“We’re talking millions,” Julia reminded her, trying to remain calm. “Tens of millions, maybe hundreds of millions. Who knows? But more money than we would ever see in our lifetimes.” Julia softened her voice a little, tried to be placating. “Listen. We’re just getting back what’s rightfully ours. Remember? We were cut out when that whack job of a mother gave us up for adoption. Didn’t even let our father know we existed.”

“And now he’s dead,” Sophia supplied, as if she were sad at the thought.

Well, who knew if their old man had really kicked off, but Julia had spun that story well enough that Sophia had bought it. And really, as far as Julia was concerned, whoever had been the sperm donor who had impregnated Deidre, he didn’t exist, not to her. She never wanted to know who he was, so she planned to just keep him where he should be: dead in the ground.

Sophia set her near-empty glass in the sink, where a couple of other dirtied plastic dollar-store plates sat. What the fuck? Couldn’t she find the dishwasher? That was the difference between them. Sophia had grown up somewhat pampered, if ignored by her parents, and Julia had been forced to work hard, to take care of her younger siblings. It was like she’d been an unpaid maid—a slave! So still, after all these years, after finally finding her sister, she was the damned workhorse, had made the plans, secured this apartment, bought the car with money she’d saved working as a barista in a mom-and-pop coffee joint, scrabbling for every damned dime she’d saved.

“What about Megan Travers?” Sophia asked, finally getting to what, Julia suspected, was really bothering her. “Is she dead too?”

Julia let out a disgusted sigh. “Of course not.”

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“You said you kidnapped her. The cops found her car at that cabin, but she wasn’t there. I read where they’re going to take cadaver dogs up there. Are they going to find her? Buried on the property? Stuffed in a basement?”

“This is crazy!” Julia snapped, her anger surfacing. What the hell was wrong with Sophia? “You’ve been watching too many made-for-TV ‘true crime’ shows.”

“Prove it,” her sister said again stubbornly.

“What? You want a picture of her?”

“Not unless it’s date-stamped.” Sophia was thinking now, and that was dangerous. “The plan was to kidnap her, right? Not harm her. So, what happens after we get James to marry me—us—huh? We can’t just let her free after keeping her prisoner. She’ll rat us out!”

“Not if we cut her in. And trust me, Megan Travers wants a share.”

“She’s in love with James!”

“She’s in love with his money. Like us.”

Sophia bit her lip. “It’s more to me,” she admitted, and Julia rolled her eyes.