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  “Key worked,” Matthew said, and Mia looked over to where he sat on Margot’s leather desk chair, rifling through the top desk drawer. “Paid bills, files for what looks like interior decorating clients—Mia, come look at this.”

  “What is it?” she asked, setting the tray on the dresser and hurrying over to him.

  “A handwritten letter dated two months ago from someone named”—he turned the page and scanned the bottom of the letter—“Justin.”

  Justin? Margot had never mentioned a Justin.

  Matthew swiveled in the chair to face Mia. “Listen to this.” He held the one-page letter in front of him and read, “Unless you give up this little side job of yours, Margot, it’s over between us. I know that your interior decorating gigs don’t pay very well, but what you’re doing to supplement your income is creepy and sickening, and I can’t deal with it anymore.”

  “Creepy and sickening,” Mia echoed numbly. “Does he say what the side job is?”

  Matthew scanned the brief letter in silence. “No. Just that the time has come for her to make a choice. Him or the job.”

  “What job?” Mia wondered aloud. “What job entails meeting a man at a bar, kissing him, and having your photograph sent to you with a cash fee of fifteen hundred dollars?”

  “I think we know what job,” Matthew said softly. “Prostitute. Hooker. Looks to me like the person who sent the note and cash and pictures was simply paying her for satisfying her client—not that my brother ended up satisfied,” he added darkly.

  Mia’s cheeks flamed. “My sister is not a prostitute!”

  Matthew tilted his head and regarded her. “Then what?”

  “I don’t know! But I know she’s not a prostitute.”

  “Mia, you’ve already hinted at the fact that you and your sister aren’t very close. How do you know what she does in her spare time?”

  She stared at the hardwood floor, unable to speak.

  Matthew leaned back in the chair. “I think my brother arranged for a prostitute with a service, got Margot, flirted with her in Chumley’s, and then things went sour when they were heading to his car to have sex either there or at a motel.”

  “Don’t make me sick,” Mia snapped.

  “Don’t be so naïve,” he countered.

  “Margot is not a prostitute.”

  “How do you know?” Matthew asked.

  “I know.”

  “Like you know where she is right now?” he said. “Why she ran if she’s not guilty of killing my brother?”

  “Stop it!” Mia shouted, clamping her hands over her ears. “Just shut up!”

  Matthew shot up and took her hands in his. He held them in front of him. “Mia, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to find answers.”

  “Well, find facts first, and then throw around accusations. I could come up with a few scenarios myself for what might have happened to your brother—situations that don’t involve my sister.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, releasing her hands. “Fair enough.”

  Mia glanced at him, surprised by his quick compassion. He’d push, but he’d backed down when he crossed a line.

  Some people never backed down; they pushed little by little until you were off a cliff.

  Mia stretched out her hand for the letter and he gave it to her. She read the short note. “I wish there was more information. All he says is that he cares about her and that she has to choose.”

  “Well, we know what choice she made,” Matthew said softly.

  Mia looked up at him. “I suggest we pay this Justin a visit. I know we don’t have much here to go on, but from his letter I get the sense that he’s a decent person, someone who really did care about Margot.”

  “I agree,” Matthew said. “And his return address is on the back of the envelope.” He handed Mia the envelope. “Oak Ridge Road is only about a mile from here.”

  Mia dropped down on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. She felt him step near even before she felt the depression of the mattress as he sat down next to her.

  “I know this can’t be easy for you, Mia,” he said. “But between the two of us, we’ll come up with the answers.”

  When she opened her eyes a moment later, he was back at the desk.

  “Let’s see what else we find, and then we’ll head out to Justin Graves’ place,” he said, opening the second drawer.

  Mia took a breath. What else would they find?

  Matthew was almost grateful that they hadn’t found anything else in Margot’s desk. He didn’t think Mia would be up for another terrible surprise. They had continued to search for an hour and had come up with nothing that might shed some light on what exactly Margot’s “creepy” side job was—if it wasn’t “high-priced call girl.”

