“Vero!” her mother gasped, nearly dropping her spatula.
“I’m just saying!”
Ramón slung his dishrag over his shoulder. A smug grin teased the corners of his mouth as he turned around to face her. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.Oh shit!Now it was on. “At least I’m not bringing random playdates to my garage.”
It was Vero’s turn to gasp. She was going to murder Javi, too. She dried her hands and crossed her arms, mirroring his posture. “You know who I bumped into last week? Tracy Lippett.” Her cousin paled. “You remember her, right, Ramón? Refresh my memory… how did you two know each other again? Was it that late-night backyard party you went to? Or was it the trip to the Ocean City boardwalk?”
He might have stopped breathing.
I can do this all night,she mouthed.
A bead of sweat formed on her cousin’s lip. He cleared his throat as he set down his dishrag. “It smells like dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t we wait on the rest of the dishes and eat? Anyone else want a beer?”
“No,” Norma said. “I’m driving home after dinner. And you shouldn’t have one either. They’re not good for you.”
“I’ll have one,” Vero said sweetly, still gloating over her victory.
He leaned close to Vero’s ear on his way to the fridge. “One more week,” he told her. “You have one more week before I haul you back to school myself.”
She nodded, her smile dimming. She had one more week to find the thief and get herself that teller job. Then she could tell her family she’d left school to pursue a banking career. That getting her degree had never been as important to her as she had made it seem. One more week to find a reason to stay in Virginia, so she’d never have to tell her family the truth. That she had been framed for a terrible crime. That none of her friends believed her when she said she didn’t do it.And why should they?Vero thought. Apparently, she was a pretty good liar after all.
Chapter 7
The next week, Vero spent three cold, exhausting nights staking out Terence’s office at the bank, and each one of those stakeouts had been a bust. Terence returned to work every evening after the bank closed, turned on a single light in his tiny closet of an office, and watched the many hours of security footage that had been recorded throughout the day. Vero knew this because she’d parked by the tanning salon next door, where she was afforded a clear view of Terence’s computer screen through his office window, using the set of binoculars she’d purchased from the Wild Bird Center in the strip mall.
Vero’s disappointment in her failed mission had necessitated a stop at the Dunkin’ Donuts drive-through on the way back to Ramón’s for her own large latte with extra whip and several sugar-glazed crullers. In her defense, she’d left the bank just after dawn, she was feeling premenstrual, and she couldn’t be sure the contents of her cousin’s fridge would support her need for high-fructose corn syrup and carbs.
Balancing her coffee tray in one hand and her to-go bag under her arm, she unlocked her cousin’s apartment, throwing her unburdened shoulder into the door when it stuck. Ramón’s truck had been gone when she’d pulled into the complex, and some asshole had parked his shiny black Camaro in her cousin’s assigned space, which meant Vero had had to park in outer Siberia and carry her bags twice as far. She’d paid the driver back by stealing the caps off the valves on two of his tires and using her apartment key to release all the air from them. Then she’d dumped Ramón’s caramel latte over the Camaro’s pristine windshield. It hadn’t accomplished anything, but it had made her feel better. And since Ramón wasn’t home, he wasn’t going to miss the fancy beverage she’d purchased for him anyway.
Vero set down her things and kicked off her shoes. There was a sticky note on the counter in the kitchen from Ramón, saying he’d be working late and wouldn’t be home for dinner. Great. She wouldn’t feel guilty about eating Ramón’s donuts, since apparently he wasn’t going to miss those either.
She collapsed backward onto the sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table, licking glaze off her fingers as she chewed. Her little corner of the apartment was cozy and warm, and after nearly two weeks, it was starting to feel like home. At some point since she’d arrived, fall had taken hold. The weather had begun to cool and the heat had clicked on. Morning sun streamed through the window, casting dust-mote-filled beams over the room. She snuggled deeper into Javi’s sweatshirt. The hoodie had been convenient when she’d needed to conceal her face in public, but she’d be lying if she said that was the only reason she hadn’t returned it to him. It still smelled faintly like him, like the blanket on the back of the sofa, and she draped that over herself, too, tucking it snugly around her.
The romance novel she’d started reading last night rested beside her feet. She’d found the tattered paperback at a neighborhood yard sale, and though she’d never heard of the author before, the first sex scene had been worth the fifty cents she’d paid for it.
Curious, she flipped to the author’s portrait in the back and snorted. The woman in the photo wore dark sunglasses and a scarf around her head, and the blond locks beneath it were obviously a wig. Vero held the photo closer, unable to shake the feeling she’d seen this woman before, though she couldn’t place where—maybe the grocery store? Or the bank? It was hard to tell through the disguise. Vero ran a hand through her own hair. Maybe a wig wasn’t such a bad idea. At least then she could run errands without worrying someone might recognize her.
She sank back into the cushions, searching for the page she’d dog-eared yesterday before she’d fallen asleep. It was her first day off all week, and she planned to spend the rest of it curled up right here.
She started at a quiettap, tap, tap.She could have sworn the sound had come from inside the apartment.
She sat up slowly, listening for it, but all she heard was the hum of the refrigerator in the next room. Then,tap, tap, tap.
Vero stuffed the last of her cruller in her mouth, threw her blanket aside, and set down her book. Silently, she moved to the kitchen. Reaching between the fridge and the wall, her hands closed around the handle of the broom she knew her cousin kept there. Gripping it like a spear, she tiptoed down the hall.
The tapping sound was coming from her cousin’s bedroom.
The door was cracked, and she peered inside. Ramón’s bed was unmade, stacks of tax documents covered his nightstand, and a pair of his socks had been left on the floor, but none of that seemed unusual. The hinge creaked as she ventured into the room. She paused in front of the closed bathroom door. A light was shining through the gap underneath. A shadow moved on the other side, and water trickled in the sink.
Someone was in there.
Vero crept closer, her broom poised to strike.
It was now or never.
She reached for the knob. As her hand closed around it, the door swung open, yanking her off her feet. She stumbled into the bathroom, colliding with a wall of firm, wet flesh.
Vero blinked at theVon the dewy chest in front of her.
