If Alexis was threatening my daughter, I wanted to see her face. I wanted to watch her reaction when I asked her where she'd been when Leah died. I wanted to press until something cracked.
But I needed a reason to show up. An errand, a prop.
Brooke no longer had my key, or so she claimed. I made a mental note to get my house key from Whitney as soon as possible. Tomorrow, in fact.
I needed something else. I recalled Brooke at the Easter party a few weeks ago, wearing a mint-green dress sprinkled with white polka dots, her perfect teeth bared in a laugh as she handed me leftover lemon cream pie in a cake stand with a cut-crystal dome.
"Just drop it by whenever," she'd said. "I can't keep dessert in the house, or Alexis will stuff it in her face all in one night."
That would work.
I shut down the app, powered off Mia's phone, and slid it into my pocket. Apollo lifted his head as I pushed back from the desk.
"Want to go for a walk?" I asked him.
His ears perked. He scrambled to his paws and nosed at my thigh impatiently.
"That's what I thought."
I slipped into my jean jacket, then grabbed the cake stand from the pantry where I'd shoved it two weeks ago, wrapped a dishtowel around it to protect the crystal, and tucked it into a reusable grocery bag from Meijer.
Upstairs, the light under Mia's door still burned bright.
"I'm taking Apollo out," I called up.
"Okay." Her voice was flat, cautious. We were both nursing bruises from our conversation on the beach earlier.
I should go up to her. Sit on the edge of her bed. Ask again, quietly, if there was anything she hadn't told me. Hug her and tell her I loved her, the way Marcus would have.
And I would, as soon as I returned.
"Come on, boy." Apollo and I stepped out into the night.
I adjusted the bag with the cake stand as I walked, heading east on Driftwood Terrace. Apollo trotted ahead, sniffing everything. The cool night air carried the distant crash of waves against the bluffs. Porch lights glimmered up and down the street, like little amber islands in the dark.
We passed Vivienne's craftsman home. The curtains were drawn, their porch light dark. No lights in the windows except a glow from a single second-story window. A few minutes later, Brooke's house came into view.
Noise drifted. Muffled voices, punctuated by something sharp. The sounds were coming from Brooke's black farmhouse.
I slowed.
One of the HOA walking paths through the wooded acreage behind the community's property lines was located next to Brooke's house, separated by a line of tall arborvitae trees.
From the gravel walking path, the back patio was partially visible. Brooke had complained often about the lack of privacy.
Before I could think better of it, I swiftly moved off the sidewalk onto the pathway, heading as near to the backyard as I could without drawing attention to myself. Apollo followed close behind me.
Angling myself behind the prickly branches, I cautiously peeked between the trees. Fifty feet away, Brooke and Alexis were standing outside on their 2000-square-foot bluestone patio. Light cast a halo through the sliding glass doors.
Brooke stood a foot from Alexis, angrily shaking her finger in her daughter’s face. Alexis was barefoot, in ripped jeans and a cropped Nirvana T-shirt, her hair a wild purple-black mess. Even at this distance, the tension was visible in her shoulders, her chin down, eyes averted defensively.
Brooke's voice rose, slurred and vicious. "You think I don't know what you've been doing? Sneaking around. Taking things that don't belong to you."
I went still, though I was hidden behind the screen of tallarborvitae trees. I should move on, leave them to their privacy. But the acid in Brooke's tone pinned me in place.
Alexis's voice came out thin, pleading. "Mom, I didn't do anything."
"Don't lie to me." Brooke's hand shot out, gripping Alexis's wrist. The girl flinched. "My pills, Alexis. You think I wouldn't notice? You think I'm too drunk to count?"
