Sweet Little Lies by Bianca Sloane Page A

questioned her. She didn’t remember anything unusual about the room, but she hadn’t dumped her trash yet. She handed Hanson the bag containing the trash from the fourth floor. He asked her if she remembered what had been in the trashcan. She did remember a Walgreens bag; the only reason that stuck out was that it was the only room with trash from the drugstore; she didn’t remember anything else. He sifted through the trash, looking for anything that might lead them to Kelly Ross. They found the bag and, crumpled inside it, a receipt from Walgreens for a toothbrush and other toiletries. Hanson called Didi, and they raced across the street to Walgreens and demanded to see the store’s surveillance tapes from the previous night. The manager told them their machine had gone on the fritz last night and was being serviced but mentioned he’d been on duty the night before and, upon being shown her picture, did recall seeing Kelly Ross, because he’d rung her up. Down, but not out, Hanson handed the guy his card and said to call him if he thought of anything else.
    Didi and Hanson walked back to their car in silence.
    “Fuck,” Hanson finally muttered to break the quiet.
    Didi shook her head wryly. “I second that emotion.”
    It was right about then Hanson questioned why he’d given up smoking.
    “Alright, what have we got—a famous, exceptionally beautiful woman on the run from the police. She calls her best friend to let her know she’s okay. She spends the night at a motel, hits the Walgreens. She checks out of the motel at the crack of dawn. Where’s she going now?”
    “You tell me, Sherlock.”
    “She owns a bunch of houses, has access to a private jet. What have we got on those?”
    “Not a peep. They found her passport at the house last night, so we know she’s still in the U.S. at least.”
    “And nothing on the cell phone? It’s not pinging off any towers?”
    “Nothing.”
    Hanson licked his lips, getting excited. “Alright. Family? What have we got on the family?”
    “Parents still live in Evanston. I sent a uniform over there earlier. Neighbors said they went out of town for the weekend. Nothing with the sister in New York.”
    “Maybe she’s holed up in the house.”
    Didi allowed for this for a minute. “Maybe, but I doubt it,” she finally answered.
    “Why?”
    Didi scrunched up her face. “Like Shelia Stevens said, this is not a stupid woman. She may be a former supermodel, but you don’t run a multimillion-dollar company by being stupid. She’s not going to her family; she’s not doing anything or going anywhere that she thinks we’re gonna be looking for her.”
    Hanson leaned back against the blue sedan, frustrated. “Shit. You’re right. You’re right.” He pounded the door and chewed his bottom lip. He looked up at the city above them, searching for answers among the majestic skyline.
    “Kelly, Kelly, Kelly, come out, come out wherever you are,” he muttered.

Happy Wife…
    A fter driving around with no clear plan, Kelly pulled her car into the parking lot of a strip mall, unable to stop thinking about Geneva and the boy. She looked at her watch. Four. She snorted. Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been packing up her cheating husband’s clothes. In a little over one hour, she would’ve killed her husband, fled the scene, and become a fugitive from justice.
    Kelly shook her head over how surreal it all was. Mark. Married. Mark. A father. She. A murderer.
    She was exhausted and needed to just lie down and close her eyes and process everything she’d learned today. She’d find a cheap motel, get some sleep, and call Sam Gordon. She’d let him handle this whole mess, because she’d had it. She started up the car. Gas…go get gas, find a motel, sleep, call Sam Gordon. She rubbed her eyes and headed out of the parking lot.
    •
    Maybe he’d only married her for her money. He’d always talked about how hard his childhood was, how poor the family was and how it felt