Page 26 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

“Lay off me,” Baby warned. “Or I’ll be gone faster than you can snap your fingers. Got it?”

She snapped her fingers in front of my nose. I nodded reluctantly. It was all I could do. She turned me by the shoulder and pushed me toward my bedroom.

“Get some sleep,” she said. “And try not to bludgeon anyone to death on your way to bed.”

CHAPTER28

AFTER A FEW HOURSof sleep, I awoke with a plan to meet with Troy Hansen and find out about the money in his bank account before he had a chance to cook up some bullshit story about it. He didn’t yet know that I knew. I had the element of surprise in my pocket.

Speaking of surprises, when I arrived at the café in Burbank where Troy Hansen had told me to meet him, I saw Dave Summerly outside. It was as if thoughts about my ex had summoned him. He was leaning against the café wall, his phone pressed to his ear, a notebook in his hand.

Presumably Troy Hansen was already inside the café, tucked in among the prettily dressed diners. Burbank on a weekday morning: TV meetings and tourists. I parked the Impala and tried to decide if courtesy called for a person to stop and chitchat with her ex-boyfriend or if it was acceptable to go right in to consult with the suspect said ex was shadowing.

While I was debating, Summerly saw me, ended his call, and walked over.

“You okay?” he asked as I exited the car. “Brogan told me about last night.”

I shrugged. “I’ll survive.”

“What about Baby?”

“She wasn’t there.”

“Brogan also said he gave you the tip about Troy and Daisy’s windfall,” Dave said.

“He seems like an okay guy, Brogan,” I said, not willing to admit that I hadn’t known about Troy’s money.

“He is.” Summerly nodded. “It’s good to have a boss who lets you run your own program. He’s a country boy from up north.” He seemed like he was considering something. Then he came closer to me, looking conspiratorial, and I smelled his aftershave. Familiar. Stirring. I kept my eyes on my feet. “I’m going to throw you a bone, Rhonda. I’ve got back-end data from Daisy’s socials. You said you wanted it. I’ll email you the files so you can take a look.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Because you had a hard night last night?” He shrugged. “Because you’re going to have a worse time today? Because I care about you and I think you deserve the full picture? Troy Hansen’s a killer, Rhonda, and being tangled up with him is dangerous for you and the kid. I really think you should ditch this case.”

I thought about the man I’d killed the night before.

Drop. That. Case.

“I don’t need your pity, Dave.” I shifted away, cheeks burning at my own hypocrisy. “I got this.”

He backed off.

But before he could turn away, I asked, “Why am I going to have a worse time today than last night? Last night was pretty bad.”

Something twisted on his face. “You haven’t seen the video?”

“What video?” I asked. Summerly thought for a moment, then looked in the café window.

“Like you said” — he shrugged and opened the door for me — “you got this.”

I found Troy Hansen hunched over at a corner table, a dark hoodie pulled up, sweating over the menu. When I sat in front of him, I realized he wasn’t reading the menu at all, just staring at it fixedly, his eyes blank.

“You know, don’t you,” he muttered.

“Yeah.” I gave a humorless laugh. “I know. I know about the deposit, at least. A quarter of a million dollars, Troy? Two months ago? When were you going to drop that little bombshell on me? That’s motive right there. Once that information gets out, the internet is going to have a field day with it. Wherever Nancy Grace is, she’ll be doing backflips.”

Troy looked startled. He lifted his head, the corners of his mouth turned down hard. I felt all the air leave my lungs.

“There’s more, isn’t there,” I said. “What’s this I hear about a video?”

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