skin. 'She was an interesting subject. She was like this . . . enigma.'

'You followed her?'

Simone nodded.

'Where did you follow her?' I said.

'Not many places. She didn't leave the property much. Usually Scott drove whenever she wanted to go somewhere.'

'Tell me where she went.'

Simone let out a huge breath and shifted her gaze from her hands to my face. 'She went to that old cemetery, okay?'

'And you took her picture there?'

'Bad pictures. I couldn't get close and I'm not good with the telephoto lens yet.'

I noticed that my heart had sped up, that I could feel my throat pulsing. 'What did you do with those pictures, Simone?' I didn't add, Sell them to your new friend with the six-pack abs and the pretty-boy face?

'I think I threw them away,' she said. 'They were awful. After I printed a few straight from the camera and saw them, I didn't even load them on my computer— they were that bad.'

'You think you threw them away? Come on, Simone. You're a very smart girl. You can do better than that.'

She held up her hands. 'Okay, okay.'

Ah, here it comes, I thought. The Dugan connection to this family. A very bad connection for Dugan, though. One that led to his death.

But Simone said, 'I lost them. Lost my camera, too. That's why I don't even have any copies to look at and learn from my mistakes.'

'What? I saw you with a camera at the hospital the other day.'

'That's my new camera. I replaced the one I lost with the exact same model, got the money from Uncle Elliott. And you can't tell my mother. She doesn't think I can make it as a photojournalist—which is what I want to do. If she found out I was stupid enough to lose my camera, she'd say, 'Simone wants to be a photographer and she can't even keep track of her equipment.' '

'Were any other photos missing?' I asked.

Simone thought for a moment. 'Just the ones on the camera. There were more of JoLynn I hadn't downloaded or printed out. No matter how spoiled rotten my relatives all are, they make for some great shots, and I had a few pics of them, too. I'm always catching little arguments, Scott and Matthew getting into it over a poker game, Uncle Elliott's face getting dark as night when someone doesn't hop when he says hop, my mother being, well, my mother. She's the only one who doesn't understand that I have to do this.'

'And none of these photos ended up on a disc or on your computer?'

'No,' she said.

How I wished I had a photo of Dugan with me. Maybe Simone saw him hanging around. Could be that when he tampered with JoLynn's car, he somehow found the camera and the pictures and took them. 'Did you lose the camera and printed-out photos of JoLynn at the same time?'

'I'm not sure. Since they were all fuzzy and terrible, I never wanted to see them again. As for the camera, well, my parents and I went to U.T. for a visit and when I was unpacking once we came home, I realized I didn't have my camera case. I called the hotel, but nothing from our suite had been turned in by the maid service. It's an expensive camera, so I'm sure someone in Austin is learning how to use it as we speak.'

'I hate to ask, but could your mother have taken that camera without you knowing? She had access. And she doesn't like the idea of you becoming a photographer, right?'

Simone's jaw nearly dropped. 'Oh man, I never thought of that. I was a 'real pisser,' as my dad said, on that trip. Oh my God. Maybe she was trying to teach me a lesson.'

'Did she seem surprised when you were using a camera again as if nothing had happened? I mean, if she took it away and then you show up with the same—'

'I get what you're saying. No. She wasn't surprised. She seemed as annoyed as ever, but she knew Uncle Elliott would be the person I'd go to, and she wouldn't argue with anything he bought me.'

My mind was racing now. But I couldn't share my suspicions about Simone's mother possibly being in on the murder attempt. Still, I was wondering if Adele did a little detective work of her own, found Dugan and showed him the pictures of JoLynn, maybe asked him how he felt about his ex-girlfriend living with rich folks. Maybe she merely wanted Dugan to take JoLynn far, far away. Or maybe she asked him or paid him to tamper with the car. That would be a very bad deal for this kid if her mother did something like that.

'What are you thinking, Abby?' Simone asked.

'I'm trying to make sense of this,' I said. 'When was the trip to U.T.?'

'About a month ago. Why?'

'Just considering other scenarios of how your camera disappeared. Maybe a student saw it and stole it. Anyway, thank you for coming clean. You've been a huge help.' I didn't even want to look her in the eye now. What if her mother did hire Dugan to kill JoLynn? And maybe, when he asked for more money, she felt she had to get rid of him.

'You won't talk to my mother about this camera thing?' Simone said. 'Maybe one day she'll show up and hand me the one she took and we'll laugh about it. At least that's my dream if I live that long.'

'Not to worry. I don't think she and I run in the same circles.' I hated not being straight with her, hated what might lie ahead if her mother was arrested. I'd seen firsthand how quickly Adele had taken charge when the security guard disappeared. Now I wondered if she'd hired the impostor herself and covered it up by helping her irate brother, Elliott, find a new man for the job. After all, the impostor was at the hospital for a reason, perhaps hired to finish the job Adele first gave to Kent Dugan.

'You'll keep this between us?' Simone was saying.

'That's what I want to do,' I said with a smile. Now I was resorting to semantics.

Simone hugged me and then thanked me profusely. And I felt like a rat. I told her I could find my way out.

I left the house, wondering if I should leave Simone with the house unlocked. Who could find this place? I thought, heading for my Camry. No one but the family probably knows it's even here.

Boy, was I wrong.

Pine needles must have muffled the footsteps of the man who grabbed me and again I found myself in an oppressive and painful bear hug. But unlike before, I'd never heard him coming.

Then I smelled chloroform and thought, Not this again.

29

The man didn't put chloroform over my mouth and nose, just stifled me with a big, strong hand. I was dragged away from the driveway into the trees and out of sight. Surely Adele and Leopold were coming home soon. . . . Or maybe Simone was watching from her window. Right. The window on the other side of the house.

The man said, 'I can use the drug again or you can come with us willingly. But no calling for help.'

I was being given an option? Gee, how accommodating. 'No chloroform,' I mumbled through his fingers.

And then another guy appeared from the woods, he, too, as silent as a snake. I recognized him right away. Joe Johnson. Mr. Fake Security Guard. First thing he did was stuff a wad of something in my mouth and secure it with a bandanna tied around my mouth and head. Then assailant number one—I was betting I'd recognize him, too, when I got a look—gripped my elbows and put my hands in front of me so the faker could apply a pair of lovely little plastic cuffs. I hadn't had this much fun since Aunt Caroline's last dinner party. What did these people want?

I didn't see a weapon of any kind. They used brute force and the threat of chloroform. Very weird.

'Your keys?' Joe Johnson said.

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