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  I grabbed my purse from the end table and, without even glancing at my email, got in my hatchback and drove up the peninsula to Parker Models.

  Unfortunately, R.J. was at a go-see with one of his young hopefuls, but the receptionist directed me down the hall to Alec’s office. In contrast to R.J.’s massive desk, Alec’s office was decorated in slim, sleek furnishings – pale woods and lots of chrome. The walls were dotted with framed headshots, most models I assumed the agency represented, though I spotted a couple that were clearly younger versions of Alec.

  “Kya, lovely to see you again,” he said, leaning over his desk to pump my hand. “How are you?”

  “Good. Great,” I lied.

  “So, how did you like your first shoot? Exciting, yeah?”

  I nodded. “Yes.” Then gestured to the framed headshots. “You used to model, too?”

  Alec’s face broke into that easy grin. “Eons ago. But, I still remember that thrill of making love to the camera for the first time. R.J. tells me you did a fantastic job.” He reached into a file and produced an envelope, sliding it across the desk to me. “Your check.” He gave me a wink.

  I took it, sliding it into my purse. “Thanks.”

  “So, you ready for another one?”

  “Another? Oh well, I…” I hadn’t thought ahead to doing any more. Quite honestly, I hadn’t expected to last through one. The idea of doing it again had never even occurred to me.

  But Alec didn’t wait for an answer. He rifled through a stack of papers on his desk, finally holding one up as he squinted at the writing.

  “R.J.’s got you scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Three pm. It looks like it will be fairly short. But Blake’s booked on it already. Sound good?”

  Somehow the fact that Blake would be there again settled the anxiety in my stomach. I found myself nodding.

  “Great. I’ll give him a call this afternoon and let them know you’re on board.”

  “Just, uh… it isn’t lingerie again, is it?” I asked, feeling my cheeks heat.

  Alec laughed, throwing his head back. “Nope. Shoes. Think you can handle that?”

  I thought of my newfound love of red heels. “Definitely.”

  “Great, why don’t you check in with Julie on your way out to get the particulars.”

  Alec moved to stand as if our little visit was over. But for some reason I couldn’t move.

  “Um, actually, there was something else that I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?” He sat back down, clasping his hands together in his lap. “Shoot?”

  “It’s about Angel. R.J. told me what happened.”

  His smile faltered, emotion flitting across his eyes before he composed himself again. “Oh,” he said slowly. “Okay, what about her?”

  I took a deep breath. This was harder than I’d thought. Somehow I really needed to know but really didn’t want to hear the answers. “What exactly happened to her?”

  Alec’s brow furrowed. “She had an accident. She drowned.”

  “I know. I mean, R.J. already told me that. What I meant was… well, I read the articles about her death online. At first they suspected that she… well, that she was killed. They even questioned Blake.”

  Alec abandoned all pretense of a smile. “They questioned all of us. Everyone who knew her. Was she depressed? Suicidal? Where were we that night?”

  “The papers said there was a lack of evidence. That they had to rule it an accident.”

  Alec nodded. “Yes.”

  “But they also said she was an excellent swimmer and there was no sign of head trauma or any other reason for her to have drowned.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Do you think it was an accident?”

  Alec sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers together under his chin, his Redford blonde brows drawn together. “She had been a little upset. We’d had to give one of her accounts to a younger girl. She just didn’t fit their image. But I hardly think she’d take her own life over that.”

  I shifted in my seat, distinctly uncomfortable. “Actually, I wasn’t thinking suicide. I was thinking…” I somehow couldn’t bring myself to say the word “murder”. It seemed too melodramatic, too CSI. Too… final. “I was thinking someone else was there. Someone who may have pushed her in.”

  Alec’s eyebrows went north. “But you said yourself, there was no sign of trauma.”

  “He held her under.”

  “He?”

  I bit my lip. Here it was. The real question. God, I didn’t want to hear the answer. “Do you believe Blake’s story?”

  Alec cocked his head to the side. “You think Blake killed Angel?”

  I chewed furiously on my lower lip. Bad habits be dammed. “I don’t think she fell in the pool. I think someone held her down. Under the water.” I shivered despite the heat being pumped in through the air ducts as I remembered the feel of those strong hands on my shoulders.

