Had he gone through her underwear drawer?
She briefly considered burning everything she owned and starting over.
“You okay?” Ryan regarded her with concern, but Aster had no idea how to answer. Her only real goal was to remain upright and breathing. Aiming for okay seemed like too big a reach.
“I think I’ll take a shower,” she said, heading for her bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable, order from room service if you want. I’ll be out in a bit.”
With the bedroom door shut, she tugged off her clothes, eager to rid herself of any physical traces of her time spent in jail. She removed her jeans and kicked them into the far corner. They’d once been her favorites, but no more. She was busy pulling off her T-shirt when she noticed someone had written on the mirror that hung over her dressing table.
From a distance, the words were a scrawled pink blur. Her heart racing, she made a tentative approach.
Someone had used her favorite Charlotte Tilbury lipstick and left the empty gold tube discarded on the dresser.
At the sound of her scream, Ryan barged inside her room and stared in confusion.
Aster gazed down at herself. In her panic, she’d forgotten she’d stripped down to her bra and underpants, but there was no time for false modesty now.
Wordlessly, she pointed at the mirror. She had no idea what to make of it, much less who might’ve done it. There was no telling how many people had been there while she’d been in jail. Even Ira had a key that allowed him to come and go as he pleased.
It was a rhyme—like the ones in the threatening notes Layla had received. Only instead of a cartoon cat, someone had drawn a circle of broken hearts all around it.
Aster heaved a tremulous breath and began to read.
Your friend wouldn’t play
So you all had to pay
Now I’m counting on you
To see this thing through
As a show of good faith
Take a look in your safe
If you abide by my rule
All will be cool
Where you ultimately land
Now rests in your hands.
The second she finished, Aster raced for the closet and punched in the code to unlock the safe. When the door sprang open, she was met with a spray of confetti.
Undeterred, she rummaged through it. As bits of pink cellophane hearts spilled to the floor, she removed her jewelry, an envelope filled with cash, her laptop and iPad. So far all her valuables were exactly as she’d left them.
When she reached the bottom, she found a plain manila envelope that hadn’t been there last time she’d checked.
She met Ryan’s gaze, then slipped her hand inside, retrieving a DVD with a note taped to its side.
Yes, it’s exactly what you think
The sight of it probably brought you to the brink
There is only one more out there
As you might’ve guessed, only I know where
If you do as I say
There’ll be no price to pay
There’s an artist you need to meet
She lives on a flower-named street
She knows Madison’s secret
So don’t let her keep it
We both want the same thing
For justice to ring
Don’t share this with Javen or your mates
Or you’ll all meet some very sorry fates.
Aster stood unsteadily, her mind a whirl of all the horrible possibilities. She didn’t have to watch the DVD to know what it contained. She’d been secretly filmed while she was in a blackout state the night Madison went missing. She’d performed an embarrassingly awkward striptease that would no doubt set the internet aflame if it were ever released.
The thought of that was bad enough, but Aster’s real fear was for her family. Javen had been threatened, and if her parents ever learned about the tape . . .
She hugged herself at the waist and shivered. She couldn’t bear to think how they’d react. Though they’d definitely disown her, of that she was sure.
It was hard to be around them knowing how much she’d shamed them, so she’d done what she could to distance herself. On her last visit, they’d surprised her with their show of support. But when they tried to talk her into accepting a plea bargain, she’d left in despair.
Aster was adamant about not pleading guilty to a crime she hadn’t committed. She’d take her chances with a jury. But now, with only two weeks left until trial, she sometimes wondered if she’d made the wrong choice.
If they didn’t find Madison soon, there was a good chance she’d go away for the rest of her life.
She was so busy spiraling into the abyss of her thoughts, she’d lost track of what Ryan was saying.
“You know, the ones in Madison’s house—near the stairs?”
Aster blinked and tried to catch up. But she was too upset to follow the thread. “I’m sorry, what?”
“The photographs. The ones with the old couch and the gun on the coffee table?”
Aster paused as she fought to recall them in detail. “Layla thought they seemed odd,” she said. “Like they might be a clue pointing to Madison’s past.” She shook the note in her hand. “Do you think that’s what this is about? The artist on the flower-named street who knows Madison’s secrets?”
Ryan shrugged, his face setting in a way that made him look older. “Do you remember the name of the artist?”
“Layla might.” Aster frowned. “But I won’t contact her. I’m not taking any chances.”
“I’ll look into it while you shower.” Gently, he removed the DVD and the note from her hand and propelled her toward the bathroom.
“But you’re not going to contact Layla, right?” Aster gave him a searching look. “I’m worried about even you knowing. The note made it clear that—”
Before she could finish, Ryan said, “Trust me. And when you’re done with your shower, I want you to pack a bag.”
He met her gaze, and Aster, suddenly remembering she was half-naked, was overcome with embarrassment. But Ryan was a gentleman and kept his focus firmly on her face.
“Until we figure out who’s behind this, you’re staying with me. It’s not safe for you here.”
She was about