  “My car’s right there,” Matthew said, pointing to the silver BMW he’d conveniently parked in front of City Bagels. Five minutes ago, he and Mia had ducked inside the small shop to get a quick breakfast of two bagels and cream cheese to go; she’d insisted on paying for her own, and he hadn’t argued. Something had told him she needed to win a few battles.

  As she slid inside the passenger side of his car, Matthew couldn’t help but notice the way her tight jeans molded to her shapely thighs and how flat her stomach was underneath the tight T-shirt.

  “These are my sister’s clothes,” Mia said suddenly, and he quickly darted his gaze straight ahead. He’d been caught checking her out. “I don’t usually wear such tight clothing, but—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Mia,” Matthew said. “And anyway, you look very nice.”

  “I’m sure you think so,” she replied coldly.

  What the hell is that supposed to mean? he wondered.

  He dared a sideways glance at her, but she was staring straight ahead out the windshield. She pulled her bagel sandwich out of the bag and took a bite, which seemed his cue to drop the personal talk and start driving.

  Forget trying to figure her out, Gray, he told himself. You don’t care anyway. You just need to find out what happened to Robert, and Mia is your ticket there.

  “We’re lucky it’s Saturday,” he said to keep their conversation on track. “We might just catch Justin at home.”

  Mia glanced at him and nodded. She didn’t say a word during the ten-minute drive to Oak Ridge Road. Matthew pulled up in front of a town house and noted the word Graves on the mailbox.

  “This is it,” he said.

  Mia looked out the window, her expression tight.

  “Look, Mia, whatever we find out, it’ll be the truth, and that’s what we’re after, right? No matter how hard it might be to hear.”

  He didn’t know why he felt the need to comfort her, but he did. Yes, he did know: they had to work together, and if she was going to fall apart and tremble and cry at every bad corner, they’d never get to the bottom of what had happened to Robert.

  Mia’s gaze dropped to her lap. Matthew could have sworn he saw her lip tremble. She placed her practically uneaten bagel back inside the bag.

  “Let’s go,” he said, releasing the electric lock and opening his door.

  But she didn’t move. She sat staring at her lap, and now her lip was trembling in earnest.

  “Mia—”

  “You’re right,” she interrupted quickly. “The truth is always what matters. No matter how hard it is to hear.”

  And it usually was hard, Matthew thought grimly.

  He got out of the car, hurried around to the passenger side, and opened Mia’s door for her. She stepped out, and again, he was unable to stop himself from appreciating how lovely she truly was. Her long, straight, shiny blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, there wasn’t a shred of makeup on her beautiful face, and her pale brown eyes—so like a doe’s—sparkled despite the overcast gloom of the day. Her skin was smooth and creamy and her lips naturally red and full. The rest of her was almost too much to take in—firm, high breasts accentuated by the skin tight V-neck T-shirt and t
hose mesmerizing, fit-her-perfectly jeans.

  She was absolutely breathtaking, just as she’d been last night in her paint-splattered baggy T-shirt and sweats.

  Ignore her, he ordered himself. Focus on one of her nostrils or a hair of her eyebrow. Try not to look directly at her, especially not at her eyes.

  Yeah, that’ll go over well while we’re talking about something important.

  Her effect on him had him worried. The last time he’d had this kind of reaction to a woman, he’d almost lost the corporation he’d built from the ground up. This time, he would risk nothing and lose nothing. It was that simple.

  Mia is a means to an end, just as you are to her. You want to find your brother’s killer; she wants to clear her sister’s name. Whether you’re working at cross purposes or not, you each need the other to get what you need. Don’t forget that.

  “Okay, let’s do this,” he said and started up the walkway to the three-story town house. Mia trailed after him.

  As he rang the bell, he noticed that this was a private residence and not separate apartments as he’d originally thought. Justin Graves, whoever he was, clearly did well for himself.

