Farah gave a solemn nod and tried to contain her reaction to the gift. Taking it from Dottie, she passed it to Kevin. In truth, there wasn’t any reason a judge wouldn’t grant a warrant for the info. But still, she appreciated the gesture. A warrant would take time, and their clock was tight.

  Dottie paused. “We’re included on any 9-1-1 calls from homeowners, so we were aware of what was said on the call. And no ambulances have come through, just the coroner’s van. So I can only make assumptions, but . . . it sounds like Mr. Trent wasn’t the only death. There was someone else?”

  Kevin responded. “We can’t verify that, but we are trying to identify a guest that Trent Iverson had with him yesterday evening. The activity log should help with that.”

  “Well, I was on shift until eleven. Trent came through right before I got off, but he was alone in the car.”

  “Do you search the vehicles when they come in?” Farah was thinking of their own entry, but Dottie’s head was already shaking.

  “Not if they’re approved guests. Trent’s been on the list for over a decade and has a gate fob on his car. We wave him right through, same as we would a homeowner. But his car—he was in his Shelby—it doesn’t have tinted windows, so I got a pretty good look when he came through. There wasn’t anyone in with him.”

  That was interesting. Farah and Kevin exchanged a glance. “She look familiar?” Kevin fiddled with his phone and pulled up a photo of the woman. It wasn’t her best look. Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes open, her features pained. The photo was a tight crop and didn’t show any blood, but it was still clear that the woman was dead.

  Dottie peered closely at the screen and didn’t flinch at the view. “Definitely not a resident or one of their friends. And I don’t recognize her as one of their employees. This is the woman that was found with Trent?”

  “No recollection of her coming through here?” Kevin pressed.

  She gave it a final study, then looked up and shook her head. “She didn’t come through here. Not unless she was hiding in someone’s back seat or trunk.”

  “Yeah, hiding,” Farah mumbled, as they waved to Dottie and pulled forward through the gate. “More likely tied up there.”

  CHAPTER 28

  THE HUSBAND

  “Mr. Pepper, we’re not quite sure what your wife is up to,” Officer Meeko said, his tone more serious than earlier.

  Kyle closed the drawer on Kerry’s desk before spinning the chair in the opposite direction and standing, needing to get some separation between him and the pills.

  “We looked at the hotel lock record, then brought up the lobby cameras, just to see if we could make sense of things. On the upside, we know more. The bad news is, it isn’t good.”

  Kyle sat back down. “Tell me.”

  “Your wife and Miles came through the lobby at seven forty last night and took the elevators up, then unlocked the door to their room. They left the room over two hours later, around ten, and went down to the lobby and out the front doors. We couldn’t find any footage of them returning.”

  “Wait. So she’s actually been missing since last night?” A sharp pain flared in Kyle’s chest, and he pressed a hand to the muscle, willing himself not to have a heart attack, not right now, not when his family needed him more than ever. Needed him, and he had skipped over buying a flight because the prices were too high.

  He looked at the clock on the wall—7:35. Too late for him to catch the 8:30 p.m. flight, even if he walked out the front door right now, ticket in hand. Maybe there was a red-eye, something with a connection. He sat back down and pressed the power button on the front of her computer, intent on checking the options as soon as they got off the phone.

  “That’s what it looks like according to the key report. We’ll keep looking through the lobby video, but we’re talking almost twenty hours of footage. Multiply that by several cameras and . . .” He sighed. “We just don’t have a lot of manpower. Not for a missing person.”

  “Two missing people,” he said tightly.

  “It could still be something else. She was going somewhere for something. Maybe to meet someone. A boyfriend, maybe. I know you don’t like the idea of it, but they could have just gotten in someone’s car and gone to their house. Might not have needed all the stuff in their room.”

  “That’s not what happened.” Kyle’s hands fisted into balls, and the urge to punch something was overwhelming.

  “I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying that we have to look at it as a possibility. The fact is, people don’t normally snatch a mother and child. It’s . . . messy. And this was a safe area and not too late at night. I’d let my wife walk around on that street. It’s just—it’s odd. Something doesn’t feel right.”

  Kyle set his elbows on the desk, knocking over another pill bottle in the process. He ignored it and rested his head in one hand. “Miles was definitely with her?”

  “You said he was six years old, right?”

  “Yes.” Kyle’s mouth felt dry and his chest cramped, and maybe this was what a panic attack felt like.

  “From the photos you sent, it looks like them. He’s wearing a backpack. I’ll send you the footage and you can confirm it. They walk through the lobby and out the front doors. I got no idea where they go from there, but they don’t come back in their room. Now, that doesn’t mean that they didn’t come back into the hotel. They could have returned and gone to a different room.”

  “What’s she wearing in the video?”

  “Looks like yoga pants and a tank top. Hair was in a ponytail. Flip-flops. Like I said, I’ll send you the footage.”

  “It’s . . . um . . .” Kyle tried to think of the right word. “Suspicious, right? I mean, she obviously isn’t leaving me.”

