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“Yes.”
“Do you know where Elizabeth was going on the night of the tenth?”
“No. Toni handles all our bookings. And Elizabeth missed the Debrief that morning, so she didn’t go over the details of Lizzie’s client with us.”
Joan touches my thigh lightly underneath the table.
Although he can’t possibly have seen the gesture, Aiden Flint says, “We’ll verify the details with Miss Rupetta.”
He shuffles through the papers in front of him, quickly scanning the information contained in them. I am watching, so I see a sheet with my photo ID printed on the top, left corner. Seeing my face on a police document again has bile rising in the back of my throat. The fact that the man sitting across from me undoubtedly knows everything about my past flushes me with shame.
“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm Elizabeth York?”
The question slaps me out of my thoughts, and before I have time to regulate my response, a nervous giggle slips from between my lips. Mortified by my reaction, I slap my hand over my mouth.
Lieutenant Flint’s lips quirk. “I’m assuming that’ll be ‘Yes’?”
“I’m so sorry.” My face warms with a blush. Next to me, Joan is rolling her neck as if she’s preparing for a fight. “Ah, yes.”
“Could you tell me who they are?”
“…Like…Like a list?”
“If you can.”
“Um...”
“How about just the top ten?” Lieutenant Flint coaxes.
I think about it for a minute or so, mulling over who could actually harm Lizzie versus who just didn’t like her. “Okay. Sascha Sokolov.” Both police officers visibly tense. “Nico Drakos, Senator William Fletcher, Cameron Klein-”
“T-the movie star?” It is the first time that Detective Sanchez has spoken.
I nod and continue. “George Rusche—but he died. Winnifred Rusche, and, depending on when you happened to catch us, well, all the girls in the house.”
“Including you?”
“Yes.”
The Lieutenant leans back in his chair, eyes assessing. He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he thinks through what I’ve told him.
“You find it surprising that her best friends could also hate her sometimes?” I direct my question at him.
Next to me, Joan is red in the face. But thankfully silent. She’s there to protect the business, to deflect and defer from the fact that we sell ourselves—ordon’t,rather—for sex. Lieutenant Flint clearly couldn’t care less what we do with our time, and I wonder if Joan was expecting that.
“No,” he admits, “just that you’d be honest about it.”
“Wanting to throttle hersometimesand actuallykillingher are two very different sides of the same coin.”
“They are.”
“And I truly do want to help you find whoever took her from Toni.”
“No easy feat considering you’ve rattled off six of the most powerful people in Los Angeles,” he says, smiling slightly, “two of whom are very dangerous.”
“They’re all dangerous, Mr. Flint.”
Leaning across the desk, he takes the pad from Detective Sanchez. “Let’s start at the top of the list. Why Sascha Sokolov?”
