Page 170 of Pieces of Her (Andrea Oliver 1)

Andy said, “There was only one suitcase in the storage unit.”

Laura let out the breath. Her brain took a moment to dial back the anxiety and find the correct response. “Do you think that’s the only storage unit?”

Andy raised her eyebrows. “Is the money from your family?”

“It’s from the safe houses, the vans. I wouldn’t take Queller money.”

“Paula said the same thing.”

Laura held her breath again.

Andy said, “Isn’t it all blood money?”

“Yes.” Laura had told herself that the stash money was different; she had justified keeping it because she was terrified Jasper would come after her. The make-up bag hidden inside the couch. The storage units. The fake IDs she had bought off the same forger in Toronto who had worked on Alexandra Maplecroft’s credentials. All of her machinations had been done in case Jasper figured out where she was.

And all of her fears had been misplaced, because Andy was right.

Jasper clearly did not give a shit about the fraudulent paperwork. The statute of limitations on the fraud had run out years ago, and his public apology tour had actually raised his numbers in the early presidential polls.

Andy kept stubbing the toe of her shoe into the ground. “Why did you give it up?”

Laura almost laughed, because she had not been asked the question in such a long time that her first thought was, Give up what?

She said, “The short answer is Nick, but it’s more complicated than that.”

“We’ve got time for the long answer.”

Laura didn’t think there were that many hours left in her lifetime, but she tried, “When you play classical, you’re playing the exact notes as written. You have to practice incessantly because you’ll lose your dynamics—that’s basically how you express the notes. Even a few days away, you can feel the dexterity leaving your fingers. Keeping it takes a lot of time. Time away from other things.”

“Like Nick.”

“Like Nick,” Laura confirmed. “He never came out and told me to quit, but he kept making comments about the other things we could be doing together. So, when I gave up the classical part of my career, I thought I was making the decision for myself, but really, he was the one who put it into my head.”

“And then you played jazz?”

Laura felt herself smiling. She had adored jazz. Even now she couldn’t listen to it because the loss was too painful. “Jazz isn’t about the notes, it’s about the melodic expression. Less practice, more emotion. With classical, there’s a wall between you and the audience. With jazz, it’s a shared journey. Afterward, you don’t want to leave the stage. And from a technical perspective, it’s a completely different touch.”

“Touch?”

“The way you press the keys; the velocity, the depth; it’s hard to put into words, but it’s really your essence as a performer. I loved being part of something so vibrant. If I had known what it was like to play jazz, I never would’ve gone the classical route. And Nick saw that, even before I did.”

“So he talked you into giving that up, too?”

“It was my choice,” Laura said, because that was the truth. Everything had been her choice. “Then I was in the studio, and I found a way to love that, and Nick started making noises again and—” She shrugged. “He narrows your life. That’s what men like Nick do. They pull you away from everything you love so that they are the only thing you focus on.” Laura felt the need to add, “If you let them.”

Andy’s attention had strayed. Mike Falcone was getting out of his car. He was wearing a suit and tie. A grin split his handsome face as he approached them. Laura tried to ignore the way Andy perked up. Mike was charming and self-deprecating and everything about him set Laura’s teeth on edge.

Charisma.

When he got close enough, Andy said, “What a coincidence.”

He pointed to his ear. “Sorry, can’t hear you. One of my testicles is still lodged in my ear canal.”

Andy laughed, and Laura felt her stomach tense.

He said, “Beautiful day to visit a whackjob.”

“You’re selling yourself short,” Andy teased. There was an easy grin on her face that Laura had never seen. “How are your three older sisters?”