Page 25 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

“You know what, Ms. Bird? You’ve been so helpful with all this so far, and after a night like tonight” — he nodded at the ambulance — “you seem like you could use a break. So I’m just going to cut out the middleman.”

He took a folded sheet of paper out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. Then he saluted me with his empty coffee cup and wandered off. I unfolded the paper, saw it was part of a bank statement from Troy and Daisy Hansen’s joint account.

There had been a direct deposit from an unidentified account about two months before Daisy went missing.

A deposit of $250,000.

CHAPTER27

IT WAS THREE A.M.when I finally heard Baby’s footsteps on the stairs. I was on my knees outside her bedroom with a cloth and a bucket of soapy water washing blood off the wall. She hovered uncertainly behind me for a few seconds, then put a 7-Eleven iced coffee with a huge whipped-cream topper down by my side. I smelled caramel sauce through the metallic stink of blood. I didn’t look at her or the coffee-flavored olive branch.

“Thanks for rushing home,” I said sourly. “Traffic must have been awful. Culver City’s usually only a half-hour trip in the middle of the night.”

“Culver City?”

I stopped scrubbing, tossed the cloth into the bucket. Baby was looking at the cuts the cable ties had left on my wrists.

“Waterway Street in Culver City,” I said. I stood and met my sister’s gaze, trying to contain my anger. “Looks like your bestie has really slipped down in the world, judging from the Google Maps Street View. Are you even going to ask me what the hell happened here? Whether I’m okay?”

“You’re tracking me,” Baby said. The tendons in her neck stood out, her anger rising too. “Just like we tagged Troy Hansen. You’ve been tracking me, like I’m some ... somemark?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Baby, we are eyeballs-deep in a case involving a potential serial killer.” I was teetering on the edge. “Eleven people might be dead. It could’ve been either one of us instead of Oliver Maloof stabbed earlier, and someone just broke into our home and threatened to murder me. And you’re lying about where you are and what you’re doing in the middle of the night. Of course I’m fucking tracking you!”

Her mouth quivered, bewilderment fighting outrage.

“You almost got us shot bypet-nappers,” I continued. “So, yeah. When I saw how big and how dangerous the Troy Hansen case was going to be, I put a tracker in your purse. I did that because you’re unpredictable and you’re defiant and you’re my responsibility. And I’m glad I did it! I only wish I’d kept a closer eye on the signal. If I had checked it earlier, when you said you were going to bed, I might not have killed a man in our house!”

“Stop.” She put a hand up. “Just stop. This is not my fault.”

“I thought he was going to murder you! He knew who you were, what you looked like! He’d been watching us! He got in here, and — ”

“And you took care of it,” Baby said. “Look, the dude came in here tryin’ to fuck around and found out what happens when you mess with us. You showed him.”

I couldn’t speak. Baby seemed to have gotten hold of her emotions, and I was surprised and envious of her for it. I was standing in front of a woman who had collected herself completely, and it made me feel like the disheveled, tired, unpredictable one in the relationship.

“What happened tonight was not your fault,” Baby said in a calm and convincing voice. “And it wasn’t mine either.”

She picked up the coffee and held it out. I took it.

“So here’s what’s going to happen,” she said. “I’m gonna get Jarrod Maloof’s diary and look through it for any solid ties to Troy Hansen or anyone else. And I’m also going to check out Maria Sanchez’s online world. She’s the one who went missing just before Jarrod, right?”

“Right,” I said stiffly.

“You’re going to get some sleep,” she said. “And when you wake up, you’re going to figure out what to do.”

I stared at my coffee. The cream was melting into a foamy soup between the ice cubes.

“I want to know why you were in Culver City,” I pushed.

“That’s nice.” She patted my shoulder. “But you’re not getting that information. You’re not even getting an apology. Me sneaking around isn’t any worse than you being a purse-bugging super-creep.”

“I’m — ”

“You’re not my mama, Rhonda.” Baby put a hand up again. “I got all the way to the day I met you without needing a mother. I sure as hell don’t need one now.”

“But I’m your legal guardian. You’re only sixteen, Baby. You needsomeone,” I pleaded. “And I’m all you’ve got.”

“And I’m allyou’vegot,” she said. She poked me in the chest. It hurt. Not only because I was bruised and exhausted from what had happened but because she was right. I’d cut ties with everyone from my life in Colorado to be with her, and the closest I’d gotten to expanding my social circle since I’d moved to LA was a collection of contacts in the private-investigation world. And Dave Summerly. I had a sudden strong impulse to text him.

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