  Because he was a pimp to high-priced hookers? If Margot’s fee was fifteen hundred, his cut had to be—

  No. The direction his thoughts were taking wasn’t worth his time. A pimp wouldn’t want his meal ticket to give up the job, nor would he find said job “creepy and sickening.” From the sound of Justin’s letter, he was clearly in love with Margot and wanted the best for her, something she didn’t seem to want for herself.

  A tall, good-looking, thirty-something man in wire-rimmed glasses and green surgical scrubs opened the door. His expression darkened at the sight of Mia. “What are you doing here, Margot?” he asked, weariness evident in his voice.

  Mia opened her mouth to speak, then closed it.

  Matthew rushed to answer. “My name is Matthew Gray, and this is Mia Anderson, Margot’s twin sister.”

  Justin’s look of surprise faded. “Ah, yes, she mentioned an identical twin.” Suddenly, his eyes clouded over. “Did something happen to Margot? Is she all right?”

  “Why do you ask?” Matthew queried, his suspicions rising.

  “I’ve known Margot for six months,” Justin said, running a hand through his short blond hair. “In all that time, her twin sister never came knocking on my door at ten-thirty on a Saturday morning looking as though someone had died.”

  Someone did die, Matthew thought grimly.

  “We’re sorry to bother you,” Mia rushed to say with a glance at Matthew, “but I have reason to be worried about Margot; and well, we found a letter you wrote to her, and we’re hoping you could answer some questions for us.”

  Justin glanced from Mia to Matthew, nodded, and opened the door for them to enter. He led them into a beautifully decorated living room, masculine in its décor, yet inviting. A golden retriever lay sleeping in a patch of sunlight by the windows. “Recognize your sister’s work?” Justin asked Mia as he gestured for them to sit down on the leather love seat.

  Mia offered a weak smile and nodded, but Matthew could tell she was lying. She hadn’t recognized her sister’s style, and it clearly bothered her. Because she wanted to be closer than they were?

  Better question was, if Margot had this kind of talent as an interior decorator, why was she taking money for having her ears licked by married men in bars?

  “So why are you worried about Margot?” Justin asked, taking a seat in a chair across from them.

  “My sister left town in a hurry, worrying for her safety,” Mia said carefully. “I drove over to her apartment last night, hoping to catch her or find her, but I’ve had no luck. My friend Matthew here is helping me find out what scared Margot into leaving town.”

  “Well, that’s not a case for Sherlock Holmes,” Justin said, leaning back.

  Matthew and Mia glanced at each other. “Because ... ?” Matthew prompted.

  “Well, if you found the letter I wrote her,” Justin explained, “you know that I gave her an ultimatum—me or her side job. She chose the job. And the job comes with serious consequences—dangerous consequences.”

  “What exactly does my sister do?” Mia asked, her voice catching.

  Justin let out a breath. “You don’t know?”

  Mia shook her head.

  “She’s a decoy,” Justin finally said.

  “A decoy?” Matthew asked. “You mean, like a police decoy?”

  “Similar,” Justin said, “except she doesn’t work for the police. She works for whoever wants to set someone up to see if that person will take the bait.”

  “Wait a minute,” Mia said. “I’m not following.”

  Matthew suddenly realized what Margot’s little side job was. And it wasn’t pretty.

  “Let’s say you want to find out if your fiancé can be trusted before you marry him,” Justin said. “So you hire a very attractive female decoy to be in the same place at the same time as your fiancé and see if he’ll go for her.”

  “Go for her?” Mia echoed.

  “Take the bait,” Matthew explained.

  Justin nodded. “Exactly. Margot’s job is to show up, say, at a bar or a party, all dolled up and sexy, and position herself near the target. If he doesn’t make the first move, she will. A photographer or sometimes a videographer records the interaction between Margot and the man on tape.”

