Page 82 of Accidental Murder

“She said she couldn’t trust you.”

“She . . .Kayla. . . couldn’t trust me.”

“You. The police. She’s in danger. And now three of her clients are dead.”

Two, Megan thought, then recalculated. “You’re right, three, if you add Jacob Feinstein.”

“Feinstein’s not dead. These three are.” Vaughn flicked a piece of paper onto Megan’s desk. “That’s Kayla’s handwriting. She’s been investigating Ashley’s death.”

Megan reviewed the names:Mary Dorman, Phyllis Appleton, Fred Collins. Three plus Feinstein? A knot formed at the pit of her stomach. “Sir, sit and tell me everything.”

Vaughn remained standing and told her about Kayla being chased through the streets of San Francisco and into the Hyatt Hotel during the police benefit.

“Are you kidding me?” Crap. If Megan had been alert instead of crushing on Tom, she could have intercepted Kayla.

“She turned to me for help,” Vaughn said. “We went to a motel, but she slipped out this morning.”

Megan squinted. “Why were the two of you in a motel?”

“She didn’t think my place was safe. She was scared out of her mind.” He pointed at the list. “Read the other side.”

Megan lifted the piece of motel paper and read:

Peter, sorry. Had to borrow your car and laptop. I’m checking out some possibilities. I can’t let Ashley die in vain. If you must, give the police this list. Thanks for being there. XO ~ Kayla.

Megan reread the names of victims again. “Sit, Mr. Vaughn. You’re driving me nuts.”

He did.

“Go on.” She motioned with one hand. “Kayla took your car. What’s the make and license number?”

“Uh-uh. I’m not telling you anything until I know you believe me.”

Megan seethed. Was he delusional? Had he killed Ashley and then Kayla when she’d revealed herself to him? His skin and clothes were soiled with what she hoped was paint. Would a search of his home reveal blood splatter? No, he hadn’t offed anybody. He was too damned earnest.

“You’re telling me your fiancée?—”

“Ex-fiancée.”

“Your ex-fiancée was at Kayla’s and was killed by someone who mistook her for Kayla?”

“Yes. In her last breath, Ashley told Kayla the killer wanted her—Kayla.” He sighed. “Kayla didn’t confide in you because you arrested the wrong guy. Somebody named Ventano.”

Megan jolted.

“She also assumed you would consider her the prime suspect if she divulged her identity to you. Was she wrong?”

“She lied to my face.”

“You called her Ashley.”

“She didn’t correct me.”

“Look,” Vaughn went on, “Kayla mistrusts the police for obvious reasons. I assume you know about her family and the accidents. The police didn’t make an arrest in any of the instances.”

Megan knew all too well that living through tragedies could send a normal person into therapy for years. For Kayla, after losing both her parents and younger brother and then finding her sister dead and hearing her sister tell her that she, Kayla, was the real target must have thrown her into a tailspin. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”