“Any luck?” Cal asked, joining me as I walked back toward our golf cart.
“Not much.” I filled him in on Jennifer’s story. “So far all I know is people aren’t fond of me and everyone goes to better parties than I do.”
“Cheer up. It’s not everyone who has their own stalker.” Cal threw an arm around my shoulders. It was a casual gesture, but it made me acutely aware of the heat coming off his skin.
“Gee. I feel much better now,” I countered, trying to decide whether I liked or disliked that heat.
Before I could come to any solid conclusions, he pulled away and hopped in the golf cart again. I joined him and held on to the white roll bar as he deftly maneuvered through the sets.
“Okay,” Cal said, “so Katie doesn’t own a computer-”
“So she says.”
“-and Jennifer was at Ashlee’s house.”
“So she says.”
“Any way to check that out?”
“I was just about to do that.” I grabbed my cell, quickly dialing Marco’s number. He picked it up on the third ring.
“Fernando’s salon, how may I help you?”
“Hey, Marco, it’s Tina. Listen, party at Ashlee Simpson’s two nights ago. Know anything about it?”
“Does Coach make handbags? Of course I do!”
“Were you there?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers.
“Well, no,” he conceded. “But my friend Maddie’s friend Dana’s boyfriend Ricky was. He’s in Ash’s latest video.”
“Perfect! I need to know if Jennifer Wood was at the party. Think you can find out?”
“I’m on it, dahling!”
“Love ya,” I said, doing a smooch into the phone before flipping it shut. Then I turned to Cal. “Alibi checking in motion.”
“Great. Who’s next on our list?”
I looked down at my watch.
“Uh, actually, I think I need to call it a day.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Got a hot date?”
I scoffed. “Hardly. I have to get home to my aunt.”
“The lady with the tracksuits?”
“You
“I was keeping an eye on you.”
“Through binoculars.”
“Yes.”
“Aimed at my windows.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head, indignation oozing from every pore. “That is such an invasion of privacy.”
“That’s my job,” he calmly replied, pulling the golf cart up to the lot and switching it out for the Hummer.
“Well, then your job sucks!”
“Says the girl who publicly trashes people for a living.”
“Hey, those people deserved to be trashed. You do stupid stuff, someone’s gonna point it out,” I replied, hoisting myself back into the truck.
He shot me a look. “Remind me to behave around you.”
“Yeah, well you can start by ditching the binoculars, buddy,” I shot back.
We rode the rest of the way home in silence. A long silence. It was rush hour in L.A. We were lucky to move an inch in twenty minutes. I was seriously jonesing for my Rebel when we got stuck behind a pileup on the 101. How easily I could have weaved between the cars and simply zipped my way home. Instead, I was stuck in a tank, getting dirty looks from every eco-friendly Prius driver who passed us.
By the time we pulled up to Oasis Terrace, I was tired, hungry, and really had to pee.
“Well, thanks for the ride,” I said, throwing open the door and dropping the two feet to the ground.
“I’ll walk you in.”
“You really don’t need to,” I protested.
“I’d feel better if I did.” And before I could stop him, Cal had beeped the car locked and was already following me up the front path.
“Look, I’m a big girl. I think I can walk myself to my front d-” But I trailed off as we approached the condo.
The door was open. The wood splintered near the handle as if someone had kicked the thing in. Hard.
I felt my heart jump into my throat, the breath suddenly knocked out of me as my mind latched on to one horrible thought.
Aunt Sue.
Chapter Seven
Cal reacted immediately. In an instant his gun was in his hands, held straight-armed out in front of him, his stance low and guarded, one hand holding me back as he slowly approached the door.
Not that I was going anywhere. In fact, my entire body felt frozen with dread, my feet suddenly encased in lead. My breath sped up as I watched Cal slowly push the door open and ease inside the condo.
God, if anything happened to Aunt Sue…
No. I didn’t even want to think about that. I shut my eyes, giving myself a mental big-girl talk, then followed a step behind Cal, adrenaline backing up in my chest at what horrible sight might greet me.
The kitchen was trashed. Cupboards open, pots and pans strewn all over the floor, broken glass in the sink, an entire box of spaghetti noodles dumped over the counters. And the living room hadn’t fared much better-coffee table overturned, vases smashed, sofa cushions slashed, the stuffing bulging grotesquely out their sides.
I watched as Cal slowly circled the room, then entered the bedroom on the left, Aunt Sue’s. I held my breath, tension building in every part of me.
“What in God’s name happened here?”
I jumped. And may have even peed my pants a little.
I spun around to find Aunt Sue standing in the doorway, her eyes bulging behind her bifocals.
“Oh, thank God!” I rushed her like a linebacker, squeezing her in a hug that had her making strangled little gurgling noises in the back of her throat. “You’re okay!”
“Of course I’m okay,” she mumbled, disentangling herself.
I sniffed back a tear of relief. “Where were you?”
“At Hattie’s. I was trying to get her lasagna recipe, but the old bat wouldn’t let it go. Said her mother brought it from the old country. Baloney. I know for a fact she got that sucker off the back of a Ragu jar.”
I couldn’t help it. I hugged her again.
“What happened here?” she asked, her gaze pinging around the room, unsure where to focus.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I think someone broke in.”
“Wait, what was that?” Aunt Sue asked. “That sound?”
I froze. But before I could answer her, Aunt Sue picked up a frying pan off the counter and lunged toward me, screaming like a banshee.
On instinct, I ducked.
Unfortunately, the guy behind me didn’t.
“I got him!” Aunt Sue yelled, a sickening crunch filling the apartment as her frying pan connected with his nose.
“No!” I grabbed Aunt Sue’s arm, pulling her back.
Cal grabbed his nose. “Sonofabitch!” he groaned.
“Oh, God, Aunt Sue, that’s not the intruder. That’s Cal.”
