“Why did she need cover?” Anthony asked. “Gay’s the new black.”

Laura gave him a look, but he ignored it.

“Because of her father. He was virulently anti-homosexual. She could have her store assistants or friends—whoever she was seeing at the time—and he never suspected a thing.” His face turned hard. “I don’t know what I was thinking. She used me, dangling that bait all the time, and I never got anything out of it. But that’s going to change.”

Anthony said, “What about Sean? Would he have inherited the estate?”

"Hard to tell. Ruby was the one who nursed the father and stuck with him. Sean didn’t seem to care about the money. He was too busy living in his own little world. But if her father ever found out about her love life, who knows what he would do?”

“Do you know who she’s seeing?”

“No, but she did tell me she was beautiful and young.”

“She didn’t give a name?”

He thought for a minute. “Seems to me it began with an ‘A’. Amy or Alice or something like that.”

“Alex?”

“Could be. I don’t know, and I don’t care. What I’m trying to do now is extricate myself. I’m going to cut bait while I still have some dignity left.”

“Lovers,” Anthony said.

“Scheming lovers.”

“Makes sense to me. Big Sis lures her brother here where it will be easy to kill him, and Alex does the dirty deed.”

“I was thinking she might have been a hired assassin.”

“Maybe,” Anthony said. “Or a hired assassin with benefits.”

They now had Alex Williams’s driver’s license. From there Laura was able to access her address. Unfortunately, like most people her age, Alex Williams didn’t have a landline, just a cell phone.

Anthony prepared a warrant to access her cell phone records, even though at the moment they had no way of determining which carrier she used. His motto was Be Prepared. Just in case the Heavens opened and all that info started pouring in.

“More likely,” he muttered, “We’ll have to pry that information out with an escargot fork.”

“You eat escargot?” Laura asked.

“One of my favorite things.”

“Yuck.”

“It’s an acquired taste. Just ask us one-percenters.”

What little evidence they had against Williams was circumstantial and insufficient. Yes, they had her Facebook friendship with Ruby Ballantine, and Joel Strickland’s claim that Ruby and Alex were lovers (which would be filed under “hearsay”), and the fact that Alex had given Laura a phony name and directed her to call a nonexistent friend. None of this rose to probable cause; it wasn’t even close.

But Laura was sure that the calls made to Sean Perrin during his stay at the Madera Canyon Cabins were from Alex Williams.

As Anthony said, who wouldn’t want to go on a moonlight hike with a knockout like that?

She called her partner. “Maybe it’s time for us to rattle Alex’s cage a little.”

“I dunno. If we’re right about her, she’s pure psychopath.” He thought about it. “But if that’s the case, it wouldn’t matter one way or another.”

“She won’t be shaken,” Laura agreed. “But I bet she’d show us what’s behind her mask.”

“Yeah, because she knows we can’t touch her.” He thought about it. “But at least we’ll know who and what we’re really dealing with.”

18: The Lion in Her Den

Alex Williams lived in Tanforan Pointe, an apartment complex in midtown not far from the University of Arizona, where Williams was currently enrolled as a geology major. Beyond that, there were few public records. She’d been born in Las Cruces, New Mexico. She was married for approximately two years to a Nathan James Williams, whereabouts currently unknown. Her birthdate was May 2, 1988. She drove a late model metallic yellow Ford Focus hatchback. And apparently, she was gay. Or at least bisexual.

Or maybe just predatory.

“Who do you think is the brains of this outfit?” Laura asked as they drove past the apartments on Euclid, rounded the block and came at the apartments from the other side.

“Ruby’s got the money. And she’s older, so she might be the straw boss on this cattle drive.”

“But Alex is such a good liar.”

Anthony nodded. “If you look like a sociopath, if you talk like a sociopath—”

“You may just be a sociopath,” they finished in unison.

“I’m guessing they cooked it up together. I wonder what happened first, though, the chicken or the egg? Were they attracted to each other and became lovers and then decided to off Sean? Or . . . ”

“Did they meet somehow because Ruby was looking for a partner? Or a patsy?”

“I don’t think Alex could ever be described as a patsy,” Laura said. “Not the way she lies. My mother had a saying about obnoxious couples: ‘They’d spoil another couple.’ Maybe that’s the case here.”

“Guess we’ll find out,” Anthony said.

The apartments were located on a sleepy stretch of Euclid Avenue —a labyrinth of beige stucco boxes stacked three stories high. Pocket patios, plenty of palm trees, the glitter of a swimming pool through wrought iron fencing—the definition of generic student apartments in a sunbelt city.

The lot was less than half-full. That was because final exams were over at the U. of A., and students were moving out, if they weren’t gone already. There were lots of units just coming empty. Alex’s Ford Focus was in a covered parking area.

“Looks like she’s home. There’s 14C.” Laura nodded toward the apartment and then looked back at the Google satellite map just to make sure.

They parked and got out—and were blasted by the heat. Tucson was a good-sized city now, with plenty of roads and buildings that attracted the sun’s rays. The city was a heat island.

Laura positioned herself to the left side of the door. Anthony knocked and stepped back so his weight was on his left leg. Hand down by his side.

They waited. Laura’s hand also hovered near her weapon. Just in case.

Anthony knocked again.

The door opened. Alex Williams looked like your typical college student, in short shorts and a skimpy top. Barefoot, hair caught up in a barrette that looked like chopsticks, glasses pushed up on the top of her head. “Hi there.”

Hard not to look at that model-perfect body.

“Can we talk to you?”

She opened the door wider. “Oh, sure. Come in!”

She showed no surprise that they were here on her doorstep. No surprise that they had found her under the name Alex Williams. She looked friendly . . . and helpful.

She led them into a neat, spare-looking living room. No knick-knacks, just the furniture the place came with. There was a MacBook Pro on the dinette table and a big textbook—geology, Laura thought.

The graduate student at work.

She motioned them to the couch and said, “Did you find out who killed Sean?”

“Not yet,” Anthony said, sitting down. It was a cheap apartment couch and he sank into it.

Laura perched on the edge beside him, hoping to avoid the quicksand.

The girl’s brows knitted together. “I was hoping the furniture wasn’t so crappy. . .” She pulled a chair from the dinette table, sat down on it, and hooked her bare feet around the legs. “ . . . . But, you know.” She shrugged. “So how can I help you?” She leaned forward, earnest and attentive and not the least bit surprised they were here.

Anthony said, “I was wondering . . . could you clear up why you called yourself Madison Neville?”

Her face turned suddenly grave. “I was worried my ex would find me. That’s why I changed back to my maiden name.”