  “It’s worrisome, yes. There are a lot of possibilities right now, but foul play is definitely a concern. If you have the access, check your wife’s banking—her credit and debit cards. See if she has any activity in the past twelve hours. And keep your phone on. I’ll call you the minute we have any news, good or bad. Earlier, you asked me about coming here. Now that we know she didn’t come back to her room last night and has been missing a lot longer than since this morning . . . I would get here as soon as you can.”

  CHAPTER 29

  THE LEADING LADY

  Nora lay naked on the teak bench in the middle of the steam room, her earbuds in, the sound of the interviews clear over the hiss of the hot and humid air.

  The police shouldn’t even be talking to the cleaning staff, but here was Jenny Cottle, rambling on about dirty dishes from last night.

  Nora inhaled deeply, then let out a slow breath and tried to stay calm. Just one more staff interview after Jenny; then the detectives would leave them alone. She’d already told Brenda to send everyone away once they finished with the police, so soon they’d have the house to themselves for the rest of the evening.

  Nora had made excuses to be alone so she could eavesdrop on the interviews in private, but she was anxious to get back to Hugh’s bedroom and see how he was taking this—and what he had said to the detectives.

  “I can always tell when Trent’s been here.”

  The maid’s know-it-all tone scraped up Nora’s spine. The girl didn’t understand her place, and frankly, Nora was surprised Brenda had hired her. Most of their staff was more mature, but this girl was barely twenty-five, and that worried Nora. Not for temptation’s sake, but more for media leaks and sought-after tell-alls. It took time to learn to keep your mouth shut. Twenty-five-year-olds—especially ones like Jenny—hadn’t yet learned that skill.

  “In what way?” That was the male detective. Kevin. He was okay, but she didn’t like the suspicious way the female cop looked at her. Nora hadn’t dealt with that sort of look in years, not since she was back in Kansas and counting out change at the supermarket line.

  “Well, Hugh’s very neat. I don’t need to do much of anything to pick up after him. He’ll leave a drinking glass out, but it always has a coaster under it. He puts his dirty clothes into the hamper. His toothbrush back into the holder, that sort of thing. Trent is like a tornado. When he moves through a room, everything is topsy-turvy. When I got here this morning, I knew right away, even if I hadn’t seen his car by the back gate, that he was here.”

  Sure she had. Probably spent extra time in the staff bathroom, plumping up her lips and putting on a second coat of mascara. Nora had noticed Jenny lingering around the kitchen, waiting for him to show up for breakfast. Nora had intentionally stayed in place when Brenda went to fetch him, giving Jenny a list of instructions that would have kept her busy and out of the main areas for the better part of the morning.

  “What time did you get off yesterday?” The male detective continued the questioning.

  “Around four.”

  “So you didn’t see Trent yesterday?”

  “Nope.”

  “But you saw his car when you arrived this morning?”

  “Yes. That happens a lot. He comes over late and then stays over.”

  Shut up, Nora thought. For the love of God, shut up.

  “And you said that you saw evidence of Trent in the house? So you think he came in the main house last night?”

  Nora pinched her eyes shut. A bead of sweat rolled down her neck and into the gap between her breasts.

  “Yeah. Definitely.”

  They needed to fire this one. Immediately, before she cleaned another room.

  The woman stepped in. “What areas of the house did he go in last night, based on your best guess?”

  The good news was, this would never hold up in court. What—a misplaced wineglass meant that he had come inside? This girl was an idiot. A joke. They were wasting their time with this. Jeff needed to step in and stop it. Why wasn’t he? What were they paying him for?

  “Well, I didn’t have time to go through the whole house. I had just gotten there around the time that they found—that they went to the guesthouse. But the door to the cigar room was open, and I saw some mess in there. And the porch had some glasses left out.”

  “Does Trent always stay in the east guesthouse?”

  Nora forced herself to breathe and waited to see what the girl would say. Be smart, Jenny. Be smart.

  “Yeah, typically.”

  Nora winced and hoped they wouldn’t pounce on the word.

  “Typically?” God, that bitch detective. “Where else would he stay?”

  “We’re moving outside of the relevance of the crime.” Jeff spoke for the first time in ages. “It doesn’t matter where Mr. Iverson would stay on other visits. He was found in the guesthouse and has stayed there on frequent occasions in the past.”

  Easy, Jeff. Nora was torn between applauding and muzzling him. Curb the conversation, but don’t protest too much and raise suspicion.

  “How often did you meet Trent’s guests?” the man asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Trent was found with a woman. How often did he bring people to the house?”

  “Oh.” She hummed a little in thought. “A lot of times. Brad Vincent came with him once. And Kevin Hersch. Oh, and that guy from the America Vice movies.” She laughed. “Literally all the celebrities I’ve ever seen in real life were people that were hanging out with Trent. Plus, of course, Nora and Hugh.”

  Oh, of course. Glad to know that she was an afterthought in Jenny’s starstruck gush fest.

  “What about women?” Farah asked. “Any female visitors?”

  “No,” Jenny said too quickly. “Never.”

  “Never until now,” Farah pointed out.

  “Yeah. I mean, I guess.”

  “Did his guests drive separately?” Kevin asked.

