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“What about Sig?”

“Masters? That moron? You think what? He exchanged the guns? Even he isn’t that stupid. He couldn’t switch batteries and get away with it, much less firearms.” Ineesha rolled her expressive eyes. “The man’s a twit. IQ of fourteen, I think. Well . . . okay, maybe he’s just dumb enough to exchange the weapon, real for fake, and shoot, almost kill Lucinda Rinaldi.” She snorted through her nose. “No, that doesn’t make a helluva lot of sense, but I suppose that’s not surprising, coming from you.” Breathing hard, she sent Cassie a pitying look. “Again, what is it you want from me?”Advertisement

“I’m just trying to find out what happened to my sister.”

“Oh, save me. Like you care what happened to her! The way I heard it she was after your husband.” A little smirk.

“I don’t think so.”

“Whatever.”

“So what do you think happened?”

“How many times do I have to say, ‘I don’t know’?” She grabbed her water bottle from a cup holder, twisted off the lid without breaking stride and took a long swallow. “Your sister didn’t show up that day, right? Have you ever wondered about that? Like maybe she knew something might happen?”

Cassie didn’t reply. Of course she had.

“Okay, so I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ ” She put the bottle back in its holder just as the landscape on her monitor flattened out again. “Look, this is over. I said more than I should. My lawyer told me not to talk to anyone and that includes you.” Visibly irritated, Ineesha turned off the machine, grabbed her water bottle and towel, and stalked toward the center area where there was a wide desk manned by several trainers and reception people.

Rather than risking making a scene and being thrown out on her ear, Cassie, frustrated and discouraged, feeling as if she was getting nowhere, made her way between two rows of treadmills, some occupied by runners, others standing idle.

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She hadn’t learned much more than that Ineesha was definitely testy, but it was no use to try and stick around. Ineesha, if she did know something, wasn’t going to crack, and Cassie doubted if she did have any idea what had happened to Allie anyway.

But while she was in LA, Cassie wanted to talk to as many people as possible, hopefully glean some information about Allie, and talking to Ineesha had seemed important. She had been in charge of the prop room and cupboard. And somewhere, despite “protocol,” the weapons had been exchanged. On Ineesha’s watch. No wonder she was so defensive. Did she know more than she was saying?

Someone knew something. Cassie only hoped she could locate that someone who might eventually lead her to Allie.

Unless she’s already dead.

A chill raced down her spine and her thoughts started to turn down a desperate, painful path, but she fought the fear that it could be true and turned her thinking around. For now.

She left the gym and headed home, parking near the bougainvillea hedge again. After stopping at the main house and picking up a new set of keys from Doug, she hauled her purse, mail, and a bag of fish tacos she’d picked up on her way home, to her apartment. As she was unlocking the door, her cell phone chimed with a text. The key stuck a little, then the lock twisted open.

Hallelujah!

Inside she dropped her things on the counter, then checked her messages.

The first was from Brandon McNary:

“I’m in LA. Heard you were in town. Looking for Allie. Thought we could combine forces to find her. Let’s talk over drinks.”

“As if,” she said. Was it a little weird that Brandon was now back in Southern California? Of course not. He lived here, worked here, but still she found it a little unsettling that she’d seen him in Portland and now he was trying to contact her again in Los Angeles.

But throwing in with Brandon seemed a bad idea. As much as she wanted to locate her sister, she didn’t think Brandon could help. She hit the delete button. Almost immediately she second-guessed herself. Brandon might be able to help. He had been close to Allie. But they’d already had that conversation. “Forget it,” she said after a moment of indecision, then scrolled to the next message from Laura Merrick: pqdm.com