“She was obsessed with shoes,” Alice continued, “though most of them she’d bought in the U.S.—Badgley Mischka, Stuart Weitzman. She used to say that she’d left Moscow with only three pairs of shoes and that she missed the ones she’d left behind like they were old friends.”
“Three pairs? Where are the other two?”
“Pretty sure there was only one other pair in her closet that wasn’t a recognizable American label. Bottle-green platforms. Hard to miss.”
“She had those on the train too. I’d never seen them before. She didn’t go back to her apartment before she left, so where did they come from? And the third pair? Wait—bullet holes in the snow.”
“Sorry?”
“The third pair. Red stiletto boots. She was wearing them when the COS was killed—it was on the security cameras.”
“She didn’t have those in Montrose. I should have thought of this sooner. The first time she was hospitalized, with sepsis, her brain went fuzzy. She was all wide-eyed and frantic, and she made me promise to go home and put all her shoes somewhere safe. I was worried that was the end. I thought she was paranoid that someone would steal them, given that some of them were expensive, so I took them to Kimberly’s—including the green ones. When she recovered from that episode, I said I’d collect them again, but Nika said to leave them there.” Alice swallowed. “She said they’d be safer.”
“Does Kimberly still have them?”
“I mean, I have this pair—Kimberly tried them on and said they were too big, so she gave them to me. And you saw her house—she’s in the process of throwing everything away.”
“We need to go back, check those boots.”
“Won’t the FBI be watching her house?”
“If so, they’ll be easy to spot. They’ll definitely be tapping her phone, and her fiancé’s. There’s a car downstairs that we can use that won’t be on anyone’s radar, so that’ll help. Plus, they’ll give us more credit than to be stupid enough to go back.”
“Lucky we’re stupider than they think,” Alice said, picking up her purse.
He laughed. She had a habit of doing that—making him laugh out loud when there was nothing at all to laugh about. She was the most extraordinary “ordinary” woman he’d ever known.
“Okay, Thelma,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her in for a kiss before they headed out, because right now his world was on fire, and why wouldn’t he take the opportunity to enjoy this for the brief time he could. Because who knew what tomorrow might hold?
Chapter 24
Alice
The street outside Kimberly’s looked clear, but Carter and Alice took the route over the back fence, just in case, and quietly knocked on the glass door. Malik slid it open, his expression dark, and ushered them into the kitchen.
“We’ve been told to call the FBI if you contact us,” Malik whispered. “I’ve got a direct line to the chief investigator of some big task force. This is serious shit you’re in!”
“And you should definitely call,” Carter said. “Just as soon as we leave.”
Alice headed in the direction of the garage. “I just need some of Nika’s things—stuff I gave to Kimberly. We’ll grab them and go. Two minutes, tops.”
“She’s lying down,” Malik said, skirting around to head Alice off. “Look, this is too much for her to deal with. I know she pretends that this whole dying thing is no big deal, and the fact that her sister is on the run from the authorities is some huge joke, but she’s struggling more than she lets on.”
“I have great faith in my sister’s ability to?—”
“Her next round of chemo has been canceled.”
“What?”
Carter stepped up beside Alice. “Is that a good thing?” he said.
“No, it’s not a good thing,” Malik said, scathingly. “It means there’s no point putting her through the treatment anymore. I’ve canceled the bachelorette night—no point going ahead with the maid of honor on the run from the cops, anyway. And I’m checking if we can bring the wedding forward.”
“It’s only three weeks away,” Alice said weakly.
Malik’s harsh expression relented. “She didn’t want to tell you, but you need to know. Alice, you need to be here right now, and all this bullshit is sapping energy she doesn’t have. The docs say it’s time to make her ‘comfortable,’ and that means taking away any other stresses, like for instance her sister being wanted by the FBI and the CIA and whoever the hell else.”
“Alice?” Kimberly stepped into the kitchen, dressed in a bathrobe, a scarf roughly wrapped around her head. She had the distant look she got when she was on the serious painkillers. “I thought I heard your voice! What are you doing here?”
