort in view of the tragic circumstances.

He seemed quite calm and collected, not in need of her comfort at all.

At the reception she spoke to Stella’s best friend, Warner, a woman she’d known since she was a child. When she told Warner that Michael had revealed the truth about her relationship to Stella, Warner was shocked. ‘I never thought he’d tell you.’

‘He did, and I was hoping Stella could explain. Only now that she’s gone…’

‘It’s such a tragedy.’ Warner sighed, tears in her eyes. ‘Stella was my best friend for over thirty years.’

‘I know,’ Madison said. ‘Can I call you? I have so many unanswered questions I was hoping Stella could help me with. Maybe you can answer some of them for me.’

Warner nodded. ‘Call me anytime.’

Back in New York, Kimm Florian was waiting with more news. She informed Madison that she’d discovered that her real mother, Beth, had had a twin sister, Catherine. And she’d tracked Catherine down to Miami.

Madison decided to fly to Miami and see what she could find out.

The detectives working on the murder of Stella and her boyfriend came to question Michael several times. Unfortunately he had no alibi for the night the murders had taken place. He’d been home alone.

They questioned him endlessly until he finally called in his lawyer, which he realized he should’ve done immediately. He had an uneasy feeling about what was taking place–especially when he discovered that one of his guns was missing.

He had no doubt that the murders were Bone and Mamie’s work. But why? If they were planning on implicating him, why hadn’t they set a trap like they had when they killed Beth?

He had to do something about Bone and Mamie. The time had come.

He called his old pal Gus, in L.A., and began making plans.

An eye for an eye.

A tooth for a tooth.

A fucking bullet for a fucking bullet.

Then, a few days later, he got the call he’d been expecting. Mamie. Angry and vengeful.

‘Mikey,’ she said sweetly, ‘it’s me, Mamie. I thought you should know that it was your gun that killed your wife and her boyfriend. Isn’t that interesting? So get me my money, or the cops get your gun. Do it soon, Mikey, or you’ll be lookin’ at the rest of your miserable life behind bars.’

Michael got early word of his imminent arrest. It paid to have friends in the right places.

By the time the police arrived at his house he was long gone.

Destination Los Angeles.

But first he had to make a side trip to Las Vegas. Dani was his main priority. He’d neglected her, and right now he needed to be with her, if only for a few hours.

He knew she was probably mad at him for being on the missing list, but very soon he would make up for everything.

Chapter Fifty-six

Wednesday, 11 July 2001, 1 a.m.

‘You got somethin’ for me?’ the gunman said, leaning forward to talk to the man in the front passenger seat of the Cadillac.

‘Sure, dude,’ the man said, groping in his pocket.

Madison sat in silence as the gunman reached over, grabbed a handful of pills and crammed them into his mouth.

Nice. Like he isn’t stoned enough, she thought. ‘Is this a ransom deal?’ she asked wearily. ‘’Cause if it is, my magazine will pay.’

‘What you talkin’ about?’ the gunman snapped.

‘You wanted me, didn’t you?’ she said, watching him carefully for a reaction. ‘This was all about me.’

‘Shut the fuck up, bitch.’

She knew she was right. This was no random hold-up. They’d targeted her right from the beginning.

Why? Was it something she’d written?

Maybe it had to do with the exposé she’d had published on L.A. call-girls a few months back, an explosive, raw piece that had been bought by an independent producer to develop as a movie.

Could that be it? Unlikely. But anything was possible.

She took a long, deep, life-affirming breath, trying to ignore the fact that she was tired, hungry and thirsty, and that the unbearably loud rap music was assaulting her ears. Stay alert. Stay alive.

She hoped Cole, Natalie, and the other two hostages were okay.

The horror of the night was beginning to get to her. Three people possibly dead.

God! This was more than a nightmare, this was devastating.

Over the years Michael had not forgotten his friends. Gus was one of them. He’d helped Gus with his investments, and in return Gus was ready to do anything he wanted. Loyalty counted.

He’d filled Gus in on the situation. Gus had a longstanding feud with Bone himself–something to do with stepping on each other’s territory. ‘The prick’s an amateur,’ Gus informed Michael

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