Page 92 of Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbi 3)

He yawned.

“Keep it up, cutie.” I pulled down the hood on my black hoody to hide my identity as much as possible, slipped Detective Torres’ gun into the back of my black leggings, and grabbed Snuggle Muffins.

The plan was simple. Snuggle Muffins adorableness was going to distract Sophia. I placed Snuggle Muffins down next to the Amazon packages. “Stay,” I said. “Look cute. Be You.”

He wagged his tail.

Such a good dog. I rang the bell and then ran as fast as I could to the back of the house. Which took a stupid amount of time because the house was so freaking huge.

I pulled out a bobby pin and went to town on the back-door’s lock. I wasn’t an expert. But I’d been practicing picking locks in my cheap motel room. The lock clicked in record time. I smiled as I opened the door. No squeak, thanks to the brand new hinges. I tiptoed through the laundry room, down the hall, and peered toward the entranceway.

Sophia had her dirty hands all over my sweet Snuggle Muffins. It was one thing to touch my husband. And my money. But my dog? Hell no.

I tiptoed up behind her, looked both ways to make sure all the neighbors were still snug in their beds dreaming of sugar plums, and whacked her in the back of the head with my gun. Snuggle Muffins jumped out of her arms before she was able to fall on top of him.

“Good boy.” I patted his head and looked around the neighborhood again. The coast was clear. “You grab one ankle. I’ll grab the other.”

Snuggle Muffins sat down instead of assisting me. But it was okay. He’d already done his part. I pulled her unconscious body into the house and closed the door.

After making sure she was tied securely to a kitchen chair, I stared down at her. Just like I’d seen through her kitchen window the other day, her face wasn’t covered in bruises like the picture Detective Torres had shown me. Her face was perfectly fine. Exactly like mine. Almost. It was like staring into a mirror. The question was…why had she worn makeup that looked so much like bruises? I could only think of two possibilities. Either she wanted to trick the local police station with a great makeup job. Or Detective Torres was trying to trick me. I was banking on the first option. My plan depended on it.

“Let’s split up,” I said. “You search downstairs. I’ll search upstairs.” Snuggle Muffins and I went off in different directions to go find what we needed.

It didn’t take long for me to find a duffel bag stuffed with cash. Stupid Canadian cash, but cash just the same. At least it looked pretty.

And Snuggle Muffins was waiting for me downstairs with Sophia’s purse. Tucked inside her purse was both her ID and mine - the one she’d used to steal my money. The house was under my husband’s nam

e. She had my face. The only thing in the house hinting at her real identity was her old ID. What an idiot. I placed the wallet down on the counter.

I had everything I needed now. Except my answers. I slapped Sophia’s face, trying to wake her up. It was strange hitting myself. But I knew she wasn’t me. I slapped her again.

She slowly opened her eyes. The shock on her face was priceless. One of my favorite Christmas presents ever.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” I said and looked around the kitchen. There were Christmas decorations galore. Everything was so perfect. Overly perfect. She reminded me of Charlotte.

She stared at me, her eyes glued to my face. My face. Not hers.

“Ensley,” she said slowly.

“Oh good, you know who I am. So I can skip the question where I ask if you were sleeping with my husband.”

“He didn’t love you.” She tried to move, but I’d tied her up pretty tightly to the kitchen chair. “He never did.”

I thought she’d be at least a little regretful. I was kind of expecting an I’m sorry. Weren’t Canadians supposed to be super polite? “I’m not so sure. He at least loved me more than he loved you. Why else would he make you look like me?”

She glared at me. “You better untie me. Noah’s coming home this morning. We’re going to spend Christmas together. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Sounds like fun. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as you answer a few questions for me.”

She didn’t agree. But she didn’t disagree either.

“What happened to the bruises on your face?” I asked.

“You have no idea what’s going on,” she said.

“I think I do. I think you didn’t want the local police to know you looked like me until I’d been disposed of. Because…that would be suspicious if there were two of me walking around.”

She looked surprised.

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