Page 42 of The Body in the Backyard

“Am I crazy, or does that mirror have a filter on it?” Riley asked, turning her head from side to side. “Look how dewy my skin is.”

“Focus, Thorn.” He crossed to the speaker and hit the power button. “Okay, ladies. Sorry to break up whatever the hell it is that you’re doing, but we need to ask Ms. Goodshine some questions.”

The trainer jumped to her feet with catlike grace. She reached down and hauled Bella up.

Bella was dressed in bubble-gum pink spandex that showcased her monumental chest. Her perky blond ponytail swung jauntily above a white sweatband.

The trainer had long thick hair that exploded out from under a sleek ball cap, ruby-red fingernails long enough to gouge out an eyeball, and an enviable set of shoulders. Sweat glistened on her tan skin. She was looking at Nick and Riley like she was assessing their fitness. Feeling self-conscious, Riley stood straighter. She’d been meaning to go to the gym but kept getting distracted by dead bodies.

“I remember you,” Bella said to Nick. She had the kind of voice that was usually reserved for talking to newborn lambs. Sweet and breathy. She turned to Riley and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Bella.”

Riley blew out a sigh through her teeth. “We’ve met. On several occasions. I’m Riley.”

There was no glimmer of recognition in Bella’s wide, cartoonlike eyes.

“Riley Thorn. The psychic. You came to my house for a séance? I made sure you didn’t get blown up at Channel 50 this summer? You slept with my ex-husband while we were still married?”

Bella’s lashes fluttered, and she tapped a finger to her chin. “Hmm, nope. Not ringing a bell. But don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be good friends in no time.”

“Bella has female face blindness,” the trainer explained.

“That’s not a thing,” Riley said.

“Chupy, be a dear and whip up one of those protein and placenta smoothies for me before you go,” Bella said.

“Sure thing,” the trainer said.

“Hang on. Your name is what?” Nick asked.

“Chupacabra Jones,” she said, pointing to the name tag clipped to her tank top. “I’m a mixed martial artist. It’s my fighting name.”

Nick nodded and rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Please allow me to confer with my colleague,” he said before leaning in to Riley. “If we have kids someday, I think we should name one Chupacabra.”

The vision flashed into her mind before she could stop it. Nick with a cherubic little girl balanced on his hip. Their dimples matched.

It was gone as quickly as it had come. Riley shook her head to clear it.

“Focus, Santiago,” she whispered, then turned back to the women. “Do you train together often?”

“Chupy trains me four days a week,” Bella explained.

Great. Yet another person who had access to the house on an almost daily basis.

“Were you here yesterday?” Nick asked.

Chupacabra picked up a plastic bottle of pink liquid and squeezed a stream into her mouth. “Yeah. After the show wrapped. Leg day.” She eyed Riley. “You ever lift?”

Food to face? Yes. Weights? No.

“I’m more of a yoga person,” Riley said.

“You should give lifting a try. Get those biceps poppin’.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

“I’ll leave the smoothie in the fridge for you,” Chupacabra said to Bella, who had picked up the little dog and was making loud smoochy noises.

“Thank you! Say buh-bye, La La,” she said, waving the little dog’s paw. Its nails were painted purple.