Inside the bedroom, I turned on the light. This room was as much of a disaster as the living room. The suitcase that had been lying on the bed on my first visit was overturned on the floor, its guts scattered. The mattress and boxspring had parted ways and the comforter dangled forlornly to one side. Cosmetics were strewn over the dressing table; jars lay open, oozing and congealing. It was a disturbing sight, but it reminded me of the chaos Claudia carried with her wherever she went.

The black Prada dress was still lying over the back of the chair, a wraith waiting for another chance at life. I held it up to my shoulders, contemplating what it would look like on. It was a sleeveless knee-length sheath that had a long keyhole cutout that would hint at cleavage without being gaudy. I wondered who had picked the dress, and where it had been worn. The tie at the top of the keyhole was black leather, punctuated by silver rivulets, which gave it a gothic touch that made me guess it was my sister’s, unlike the pastels and prints I’d seen on my last visit. Melissa had said that Claudia had shown up at the art gallery in a beautiful dress and shoes. I contemplated my reflection for a moment before pulling off my sweater and jeans and shimmying into it. It fit perfectly, and I stared at myself in the mirror. I knew that my sister had long been jealous, wanting to claim anything I had as her own. But for a moment, I was envious of her. She’d slipped into the ether, leaving me lost and frantic with worry about what she was doing with Martin.

I reached for the closet door, filled with childish curiosity, but as I turned the knob my phone rang. I rooted through my bag for my cell, then flipped it open without checking the call display.

“Lil?” Jesse’s voice was urgent. “Where did you go runnin’ off to?”

“I’m at Claudia’s place,” I said. “Why aren’t you sleeping? What’s wrong?”

“You’re not gonna believe this. Guess who just turned up at my door?”

Before I could answer, I saw in the mirror that the closet door was swinging open, propelled by a pale hand. As I started to turn, the door hit the side of my head, and I fell to the floor.

CHAPTER 19