Page 93 of Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbi 3)

And her surprise made me feel relieved. It seemed like I had gotten it right. “You were waiting for Noah to tell you I was dead before you let anyone see you. Right?”

She glanced toward the hallway, like she was hoping Noah would come in and rescue her.

I’d actually felt sorry for her a few days ago. I thought my husband hurt her too. But she was just…faking it? Faking my pain? Faking being me? “Were you working with Detective Torres?”

“Who?”

Her accent fell out of her mouth weird. My mouth. My mouth was never meant to talk with a Canadian accent. It grated on my nerves. “Detective Damien Torres. Were you working with him?”

“No. I literally have no idea who you’re talking about. I swear to God, Ensley, if you don’t untie me right now, you’re going to regret it.”

“What about A?”

“A?”

“A stands for Aiden. I know you were working with him.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any Aidens. Noah was going to make it painless, you know. But when he finds out about this? He’ll make your death so slow. Unless you untie me right now. I’ll tell him to kill you fast if you let me go.”

This woman was seriously bad at negotiating. “Are you T?” I asked, ignoring her.

She shook her head. “My name is Sophia.”

I swallowed hard. I know your name, you idiot! But I didn’t know if I believed her. She looked like she was probably a natural blonde. Her breasts were too big. Oh, and she had my fucking face and had slept with my husband. She was clearly an idiot.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? You can have your money back. It’s all here. In the basement. Just over there.” She gestured with her head behind her.

Wow. This bitch seriously thought I was going to willingly go in her basement while she tried to free herself? I’d already found my money underneath her bed. And her sorry didn’t cut it. She wasn’t sorry. She fucking stole my face. That wasn’t something you do on a drunken whim and later regret. It was a huge choice. Sleeping with my husband. Robbing me blind? She wasn’t sorry. “Last chance to tell me something I don’t know already. Or I’m going to gag you.” I lifted a piece of fabric. I didn’t necessarily need the answers from her. I still had another way of getting them.

She started shaking her head back and forth. “You’re going to regret this, Ensley. Boy are you going to regret this. Noah’s going to be here any second and…”

“Noah’s dead.”

Her jaw dropped. “No.” She shook her head. “He can’t be. How?”

“Dead is such a gross understatement. He was murdered actually.”

“What? You’re lying. He said you were a liar.”

I laughed. “I’m sure he said a lot of things about me. But I’m not lying. Noah’s been murdered. Haven’t you seen the news?”

“I don’t watch the news.”

Of course you don’t. What had Noah seen in this woman? Oh right, he saw me. Because she had my freaking face.

“Who did it?” Sophia asked.

Dumb question. “It’ll all be clear soon. I need to make a quick phone call. Do you mind being quiet?”

“Who killed him?” she said, her eyes staring daggers at me. They were one of the only things about her face that didn’t match mine. And they looked stupid with my face.

I shoved a piece of fabric into her mouth and tied it around the back of her head. She’d given me nothing. But I’d still get my answers.

I picked up Sophia’s phone from her purse and dialed Detective Torres’ cell number. I wasn’t sure if he’d have it back. Maybe it would be in evidence. Or maybe in the trash with his thumb. Who knew? But I wanted to talk to him. Dialing 9-1-1 didn’t seem personal enough. I stepped away from Sophia as she screamed against the gag. I doubted he’d be able to hear her. But better safe than sorry.

“Hello?” said a groggy voice.

Thank God. “Merry Christmas, Detective Torres.”

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