Page 25 of Happily Never After

“Negative energy, of course. I didn’t want to be rude, Rachel, but I believe you could really benefit from using some. Why don’t you give this spray a try? It should help you let go of all that anger you’re holding on to.”

Alice held out a small spray bottle. Rachel didn’t take it.

“I’m not holding onto any anger. Except perhaps at being in this car,” she muttered, turning to glance out the window. She began tapping at her phone, as though she was going to call a Lyft in the middle of the highway.

Claire bit her lip. Things were getting a bit dicey. She didn’t need the extra stress minutes before confronting the man who tried to kill her. Should she intervene? On the other hand, Rachel had represented Barney and publicly slandered her. Maybe she deserved to sweat in a car under Alice’s watchful eye for a minute.

Claire dug through her purse for her phone. For once, no texts from Brad. She tucked it away, and her hand brushed against her victim impact statement in its sheet protector. Her chest tightened.

In the rearview mirror, Alice’s face screwed up in concentration. Oh boy. That face either meant that she was trying to remember an obscure recipe for a tincture, or a member of the dead had come for a chat.

Alice set her baby blue eyes on Rachel. “He forgives you, you know. For the man from the convention. What was his name?” She raised her chin and paused, seemingly listening hard. “Skip.”

Luke slammed on the brakes. They all lurched forward. “Sorry,” he said after a moment. He lifted his foot from the pedal, and the car continued traveling west toward the courthouse. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror.

Skip? Who the hell was Skip? Claire glanced in the back seat. Rachel was as white as a ghost.

“Who told you that?” The pathologically cool and collected Rachel had a slight quaver in her voice. Alice tended to have that effect on people.

Alice placed the spray bottle on her lap. “He did. George. Lovely man.”

Claire gripped Luke’s thigh. George was Luke’s deceased dad’s name as well as his brother’s.

“That’s impossible,” Rachel uttered.

“Nothing’s impossible, Rachel. Like I said, he wants you to know that he forgives you.” Alice paused and squinted again. She laughed, a strange sound in the tense atmosphere. “And the necklace you’ve been looking for is in a box marked ‘George’s Junk’ in your basement. Next to the rocking horse you call Elvis.”

Luke pulled to a stop at a red light. He and Claire exchanged a look. The courthouse was a couple of blocks ahead. The world’s most awkward car ride was nearly at an end.

Rachel released her seat belt. “I believe I’ll walk the rest of the way.” She popped open the door and shimmied between their car and the one behind them. Stepping onto the sidewalk, she marched toward the courthouse as if she was going to battle.

“Ah, at least she took the spray,” Alice said with a smile. “Poor dear.”

Claire made a mental note to grill Luke about the Skip situation as soon as the hearing was over. Did Rachel have an affair? Was that why Luke’s parents had divorced? She had never thought to ask, and Luke wasn’t exactly forthcoming with his family drama.

The disastrous car ride was so distracting that she had nearly forgotten why they were traveling in the first place. The courthouse rose out of the fog. Evil waited inside, and she was going to have to face it head-on today. Even at this distance, the press was clearly visible crawling over the courthouse steps.

As soon as they turned into the parking lot, her stomach churned. A crowd of reporters crushed around them, their interest in Claire seemingly reinvigorated by the sentencing hearing. Her hand was halfway to her nose, primed for alternate nostril breathing, when she stopped and clenched it into a fist. Although the windows were tinted, they were definitely not dark enough to prevent the press from seeing her doing weird yoga stuff.

When Luke opened the driver’s side door, the noise was deafening. Alice reached forward from the back seat and gripped Claire’s shoulder. She seemed to be muttering a prayer under her breath. Luke opened Alice’s door, then Claire’s.

He and her mother flanked Claire like a pair of soldiers. She ducked her head as the paparazzi swarmed, shouting questionsfrom every direction. Raindrops plopped heavily onto her head and shoulders. She reached into her bag and pulled out her travel umbrella. There was barely enough room in front of her to open it. Where was Sawyer, her personal security detail, when she needed him?

“Out of the way. FBI.”

The crowd parted down the middle. Jack Hartley’s salt-and-pepper hair was molded perfectly into place as he marched over to the car.

“Tanya’s inside already, but she wants to see you before the hearing. Ready?” he asked. Claire nodded and accepted the arm he held out. Luke took her other one, and the three of them surged through the crowd toward the courthouse. Claire glanced over her shoulder to be sure her mother hadn’t been swallowed up by the press. Alice trailed behind, strategically banging her elbows into the more aggressive camera wielders.

A couple of feet in, the path widened dramatically in front of them.

“Move,” a commanding female voice called. One of the reporters in front of Claire sidestepped and revealed one of her former couples—Tyler, a disabled army veteran, and his new fiancée, Ericka. They both held riot shields. Tyler’s prosthetic legs clicked as he walked toward Claire.

“Claire,” Tyler said, smiling at her before taking a position in front of her.

“Tyler! What are you?—”

“Back off, you big lutz,” a New Jersey accent interrupted from somewhere nearby.

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