“Goodbye, Baz,” Stevie says, laughing at us both. She shoves him out the door, but not without the promised kiss, and before I know what I’m doing, I’m standing behind her, watching her watchinghimuntil she finally—thank Goddess—shuts the door.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and she whirls around, shocked to find me so close. “I didn’t mean to barge in.”
Her surprised gasp turns into a soft smile, and she reaches toward my face, gently pushing my glasses back up my nose.
“My fault,” she says. “I should’ve texted to say I was running late.”
“It’s okay. You were… busy.” Jealousy heats me from the inside, and I wonder if this is how a lobster feels, slowing boiling, death encroaching one tiny degree at a time.
Stevie frowns, and I see it in her eyes—sadness, regret, and then, at the very end, a flicker of something more. “Kirin, I—”
A fist pounds on the door, startling us both. She opens it to reveal one very confused, very ragey Baz standing in the doorway, brandishing a tube of lipstick like a switchblade.
“Where did this come from?” he demands.
Stevie grabs it from his hand and opens it up, twisting up the glossy red stick. “No offense, Baz, but this issonot your color.”
“That’s because it’s fucking Janelle’s. How the fuck it ended up outside your door, I have no idea.”
“Wait… what? Are you sure?”
“I told you, the woman practically raised me,” he says, unable to keep the bite from his tone. He takes the lipstick from Stevie’s hand, his nose wrinkling with disgust. “Maurice Clayton’s Daredevil Red. This is her brand and color—the only one she’s ever fucking worn.”
Dread sinks in my gut. “What the hell would Janelle be doing outside Stevie’s door?”
“Maybe Carly had it,” Stevie says.
“What the hell wouldCarlybe doing outside your door?” Baz asks.
Stevie shrugs. “Could she have stopped by looking for you?”
“She doesn’t have the balls for a confrontation on your turf.” Baz chucks the lipstick against the wall in the hallway, so hard it leaves a bright red smudge. “We need to see the security footage.”
“On it.” I grab Stevie’s tablet from the living room and pull up the home security feed, checking the video logs from last night. Sure enough, there’s our red-lipped perp. “Looks like she stopped by while we were at the meeting last night. But it doesn’t look like she rang the bell or knocked.”
“No wonder Eastman wants us to review the video footage,” Stevie says. “He was here this morning, checking everything out.”
I nod. Trello sent an email about the checks this morning.
“What else did he say?” I ask.
“Not much. Just that we should make a habit of checking the videos every once in a while and making sure there’s nothing shady going on.”
“Well, this looks like just the shady shit he had in mind.” I angle the tablet so everyone can see the video. Janelle shows up on the floor, looking over her shoulder, snooping around doorways and listening to make sure she wasn’t followed. Once she’s confirmed the coast is clear, she approaches Stevie’s door and pulls something out of her purse, gripping it in her hand. A second object hits the floor.
“Pause,” Baz says. “Zoom in.”
I do as he says.
“That’s the lipstick on the floor,” he says, pointing. “Looks like it fell out when she grabbed that other thing.”
“What is it?” I ask.
Baz leans in closer. “Hard to tell, but it looks like some kind of crystal point. Keep rolling.”
I un-pause the video, and we watch as Janelle sweeps the crystal point over the door, first making a large circle, then moving her hand in a series of lines and squiggles.
“You recognize that gesture?” Baz asks.
