So Pretty It Hurts

“A lot of these model chicks are all fucked up about their eating. I brought out a can of Reddiwip once with Tory, just for a little fun, and she practically went insane. I think she thought the calories were gonna be absorbed through her nipples.”

“But what about Devon?” I asked, trying not to let a picture form in my mind of Tory and Tommy in the sack with a bunch of sex props. “Was it more than just counting calories?”

“She never did anything on my watch. But from what I hear, it’d been a problem when she first started out. She was younger then—and she had a shitload of pressure on her. Everybody wanted her—she was the biggest model in the world.”

“Do you know any reason Devon would have been scared this weekend?”

“Scared? What are you talking about?” He stepped closer, and in the harsh light I saw how deep the grooves ran in his skin and the pockmarks from adolescent acne. He had the kind of looks only groupies and models seemed to love.

“I caught her crying in the woods around midday yesterday,” I explained. “She told me she was frightened— but she didn’t say why.”

He shrugged, wrestled a butane lighter and pack of Salems out of his jeans pocket, and fired up another cigarette.

“In case you didn’t notice, Devon was a bit of a mind fucker,” he said, after shooting a razor-thin stream of smoke out of the corner of his mouth. “Maybe she was just playing with you.”

“It didn’t seem that—”

“I can’t help you, then. Like I said, there was still this connection between us, but it’s not like we talked anymore.”

“I had the feeling this weekend that she might want to restart the relationship—she seemed to be flirting with you.”

He snorted, as if I had no clue what I was talking about.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he said. “Devon was a master mind fucker. She liked playing with me, just like she liked playing with everyone else. Why’re you so interested, anyway? Tory said you’re a reporter for one of those tabloid magazines. Shouldn’t you be trying to track down some story about a woman giving birth to wolves?”

“I work for a different type of rag than that.”

“You good at what you do? You look like you’d be good at what you do.” He ran his eyes up and down my body, letting them rest on my poncho. If I wasn’t careful, he was going to suggest we hunt down a squeeze bottle of Hershey’s syrup and spend the afternoon together.

I was thinking it might be just the right moment to take my leave, especially since it had begun to rain again—or make that sleet. Icy slivers of rain were suddenly bearing down on us, stinging my face. As I started to say good-bye, I heard a door nearby bang open. When I turned around, Tory was standing there, wearing only a pale yellow top and black leather leggings. She looked about as friendly as a fer-de-lance.

“You’re standing out here, talking to her?” she screeched.

“I’m having a fucking cigarette,” he snapped.

“But you said you were coming back in five minutes.”

“Why don’t you just chill, Tory.”

“I need you to be with me right now,” she said, her teeth chattering from the cold. “I’m going out of my mind in this place.”

“You’re gonna need Botox if you keep scrunching your face up that way. Why don’t you go back to the room, and I’ll be there in a minute.”

“So you can be with her? You wanna fuck her like you wanted to fuck Devon?”

“How could I want anyone else when you’re so freakin’ brilliant in the sack?”

“I hate you,” she screamed with a hard, fast shake of her head. In the minute she’d been standing outside, her hair had become coated with sleet, turning it into a shiny black helmet. I decided it was about time to extricate myself from this lover’s skirmish, and besides, my feet were now soaked.

Before I could move, Tory turned and stormed back into the barn. Tommy watched the door slam and then moved closer to me, his body dripping wet.

“Why don’t we finish this later,” he said, though I wasn’t sure what exactly we were supposed to finish.

Rather than trail behind them into the foyer and possibly end up in the midst of round two, I descended the short set of wooden steps on the side of the deck and made my way toward the small barn. I pulled the hood of my poncho tighter, since the sleet was practically coming down in sheets now. As I looked up I saw Scott emerge from the direction of the outbuildings. He didn’t look like a happy camper.

“Anything up?” I called out.

“More problems with the damn road. I’ve got a guy out there now, and Ralph is feeling better, so he’s gonna help. The problem is, it’s starting to freeze again. We’ve got a layer of ice forming.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Nope. Sandy’s putting out lunch now. It should be ready any minute.”

He hurried off, and I fought my way through the sleet, headed back to my room. Detective Ray was holding guard outside Devon’s door, sitting on the old straight-backed chair I’d seen at the desk in her room. The door was closed, and I assumed the crime scene personnel had departed.

“How’s the work going?”

“It’s going,” was all he said.

“Is Detective Collinson still here?”

“He’s returned to town with the coroner.”

Before entering my room, I tapped on Jessie’s door. She had creases on her left cheek that indicated she’d just finished napping.

“Where the heck have you been?” she asked. “You look like you’ve been out reporting on a hurricane.”

“I was just checking out the scene outside.” I relayed the bad news that Scott had told me about the road— and told her there was a chance that we might be spending another night on the property.

“Oh, great—though at least that keeps us at the center of the story. I’m on my way back to resume eavesdropping.”

I told her that I’d be up shortly, but as she started to leave I reached out and touched her arm.

“One more thing, Jess,” I said. I told her about the missing set of keys.

“That’s rich,” she said ruefully. “It’s getting more like a horror movie every second.”

Back in my room I checked the Internet to see how the word was spreading about Devon’s death. CNN and People were running several quotes from Cap, which implied he’d been in touch with them directly. CNN and the New York Post also had some very general quotes from Collinson, who said the cause of death had not yet been determined and was under investigation. And TMZ had a mix of quotes from fashionista types paying tribute, and gossipmongers speculating about the cause of death. One theory was a drug overdose.

As I stood up, I felt suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. I’d had only a couple of hours of sleep the night before and it was now catching up with me. I fell on the bed, telling myself I would grab just a short catnap.

When I woke, my head was throbbing and my mouth was gritty. Staggering toward the bathroom, I checked my watch and was surprised to see the time. 1:14. I’d been asleep for over an hour. I needed to hustle back to the great room and see what was going on.

I opened my door and peeked down the hall. Detective Ray was no longer standing guard, but I saw that Devon’s door had been padlocked.

I couldn’t believe my eyes as I passed through the passageway. In the gloomy afternoon light the trees glistened, their snow-covered branches now coated in a top layer of ice. Though it was absolutely enchanting out, it meant none of us was probably going anywhere anytime soon.

Jessie and Laura were the only ones around. Laura was clearing away dishes on the counter, and Jessie had her feet up on one of the sofas, reading a book.

“How are you holding up, Laura?” I asked, coming up to her.

“Okay, I guess.” She didn’t make eye contact with me.

“After we realized Devon was dead and you went to get Scott, you never went back into Devon’s room, did