  Alec shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Kya. Yes, I believe Blake’s story. I mean, why would the kid lie? He was in love with Angel. He’d never do anything to hurt her.” He leaned forward, taking one of my hands in his. “Honey, I know how being the new girl around here must be hard for you, but you’ve got to know that the police looked into all this. They had every technology at their disposal. They found nothing. It was an accident. A terrible, tragic accident, but that’s all it was.”

  Then Alec did stand up, walking to his office door and throwing it open. I followed. But the look on my face must have said I still wasn’t convinced.

  “Kya, for your own sake. Let it go, huh?” Alec said.

  I did an unconvincing nod again, this time trying to force a smile I didn’t feel.

  I stopped at the reception desk only long enough to sign the contracts for tomorrow’s job and grab the info sheet – which I shoved into my bag without even looking - before pointing my hatchback toward home.

  The drive down 280 was quick at that time of day. Just me and the rolling hills. I sped up, pushing eighty as my pump clad foot eased down on the accelerator. I looked down. I was so going to have to go shopping soon. If I wore these to the shoot tomorrow, people were likely to think I didn’t own a second pair of shoes.

  I wondered, had Angel owned a pair of the red heels? Sure, she’d worn them in the ad, but had she had a set of size sevens in her closet at home? Had they made her feel the way they did me? Bold, powerful, sexy. Almost like I was steeping outside myself into someone else’s life. Into Angel’s life.

  It hit me hard, jarring me so that I swerved into the next lane. Thankfully, the only thing I collided with were those little yellow safety dots, but I slowed down, focusing my eyes on the road, my heart beating fast, harder and stronger, as I realized just what I’d said.

  I had Angel’s life. I had her job, her agent, her boyfriend. God, I’d even spent the night last night in the same place she’d died. I was running around town quite literally filling her shoes.

  I started to feel my pulse speed up as I mentally ran through the events of the last week. I’d been obsessed with Angel’s ad. With her. I wanted to be her. And as soon as I’d put those red heels on, I’d known exactly how to move, how to dance, how to charm every man in the nightclub like she would. Including charming R.J. into hiring me on as her replacement. I’d known just what to say to Blake, I’d even ordered her favorite wine at dinner. I’d known exactly how Blake wanted me to wear my hair, exactly how he’d kiss, what it would feel like to be in his arms. I’d known my way around his kitchen.

  And I’d known how Angel died.

  I wrenched the steering wheel to the right, pulling over to the shoulder and sticking my head between my knees as my breath came out in ragged pants. Only that didn’t help much as it brought me face to face with those damned red heels. I quickly ripped them off my feet as if they were on fire and threw them into the backseat. I opened the car door, setting my bare feet down on the asphalt and took in welcomed gulps
of fresh air. In. Out. In. Out. I closed my eyes. Telling myself it was all coincidence. Some weird, bizarre chain of coincidences. That nothing about Angel’s death had anything to do with me.

  And I almost believe it as my breathing started to regain a normal tempo, my pulse slowing.

  Almost.

  Until I spied my purse sitting on the seat beside me and remembered the job I’d signed on for tomorrow. Modeling shoes. No, it couldn’t be…

  But as I reached across the console and ripped the info sheet from my purse, my heart caught in my throat as I saw that it was.

  Tomorrow I was shooting an ad with Blake for the shoe website.

  Chapter Seven

  It was a breezy night. The wind whipping at my bare skin. I looked down. I was clad only in an oversized T-shirt with a big red Stanford S on it, my legs exposed beneath. And the wind was picking up, rushing over me so that little goosebumps appeared on my arms. Why was I outside, dressed like this?

  The noise. That’s right, I’d heard a noise outside. I was afraid it was the dog. Blake’s dog. Sometimes he got out at night.

  I called his name softly. “Here, boy. Here, Rufus.”

  Only the wind answered, gusting through the trees, making little ripples on the surface of the pool. I tiptoed closer to the edge of the water, squinting through the darkness at the thick bushes that flanked the patio. Were they moving?

  “Rufus?”

  Or was it just the wind? I couldn’t tell. It was so dark, the moon a tiny sliver in the sky, giving off no more light than a flickering candle. I should have brought a flashlight with me. Where did Blake keep his flashlight?

  I was about to turn around and go back into the house to get one.

  But I was too late. A pair of hands on my shoulders. Strong and rough, shoving me forward. So unexpected, I lost my balance immediately, pitching forward, arms out to break my fall as I hit the water.

