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naked and pasty white below his boxer shorts.

Paul, in contrast, wore silk pajamas, with Margaret wrapped up in a blanket. Tia and Hemi stood next to the Dixons along with one of their daughters, all of them in hastily thrown-­on outdoor coats. Riki appeared out of the dark just then, and I looked away before our eyes could meet.

Even Isaac had figured out something was going ­on—­probably cued in by the flashing ­lights—­and was wandering down the drive with his headphones around his neck.

“Could you take me through the night’s events?” Regan requested.

I started with hearing Princess’s bark, ended with rescuing Elei from the bathroom.

“It’s lucky your stepmother had a key.”

I wondered if he thought I had something to do with this. He wouldn’t after he saw the state of Alice. All she’d have had to do was kick my injured leg out from under me and I’d have been no threat to her. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention that in front of my father. He’s very controlling and Shanti doesn’t have enough friends to risk losing one.”

Seeing my father and Shanti emerge from the top of our drive just then, I said, “Look, if you have more questions, can we talk later? I need to sneak my little sister back into the house so she doesn’t get in trouble.”

Regan glanced over his shoulder, saw my father standing there with his arms crossed, Shanti beside him in her favorite quilted robe of soft gray. My father was wearing pajama bottoms and a black sweater.

Turning back to me, the detective said, “We’re going to need your clothes for evidence purposes, since you came into contact with the victims.”

“Sure, whatever. Just let me tell Pari she should sneak in the back door while Shanti and our father are out front.”

“I’ll have to come with you.”

“No problem.” With that, I began to make my way around the side of the house. Thankfully, the trees and other foliage screened me from my father’s view as soon as I left the area in front of the property. Pari was still seated by the back steps with Princess, her eyes huge. “Aarav, did Alice or Cora get hurt?”

“Yes, but the ambulance is here now and taking care of them. Now I want you to run inside the ­house—­you can leave Princess with this detective. Dad and your mum are out front, so no one will see.”

She bit her lower lip and petted Princess. “But she doesn’t know the policeman.”

“It’s only for a little while. Come on, Twinkles, let’s sneak you in before you get in trouble.”

Releasing Princess into Regan’s care with reluctance, she fell into step beside me, her small hand reaching up to close over my wrist. I walked her to the gate, then watched until she’d ducked inside the back door and shut it behind her.

Even then I didn’t move. Not until the light went on in her bedroom, and she pressed her face to the window, waving. Lifting a hand, I smiled. She was safe from my father’s fury ­now—­even Ishaan Rai couldn’t yell at her for being awake with all this racket going on next door.

Shifting my attention back to Regan to find he’d passed Princess to another officer, I said, “Can I ask Shanti to pick up sweats for me from my room, or do you need me to come to the station, strip there?”

Regan allowed me to change in the living room of my father’s house, with Regan for company. He kept his eyes averted, but had I been guilty, I would’ve had no chance to hide anything. Afterward, I retrieved my notebook from the sedan, then went upstairs and crossed a line through Alice’s name.

Elei had told the truth; all the pieces fit.

As for ­Cora 
 if she’d known it had been my mother who’d orchestrated her beating, she’d have restarted the violence long before tonight.

I crossed off her name, too.

With all the movement going on ­next-­door, sleep wouldn’t come, so I sat at my desk and wrote when I wasn’t watching the police. My stomach growled a couple of hours into it, but I couldn’t be bothered going downstairs so I dug into the sugar drawer.

Dawn was a promise above the trees when I finally slept.

I dreamed of Paige, ­long-­limbed and willowy, standing on the edge of our balcony laughing as the wind plastered her floaty white dress against her body. She’d been into the bohemian look that summer, lots of bare feet and ­sun-­golden limbs in loose clothing. Though she’d had the ear of major designers, she’d trawled op-­shops for “vintage” finds.

“You know ‘vintage’ is just another word for ‘old,’ right?”

Laughing at my dry comment, she’d twirled again, her dress fluttering around her.

The dream shifted, Paige now leaning up against the glass barrier that was all that lay between her and oblivion, her gaze on the glittering shine of the city. The sun played on her hair, so delicate and golden.

It kept on caressing her as she dragged an outdoor chair to the wall of glass and clambered on top of it. She laughed as she managed to grip the edge of the barrier and haul herself up to sit on the tempered glass.

Then she turned, blew me a ­kiss 
 and jumped.

46

I jerked awake to a thundering heart and the piercing knowledge that the dream wasn’t right. “I wasn’t home that day.” The day Paige had jumped.

My tongue too thick in a dry mouth, my head pounding. No, that was my pulse.

Wiping the back of my hand over my mouth, I got myself up into a seated position, then reached for the bottle of water I kept on my bedside table. It was gone. Shit, I’d emptied it yesterday. Forcing myself out of bed, I was tempted to just hop over to the bathroom, but I had no intention of screwing up my leg all over again.

I grabbed the crutches, then made my way to the cool black tile.

Cupping my hands under the

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