Chapter 4
After parking in Cara’s driveway, I force myself to get out of my car because the girls will be waiting. Even though I didn’t plan to, I grab my pen recorder and slip it into the front pocket of my jacket so that it’s facing out.
This isn’t something that can be bought online; it’s custom made and more expensive than I want to think about.
Alex, Fallon, and the others will know it’s a recording device when they see it—Fallon has given one to all of her employees—but no one else will see anything but a slim burgundy Montblanc ballpoint. If they even register it at all.
I’m glad Garcia asked for this favor because I might not have thought to bring my recorder. Normally it would be second nature, but my brain is fuzzy around the edges, my grief overwhelming everything.
I need sleep and I want to drink. And if I don’t get some sleep, I’m worried I’ll do the second thing.
Ava and Ryan’s house is only a few properties down so it doesn’t take long to walk there, no matter how much I drag my feet. A few luxury vehicles are parked curbside, a rare sight, and the two driveways on either side are packed full of cars.
As I near the turnoff to the Chatelains’ driveway, movement along the hedges catches my eye.
When I see Ryan talking to Hannah, standing very close to her, I freeze.
Hannah is a nanny, and Ryan and Ava don’t have kids so it’s not like Hannah has a working relationship with them.
But right now they’re very focused on each other, that much is clear.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ryan and Hannah together so this is jarring.
Even though I want to duck to the side of the hedges, I’m worried they’ll be distracted by my movement and I’ll miss whatever this is. So I stand there like a creep as Ryan animatedly speaks to Hannah.
At least the woman was sensible enough to put a coat on over her bodycon dress—a calf-length cherry red coat with a faux fur collar. It’s clear she doesn’t like whatever he’s saying. Her jaw is clenched tight as she looks up at him and she makes a move to touch his chest, but he bats her hand away.
The action is fast and sharp, taking me by surprise. But she doesn’t seem fazed by it. She touches his chest with her other hand in an intimate move and now he simply sighs, shakes his head, then steps back from her.
From my angle I can’t see the openings between the tall hedges, but I’ve been to their house before and know how easy it is to slip between the two yards. He’s out of sight, likely headed back to Cara’s memorial at his place.
Hannah remains standing there in the neighbor’s yard, her entire body vibrating with…anger. Rage. I know that look. I’ve certainly felt it enough.
Suddenly she turns and sees me. Instead of acting surprised, I lift my hand in a half wave then continue on down the sidewalk. So she knows I’ve seen her. So what? Unless she was involved with Cara’s murder, I don’t care about her at all.
And from what I’ve gathered, she wasn’t here the day Cara was killed. Or at least she wasn’t on the sign-in sheet at the guard gate. The crime scene was released yesterday—faster than I expected—and when I arrived to meet with the cleaners, I talked with Tony, the usual daytime guard.
He’s a sweet man in his fifties who moved from Georgia to Washington a few decades ago when he fell for a West Coast girl.
We’ve always been friendly, probably because we’re both from the East Coast and neither of us fit into this posh neighborhood.
So I took a chance and asked him to see a list of everyone who came through the gate that day.
He adored Cara, and he’d surprised the hell out of me by handing the list over. Well, technically he let me take pictures with my phone and simply looked the other way.
I know I should let the cops handle everything, but it isn’t in my nature. And someone killed my sister.
I can never, ever let this go.
“Are you spying on me?” a voice hisses at me as I make my way up the crowded driveway.
I turn to see Hannah slithering between a couple parked cars, her stilettos clicking on the pavement as she heads my way. I frown at her, then continue walking. I do not have time for this. Yeah, I’m spying on her the day of my sister’s funeral.
“Sloane.” She’s fast, I’ll give her that, because suddenly she’s in front of me, one hand on her hip. “Whatever you think you saw—”
“Hannah.” I manage to grit out her name with a small shred of calm.
“We just buried my sister. I don’t care if you’re screwing some married guy.
” I don’t bother to keep my voice down, clearly surprising her.
“So save whatever you’re going to say. And for the record, you know he’ll never leave his wife for you.
” They never do. And Ryan and Ava are from the same social circle, make the same kind of money. He’s not leaving her for a nanny.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snarls, and that rage is front and center.
“Maybe I don’t.” I stare her down for a long moment, wondering if maybe Cara knew about Hannah and Ryan—if they were even having an affair.
That would certainly be a motive to kill her.
But according to what I know so far, Ryan was golfing and Hannah wasn’t in the neighborhood at the time of the murder. Still…
Ava had been working at home, and Ryan had only come back home when Ava called him with the news of the police. I can’t imagine Cara wouldn’t have told me if she knew Hannah and Ryan were screwing. Still, Hannah is practically vibrating with rage… Clearly something is going on with her.
“Did you kill my sister?”
She gasps at the bold question. Sometimes just asking what you want to know works in these types of situations. Even if she was behind it, she wouldn’t tell me, but her reaction might give me something.
Her mouth goes slack, her pretty, dark eyes widening. “You’re crazy! Of course I didn’t. What the hell is wrong with you?”
Ignoring her now, I slide past her. Her reaction was real enough, but I’m not ruling her out. She was surprised by my question, angered I could think that. Or maybe just angry that I asked at all. But today is not the day for this kind of nonsense and I’m barely hanging on to my control.
