“Maybe she rents, or has roommates.” Or maybe Uncle Phillip was telling the truth when he’d said he’d set her up in a little love nest. Sarah pushed the thought aside. It was vital she keep an open mind, not jump to conclusions. Perhaps Vicki had been involved with Phillip, but age might have muddled his mind. It was possible the “affair” with Vicki was fantasy rather than fact, especially given the rather far-fetched Kevin twist.

There wasn’t a doorbell, so she rapped on the wooden portion of the red door. Sunshine spilled through the rectangular glass pane on the top half of the door onto the old oak floors. Sarah couldn’t see anyone, but she could hear the sound of someone clanking pots or pans around in the kitchen. She knocked a little louder.

“Hold on,” a woman’s voice called. A few seconds later Vicki appeared through the arched doorway of the kitchen, a cigarette perched between her lips as she squinted out of the doorway through a cloud of smoke. Vicki took a couple of unsteady steps in the direction of the front door, then peered at them again, one hand rising to rest against the wall for balance. She was wearing a worn flannel nightgown and a coral fleece robe. She didn’t look like a woman bent on seduction, juggling two lovers. “Go away.” She took the cigarette out of her mouth and waved it at them wearily. “I’m not interested.”

“If we could just have one second of your time?”

“Look, lady, no disrespect, but I don’t open the door to anyone I don’t know.” Vicki turned away.

“Wait. Vicki, it’s me, Sarah Rainsford.”

Vicki paused, her back still to them, then slowly pivoted and approached the door. “You look different,” she said, eyeing Sarah through the glass.

Sarah’s hand rose self-consciously to her head. “I cut my hair. Dyed it.”

“You made a hash of it.”

“I know,” Sarah replied, running her fingers through it. “It’s a hot mess.”

The corner of Vicki’s mouth quirked up. She took another drag of her cigarette, watching Sarah through half-closed eyes. “I’m glad to see you are alive and well. By the way, I don’t work for Mr. Clarke anymore.”

Sarah nodded. “He told me. We came from his office. Can we come in for a minute?”

“Nope.”

“Mick can stay outside.”

“Like hell I will,” Mick murmured. Sarah gave him a discreet kick in the shins.

“It’s imperative I speak with you.”

“Not interested.” Vicki crossed her arms. “Whatever you have to say can be said on the other side of that door.”

“It’s personal.”

“Well, la-di-da. Spit it out, girl. I’m losing patience.”