up to the next floor. The second I was out of Sebastian’s presence, I felt a sigh of relief sweep over me. Supernatural or not, that guy had an unnerving effect that made me jealous of Marco sitting in the nice, safe car outside. The sooner we found Becca and got out of there, the better.
At the top of the stairs, the landing gave way to another series of rooms. Fewer people were mingling up here than in the lower part of the house, and Dana and I quickly made our way through the first three rooms with no sign of our MIA redhead, before pausing outside of what looked like a master bedroom.
“Should we go in?” Dana whispered, looking over her shoulder.
“I guess we should. I mean, no stone unturned.”
“You wanna go first?”
“Nope.”
Dana sighed. “Okay,” she said with her hand on the doorknob, “but I swear to God, if I find a coffin in there…”
I elbowed her in the ribs. “You have been spending way too much time with Marco.” Though, I’ll admit I let out a small sigh of relief when we saw a king sized bed under a paisley-printed quilt stare back at us.
“See. He’s just a guy who likes to wear fangs,” I said, much more confidently than I felt.
“Uh huh,” Dana said, moving toward the closet. “And apparently women’s clothes?” She held up a tiny, black dress with a one-shoulder strap.
Which was an exact match for the one Becca had been wearing the night of the murder.
I felt my heart skip a beat, landing somewhere in my throat. “Ohmigod, that’s Becca’s dress!”
I almost hated to look, but…
I leaned in close, squinting at the dark fabric for any sign of Alexa’s blood.
Dana did the same. “I don’t see anything on it,” she finally concluded.
I nodded. “Me neither. Still, what’s it doing in here?”
Dana shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s pretty solid evidence that Sebastian knows more than he’s telling us.”
“Agreed. And it’s time we found out what,” I decided, taking the dress from Dana and making for the study with the enormous fireplace again.
Only we never quite made it.
We got as far as the bottom of the stairs when a woman in a long, flowing maxi-dress darted from the study, slamming squarely into both Dana and I.
“Uhn,” I said, feeling the wind get knocked out of me. Which, honestly, didn’t take much. The trip down the stairs had been enough to bring me to half-wind already.
“Hey, watch it. She’s pregnant!” Dana shouted at the woman.
She turned around only briefly to acknowledge our presence before continuing her flight.
But it was enough for me to recognize her face and the distinct strands of red hair peeking out from a wig fallen askew in her haste.
Becca.
Chapter Eleven
“Becca, wait!” I called, though her retreating back didn’t slow down a bit. If anything, she picked up pace, hauling it through the crowd toward the back of the house at lightening speeds.
“I’ve got her,” Dana said, darting after her, pushing her way through the crowd.
I did my best to waddle after them, but the fact was a) I wasn’t nearly the gym devotee that Dana as and b) carrying an extra fifteen pounds around kinda put a damper on my efforts. No way was I going to catch up.
I watched the two black wigs bob toward the back of the house, then out the back doors, where I lost them. I pushed my way through the party-goers, hitting the pair of French doors just in time to see two figures in heels and black dresses sprinting across an expanse of manicured lawn behind the house, before they disappeared into a grove of trees. Crap. The heels on these boots were so not made for tramping across a soggy lawn.
“What’s going on out there?” a voice said, suddenly at my ear.
I jumped, letting out a little Chihuahua-style yip and spun around to find myself nose-to-nose with Sebastian.
I took one giant step backward.
“Uh, nothing. Just, um, getting a little fresh air.”
He cocked his head to the side, his icy eyes pinning me to the spot. “I thought I saw your friend jogging across my lawn just now.”
I bit my lip. “Did you?” I squeaked out.
He nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Well, that’s Dana. Any excuse for a little exercise.” The second the words left my lips I mentally cringed at the lameness of my lying skills.
Luckily, Sebastian let it go.
Unluckily, he took a step forward, uncomfortably closing the gap between us again.
“You know, I don’t remember inviting the two of you to this party,” he slowly drawled.
I swallowed loudly, my throat suddenly bone dry. “I’ll forgive the oversight.”
“Hmmm.” He narrowed his eyes at me, assessing.
I swallowed again, cleared my throat, and firmly told myself he was just some guy in contacts and a pair of plastic teeth.
“Exactly what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Looking for Becca,” I found myself confessing under his steady gaze.
“And did you find her?”
I nodded. “Dana’s with her right now,” I said, hoping it was the truth. “And,” I added, putting on my bravest face, “we found something that belongs to Becca, too.”
He slowly raised one eyebrow. “Did you, now?”
“Yes. Her dress. The one she was wearing the night Alexa died.”
“Interesting.” If the information unnerved him, he didn’t show it, his face as impassive as always.
“Want to know where we found it?” I asked, my confidence edging higher.
“I’m all ears.”
“Your bedroom.”
His jaw flinched, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as his shoulders tightened. It was an almost imperceptible physical shift, but his entire demeanor suddenly went from mildly amused to somewhere between menacing and downright dangerous.
“Another place I don’t believe you were invited to,” he responded, his voice an evenly modulated growl.
I licked my lips. “What was the dress doing there?”
But instead of answering me, he wrapped a hand around my upper arm. “I think it’s time for you to go,” he said, steering me out the door.
“Did Becca come here after the club?” I persisted. “Did she tell you what happened? Did she tell you Alexa was dead? Did she need your help cleaning up the murder?”
“You ask a lot of questions, Miss Springer,” he said, leading me around the side of the building, back toward the circular drive.
“You don’t answer very many,” I shot back.
“No. I don’t.”
“And it’s Mrs., by the way,” I corrected him.
I’m married.”
“Lucky man,” he mumbled, though I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not I detected a note of sarcasm.
“Look, we’re just trying to find out what happened to Alexa,” I said as the rows of cars came back into view. I could vaguely make out Marco’s form slouched in the passenger seat of Dana’s Mustang. “If you’re innocent, then you have nothing to hide,” I reasoned.
