Neighbor Liar Killer

Chapter 1

Very few of us are what we seem. –Agatha Christie

As I guide my vintage Cessna along the Washington coastline, I briefly tune into the chatter on my headset, then just as quickly dismiss it.

I’m thirty miles out from the airport before I need to notify ATC of my intention to land, and the other pilot on the airwaves is talking to a nearby private airport.

Nothing to do with me so I ignore it and just enjoy the gorgeous day.

There are almost no clouds and perfect visibility, and more importantly, no clients to deal with. Today I’m flying my own small restored four-seater, not a client’s private luxury jet, and it’s blissfully peaceful.

I’m surprised when a soft chime cuts through my headset, since everyone I work with knows it’s my day off, and I don’t get many calls outside of work. And yeah, that’s a sad commentary on my life. But it’s my sister, so I tap the Bluetooth on my headset immediately. “Hey, everything okay?”

Cara chuckles slightly at my immediate question. “Everything’s good, Sloane. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

My sister is lying though; I can hear the slight change in pitch in her tone. There’s a sort of wistfulness there. “Fiona giving you trouble?”

Now Cara laughs out loud. “Am I that predictable?”

“No, but teenagers are.” Irrational, selfish creatures that eventually turned into good humans. Or that was the hope. “Have you figured out who she’s dating?” Fiona is Cara’s oldest, and at sixteen has developed an attitude to rival my own once upon a time.

I glance at the GPS on my dashboard, see three planes on the screen, all well below me.

“She says she’s not dating anyone, or whatever the kids today are calling it. Hooking up? Ugh.” There’s water running in the background as if she’s washing dishes.

“Did you just say ‘kids today’?” I ask, unable to hide my laughter.

“I hate you.” Her tone is dry, but I hear the muted laughter behind it. “Also, I let Hannah go.”

I perk up at that, but try to keep my glee in check. “Oh no, that’s too bad.” I can hear the sarcasm in my voice.

“Oh, shut up. You were right, she’s sneaky. And the kids are old enough that we don’t necessarily need an actual nanny anymore.”

“I hate to say I told you so—”

Cara snorts. “You absolutely don’t hate to say that.”

“So what happened?” Because my older sister has way more patience than me, which is ironic considering I’m an independent investigator.

She should have let the woman go months ago when she found Hannah on her personal computer, but Cara believes in second chances.

Something I’m incredibly grateful for on a personal level.

And fine, I believe in second chances too. I was granted one back when I’m still not sure I deserved it. But at my core, I didn’t like Hannah, the nanny—or more specifically, the calculating way she looked at Ethan, Cara’s husband. I even did a basic background check on her but she came up clean.

“I found her sneaking around in our bedroom. She said she was looking for one of Riley’s toys but…

I don’t know. Something about her manner was off and I never really believed the story about her wanting to check her email on my laptop because her phone was being glitchy.

I’ve never doubted my instinct before, so I’m not going to now. ”

“How did it go?” Hannah wasn’t with them long, only four months. Edna was their live-in nanny before that, almost since Fiona was born. I used to joke that I wished she could adopt me. Though deep down, I wouldn’t have said no if she’d offered.

“Awkward. I was professional and so was she. Mostly. But she still needs to pick up a box of her things, and…” Cara sighs.

“And you just want it gone so you don’t have to see her again.”

“Yes. I gave her two months’ severance and will provide a reference. I just don’t want her in my house again.”

“If you have her current address, just courier it there with a small gift, even though she doesn’t deserve one.

Or have it sent to her employment service.

That’s probably a safer bet and they’ll make sure she gets it—and you’ll have proof it was delivered.

Then she can’t say you’re withholding her things. ”

“That’s a great idea.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” I might not like Hannah on a personal level, but she was great with my nieces, whom I do love. “I’m full of great ideas.”

Cara laughs again and I soak up the sound.

Growing up, there wasn’t a lot of laughter in our dumpster fire of a house.

And if not for Cara, I wouldn’t have survived long enough to escape at all.

“I know you are. And I don’t know why I didn’t even think to just send her stuff.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately,” she murmurs.

“I’ve let people go at work before and it was so easy compared to this. ”

“This isn’t like an office job. This woman spent a lot of time in your house, with your family. Your kids. Of course it’s going to be harder. So have you lined up someone else?”

