he used to back when they were happy, before all this happened. He didn’t check a suitcase, he didn’t park a car. He’ll simply deplane and take a taxi home. With traffic at this time of day, she has maybe thirty more minutes until he walks through the door.
She pulls out the small piece of white paper she found on the floor of their closet three days before, and finally calls the number on the front of it.
“Sunshine Cab,” a dispatcher answers, halfway through the first ring. A man’s voice, clipped. “Where you headed?”
“Hi there, I was in one of your cabs the other day, and I think I left my wallet in it.” Marin speaks smoothly, the lie rolling off her tongue.
“Receipt number?”
Marin recites the eight-digit number stamped on the top right corner.
She hears typing in the background.
“That’s cab four-oh-two,” the dispatcher says, more to himself than to her. “One sec, I’m going to check if any lost articles were logged in that night.” More typing. “Nope, nothing.”
“Then I’m ninety-nine percent positive it’s still in the cab,” Marin says. “Is there any way you could put me in touch with the driver?”
“That’s not protocol,” the man says. “I can call him and ask about your missing item while I put you on hold. What’s your first name? And what does the wallet look like?”
“It’s um, Sadie.” Marin spits out the first name that comes to mind. “And the wallet is red with, um … a gold clasp.” It doesn’t matter—there’s no wallet, and even if there were, it isn’t Sadie’s.
“One sec.” The phone clicks, and soft rock plays over the line until the dispatcher is back. “Ma’am? The driver didn’t pick up. GPS shows him driving. Can I text him your number, tell him to call you when he’s finished his fare?”
“Yes, please.” Marin withholds a sigh of frustration. Why didn’t they do this in the first place? “Do you have a pen?”
She gives him her cell number and disconnects. She doesn’t know exactly what she’s looking for, but someone was in her house around nine p.m. Saturday night. She has a pretty good idea who it was, but if her theory is correct, Derek’s mistress would have gone missing sometime after she broke in. McKenzie wasn’t home when her roommate finished work at two a.m., which means the younger woman likely disappeared in that five-hour window.
The question was, why was she in their house? And what happened to her afterward?
The doorbell rings.
Frowning, Marin finishes her coffee and pads down the hallway to the front door. She peers through the peephole, letting out a gasp when she sees the distorted image of the person standing on the other side. She opens the door slowly, the blood draining from her face, and feels herself sway.
Vanessa Castro grabs her arm before she can fall.
“I haven’t found Sebastian,” the PI says. “You’re okay. Breathe.”
Marin straightens up, shaking, and takes a few seconds to gather herself. Phone calls are bad enough—Vanessa Castro’s name on her call display is always terrifying—but seeing the private investigator in person, she now knows, is a hundred times worse. Jesus Christ, she misses the days when Castro used to just email. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve learned some new information. I thought we should talk in person. It couldn’t wait.” She looks past Marin. “You alone?”
“For now. Come in.”
Marin stands aside as Castro enters. She rubs her stomach, grimacing at the acidic taste at the back of her throat. It must be a strange superpower to have, causing people indigestion at the mere sight of you. Glancing around at the pristine perfection of the house and noting Marin’s bare feet, the other woman removes her shoes, leaving them neatly by the door.
Marin leads her into the kitchen. “Something to drink?” she asks.
Castro’s eyes flicker to the coffee machine. “Oh, wow. Is that a Breville Oracle? I’ve always wanted one of these for the office, but I’d have to sell a kidney.”
Marin manages a small smile. “Make whatever you like.”
A couple of minutes later, they take a seat at the banquette. Castro takes a sip of her mochaccino, nods her approval at the taste, and starts speaking.
“As soon as I saw that McKenzie Li was missing, something started niggling at me,” Castro says, “and I couldn’t put my finger on it. It felt like there was some missed connection I wasn’t seeing.”
“I know that feeling.”
“So I started digging deeper into her background. Are you aware that she and Sal