  “Um, I don’t really know. I mean, by the time everyone gets here, sometimes there’s like ten cars in the back. I don’t keep track—but I notice Trent’s car. I mean, it kind of stands out.”

  Yeah, Trent’s car did do that. The man didn’t have a retirement plan, but he had a collector’s-edition muscle car that could make your panties weep. That car was the thing that had first caught her eye. So impractical. So feral. So fucking sexy and powerful.

  “Want to drive it?” Trent stopped beside her and crossed his arms over his chest, flashing her a grin that both challenged and enticed, all at once.

  “Nah, I’m fine.” Nora glanced up at the house, wondering what was taking Hugh so long. They should have left for the studio already, but Trent had unexpectedly shown up, and then Hugh had disappeared into the office with some paperwork he’d given him.

  “Ah, come on. If I recall correctly, you’re excellent at handling a stick.”

  She swallowed the smile that threatened to come, along with a memory of the two of them, in his father’s truck, a dozen years earlier. Instead, she tossed her hair over one shoulder with a scoff. “Try your lines on the other girls, Trent.”

  He gave her a wounded look and took a step closer, his shoulder almost brushing against hers as they both regarded the car. “You know you want to,” he whispered. “Come on. Put that sexy ass in her seat and open her up.”

  “In this neighborhood?” Nora asked dryly. “Great idea.”

  “But you want to, right?” He leaned in and the question was soft, his voice almost guttural, and she stepped to the side, needing some space before she drowned in the intoxication of his presence.

  “I’m good,” she snapped, and fought to remember why he was a hundred future mistakes rolled into one.

  Trent stayed in place, and when she glanced back at him, that smirk was on those famous lips, and it was amazing how two identical men could use the same features in such different, and equally devastating, ways. “Keep telling yourself that, princess.” He chuckled and took the steps slowly, flipping the key chain around his finger as he approached the car at the curb. “And when you decide you aren’t good, call me.”

  She had lasted four more months, and then she had done just that.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE MOM

  When Miles’s tumor first showed up on that MRI, I thought that our world was ending. I thought that you’d leave and that I’d have to take care of him on my own, and that we’d lose the house to bankruptcy and I’d break under the strain of it all.

  I faced the idea that Miles would die, and suddenly all the annoying and infuriating things he did faded into the background, behind the overwhelming preciousness of his life.

  You went through that roller coaster with me, Kyle, and instead of pushing us away, you brought us closer. You stopped going out with the guys, and texting strange women, and forgetting birthdays and anniversaries. You started to look at me as if I were a saint, and spent all your free time with Miles, and stopped spending money on crap and started saving it so that we could pay for whatever his treatment was going to cost.

  We had no idea of the support that was going to come our way. It was amazing, when it hit. The online fundraiser, the food drop-offs, the Christmas shopping sprees, the scholarship, the spa coupons, and the Ronald McDonald grocery cards. Suddenly, we had everything. Money. Support. Sympathy. Attention.

  It was really nice, Kyle. It felt like a big warm hug that I didn’t want to end.

  Months later, after the surgery, when the tumor was labeled as benign, everyone’s concern dropped. Then Miles’s scar healed and his hair started to grow back, and then everyone forgot that he was ever sick.

  CHAPTER 31

  THE LEADING MAN

  The nice thing about Hugh’s suite was that it was built for privacy. And now, in this moment, he needed the space. Needed the time to think.

  Nora was hiding something. There were at least four different possibilities of what it could be, but he didn’t have the mental fortitude to concentrate or decipher any of them. Right now, he just needed to get through today. Then tomorrow. Then the next day.

  One day to a hundred.

  One day to a thousand.

  One day to forever.

  The problem was, he wasn’t sure he could make it through one day. Right now, he didn’t want to make it through the next fifteen minutes, not without his twin.

  Naked and dripping from the shower, he stood in front of the mirror that lined the massive primary bathroom. Placing his wet hands on the dark marble counter, he stared into his reflection.

  Hugh Iverson. Academy Award winner. Hollywood’s most beloved man. Future husband to Nora Kemp. Rich beyond measure. Respected without hesitation.

  He had stared into that level of perfection for thirty-two years now. It was a part—a facade—that required precise strategy and diligent effort. While Trent had done whatever he wanted every day for decades, Hugh had followed a singular path. One where he played every hand in his deck flawlessly. A path destined for greatness, and he had achieved it. He had the perfect life.

  The perfect woman.

  The perfect reputation.

  He stared into the mirror and wondered if it was too late to walk downstairs and confess everything. To give up this life. Squander all the hard work and the money and the fame behind it.

  He needed his twin back. Needed the other half of his heart, needed the one person who didn’t judge him, who loved him, despite the cracks in both of their souls. His brother was fucked up and damaged, but so was he. And now, without him, all he had was Nora.

  Turning his head, he looked toward her suite, which took up the opposite end of the floor. Maybe he could tell her the truth. If anyone understood, she would. She’d had her own complicated relationship with both of them.

  “Do you love him?” He’d asked her the question while they were naked, his body wrapped around hers, his leg over her hip.

  She’d twisted in his grip, until she was facing him, her delicate breath huffing against his chin. “Of course I do.”