Charity started the van. She knew it was no use arguing or making more of a stink in this gated community, so she hit the gas and pulled away from the curb just as Hank took a step back. Even so, she nearly clipped him and thought for a vengeful second how good that would feel, then pushed that troublesome thought away. She didn’t need to maim anyone or get herself into any kind of trouble or even draw attention to herself. The outburst in front of the neighbors had been a mistake. She still had business here in California, and she obviously would have to use a less-than-direct approach. Not let her emotions get the better of her.

As she drove past the town houses, their identical windows glowing from interior lights, she flipped on the wipers. As the blades swatted away the accumulation of raindrops on the windshield, she plotted her next move. She’d already done as much as she could through the Internet. Next up, she would interview Cissy Cahill Holt, someone who intimately knew all of the skeletons tucked away in the prestigious, if scandalous, Cahill family closets.

Smiling to herself, she passed by the gatehouse where she’d bullied her way past the guard, then turned into a tree-lined street, joining the thin flow of moving traffic, taillights glowing ahead of her, headlights streaming in the opposite direction.

As for Lenora Travers, Charity was certain that bitch would get hers. What goes around, comes around.

If not, Charity would make sure of it.

* * *

Rebecca beat back her rising panic.

So she was going to meet James, so what?

She’d forced this issue, had barged into his hospital room, and then sneaked into his house, only to be found out, but she wasn’t ready for this, the emotional onslaught of dealing with James and Megan, and the aftermath of their betrayal, and . . .

“Oh, hell,” she muttered, giving herself a quick mental slap. She’d started this, and she’d better damned well see it through. The nasty little thought that if she played her cards right and enlisted James’s help in locating Megan, he might realize that he’d gotten involved with the wrong sister crept through her mind.

“Stop!” she said aloud. Whatever she’d once thought she’d shared with James, it was over! O.V.E.R.

“Just keep reminding yourself of that,” she muttered as she looked in the mirror, snapping her hair into a messy bun. Her reflection looked haunted, as if she hadn’t slept in a week. Still, she ignored her makeup kit. “What you see is what you get.” Pulling on boots and a jacket, she grabbed her wallet and was out the door.