Page 13 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

Though I hadn’t technically agreed to take Troy’s case, I was willing to hold on to the box for a day or so until I worked out the right thing to do. Before I left, Troy had led me to the crawl space under the floorboards, which was accessed through the linen cupboard, and I’d looked at the bare dirt under the house and seen nothing out of the ordinary beyond the disturbed earth. But now, with Summerly standing only feet away from my car, the box in my trunk seemed to be humming with evil energy.

“I know you like to root for the underdog, Rhonda,” Summerly said. “From what you’ve told me about your cases back in Colorado, Troy Hansen is exactly the type of person you like to defend. Misunderstood. Victimized. Vulnerable. Alone.”

I nodded, conceding that was true.

“Let me deromanticize this for you,” Summerly said. “That seems to be your theme lately, right?”

I sighed.

“Troy Hansen is none of those things,” Summerly said. “He’s a killer, and in a day or two we’ll have enough cause to arrest him. We know he’s lying about when he arrived home from work the night Daisy went missing.”

“How do you know that?”

“We have footage.”

“What footage?”

“He’s lying about the state of their marriage too,” Summerly went on, ignoring my question. “The dynamic had changed recently. Big-time. If you heard more lies from Troy just now, you have a responsibility to pass them on to me.”

I bit my tongue, pictured the box in the trunk.

“Think about your detective agency’s reputation. If you throw your lot in with Troy, the internet wack jobs already crawling all over this are going to come for you too. That can’t be good for business.”

“Thanks so much for your concern.” I gave him an icy smile. “I’m so lucky to have you looking out for me.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Maybe if you gave me access to Troy’s and Daisy’s data, I’d see reason a lot faster,” I ventured.

“No comment,” he said, enjoying it.

“At least tell me if you’ve found her car.”

Summerly laughed humorlessly. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Hey, you’re telling me I’m hanging out with a wolf in sheep’s clothing, so prove it. You guys are the ones with all the Hansen household phones and computers. Maybe you know where her car is too. Don’t just tell me that I’m wrong here, Dave. Show me. Help me see it for myself.”

“I don’t have to help you, Rhonda.” Summerly stepped back from my car. “In fact, I don’t have to talk to you at all.”

He went. I forced myself not to check out his ass as he walked away.

“My number’s the same if you change your mind!” I called after him.

CHAPTER15

BABY SAW NOTHING REASSURINGat 101 Waterway Street in Culver City. It had taken her almost two hours to get here, since she’d had to go from Glendale back home to Manhattan Beach before coming up here.

She sat frozen in the Uber, looking at the weathered Federation-style house with its peeling shutters and overgrown yard, the only house on the block not surrounded by cyclone fencing. There were no other cars on this street. A thin, raggedy cat lay in the gutter, sleeping or dead.

When the driver nudged her, Baby got out and walked to the house with her hand on the pistol in her purse. It was Rhonda’s gun, which she’d secretly removed from the safe in her sister’s bedroom, not for the first time. Her face burning with defiance, Baby knocked on the door and told herself that sometimes good things came in crummy packages.

An ancient white man answered. Her mouth dropped open when she saw the gray-haired white dude holding the door frame, peering at her with the same incredulity.

“Arthur?” she said.

“Steve?” the guy asked.

“Whoa, okay, wait up.” Baby took her hand off her gun to hold her head. “You’re not who you said you were. At all. This is not cool. You said you were twenty-eight. You said — ”

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