“No, but Ethan is going to take a couple weeks off and pick up the slack while we interview candidates. At this point we don’t have the same needs as when the girls were young.

I mainly need someone I trust to drive them to all their extracurricular activities and I can’t put all that on Fiona.

She deserves to be a teenager and do her own thing. ”

Surprise hits me hard that Ethan is taking off work, but I don’t say anything. Apparently she reads my mind, or more likely my silence, because she continues.

“He’s trying, Sloane.” Her voice is soft.

“I know.” I’ve always liked Ethan. Mostly. The last few years though, he’s made some mistakes. Or poor choices, as Cara likes to say. It’s hard not to want to shake some sense into him when he’s married to someone as amazing as my sister. “And I think it’s great.”

She loves Ethan, so I’ve never been overly critical.

I keep most of my opinions to myself—especially since he forgave me for getting wasted and acting like a complete jerk at their wedding.

And it wasn’t the kind of fake forgiveness where he brought up my actions later.

Nope. He truly let it go and even offered to pay for my rehab.

Humans are complicated, and it’s something I struggle to remind myself of in this world where people really want things to be black-and-white. Right and wrong.

But humans are messy and no one is perfect.

Biting back a sigh, I continue. “I’m really glad he’s helping out. I know the kids will be happy to have him home too.”

“Except Fiona, but that’s a good thing,” Cara adds, and I swear I can hear her smile. “I’m hopeful he’ll be able to figure out if she’s got a secret boyfriend.”

“You guys have a security system and cameras. How is she even sneaking around?”

Cara and Ethan live in the exclusive Emerald Queen Gardens neighborhood on Lake Washington.

It’s a small community of über-wealthy individuals who work for various tech and software companies in between Seattle and Olympia.

A far cry from the dirt-poor Alabama town we grew up in. Might as well be another planet.

“You tell me,” Cara says on a sigh. “Because I can’t figure it out. And she’s the least of my problems anyway.” I hear what’s likely a cabinet door opening then shutting as she moves around her spacious house.

One I’ve stayed in countless times over the years: for the holidays, sometimes in the summer, or just a random Tuesday because I wanted to see my sister and nieces.

When I was younger, I never even imagined one of us could live in a place like that.

It hadn’t even been on my list of possibilities.

Five- and six-thousand-square-foot homes with triple-paned windows, Olympic-sized swimming pools and acre yards were for people I would never meet or know.

But Cara has always dreamed bigger than me and pushed me to dream too.

Don’t let anyone put a limitation on your dreams, not even yourself. Words that she’s said to me at least a dozen times over the years.

I start to ask her what’s wrong, but she says, “So, have you bought an outfit for your company holiday party?”

My company holiday party consists of our small investigative firm and their families getting together at our boss’s house, doing a gift exchange and being all merry and happy or whatever. While I love my job, I like to keep boundaries about what’s work and what’s personal.

“No, because I’m not going.” She’s always pushing me to “expand my circle,” but I don’t need a bigger circle, thank you very much. People are always a let down, and I don’t see the point in letting more of them in.

Cara sighs, the sound so disappointed that I wince and find myself making excuses.

“That’s the day we always go look at the Christmas lights with the kids.

” It’s a tradition that her family and me, and usually a handful of friends, ride golf carts around their neighborhood, looking at the new light displays.

“Lucky for you, we’re going to do it next Sunday instead of Saturday so you’re good to go.”

“Cara.” I drag out her name like a child, knowing how ridiculous I sound.

I don’t want to have this conversation. I like my life the way it is.

No fuss, no drama, no nonsense. I do my job well and don’t get mixed up in my coworkers’ lives.

It keeps things simple. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do but I’m fine.

Happy.” Because that’s what she’s ultimately worried about, that I’m not fulfilled or whatever.

Cara is silent for a beat. “Opening up and trusting people isn’t the worst thing in the world.

And I understand why you have trouble trusting.

” She snorts softly because she truly understands in a way not everyone can.

“But there is a world of people who want to be your friend, to be part of your life. Alex tells me you blew off her invitation for Christmas Eve dinner with her and Rose.”