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“He fired her!” I lower my voice. “After-”
“I’m well aware of the circumstances.” Never one to sit for long, Toni pushes to her feet, taking the last third of her drink with her. “Did you ever consider that hating Dylan Duke was just a survival mechanism for her?”
“Ah,yes! But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want her to destroy him too.”
Toni laughs and starts for the stairs, her back to me. “You, my love, are ruthless.”
“No. I’m committed to justice,” I insist, pumping my fist in the air. “Justice for assholes.”
This time, when I turn back to Sandra, she’s on her back on the floor, doing a set of bicycle crunches.Oooh. Nope.“Hey!” I shout to Toni before she disappears. “Do you want to get brunch with me?”
She doesn’t turn. She lifts her Bloody Mary above her head. “I ate already. But-”
The doorbell rings, the shrill sound followed by three solid thumps.
I’m watching her walk away, so I see Toni’s spine stiffen at the sound. Only her head pivots as she looks right, towards the door. She does not move to answer it.
Goosebumps break out on my skin.
The doorbell rings again. There’s another firm knock, but this time, someone says, “Hello? This is the LAPD!”
I frown when Toni doesn’t move, and step toward the door to answer it.
“No.”
Her quick command halts me in my path. “Toni?”
“Where’s Lyla?”
“On her run.”
“Text her to come home. And go get Jules off the porch.” She starts towards the door, only pausing to look at me and order, “Now, Catherine.”
“Okay.” Fueled by the panic in her eyes, I grab my cell phone off the coffee table in the lounge and shoot a text to Lyla as I walk outside. Jules looks up at me as I open the sliding glass door and step out.
“If you’re going to pester me, please just s-”
“Toni needs us inside.”
Jules turns to look inside the house. Her face pales. Without a word, she steps toward me. It is only when I turn back that I see a police officer standing just past the threshold. His dark blue uniform is stark against the muted creams of our home. His hat is tucked beneath his arm.
We step inside at the same time. When he hears us, the officer turns, his eyes widening a fraction. “Um, excuse me. Um…”
I don’t blame him. Jules’s AWOL look does nothing to detract from her legs, which are about a mile long. AndI’m dressed in tiny workout shorts and a sports bra. Together, we look like a runaway geisha and her American friend who’s lent her clothes for the night.
“You were asking about Elizabeth?” Toni says, steering him back on track.
My heart sinks in my chest and starts tapping away there, my default mode for dealing with Elizabeth.
The room is quiet for a moment.
“Ah, yes.” The officer blushes and turns back to her, his gaze solidly focused on the blank wall over Toni’s shoulder and not on her skimpy PJs. “This—twenty-forty-five Clementine Lane—is her last known address.”
“Yes, she lives here.”
He nods, the movement efficient. “And you are her…”
“I’m her sister.”