  Matthew looked at Mia. She was very pale and looked to be on the verge of tears. The revelation had obviously shaken her badly.

  “May I use your rest room?” she asked Justin, her voice barely audible.

  “Of course,” Justin said. “Second door on the right.”

  Mia practically ran to the bathroom and shut the door.

  “I had a similar reaction when I found out what she did to supplement her income,” Justin said.

  Matthew nodded, and both men were silent for a moment.

  “So I gather you’re a doctor?” Matthew asked, taking in Justin’s green scrubs.

  “Surgeon. Center City General. I know this’ll make me sound like a jerk, but you can imagine how screwed up Margot’s thinking is if she gave up a doctor who loves her for the life of a sleazy decoy. Independent or not, there are other ways to make money.”

  “A lot less dangerous ways,” said Mia as she exited the bathroom and sat back down on the love seat.

  “You okay?” Matthew asked her.

  Mia looked at him and nodded, but he could tell she’d been crying. Those beautiful light brown doe eyes were full of sadness.

  “Can you tell us anything about who hires her?” Mia asked suddenly as though she wanted to cover her vulnerability. “Do you have any specific names?”

  “No,” Justin said. “Margot never talked about her work. And she’d never reveal the name of a client.”

  “So her clients were wives and fiancées and girlfriends?” Matthew asked.

  “And rich daddies wanting to make sure their precious little girls weren’t involved with lying cheats,” Justin said.

  “So her clients were male and female,” Matthew put in.

  Justin nodded. “Anyone with a suspicious mind. A bride-to-be’s mother, a worried godfather, anyone.”

  “But are fiancées or wives the majority of her client base?” Mia asked.

  “Honestly, I don’t know,” Justin replied. “She wouldn’t tell me much about that part of her life, only that it was her night job and that her clients were both male and female.”

  “Was ... was there ever—” Mia broke off and shook her head.

  “I think what Mia wants to know is if there was sex involved,” Matthew explained.

  “That was the first thing I asked her,” Justin said, “and she assured me she had never and would never go that far. A client had to be satisfied with getting the conversation or photos of kissing on tape. She refused to ever enter a car or a hotel or an apartment with the target.”

  “But she’d leave the setup
location with a target?” Matthew asked.

  “Yes,” Justin confirmed. “If it was necessary to record the guy trying to set up a future date or to convince her to go to a hotel or his car for sex.”

  Matthew glanced at Mia; she was both pale and red-faced at the same time.

  Justin glanced at his watch. “Look, I’ve got rounds in ten minutes and had better get to the hospital. If you have more questions, I’d be happy to answer them for you, but I really don’t know more than I’ve told you.”

  “Just one more question,” Mia said. “Can you tell us where you were last Saturday night?”

  Matthew glanced at Mia in surprise. That had been his next question.

  “I was on rounds from six P.M. to two in the morning,” Justin responded. “Why? Is that when Margot took off?”

  “Sort of,” Matthew said, standing and extending a hand, which Justin shook. “Thanks for taking the time this morning to sit down with us. We really appreciate it.”

  Mia rose as well. “Did you really love Margot?” she asked Justin.

  The man nodded. “I did.”

  With that, the three of them walked to the door in silence.

  Chapter Six

  “No,” Matthew snapped. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why?” Mia demanded. “Why is it so inconceivable?”

  “Robert’s wife did not hire Margot,” he replied coldly. “I know Laurie Gray, and there’s no way she hired a decoy to see if Robert would cheat or not. End of subject.”

  Mia followed Matthew to a shady weathered bench on the promenade in Center City Park, anger boiling in her gut. How dare he! First he refused to even discuss the theory she raised, and then he demanded she drop it. Well, she wouldn’t drop it. Just as he hadn’t dropped his theory earlier—his wrong theory—that Margot was a prostitute.

  “Matthew, we have to consider the idea,” she insisted, sitting down next to him.