Page 28 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

The waitress came over, asked if I wanted coffee, returned with a mug. Once she left, Troy lifted his head and looked at me. “We won the lottery,” he said. “Daisy buys a lottery ticket every week. She’s done it since college. You know what Daisy’s like, right? You’ve been looking into her life. You know Daisy’s an eternal optimist.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” I repeated.

“Because it’s motive. Like you said.” He squirmed in his seat. “I wanted you to help me.”

“When people find out about this,” I said, “they’re going to see a sociopath who won the lottery and began dreaming of a new life. A life without his spouse.”

“They’re going to find out about the box too.” He wrung his hands, looking at the windows at the front of the café. I followed his gaze and saw Dave Summerly and two plainclothes cops out there. “The police are gonna have to arrest me soon or people will riot.”

“Troy.” I took a deep breath, then put my lawyer voice on, prepared for a hard sell. “Maybe you getting put away just for a little while is not a completely bad thing.”

He turned to me, his pupils huge.

“Out here, you’re damaging your reputation minute by minute, day by day,” I said. “Even when you’re not bragging about your dick size on camera — ”

“I didn’t — ”

“ — any and all footage of you looks terrible. You stand awkwardly. You walk awkwardly. It’s not fair, but people interpret that stuff and see what they want to see. They see guilt. None of this is going to help you if you end up going to trial. At least if you’re in the county jail, you’ll be away from the public eye.”

“I can’t go to prison,” Troy said. “I won’t.”

“Listen, county is not — ”

He shot up from his seat, knocking the table with his thighs and making my coffee slosh over the rim of my cup.

“I feel sick,” he said. He certainly looked it. His lips were white as paper and his left eye was twitching. “I’ll be right back.”

Troy headed to the café’s restroom. I watched Summerly’s wide back leaning against the front of the café and thought about county jail, about how someone as weird as Troy Hansen would fare there. A weird vibe could be useful in prison. If Troy kept his mouth shut, he might be avoided, an unknown quantity in the midst of more obvious prey. Because there would always be prey. The prison system was jammed full of the vulnerable, the young, and the naive. I mopped up my spilled coffee, mentally rehearsing what I would tell Troy to prepare him for his first-ever incarceration, when his words suddenly echoed in my ears as clearly as if they were bouncing off a canyon wall.

I can’t go to prison.

I won’t.

I hurried to the restroom at the rear of the café and found what I’d thought I’d find — a locked door and a horrific silence in response to my frantic knocking.

I turned and saw the back door of the café just past the restroom. I went out the door, glanced back up at the bathroom window, saw it pushed all the way up on its rusty hinges.

I eased back into the café as calmly as I could and called Baby.

“We have a problem,” I said. “Troy just did the worst possible thing an innocent man can do.”

“What? What did he do?”

“He ran.”

CHAPTER30

BABY MET ME INthe parking lot of a strip mall in Toluca Lake. I pulled in just long enough for her to jump out of her Uber and into my car. I’d been circling the blocks, spiraling wider and wider, looking for Troy. He’d ditched his truck and, with it, our tracker and the police bugs on the vehicle.

“Did Troy get himself another burner phone?” Baby asked by way of greeting.

“He must have,” I said. I was sweating; my heart was hammering. I forced myself not to drive erratically, but my foot was heavy on the accelerator. “The burner I gave him wasn’t a smartphone, but Troy knew about the footage of himself in the supermarket going viral. He must have gotten a new phone.”

“If that’s true,” Baby said, “why didn’t he tell you?”

“Maybe he’s been thinking of running since day one.”

“Stupid.” Baby’s jaw clenched. “You never run. Everybody knows that. This is going to look terrible.”

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