Eventually I plan to see if Ryan is or was having an affair with Hannah.
It’s not my business, but Cara loved Ava, and I adore the other woman as well.
She was a good friend to my sister when Cara first started working at Beacon Industries and moved into the same neighborhood.
She taught Cara how to navigate their social circle, explained certain nuances that Cara never would have known growing up the way we did.
She’d been a sort of mentor, a lifeline to my sister when she needed guidance.
There’s an authenticity about her I respect. And if her husband is cheating…I’ll make sure Ava finds out one way or another. And if I find out that Hannah killed my sister, I’ll bury her.
***
It isn’t long until I find my nieces huddled in a sitting room, alone. Fiona is on her phone, Riley has her head in Fiona’s lap, and Quinn is flat on her back underneath a piano, just staring.
“What are you guys doing in here?” I ask.
“Avoiding everyone,” Fiona answers before the others, dropping her phone next to her.
“People keep telling us how sorry they are,” Riley adds, her voice small, watery.
“We just want to be home!” Quinn shouts in the way only an angry ten-year-old can, her arms crossed over her chest as she continues to stare up at the bottom of the piano.
“Okay, come on. We’ll sneak out the front door.” Everyone is in the huge living room at the back of the house overlooking the pool and yard that butts up against Lake Washington.
Riley pops up in surprise, with Fiona quickly following.
“For real?” Quinn crawls out, her black dress and coat covered in the fuzz of the thick white rug.
“I’ll text your dad, tell him I’m with you. We’ll go watch your mom’s favorite Christmas movie if you want.” I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. I have no idea what I’m doing right now. I just want to get them out of here and ease their pain, remind them that they’re not alone.
Riley grabs my hand with such trust my heart hitches. “And maybe have hot cocoa?”
“We’ll have whatever you want.” Want to set off fireworks in your neighbor’s yard? Set some stuff on fire just for kicks? Sure thing. I would do just about anything for these kids, today of all days. I should be looking for anyone acting suspicious but right now I have to prioritize the girls.
They’re still wearing their coats so we simply head out, but as I open the front door, their grandmother Evelyn is there, slightly out of breath.
“There you girls are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“I’m taking them home,” I say as the two youngest move up on either side of me. “They’re exhausted and this is too much for them.”
“There are so many people here who want to see them…” She trails off, then shakes her head as she looks at the three girls, her expression sad. “I’ll let Ethan know, and I’ll probably join you all soon.”
I nod, manage a small smile as the four of us head out.
As we walk, I pull my phone out and shoot off a text to Alex. I don’t like asking for help, but someone needs to watch the people at the memorial and I trust Alex to know what to listen for. Look for.
Taking the girls home. Will you keep an eye on everyone?
Listen for anything interesting? Focus on Ava and Ryan, Lucy Kowalski, Jordan Hughes, Milo Cole.
And anyone else Cara worked with. I feel guilty including Ava’s name, but Detective Garcia put her on his list so I have to be thorough.
And Ethan, I add, even if it feels like a betrayal.
Then I type in Hannah as well. Because something was off about her.
I’m surprised when I get a thumbs-up back immediately. Then a pen emoji. Okay so she’s got her recorder too. Sometimes it’s scary how much we think alike. Or just have the same training, is more like it. I’m glad I don’t have to explain anything to her; she knows what to do.
“Who’s Alex?” Quinn asks.
“Hey, Miss Nosy,” I say, a surprising laugh bubbling up in me as I tap her nose. Sometimes I forget how much these kids pay attention to everything. Especially Riley and Quinn.
She giggles. “I was just reading what’s right in front of me.” She gives Fiona a sly look, then grins up at me. “Last week I also saw Fiona texting heart face kisses to a booooy.”
Fiona simply rolls her eyes. “You didn’t see anything, you little snitch.”
“What’s a snitch?” Riley asks, but I freeze, throwing my arm out in front of her and Quinn in automatic protection.
A man with a thick puffer jacket and hoodie pulled up over his head is looking into one of the front windows of their house. “Fiona, take the girls back to Ava’s. Now.” There’s no give in my voice as I hurry across the driveway.
My boots are louder than I realize and he must hear me, because he turns in my direction. The bottom half of his face is covered with something.
He doesn’t pause, but spins around and sprints across their lawn.
Later, I might regret this, but I sprint after him, my legs straining against the confines of my dress.
Their house is on the end of their street, the front yard straddling two streets as it curves around.
For a moment, I can’t see the hooded man when he crests over a rise in their yard, but as I reach the top of it, he’s already at the other sidewalk.
“Hey, thief!” I scream, hoping someone will see him. Of course there’s no one around anywhere, they’re all at the memorial.
And that’s when I see the glint of the weapon in his hand. On instinct, I hit the grass as two wild shots pop off. One thuds into the grass ten feet away. The other hits a mailbox with a vibrating clang.
Heart pounding, I crawl toward a big Douglas fir that’s been decorated with soft, white twinkling lights.
No more shots ring out, but I hear squealing tires.
Moving fast, I jump up and dart around the tree in time to see a white van with a catering sign on the side tearing down the street.
I look at the divot punched into the grass from one of the bullets, calming my racing heart. What the hell is going on?