Page 58 of Brutal Ice

“You’re sleeping with the artistic director. Maybe your boyfriend wants her out of the way so that you can shine. That could very well be the reason why.” He sent her a little salute. “If you think of anything you might want to suddenly share with me because, oh, say, you realize you can’t trust your boyfriend?—”

“He’s not,” she cut in to say. Micah wasn’t her boyfriend. Their relationship—no, it wasn’t a relationship. They just hooked up. He kept their hook-ups secret. Except…

I told Violet about him.

And now the cop knew. Crazy how secrets could spread.

“Well, if you realize you can’t trust your not boyfriend, reach out to me. I’d love to hear anything else you might have to say about this case.”

Her stomach twisted. “I don’t know anything else.”

“Not about the coffin? About the light falling?” he pushed.

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Not a single detail? Not even about Violet’s abduction?”

Do not change expression. “How would I know anything about that?”

“Guess you wouldn’t.” A shrug of one broad shoulder. “Never hurts to check, though, right?”

She didn’t like the detective or his questions. So what if he looked a bit too much like Shemar Moore, that hot actor from the Criminal Minds show that Violet used to watch all the time? She was always trying to get me to watch that show with her. We’d curl up on Violet’s ratty couch and watch after a grueling day. She’d said watching killers get captured relaxed her. Even if they were just fictional ones.

After Violet’s abduction, Simone was willing to bet that her friend didn’t still love to watch a show about sadistic killers. Because Violet has changed. That night changed her.

The detective was watching Simone too closely. Time to get away from him before she slipped up. “I need to collect my things. Get home. I’m exhausted.”

“Sure. Be safe out there. You never know who is waiting in the dark.” He strolled away.

She slammed her door closed. Locked it. Her fingers were trembling. Every part of her trembled.

Simone rushed back to her dressing table. She yanked open the top drawer and hauled out her little bottle of pills. She popped two and swallowed them down without water. Her shaking fingers tossed the bottle back into her drawer, and her gaze lit on the wig.

A wig that turned her into Violet.

Into Snow White.

She pulled out the wig. Stared at her reflection in the mirror. Lately, she hadn’t liked herself very much. Mostly…

When I look at Violet, I don’t like myself. Guilt could do that to you. It could tie you up and have you squirming. It could make you hate yourself.

Simone pulled the dark wig into place. Tucked her blond locks beneath it. She stared into the mirror. You need red lipstick. Violet wears red lipstick for the show.

She picked up a tube of lipstick and spread it over her lips. Her reflection stared back at her.

A tear slid down her cheek.

If she let her gaze unfocus…maybe I can be her. “I’m sorry,” Simone whispered. The guilt was eating her alive. And she wanted to say those words to Violet so badly.

Was Violet still at the theater? Or had she already left with the new boyfriend—Royal?

When Micah had burst into her dressing room, he hadn’t told Simone that Violet had left. Maybe she was still there. Maybe they could talk.

Maybe…

She shot to her feet. Ran for the door. She flipped the lock and wrenched the door open. There was no sign of the detective, and she was damn glad he wasn’t lurking around. Her feet thudded over the old wood flooring in the hallway. She snaked around a corner, took a left, and saw Violet’s room ahead. She hurried straight for the door. Her hand curled around the knob, and she threw the door open. Simone rushed inside with a confession ready on her lips.

The room was dark. Empty.

---