“Shot herself?” Sophia recoiled, took a step back. This was horrible. “Suicide?”

“That’s what Zena thought, but the police don’t seem to think so because they have a picture of her, someone had it on their phone and sent it to the newspaper.”

“What?” Sophia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. A couple, clinging to each other, walked out of the bar to the front door and out into the night.

“I know, I know,” Donna was saying. “Zena overheard a couple of the cops talking or something. She’s not supposed to know.” Donna looked over her shoulder, checked the desk area. “Anyway, the picture was supposedly taken after she died, so they think the whole suicide thing was staged.”

“Oh . . . wow.” Sophia didn’t realize it, but she was slowly shaking her head, denying everything Donna was saying. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know. And it gets worse.” Donna’s voice softened to the barest of whispers. Sophia could barely hear her over the conversation spilling out of the bar.

“How can it get worse, if she’s dead?” Sophia asked, horrified.

“Zena said there was a digital photo of her . . . naked.” Donna pulled a tube of lip gloss from her pocket and ran it over her lips. “A very sexual shot with a gun, and it looked like the pistol that killed her!”

“So maybe her boyfriend took the picture?” Sophia said.

“Did she have a boyfriend?” Donna asked. “Someone who would get off on her in sexy poses?”

“Don’t know.” Sophia had to step out of the way when a couple in matching peacoats swept in through the doors and headed into the bar. “I never heard that she did, but I didn’t pay attention.”

But Donna was shaking her head and recapping the lip gloss. “Me, neither. I was always just concerned that she show up on time . . . Oh, I have to run.” Donna scurried back to the desk, where an elderly man was approaching from the elevator.

“Wow,” Sophia said, her thoughts on Willow. Dead? Suicide? It didn’t make sense. She cinched the belt of her coat around her, then pulled her knit cap from her pocket and tucked her hair into it before heading outside, where the night was sharp and cold, a bit of snow falling. It was odd to think Willow had offed herself, but Sophia couldn’t let herself get too wrapped up in it. After all, she’d barely known the weirdo.

What did bother her was that James had stood her up to check on Willow. And he’d been with Rebecca.

That would have to end, she thought, as she slid into the frigid interior of Julia’s car and crammed her key into the ignition. And end now.

* * *