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“You’re staying here, though,” I told Chloe, and at once her slate-colored eyes flashed with rebellious fire.
“I have a right to hear what they have to say,” she said. “Jack was my boyfriend, you know.”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I reminded her gently, and she seemed to deflate a little.
“Okay, fine,” she said. “But still, I deserve to know what really happened to him. And don’t try telling me it isn’t safe, because if you’re willing to go in there when you’re about to pop at any second, I don’t want to hear it.”
A quick glance at my husband told me he was doing his best to hold back a smile.
And Chloe had a point.
“All right,” I said. “But you’ll let Calvin and me do most of the talking…and you’ll have your phone in hand, ready to call 9-1-1, just in case.”
This must have seemed a simple enough accommodation to make, because she didn’t try to argue but only nodded.
“I’m good with that.”
There didn’t seem to be much point in delaying…especially since it was now inching toward eleven, which I knew was the check-out time for Mavis’s Airbnbs. Quite possibly, Max and Leslie had already left to make the long drive back to Southern California, and we’d have to figure out some other way to confront them with my suspicions.
Exactly how, I had no idea. There was no way I could travel to L.A. in my condition, and this wasn’t exactly the sort of meeting that would have the same impact if conducted via Zoom.
None of us said much on the drive over to their vacation rental. My mind kept playing with scenarios, trying to figure out which one would be worse…to find them already gone, or to have to face them after all.
Calvin pulled up to the curb in front of the Airbnb and parked. At once, Chloe opened her door and got out, but I waited for my husband to come around and help me down from the passenger seat. Not for the first time, I reflected how good it would feel to have this over with, to not feel as if my body was completely alien to me. Yes, all the baby books I’d read had said it would still feel forever altered once I’d given birth, but still, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about toppling over like a bowling pin at an inopportune moment.
With Calvin’s hand in mine and Chloe tagging along only a foot or so behind, we made our way to the front door. He knocked, and I almost held my breath, wondering whether anyone was going to answer it after all.
But then Leslie Speros opened the door, and almost at once, her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the three of us standing outside on the porch.
However, her tone wasn’t quite as hostile as I’d been fearing. “Can I help you with something? We were just about to leave.”
“I’m sorry to catch you at the last minute like this,” I said. “But there was something Chloe and I needed to talk to you about.”
One of Leslie’s brows lifted, and I couldn’t help noticing the way she glanced over at Calvin, as if trying to figure out why he was there if this was a matter that only involved my sister and me.
“My car’s in the shop, so Calvin offered to drive,” I said.
It seemed that explanation was enough to convince her, because she stepped out of the way and let us inside. However, I noticed how her hand shook as she reached out to close the door, and I had a feeling she wasn’t quite as casual as she wanted the rest of us to believe.
Several weekender bags sat near the couch, so it seemed she’d been telling the truth when she’d informed us that she and her husband were about to head back to California. In fact, Max Speros came into the living room right then, a frown creasing his forehead as he took in his unexpected visitors.
But, like his wife, he sounded cordial enough as he said, “Good morning. Is there something we can help you with?”
“Selena said she and Chloe had something they needed to talk to us about.”
Max’s gaze flicked over to my sister and then back to me. “Oh?”
This was going to be a lot harder than I’d thought, especially with how normal they were both acting. Was it possible that I’d made a hideous mistake and that they were both perfectly innocent?
But then Max’s aura emerged, like a monsoon thundercloud welling up from the dry desert floor, grayish black, shot through with yellowish bursts like foul lightning.
That wasn’t the aura of an innocent man.
No, I thought as my stomach twisted in disgust, it was one that revealed how truly evil he was.
“I know you killed your son,” I said clearly, and Leslie’s hand went to her mouth.
Something about the gesture was a little too practiced, though, a little too theatrical. In that moment — especially when her own bruised aura emerged for a split second, only to disappear again — I knew she was just as guilty as her husband.
