“Mission Beach,” Samuels called back over his shoulder. “They found Keisha’s car in a parking lot.”
They all stood silent, still staring after Samuels, when Angelica appeared at the arched entryway, something concealed in her hand. “Are the detectives still here?”
“He left. What have you got?” Isaiah asked.
Angelica opened her palm, letting a white pom-pom keychain dangle from her fingers, and Mia’s heart somersaulted in her chest. Disbelief washed over her, and she struggled to contain a gasp.
Alma was looking at it too, her face ashen. “Is that… Celeste’s?”
It couldn’t be.
“Where did you get that?” Alma shoved past Mia and grabbed the keyring, turning it over in her hand.
“I found it—in her room.” Angelica glared at Mia.
“What the hell are you doing with my daughter’s keys?”
All eyes turned on her.
Her head went light, and her fingers numb. She forced out a breath. There was no way. It simply wasn’t possible… “Alma, no. It’s not what you think.”
Of course, Mia had had Celeste’s keys in her possession, but those were buried way up in the Torrey Pines State Reserve. This set had to be another look-a-like. Unless… had someone seen her?
Tears began to stream down Alma’s cheeks. “Why are you torturing me? This is her keyring. It looks exactly the same.”
“It isn’t,” Mia said softly. But she, too, would like to know why someone was doing this—and who. Keisha was the obvious choice since she was the one who’d seen her take the keys, but how had she gotten them and gained entry into the house? Angelica was the one claiming to have found them in Mia’s room. Besides, it was beginning to seem like Angelica wanted Mia to steer clear of her family.
“There’s an easy way to find out if these are really hers. Celeste has a house key.” Baxter approached Alma and took the keychain from her, then went to the door. “This looks like it might be the right one.”
The front doorknob made a scraping sound as it turned.
Alma’s knees buckled, and Mia rushed toward her, but Angelica got there first and pulled her mother into her arms. “Get out of this house!”
Isaiah held up his hand. “Hang on. We should give Mia a chance to explain.”
Mia would gladly have run, but Baxter physically blocked the door. “Damn right she’ll explain. She’s not going anywhere until she tells us what’s going on—then she can get the hell out.”
Mia backed against the wall, and slid slowly down, until her bottom hit the cold marble floor. “Celeste’s keyring fell out of her purse on Friday night at the Piano Man. I picked it up. I should’ve returned it, but I didn’t because I was mad about not being invited along with the others. Then, after Celeste went missing, I was too afraid to admit what I’d done. But I don’t know how Angelica got them. I…” she trailed off. How would it look if she said she’d buried them? “I didn’t bring them into this house. I swear.”
“Like you didn’t hang Celeste’s cardigan in your closet,” Alma’s tears still flowed as she choked out the words. “You understand what’s happened here? My baby walked home because she didn’t have her keys, and now a serial killer has taken my child because you don’t fit in.”
Mia’s chin came up. What she’d done was wrong. She knew that, but deep down she also knew that what happened to Celeste wasn’t her fault. Celeste made her own decision to walk home. Jane offered her a ride. She could’ve taken a cab. And neither Mia nor Celeste had any way to know a serial killer would be lurking in an alley, waiting to strike.
If a serial killer had been lurking in an alley waiting to strike.
Samuels was obviously still looking at people close to Celeste.
In any case, Mia needed to start telling the whole truth.
“I think we should all go back in the study and sit down. There’s more I need to explain.” If Keisha had really made a backup tape from that night at the restaurant, the killer could be seen on it. It wasn’t enough for Mia to confess about the keys, she had to tell them about the blackmail too.
Thirty-Eight
A knock sounded at the door.
As Mia watched from the window of her room, Baxter’s Range Rover and Angelica’s Mercedes rolled out of the driveway. After Mia had finished with her story, Baxter had headed out to tend to an urgent business matter, and Angelica had declared she would take Alma over to her place until Mia could gather her things and vacate the house—they’d given her two hours, and left her alone with Isaiah, presumably to stand guard and prevent any further perfidy on her part.
The knock sounded again, this time louder and more insistent.
Mia let the drapes fall back into place and crossed the room.
Isaiah entered without invitation and flopped down onto her carefully made bed. “Took you long enough.”
“I needed a minute.”
“Yeah, that was rough in there.” He raked a hand through his hair. “In my opinion, though, screwing up once in a while makes you human. And at least, in the end, you told the truth.”
“Thanks. I think.” Isaiah’s demeanor often changed from one minute to the next, and she never knew if he was being sincere or not. But right now she wasn’t in the mood for company. She had to pack, and over the course of the last few days, something had changed inside her. Yes, she was scared, but more than that, she was sick to death of being toyed with.
And she was worried about Keisha. “I know it’s only been a short time, but Keisha not returning calls, the police finding her car—that doesn’t seem good to me.”
“They found it in a parking lot—where people park cars. She’s probably just ditching work for the beach. Come sit with me.”
She moved to the bed and sat down, leaving a safe space between them.
He turned his body toward her, half sitting, half reclining. “What Keisha
