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“So, I heard the cops tracked you down?” Jackie propped her chin on her fist, her eyes darting between the two of us. I looked to Lydia for help and caught her gazing at Dario as if she wanted to spread him across her toast and eat him.
“Yeah.” I shoved on the second shoe with a little more force than necessary, and my pinkie toe howled in protest. “It wasn’t bad. Just long. Lots of personal questions.” That was a bit of an understatement. They all but asked me what positions we screw in. Thank God for Dario’s attorney. She jumped in with objections, kept me from saying too much, and ended the interview before I blew a gasket.
I got it. They wanted to find Gwen’s killer. They needed to know that I was innocent. Still, the suite’s door history told them all they needed, in terms of my involvement.
An old master key was used at 9:19pm.
Gwen’s key code was used at 11:02pm.
Someone exited the room at 11:06pm.
My key code was used at 11:15pm.
Dario’s code was used a few minutes after that.
Simple freaking breadcrumbs, all backed up by garage and elevator footage. They knew that Dario and I were innocent. What they didn’t seem to know was anything about the killer. He had apparently taken the stairwell. Stayed in the blind spots of cameras. Used a master key that had been dormant for four years.
“That one guy was pretty cute. The black cop with the sexy lips?” Jackie stared at me as if I had any earthly idea who she was talking about.
“Not cop,” Lydia corrected. “Detective.”
“Oooh.” Jackie nodded. “Right. Even hotter. Was he there? Did he question you?”
“Uh, no.” I looked up at the sound of the front door slamming shut.
“Where are my favorite bitches?”
I dropped my head back and groaned at Rick’s voice. Whyyyyy? Why had I wanted to return to normalcy? I could be in a fluffy white Ritz Carlton robe right now, getting my soles massaged as I sipped a mimosa and dozed off poolside in a lounge chair.
Lance’s voice chimed into the madness. “Please tell me that’s Bell’s new Bentley in the driveway.”
“It’s not!” I called out, then got caught in the kitchen’s doorway, hugged by Rick, then Lance, then both of them. I fussed and grouched my way through the hugs, but held each one a moment longer than necessary, and kissed them each on the cheek. “Thanks for bringing the lasagna here.”
Lance nodded and reached out a hand to shake Dario’s. “You can thank your Mom for that. She practically duct-taped it to me on the way out the door. You going to see them today?”
I nodded, meeting Dario’s eyes. “Yeah. That’s on the list.” I was getting antsy with the need to see them. I had called home yesterday, before Laurent had taken me to the airport, but it hadn’t been enough to calm their fears. And it definitely hadn’t been enough to cure my homesickness. Even though I’d been in Louisiana less than a week, it had felt like a month. I’d narrowly escaped murder, and my parents had watched a news report announcing my death. An in-person visit was in order. Plus, Mom promised me baked macaroni and cheese and had called in sick to work. I wasn’t letting those sacrifices go to waste.
“Both of you going there?” Lance looked between us, and I swear to God, this kitchen couldn’t get any smaller.
“Yeah.” Dario nodded. “We’ll head out to Mohave this afternoon.”
We. The word seemed to be in giant capital letters, a spotlight dancing across it. WE. WE are going to see her parents. My frown deepened, and he tilted his head as if to suggest we continue the conversation outside, which sounded like a great plan. I stepped to the left and Lance blocked my exit.
“Whoa. We just battled Vegas traffic to see you. Spend a few minutes here. Let us soak up the presence of Bell Hartley.”
Dario skirted around the group and headed for the hall. “Take your time. I’ll be in the car, whenever you’re ready.”
I nodded, watched him escape, then was yanked back into the arms of Lance.
“Fuck, girl. This scared the shit out of me,” Lance mumbled.
“Yeah, me too.” Me too.
“Oh my God, pull away now, before they hang up streamers.” I plopped down into the passenger seat, the leather warm against the back of my legs, and shut the door.
He shifted into reverse, the car growling as it backed up, then purred into drive. I pulled a baseball cap from my bag and put it on, waving to Meredith, who stepped onto the front porch.
“She’s a nice girl. More manageable than the other two.”
I smiled at the word manageable. With any other friends, I might have been offended, but Lydia and Jackie? Tolerable was a more honest way of putting it. “Yeah. She’s my favorite. I think she approves of you, too.”
