Page 6 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

And, actually, what better than a shopping trip for some sisterly bonding?

‘We could both go,’ I say excitedly. ‘We could hit up Rodeo Drive, grab me some basics, get some food?’

Antoinette has sprawled herself across the couch, her long, tanned limbs askew. ‘I might skip it,’ she says, ‘if you don’t mind. I think the jet lag is hitting me.’

Disappointment thumps in my chest. ‘Shopping is good for jet lag,’ I say with a weak laugh but Antoinette just closes her eyes.

‘I don’t really enjoy shopping.’

I think of her now-full wardrobe jammed with clothes, some with labels still attached. ‘You don’t?’

She opens one eye. ‘Not shopping shopping,’ she says. ‘I prefer to do it online. It’s a much more Zen experience.’

‘But Antoinette,’ I say, ‘I’m not suggesting we go and hang out at some outlet mall. These are designer shops. With VIP rooms and champagne.’

‘I just prefer the apps,’ she says with a shrug. ‘But you should go! I think I’ll stay here and take a look at Reddit, maybe have a nap.’

‘Okay,’ I say, crestfallen. ‘I guess I’ll see you later then?’

But Antoinette is already asleep.

4

Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills, Los Angeles

It’s okay that Antoinette didn’t want to come shopping.

And that she doesn’t even like shopping.

It really is.

She’d probably just slow me down anyway.

And we’re not actually here for shopping and sightseeing, after all.

This isn’t a girls’ trip. It’s a murder mission.

Hopefully we won’t even be here very long so all I need to do is pop into a couple of shops and grab a few outfits.

We can get dinner and drinks this evening instead.

Yes, we can have a lovely time while we work out where to start our hunt for Aidan Ward.

In the Uber, my phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call.

It’s Tor.

I haven’t seen Tor since I visited her in hospital a few days before we flew out here. She messaged earlier to tell me that she had been sent home to recuperate and that her mother and our friend Maisie were taking it in turns to look after her. I don’t know why but I’d assumed that because she’d been sent home, she’d look better than she did when I last saw her. I’m shocked to see that she doesn’t.

Her face still looks swollen and her left eye is still partially closed underneath the fan of bruises. She winces as she tries to move her mouth into a smile to greet me.

‘Hey,’ I say, hoping that my face is doing a good job of hiding how shocked I am at her appearance. ‘I’m in an Uber.’ I don’t want her grilling me about Aidan Ward and my mission with an eye-, or would it be ear-, witness.

She understands the assignment. ‘Okay,’ she says, ‘I was just calling to check that you’d landed safely.’

‘Safe and sound,’ I say. ‘Although the same can’t be said about my luggage.’ Tor pulls a puzzled expression which seems to cause her pain. ‘My bag didn’t arrive at LAX when I did.’

‘Oh Kits, no,’ she says.