“Enough to be certain you were right to tell her no.”
“Thank you,” I said, feeling vindicated.
“She’s not wrong about the cunnilingus though. What else did she say?”
“That Stacey saw some gorgeous woman coming out of my house last night, presumably while Nick was there.”
Vero listened as I bitched for a while about Stacey and her hashtag army. When I was finished, she reached into the bathroom, took me by the hand, and towed me across the hall to her bedroom. She pulled me inside, shut the door, and deposited me onto her bed, grabbing my laptop and plopping down beside me. She struggled to sit crisscross without her ankle monitor getting in the way.
“What are you doing?” I asked as she finally got settled and opened a browser.
“Looking up Stacey’s hashtag. I don’t believe for a minute that Nick would be that stupid, but if there really was a woman in your house, we’re going to figure out who. Someone must have posted a photo, or at the very least described her. And if they didn’t, then we can chalk it up to more of Stacey’s bullshit rumors. You know how she is.”
I did. Stacey loved to be the center of attention, and it wasn’t beyond her to stir the rumor mill just to be in the middle of it once it got spinning. When my ex-husband had been arrested a month ago and accusations about him had been swirling, she’d made sure every mom in South Riding was invited to the chat.
“Look, I found the post.” Vero clicked on Stacey’s frantic first message about the beautiful mystery woman she’d seen coming out of my house. It was hard to miss, with plenty of exclamation points to drive the point home.
OMG, you will NEVER believe what I just saw!!! I was on my way home from my son’s school play, and I drove past the Donovans’ house just as a woman was coming out of it, and you all KNOW Finlay is out of town. (If you’re a new follower, welcome! And here’s a pro tip: Finlay Donovan is Fiona Donahue’s real name.) So who the hell was this gorgeous brunette, and what was she doing with Finlay’s boyfriend after dark?!?!
The responses came in hot.
NOOOOOO!!!!! Not Finnick!!!! My heart can’t take it!!!
We can’t call them Finnick. Finnick was a guy in the Hunger Games. If we’re giving Finlay and Hot Cop a couple’s name, I vote for Nicklay. It’ll be less confusing.
I second that.
It is decided. Nicklay is being tested, people. We cannot let this stand! Who in South Riding can be our eyes and ears? We need pictures of this woman!
Several volunteers spoke up. I recognized a few of the names, disgusted that my neighbors—people I had invited to my children’s birthday parties and gone to HOA barbecues with—were willing to stake out my home.
What do we know about her?someone asked.
Only that she’s tall with a spectacular figure. She has long, dark hair and was wearing a suit jacket and heels. She definitely wasn’t dressed like a babysitter.
Did you see what kind of car she was driving?
No, it was dark, and I was too busy trying to get a look at her face.
“Who does that sound like to you?” Vero asked me.
I didn’t want to say their names out loud, but I could think of afew possibilities. None of them good. “Kat Rybakov?” Though why Nick would invite the newly crowned boss of the local Russian mob into my home for a meeting, I couldn’t say. They hated each other. He was too smart to meet her without witnesses present—he’d be dangerously tempted to kill her.
“Unless it was Irina Borovkov?”
I shook my head. The widow of the mob enforcer we’d accidentally helped eliminate last fall never went anywhere without at least one bodyguard.
I snapped my fingers. “I bet it was Sam!” Detective Samara Becker fit the description. She was beautiful, tall, and had a wardrobe that would make most runway models jealous.
I picked up my phone and dialed my sister, relieved when she actually answered.
“Hey, Finn. How’s Vero?”
“She’s fine, Georgia. Listen, I need to know if Sam was at my house with Nick last night.”
The line went quiet. A siren whooped in the background, and I could hear the static of police radios as the silence dragged on.
“Georgia?” I said, sensing a stall. My sister was the worst liar I had ever met.
