Page 35 of Liar's Point

“I should get home.” She glanced up at Emmet. “You staying?”

“For a little while. Sure you don’t want to hang out? Calvin’s here,” he added, as if that would change her mind. Emmet had always thought she had a thing for his brother. For a detective, he could be pretty clueless sometimes.

She pushed off the railing. “Yeah, I’m out.”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

She laughed. “That’s silly.”

He took her elbow and steered her toward the parking lot, leaving his beer glass behind. The wind gusted up again, and she hugged her arms around her body.

“You okay to drive?” he asked.

“I had one margarita.”

“I repeat—”

“I’m fine.”

They crossed the lot to her pickup and she checked the shadows nearby out of habit as she dug her keys from her pocket. She opened the door and slid behind the wheel.

Emmet leaned his palm on the top of the door and looked at her, his hazel eyes serious. “Sure you’re okay?”

“You want to Breathalyze me?”

He stared down at her, and she would have sworn he was tempted. What was his deal?

“I’ll take your word for it.” He stepped back. “Night, Nicole.”

***

Cassandra double-checked the lock on her front door, then padded barefoot into the kitchen and poured another glass of wine. The last one hadn’t helped. Neither had the steamy bubble bath. She still felt paranoid, and every noise in the building was putting her on edge.

All those months of work she’d done to bring her anxiety down “within normal range”—whatever that meant—and now her nerves were sparking like a live wire.

Wineglass in hand, she checked the lock on the sliding glass door and shifted the curtain to peer out at the patio. The only thing out there was a collection of chipped clay pots filled with withered stems. For what felt like the hundredth time today, she wished she’d opted for a second-floor apartment. But when she’d subleased this unit, it had been the only thing available that was remotely in her budget. Now she wished she’d kept looking.

She returned to the kitchen and switched off the main light, leaving only the light above the sink. The dream catcher caught her eye.

She should have taken it down yesterday, but it had never occurred to her that the police would show up here asking questions.

It should have, though. She should have thought of it. Had Detective Lawson bought her story about the gift shop? It hadn’t been a lie, really. They did sell dream catchers in the shop. But that wasn’t where she’d gotten this one. It had been a gift from Aubrey.

Cassandra stared at the little white feather dangling from the hoop. Aubrey’s smile came back to her, and she felt a sharp pang.

There seems to be a discrepancy.

Cassandra had known from the beginning that this ordeal had the potential to blow up in her face. And now it was. Which was why she’d hesitated before calling 911. She hadn’t wanted to get involved.

She went into her bedroom and set her wineglass on the windowsill, then reached under the mattress for the phone she’d stashed there. She sat on the bed and stared down at it, debating. Finally, she powered it up.

Another minute ticked by as she considered the risks. Finally, she dialed. It rang and rang, and she was about to hang up when Jess answered. The sound of her best friend’s voice put a lump in her throat.

“Hey, it’s me,” Cassandra said.

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