"Sure. You came here to talk to Zach about his sister," she said, nodding. "How's she doing?"
"Not so great. Someone tried to murder her today."
Vanessa gasped, "What? That can’t be true!"
"Vanessa, I'm going to be straight with you. I need to find Zach."
"He isn't here right now."
"Has he been here?"
She gave an uncomfortable glance over her shoulder, then shook her head. "He's not working today," she said.
"Are you sure?"
She tilted her head. "I think I'd notice if he were here," she said in a bored tone.
I leaned in, placing both my hands on the countertop. "This is serious, Vanessa. Zach attacked his own sister."
"He would never! He’s looked after her all his life. She's... delicate. She can’t cope without him!"
"There's proof."
"He really wouldn't. I know they've had their differences and she was being a bitch before the accident, but they're all each other has."
"I'm sure he told you that. But you know what he's capable of."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Zach is dangerous and you know it."
"He's my boyfriend."
"And you think that protects you from him? I mean, it should but do you really think that? His life is about to get much worse and he'll have no problem getting rid of you if it suits him."
Vanessa opened her mouth and shut it again. Then said, "What do you mean?"
"He's going to be arrested as the prime suspect in the bank robbery."
"I don't know what you're talking about! I think you should leave!"
"And so are you, Vanessa. This is your chance to get ahead of the rap. Do you know where he is? Does he have somewhere to hide? Did he borrow your car?"
She paled. "I still don't know what you're talking about," she said, quieter now.
"Then listen. Zach coordinated a bank heist and put together a crew. One of them was a woman — you — and one of the other members is dead. Thomas Mackleton. You knew him, didn't you?" I asked on a hunch.
"Tommy is dead?" she whispered.
"Shot point blank."
"But that's... that's..."
"It’s possible and it's very real. And I think Zach did it. He's tying up loose ends before he gets out of town and you might turn out to be one of them."
"No, he would never..." She glanced behind her again.
I followed her gaze, settling on the large holdall sitting on one side of the open door behind her.
"Are you going somewhere?" I asked.
"We're traveling," she said, her voice weaker. "We're heading up to a cabin I rented..."
"Did you give notice here?"
"Yeah."
"So no one would ever know if you just vanished," I said as gently as I could while trying to impress on her the perilous nature of her next steps. "No employer will expect your return. Friends think you're traveling. Your family..."
"All gone," she said softly. "Tommy was the only one I had left."
"Oh," I said, making the connection. "Thomas Mackleton was your half-brother. He called you Nessa. You came back for him."
"Yeah." Tears prickled at her lower lids.
"Anything could happen to you up there. He shot Tommy in the head. Tommy never saw it coming."
"No, no..."
"Vanessa, where is Zach?" I glanced at the holdall again, having seen one just like it in Zach's apartment. I dropped my voice. "Here's here, isn't he?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. I was also waving my hands under the desk, hoping Maddox and Farid could see my motions. "Just blink if he is," I continued softly. "You're already implicated. Don't make things any worse for yourself. Get ahead of this."
Vanessa stared at me. The fight dropped from her face. She blinked.
"It's time to go," said Zach stepping out from the backroom, a gun drawn and pointed at us. "C'mon, honey."
Vanessa stepped backwards, her hands out from her sides, her fingers splayed to show she was unarmed. She stared hard at me, her lower lip shaking. Beyond that, I saw anger. She had no idea her brother was dead.
"Don't pay any attention to her, she's just making trouble. We're getting out of here and leaving this stupid town behind us," he said, coming to stand behind her.
"What about your sister?" I asked.
"What about her?" scoffed Zach.
"You didn't even go to her funeral," I said, guessing. A good guess, I thought. I wasn't totally sure but I saw the painted fingertips in the photo Annie sent me. Only the paint was on the fingertips of the Sophie who now lay in a hospital bed. She wasn't a copycat;