He grabbed my arm and dragged me out from behind the fender. “As real as the rest of your stories.” My sneakers squeaked against the concrete as I dug in my heels. “Don’t worry,” he said, clenching his teeth as I leveraged my weight against him. “I’ll tell your cop friend I don’t want to press charges. I’ll tell him we’re working it out between the three of us … you, me, and my lawyer. Guy can meet us down at the station right now. Once you’ve set things straight with the police, we’ll figure everything out.” He gripped my arm tightly with one hand as I shoved at him. His other reached into his pocket for his phone.
“You have no idea what’s going to happen if you do this!” I said, prying at his fingers as he scrolled through his contacts.
“I know exactly what’s going to happen. That detective friend of yours isn’t going to arrest you. I’m not an idiot; I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And Georgia’s going to swoop in and defend you, just like she always has.” He started dialing. A sliver of light sliced through a crack in the kitchen door behind him. “Let’s get this over with, Finn. It’s time to face up to what you’ve—”
A thud echoed through the garage as my favorite All-Clad pan bounced off the back of Steven’s head. His phone slipped from his hand as he fell sideways onto the concrete.
Vero bent over her knees, breathing hard. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” She nudged him with the toe of her shoe. His shallow breaths were warm on my cheek as I hovered over him, checking for a pulse. “Is he dead?” Vero asked.
“He’s fine.”
“Want me to hit him again?”
I glared at her as I picked up his phone, making sure he hadn’t had time to dial his attorney before I set it on the workbench. The drawers were all open, my new tools scattered over its surface. An assortment of blunt instruments and screwdrivers had been meticulously sorted, and the box cutter was open, the guts emptied of blades. “I can’t believe him. He was looking for proof that I’ve been making all this up.” The prowler Mrs. Haggerty had seen wasn’t one of Feliks’s men; it was Steven. Nick had found my door unlocked right after the gas leak at Steven’s house. Steven must have come snooping around and been scared off by the police. “He thinks I wrote that post on the forum. Meanwhile, EasyClean is still out there. And my only lead for figuring out who’s really trying to kill him just drove off in your car.”
Vero held up the pan. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I have an idea.”
I knew that tone. It was the same one she’d used when we sat on this very floor and came up with a plan to dispose of Harris Mickler. She’d been holding that same damn pan, and that same scheming gleam in her eye hadn’t led to anything good. “Put it down.”
“Hear me out,” she said, setting it aside. “EasyClean is a contract killer. She—or he,” Vero conceded, “is only after Steven for the money. And FedUp is only offering to pay one of you—whoever gets to Steven first. All we have to do is convince FedUp that the job is done. Then we claim the money. Once the money is claimed, EasyClean disappears.”
“And what happens when FedUp realizes Steven’s still alive?”
“Too late. By then, we have the cash. What’s FedUp going to do, report it to the cops? She can’t go to the police with this. What the hell would she say? I offered someone a hundred Gs to kill a guy, but I got hustled. Could you please find my money for me? No way!
“All we have to do is take a few proof-of-death photos and find a safe place to stash your ex for a couple of days while we contact FedUp and arrange to collect the money. When she shows up to pay us, we’ll know exactly who she is, and we can use that as leverage to make sure she never tries it again. By the time she figures out she’s been duped, the forum’s gone, EasyClean’s out of the picture, Steven is safe, and I have a brand-new car. That is nonnegotiable, by the way,” she said, leveling a chipped fingernail at me.
Steven’s mouth hung open, his face slack with sleep. I gnawed my lip. It wasn’t a terrible idea. “What if we get caught? Nick knows about the post on the forum. He knows someone is trying to kill Steven for money.”
“That’s the beauty of it. Don’t you see? Steven’s not dead,” she reminded me. “No body, no murder. No murder, no foul. At worst, you’re guilty of manipulating the situation to save your ex-husband’s life.”