Holly left the Woodson home with a spark in her stomach. She’d known there was more going on. She needed corroboration about the fighting, and the fear, and the next stop was Ivy Brookes. The woman who was by all appearances the Montclairs’ real best friend.

She decided to let the conversation move organically, like it had with Phyllis Woodson.

In comparison to the sumptuous Woodson home, Ivy Brookes’s condo was spartan, practically empty. Not at all homey or welcoming. It almost looked like a sterile hotel room. It was also diagonally down the street from the Montclairs as the crow flies, though the entrance was on Fourth Avenue.

Brookes waved her in, saw her taking in the living room. “I know, isn’t it awful? I travel so much I’ve never seen the need to decorate. Coffee?”

“Water is fine, thanks.”

Ivy handed over a bottle of Fiji water, took a thick white mug half-full of murky brown liquid for herself, and gestured to the sterile couch. Holly took a seat.

“So, Officer Graham. What can I help you with?”

“I’m going to cut to the chase, Ms. Brookes. What do you think has happened to Sutton Montclair?”

“Honestly? As much as I hate to say this, I think it all got to be too much for her and she probably took her own life. I expect you’ll find her body in a hotel room somewhere. She was on the knife’s edge lately.”

“How so?”

She sipped the coffee, her look faraway, as if she were remembering something awful. “Seriously? The woman lost her baby, her career, and was precariously close to losing her husband, all in a short year time frame. Things weren’t going according to plan.”

“How did you and Sutton meet?”

Ivy’s face broke into a smile. “She bought me a coffee. It was pouring rain, one of those drenching downpours. I dashed from the parking lot into Starbucks, but when I got in there, realized I’d left my wallet in my car. I plopped down at a table to wait for the rain to let up, and I happened to sit next to her. She asked me what was wrong, bought me a latte, and we started to chat. I was surprised when she said she was thirty-five. She looked so much younger than that. I thought she was my age. For a while, at least. Then all hell broke loose and her world fell apart. Not that you can blame her.”

“Phyllis Woodson seems to think Sutton is exceptionally strong and self-reliant.”

Ivy scoffed. “A hamster would seem strong and self-reliant to Filly. I’ve never met someone so utterly without a backbone.”

“Wow. You’re actually friends?”