Page 58 of Sinful Beauty

I should give her the code for the door. But this room prevents me from doing so. Of course, if I come clean with her, with a more aware perspective, she may recall something that rings with suspicion.

A quick internet search shows Dr. Dolsten’s vehicular accident. As expected, the article focuses more on the traffic accident than the occupant.

In my phone contact list, I search for Ryan Wolfgang. He resides in Santa Barbara, which is a couple of hours north of Los Angeles and this accident, but he maintains contacts with the local authorities throughout California.

“This is Ryan.”

“Hi Ryan. Tristan here. Do you have a minute?”

“Fire away.”

“There was a vehicular accident in Los Angeles involving William Salo’s former boss. He no longer works for Lumina, and he was in the United States on business. Can you look into it?”

“Send me the details. Should I alert Sloane or Sage Watson?”

“We need more information. But it smacks of someone cleaning up loose ends.”

“Copy that. Let me get some people on this and I’ll get back to you.”

“Much appreciated, Ryan.”

Who are these people that are willing to kill? And is it greed, or is more at stake for them? Whatever their motivation, it’s clear they’re dangerous.

I won’t bring Lucia into this. Whatever rumors she might have heard won’t be worth the risk to her.

I stare at the list of the deceased. What are the connections?

Chapter22

Lucia

It’s a long walk to Tristan’s place, and by the time I arrive at his door, my arm muscles burn from holding the tote back in front of me. I press the button to alert Tristan that I’m outside, but a kindly older gentleman and his wife open the door for me, inviting me in as they exit. I’ve seen them before, and I’m certain they recognize me.

Tristan’s private elevator opens into the foyer. The light from the foyer casts a warm glow over the open living area. A clock on the oven gleams green. I listen, but hear nothing.

“Tristan?”

I toe off my shoes in the foyer, and pad through the space.

“Tristan?”

I set the groceries on the kitchen counter and listen intently.

Didn’t he hear the buzzer?

On my way to the stairs, light beneath a door catches my attention. Ah, he’s in his office.

I stride quickly to the door to let him know I let myself in and he can continue working while I fix dinner.

From the kitchen, my mobile rings. In the quiet, the ring jars loudly. On instinct, I rush toward the sound. It’s library quiet in Tristan’s home and the ring feels offensive.

Behind me, the office door creaks and slams.

I spin again, and Tristan’s shadow creeps across the floor.

“How’d you get in?” By the time I’ve shut off the mobile and stood, he towers over me.

“A lovely?—”

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