luxurious texture is the reason I bought it for her—and her scent is just the way I remember. Flowery and musky, so sweet it makes me dizzy.
With a hiss, I shove Colleen out of my arms.
I didn’t buy the robe for her, but for Joanna. Colleen stands before me, arms hanging limp at her sides, her lips parted.
How easy it’d been to forget, to think about Joanna, to wish even for a moment that she were the one in my arms. Colleen’s expression fades from happiness to confusion as she backs away from me, cinching the robe’s belt around her waist.
“What the hell’s gotten into you? If you don’t want to sleep with me tonight, that’s fine, but you don’t have to push me away. I was just trying to—”
Damn it. “Colleen, that’s not it.”
“I hear what you’re saying, but I’m throwing myself at you, and there’s disgust in your eyes right now. Disgust, Michael. That’s not exactly the emotion I was hoping to see tonight.”
“Colleen…”
“Don’t,” she bites out. I think she’s crying. And now she won’t even look at me. “Today has been the longest day I can remember. I just want it to be over.”
When she slips into bed beside me minutes later, she faces the opposite direction. She has to say something or I’m not going to get a minute of sleep tonight.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask finally, keeping my voice low.
She sighs. “Is that all you think they’re worth?”
RACHAEL
My phone buzzes against the bedside table, dragging me from the deepest sleep I’ve had in, God, I don’t know how long. Fumbling, I put on my glasses, hold the phone over my face, and read a series of texts from Lora that I must’ve missed while I was out.
OMG, Rachael, wake up.
I heard it’s a woman. Wake up!!
Sitting upright and swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I rub the sleep out of my eyes and struggle to piece together what she’s talking about. Lora regularly starts texts with OMG. She’s probably about to spoil the ending to The Walking Dead.
Look outside. A circus! Dead body in the grove!
Fear jolts through me as I reread the words. It’s a good thing Travis has already left for work. He hates it when I hop on the phone first thing in the morning. When Lora picks up, she’s out of breath. Borderline hysterical.
“About time, Sleeping Beauty,” she shouts. “Get to your front window. You’re not going to believe it. Nothing ever happens here. Nothing! Now this. It’s like a CSI episode, and we have a front row seat—look!”
Clutching the sheet to cover my breasts, I race down the hall and stare at the grove of gnarled cypress trees not a hundred feet away. On any given day, Cypress Street is quiet, the sidewalk often empty—save for a few dog walkers, stay-at-home mothers strolling with their infants, or tide poolers using the Bluff Trail to trek to the beach below. Today though, Lora’s right: it is a circus. Neighbors cluster on each side of the street, whispering and pointing. Yellow police tape flutters from a tree near the cliff to one on the opposite side of the trail. Police buzz like bees circling a hive, talking to reporters and neighbors and waving traffic along.
The pavement is still wet from last night’s rainstorm, and the forest floor across the street has turned to mud. The sky is still flat gray—which is not a surprise for the coast. Looks like it might rain again.
Traffic—there’s something I’ve never seen in Point Reina. Everyone in the area is desperate to see what’s going on. A line of Mercedes and BMWs weaves along the narrow road, and—oh, look, there’s Amanda Patel, turning the corner in her brand-new, fire-engine-red Jaguar. I try to duck out of sight, but she spots me in the window, flashes a