He hadn’t said goodbye.
The orgasm he’d forced into my flesh must’ve killed a few brain cells because disappointment chased my relaxation from his act.
I heaved a sigh and took a few minutes to wash and dress. I’d brought clothes, toiletries, and makeup, so at least I could feel like myself. I’d neglected to bring any food, though. Not even a snack. Nor was there anything but empty shelves in the kitchen.
Back in the bedroom, I stripped Kane’s bed, figuring it was the last room that needed attention, then set up at the small table in the living room and logged in to the system with the pathologist’s reports. Hah. Updated. A win for the morning.
I searched for Esther’s record and stared. Quickly, I messaged the Skeleton Girls group. It had been busy with chat all night after Mila had told the women about Dixie. Much of their discussion rehashed the thoughts I’d already had, so I’dcommented my shock along with theirs, finally getting a release for the reactions I’d had to hide.
Lovelyn: Update on Esther. Cause of death is constriction of the neck, not drowning.
Cassie: That means strangulation, right?
I confirmed it.
Genevieve: It also means she was dead before she went into the water. Holy shit.
Everly: So there really is another killer on the loose.
It sank in. Esther had been murdered. We’d guessed that to be the case, but the evidence was there in black and white.
Cassie: This might be way out there, but I’ve been thinking about our badass hidden legacy, Dixie, all night. Is there anything in common?
Mila: Esther was a sex worker. So is my sister.
My heart hurt. I hovered my fingers over the keyboard.
A private message came in from Mila.
Mila: I realised last night that Dixie vanished when I showed up on the scene. I drove her from her safe place, didn’t I?
Lovelyn: No! You didn’t do anything wrong.
Mila: Convict says the same, but she was fine until I came along.
Lovelyn: You aren’t the reason, I promise. When Dixie gets to meet you, she’ll love you. If I was there, I’d give you a big hug.
Mila: I’d take it. Thank you for saying that. I wish I’d found out before, then I could’ve prevented this. God, I’m starting to hate my family. I have something else to share but I’ll switch back to the group chat.
In the Skeleton Girls group, Genevieve was relating her discussion with Arran over further protection for the women who worked in the warehouse, and Everly commented how Shade was already so overprotective of her in her pregnancy that he was losing his mind at our discovery.
I couldn’t imagine being at the centre of the intensity of someone like him. After all, the psychopath I somehow liked jumped up and ran after making me come.
Mila: I can’t help feeling that whoever tried to kill Dixie will make a second attempt. If it’s to do with our family’s business, that’s still in turmoil, and it’s already out there that a third Marchant heir exists. We can’t suppress that. Too many heard at the will reading.
Cold slunk over me. If she’d been in danger because of her family history before it was revealed, what did it mean now? Was the risk greater? My mind flittered over the issue.
Lovelyn: I’ll find her. I’ll do everything I can.
Mila: Convict might be onto something with a friend of hers. He asked around in the warehouse and heard about a sex worker who used to work there but left. Her name’s Pollyanna. Dixie took her under her wing, and another dancer said she was sure she once overheard them discussing someplace they both knew from childhood. Will report back when we have anything concrete.
I set aside my phone then drummed my fingers on my laptop. I’d already run Dixie’s name through a number of police systems, but I hadn’t tried Darcy’s. I entered the details. Nothing for a criminal record. No other reference. Damn.
Okay. I needed another approach to finding her connections. People who ran typically went to family, and we were sorely out of information on that front. If the Marchant son who’d fathered Kane, Dixie, and Mila had paid maintenance, that could be somewhere. I didn’t have direct access to that data, but I had contacts who could, for a fee. From discussion with Mila, I knew her father’s name was Able Marchant. With a quick message composed, I sent my request off into the ether.
The front door opened.
Kane strode inside, a drinks holder with two cups in one hand and a white bag with a coffee shop logo in the other. His gaze shot to me, that storm-cloud expression still haunting his eyes.
