“That stinking bitch is holding my property for ransom, costing me an unfuckingbelievable fortune-and you give her the special dress I bought for you.” Ryan was shouting now, and he gunned the engine. Like a rocket, the Porsche streaked down the freeway toward the home that always reminded her of Whitney.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Ryan was yelling even louder now. “Whitney’s the problem, yet you helped her. Do you have any idea how close we are to bankruptcy because of that bitch?”

Bankruptcy? Ashley had known their finances were shaky but things couldn’t have degenerated this badly, could they? Like a robot she repeated, “Whitney is the problem. A big problem.”

Ryan didn’t say another word until he pulled into their driveway. “Get out! I’m going for a drive. I need to think.”

Ashley had barely shut the car door when Ryan slammed into Reverse, then spun the car around and peeled off down the street. Ashley stood there for a second. Something told her to follow him.

She rushed into the house and grabbed her car keys off the hook by the door to the garage. She raced into the garage and jumped into her Jaguar. She flew down the street and took a hard right. She figured he would head for the freeway so he could floor the Porsche.

She sped up and caught sight of his car. Could he spot her? She doubted it. A quick look in her own rearview mirror told her how hard it was in the dark to tell what kind of car was behind her. As long as she wasn’t on his bumper, Ryan wouldn’t detect her presence.

He traveled north like a bullet, but she kept up with him. He slowed a bit, changed lanes, and she realized he was exiting the freeway. Maybe he was going to turn around and get back on the freeway to go home. Oh, boy. She would play hell explaining why she’d gone out.

Don’t worry, Ashley told herself. She could go out if she wanted. She switched lanes and slowed down so that two cars moved in behind Ryan and her Jag. At the bottom of the ramp, he swung to the right; he wasn’t getting back on the freeway to return home.

Where was he going?

For a second Ashley remembered the times Ryan had sneaked out at night to be with her. Just a tiny flare of guilt ignited deep in her chest. She’d ignored his cheating even though she knew it would be best to wait until he filed for a legal separation before dating him. She knew better, but she’d loved him so much. She hadn’t been able to resist him.

The street was more brightly lit than the freeway. She was forced to drop back so Ryan wouldn’t spot her. He went several blocks then turned into the Alvarda Casino.

She parked across the street and turned off her lights. Ryan got out of the car and locked it. He hurried toward the casino without even glancing in her direction.

If they were so close to bankruptcy, why was he gambling? Maybe he wasn’t, she corrected herself. Casinos had wonderful food at cheap prices. Ryan had canceled dinner, but maybe he was hungry.

And needed to think.

Ashley wanted to think, too. She sat in the Jag, waiting for him to eat and come out. As much as she dreaded another fight, Ashley knew she couldn’t put off talking to Ryan about their finances.

An hour dragged by seconds at a time. Ashley spent it thinking about her father.

Did he think about her? she wondered. Had someone told him about his former wife’s untimely death? She doubted it. They’d moved around so much in search of an elusive beauty title that her mother had lost contact with the few friends she’d once possessed. There weren’t any family members to tell her father, either.

Ashley let her head rest against the back of her seat. She kept thinking about her father and checking her watch. Had he remarried? Her mother had been beautiful; replacing her would have been difficult. But there was more to a person than looks. Surely, her father had discovered this.

Maybe he’d found someone who could make him happy in a way that her mother never could have. No. In a way that her mother never would have bothered with. As much as Ashley resented her father’s refusal to stay with them as they roamed the country, she understood his reasons.

If they’d settled down and stopped pursuing a beauty title, Ashley could have finished school in one place. She would have had friends. She smiled bitterly in the darkness. Her only friend was a guy, her personal trainer. She paid him. How pathetic was that?

When an hour and twenty minutes passed, Ashley got out of the car. She was going after Ryan. If they had to sit at some café table at a casino to talk, so be it.

She went inside but didn’t see him in the coffee shop. She ignored the men who stared at her; after years of males gawking, she was accustomed to the attention. A hostess directed her to the restaurant on the second level. It was nicer up there and the place was darker compared to the brightly lit casino. She could still hear the pinging of the slot machines and the buzz of the gamblers.

Ryan wasn’t in the restaurant or the adjacent lounge. From the second level she could gaze down on the gamblers below, but she didn’t see Ryan. Where could he be? He wouldn’t have left without his car.

Then she realized she must have crossed paths with him. He’d gone out one door while she’d been coming in another. No doubt he would be home waiting for her, more furious than ever.

She started to rush back to her Jag, then told herself to take her time. So what if he arrived home and she wasn’t there? Taking a drive wasn’t a crime.

Ashley went toward the spot where Ryan had parked. The distinctive silver Porsche was still there. How could she have missed him? True, it was a large casino, but she’d been able to look down at every table, every slot machine, and she hadn’t see Ryan’s dark blond head among the gamblers.

She walked back inside and strolled slowly through the casino. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. Strange. Really strange. Then she saw a sign off to one side that advertised Texas Hold ’Em in a nearby room.

She walked around the corner and saw a small room with a lighted sign above the door. It flashed back and forth, back and forth, showing disembodied hands holding poker cards. Through the open double doors she saw a roomful of men seated at round tables. Ryan’s back was to her but there was no mistaking her husband.

She started in, but a hostess dressed like a hula dancer stopped her. “Ma’am, these are thousand-dollar tables.”

Ashley quickly backed away. A thousand dollars? What was Ryan thinking? No doubt he was gambling with the money he’d gotten for her ring. She slowly walked back to her car.

Whitney is the problem, she reminded herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

“I ATE WAAAY TOO much,” Whitney told Adam. “I should have skipped the chocolate soufflé.”

“That’s the first chocolate soufflé I’ve ever ordered. When I was trapped over in Iraq, I promised myself I would have one the first chance I had. I’d eaten one before and really liked it, but someone else ordered it.”

She assumed he meant a woman but didn’t ask. Dinner had been perfect. She’d never been to Chive. The sophisticated restaurant was in one of the Gaslamp’s most historic buildings. The old Royal Pie Company had been transformed from a brick warehouse to a sleek minimalist restaurant with awesome food.

They’d enjoyed a leisurely dinner and talked about Rod Babcock. They decided the attorney couldn’t help them solve Miranda’s disappearance. Adam had complimented Whitney on discovering the Corona del Mar signs on the talapa. He doubted Miranda was hiding out at the upscale resort but believed there was a good chance her cousin was somewhere in the Cancún area. She must have gotten into Mexico with a phony passport. Or she might have hitched a ride over the border and taken a flight from a Mexican airport.