I walked up the gravel path almost hidden by dripping leaves and evergreen bushes to Julia’s front door. As I lifted my hand to knock, it opened, and Kia Sharpe nearly walked straight into me.

I was surprised to see her—Nate had said Julia and Kia were dating, but she was a detective and Julia had been arrested. Wasn’t there some sort of conflict of interest there? And why would someone as sweet and fuzzy as Julia date a prickly bitch like Kia?

Kia trained her dark eyes on me. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her usual charming self.

It was no secret that we didn’t like each other. Nate had once suggested that I was jealous, but it wasn’t that. Kia was just hard to get along with. She was tiny, with something sharp and complicated coiled beneath the surface that somehow inflated her size.

“Julia texted me. I thought I’d stop by and see how she’s doing.”

Kia stepped outside, pulling the door shut but not latching it. She rubbed a hand over her square jaw and lowered her voice. “Julia’s been released on bail. She isn’t in a good place right now. Maybe come back another time?”

I let my gaze sweep Kia’s face. “I think we’re good enough friends that we can see each other at our worst,” I said sweetly.

I moved around her, rapping my knuckles on the door.

Julia didn’t answer, but Kia was watching me, her lips curled in distaste, her dark gaze making my skin itch with resentment. It was the same way Nate had looked at me earlier: suspicious. I turned away and pushed the door open.

“Julia?” I called.

The entry was dark, but the kitchen light was on at the end of the hallway. I shut the door and moved toward it. The thick oatmeal-colored carpet in the hallway cushioned my steps. To my right, a stairway led into darkness.

In the kitchen, Julia was bent over the island, a pile of pills and a crumbly line of powder in front of her.

“Julia!” I gasped. “What the hell are you doing?”

Julia jumped, a little gasp of surprise bursting from her mouth. She scooped up the pills and pushed them into her pocket. She looked exhausted and stressed, wearing a tattered old T-shirt and lumpy gray sweatpants. I felt overdressed in my cashmere turtleneck, tall brown boots, and infinity scarf.

“It’s not what you think,” she rushed to say.

“Really? Because I’m thinking you’re crushing up pills and snorting them. Does Kia know about this?”

“God, no!” Julia glanced over my shoulder, eyes wide. “She’s gone, right?”

“I think so.” I studied the white powder. “Let me guess. Oxy? So you were stealing the samples!”