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I look up at her and see her uncorking a bottle of wine. I look to the left and see white lines on the table next to a mirror and a straw. My blood begins to boil. The damned bitch didn’t even bother to hide her drugs.
I don’t know why that infuriates me so much. It’s a bit hypocritical of me to care how she uses her drugs. But seeing the evidence right there makes me imagine a coke-fueled Clara attacking Lila, snarling as her fingers dig into her daughter’s throat.
“You shouldn’t mix coke and alcohol,” I say.
Clara stiffens and spins toward me, face white.
“It’s bad for your heart,” I finish.
She begins to shake slightly, staring at me with a look akin to terror. Then she charges me and shouts, “How dare you speak to me like that! Who the fuck do you think you are? You think just because Lila thought you were hot that you can tell me what to do in my own home? Get the fuck out of here! You know what? I’m calling your boss. I’m going to get you fired.”
She stalks back to her table and reaches for her phone. I don’t know what comes over me. Instead of stammering an apology and begging her not to do that, I say, “I wonder how people would react if they knew you mixed coke and champagne? Did you mix them when Lila died?”
She pauses with her hand over her phone. After a moment, she slowly sets the phone down and looks at me. Her lips are trembling, but her pupils are no longer dilated. Apparently, you really can scare someone sober.
“Get the fuck out,” she says softly.
I smile at her. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”
I leave, heart pounding, legs shaking. I might have just gotten myself fired. Hell, I might have just gotten myself killed.
But I feel even better than I did. Vivian walked into the shower with me and told me she couldn't wait.
I text Ahmed that there’s been a family emergency, and I have to take the morning off. I’ll make up the clients I miss on my next day off.
Then I drive straight toward the nearest police station.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Hey, Lena, got a minute?”
Lena wished wholeheartedly that she could tell Harris she didn’t, but unfortunately, she had a lot of minutes right now. She’d probably have a lot of minutes for the next several months thanks to the way she mouthed off to Captain Slater after the Kensington case was dropped.
One of these days, she'd learn not to be a hero.
“Sure, Harris. Why not? Come on in. What ya got for me?”
“It’s the pool boy from the Kensington Place. He wants to talk to you.”
Lena instantly came to full alertness. “Harlow?”
“The same.”
“Send him in.”
“You want me to sit in on it with you?”
“No, that’s okay. I want you focused on the drive-by in the Hills.”
“Sounds good.”
Harris looked relieved. Unlike Lena, he was happy to have Lila Kensington’s death taken off of their plate. Like Lena, he was less than overjoyed to be working a case with a wealthy victim and two wealthy suspects. Unlike Lena, he’d been able to let Lila’s death roll off of his back.
Lena had been kicking herself for not interviewing the pool boy again when she had the chance. Now, fate had given her a chance to remedy that mistake.
Nate Harlow walked in, his face an odd mixture of grim determination and powerful anxiety. Lena was sure suddenly that he’d had experience with the cops. She wondered why.
He lifted his right hand and absently scratched at the inside of his left elbow. Lena followed the movement and saw the tracks. Ah. That was why.
