His eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember you being a morning person.”
“People change. What areyoudoing here?”
Elijah looked pointedly around the pool.
“I mean, what are you doinghere?”
Elijah hauled himself out of the water and grabbed a fresh towel off one of the lounge chairs. “I had so much fun last season, I couldn’t imagine leaving.”
“Right. Especially that part where we found my sister’s body in a coffin. That was a real blast.” Sierra crossed her arms. “You know, they say killers like to return to the scene of the crime.”
“I’m familiar. So what areyoudoing here?”
“Collecting my prize money.”
He scoffed, toweling his hair. “It was always about the money to you.”
“Are you trying to pretend you’re above it all?”
He cast his gaze toward his villa, like he was wondering how best to escape this conversation. He seemed resigned when he turned back to her. “You know I wanted to win, but the odds were stacked against us from the start. We were the villains of the season. Ranielle never intended for us to walk away with that prize.”
“And now you’re here, getting paid to hang out where my sister was last seen alive. You gotta admit, Elijah. It’s kind of creepy.”
“You always assume the worst of everyone.”
There was a slight flush on his cheeks—from the swim . . . or something else? “What were you doing in the pool that morning?”
He squinted at her. “Excuse me?”
“The day Alicia died. I came back to the complex at four thirty a.m. Too early for a swim, even by your standards.”
“What were you doing out all night?” he shot back.
“Not killing my sister, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“You can’t even say her name, can you?”
“Nice dodge.”
He wrapped the towel around his swim trunks with a sniff. “I heard a car and thought it was Alicia coming back. So I went outside to see if she’d join me in the pool.”
Sierra’s arms slowly unfolded. “You heard a car?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you tell the cops?” Sierra’s voice had raised in pitch.
“Of course I did,” he said with a scowl. “Right after I told them how I heard you two fighting.”
She dismissed that—ever since they’d found Alicia’s body, he seemed to think sibling rivalry was grounds for murder. “Did you see the car? Recognize the make or model? Was it electric?”
“No idea. I was half asleep. The only things I heard was a door slam and the car drive away. The cops don’t think it had anything to do with Alicia, though. The car was out front—it might’ve been anyone. And it was well after she’d been . . .” He faltered, finally finding some grace to look uncomfortable.
He was probably right, though. The GPS data from Alicia’s phone showed she was a mile south of the complex at 10:28 p.m., when she had either switched off her cell or the battery died. A few hours later, she was dead. Sierra didn’t know where her sister had gone that night, but she hadn’t stayed here.
She scanned the sandstone buildings. “Someone was in our villa before we arrived yesterday. Any idea who it was?”
Elijah stalked past her, opening the pool gate. “No idea. This place was pandemonium last week. Camera crews, publicists—”
