Page 23 of Liar's Point

Nicole’s face looked grim. “I think he’s got her in the back.”

CHAPTER

FIVE

Cassandra ducked her head against the cold wind and used her elbow to jab the crosswalk button. Shivering on the corner, she watched the cars whisk by as she waited for the light. When it turned green, she rushed across the intersection and past the sign for Grandview Villas, which—despite its name—didn’t have much of a view. But its location within walking distance of the Banyan Tree had been a major selling point.

She clutched her grocery bags in one hand and her pepper spray in the other as she scanned the shadowy parking lot. The lighting on the property needed improvement, but Cassandra wasn’t holding her breath. The landlord was cheap. He could hardly be bothered to fix a leaky faucet, much less make security upgrades for the safety of the tenants.

We’re investigating this as a homicide.

Aubrey had been murdered, and Cassandra still couldn’t get her head around it. Lost Beach was all about quiet. Solace. Serenity. People came here specifically to escape the sort of crime that plagued big cities. And now someone had been murdered just footsteps away from the island’s iconic lighthouse. Cassandra felt sick just thinking about it.

She stepped onto the sidewalk, then jumped aside just in time to avoid colliding with a kid on a skateboard. He glanced back at her without slowing, and she muttered a curse at his back—not that he could hear her with his AirPods stuffed in his ears.

Scanning the sidewalk for any more surprises, she walked to her apartment and dropped her groceries on the doorstep as she fumbled with her keys. Her gaze fell on a white FedEx envelope tucked behind the flowerpot. She snatched it up, and her stomach knotted as she read the Colorado return address. Could this day get any worse?

She grabbed her groceries and entered her apartment, then locked the door and went straight into the kitchen to dump everything on the counter.

Her head pounded as she stripped off her fleece jacket. She desperately needed a shower and an aspirin. But first she had to get something into her stomach. They’d been crowded all day again thanks to Danielle’s “Bring-a-Buddy” New Year’s promotion, and Cassandra hadn’t even had time for a lunch break.

She switched on the oven, then toed off her running shoes and went into the bedroom to get out of her sweaty clothes. After pulling on her comfiest pj’s, she put the groceries away and slid a veggie pizza into the oven.

As she poured a glass of wine, she eyed the FedEx package on the counter. Did they deliver on Sundays? It had probably come yesterday, but she’d somehow missed it, probably because everything after that 911 call had been a blur. The whole night had been awful, and she’d lain awake for hours, tossing and turning.

She sipped some wine to brace herself and then tore open the cardboard mailer. Inside was a plain white envelope with her name typed across the front. Opening the envelope, she found a folded invoice. It looked just like the last one she’d received, only the Due Date column was highlighted in pink and the words 60 days past due appeared in red along the bottom.

Tears burned her eyes. What about the services that were sixty days past due? Where was the explanation for that?

A loud knock sounded at the door, and her pulse jumped. Who would that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe someone’s food delivery had the wrong door? As the knock came again, she crept across the room and peered through the peephole.

Detective Lawson stood on her doorstep. She was alone this time, no sign of her hot partner.

Cassandra pulled her fleece jacket on over her pj’s and slid the overdue invoice under a stack of mail. Then she returned to the door and took a deep breath before unlocking the door and pulling it open.

“Hi there,” the detective said with a smile.

“Hello.”

“Sorry to interrupt your evening. I just had a few more questions I wanted to run by you.”

Cassandra stared at her. Answering questions was the last thing she wanted to do right now, but apparently she didn’t have a choice.

“Questions about Aubrey?”

“That’s right.” Another reassuring smiled. “I called but you didn’t pick up, so I thought I’d swing by. This shouldn’t take long.”

Cassandra stepped back and ushered the detective inside. With the exception of the police windbreaker, the woman looked completely different than she had on the beach last night. No high-heeled sandals, no minidress. Tonight she wore jeans and thick-soled hiking boots, and her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

“Nice apartment,” the woman said, glancing around. “I had a friend who used to live over here.”

“Oh?”

“Second-floor unit, one of the ones on the end.”

Cassandra’s living room furniture consisted of a single purple futon, so she led the detective into the kitchen.

“So.” Cassandra leaned back against the counter. “How can I help?”

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