  The cold sent a shock through me and I involuntarily took a breath. Only water came rushing into my mouth instead of air. I tried to cough it out, to propel myself upward. But it was no use. Those hands were still holding me. Pushing me down. Instead, I tried to turn around. I needed to see him. Who was doing this to me? Why? What had I done to them? I thrashed to the left and right, unable to see anything in the dark, the water clouding my eyes, my lungs stinging, burning, begging for just one little sip of air.

  But he wouldn’t let me have it.

  I felt my eyes closing, my limbs growing heavy, the fight slipping out of me. I focused everything I had left into one more movement and flipped my head around to see him watching me. Watching the life slip out of me as his hands held me under the water. I couldn’t believe it.

  It was him.

  * * *

  “You!” I screamed.

  I blinked my eyes against the darkness. I was dry. In my apartment. Alive. Breathing. Air was pushing in and out of my lungs, not chlorinated water. Pushing quickly, too, on the verge of hyperventilating. I bit my lip, steadying myself to get my bearings.

  I’d fallen asleep on the sofa, the TV on, a Cheers rerun blaring as Tabby curled up at my feet. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been there but it had been light when I’d fallen asleep. Fully dressed. I dropped the red heels on the floor when I came in. I quickly kicked them away from me now as if I could kick the dream away too.

  His face. I’d seen his face.

  Only I couldn’t. I mean, she had, but it had been dark. I could only make out the outline. It had been a man, tall, short hair, Caucasian. But that was all I’d been able to see. Or maybe that was all I wanted to see.

  It had to have been Blake. If he’d really been asleep, and she’d fought that hard, he would have woken up. He would have heard, and come out to the pool, saved her. There’s no way he could have slept through that struggle.

  I strained my memory trying to get more details out of the face, but nothing came.

  But she’d seen him. Angel had known who her killer was as she’d watched him drain the life out of her.

  The thought sent a shiver up my spine and I quickly got up and turned on the light. In fact, I turned on every light in my apartment. How could he do something like that? Actually watch the life go out of someone. It was beyond me. But one thing I knew for certain.

  “I won’t let him get away with it, Angel,” I said to my empty apartment. “I promise.”

  * * *

  I dressed with determination the next day, putting on the sexiest thing I owned, a white, clingy dress that ended just south of my derriere and plunged just north of my belly button. I contemplated the white slingbacks Danielle had prompted me to buy, but instead I picked up the discarded red heels. They were what started this whole thing. It seemed only fitting I wore them to end it.

  I pulled up in front of the Victorian on Market that the receptionist had directed me to and was quickly ushered into a room much like the previous set I’d been on. Only this one was dressed up to resemble a scene from ancient Greece. White columns, grape vines and lots of gold streaking through the background. Crew members ran back and forth putting the finishing touches on the set and arranging the array of lights as a man in all black stood behind a camera lining up shots.

  Blake was already there, next to a wardrobe rack, being fitted in a white toga. I had a moment of doubt as he flashed his lopsided grin at me, raising a hand in greeting. But I swallowed it down. Angel did not kill herself. And Blake was the only other person there.

  I pasted a fake smile on my face, holding onto that thought as I waved back.

  “There you are, my love,” R.J. said, bustling up beside me. Alec followed a step behind, his hands in his pockets as he surveyed the set.

  “And don’t you look fabulous today?” R.J. exclaimed, giving my dress a once over. He shot me a grin showing off all five hundred of his teeth. “Got a hot date later?”

  I glanced over at Blake. “I hope so.”

  “Well, let’s get you in wardrobe,” Alec prompted.

  “As promised, you will be fully clothed this time. You’re the Goddess of Shoes,” R.J. said. “And Blake gets to be your love slave.” He winked.

  I felt bile rise in my throat. My love slave. Like he’d pretended to love Angel? Like he’d made love to me? God, I wasn’t sure I could pull this off. I looked down at my heels. But I had to try. For her.

  “Great,” I forced out.

  R.J. continued to fill me in on the mythology behind my character as a thin, mousy wardrobe girl whisked me into a white, draping dress that ended just below my knees. It was shot through with gold accents that the hairdresser mirrored in my locks, gold ribbons pulling my curls up into a crown around my head. And on my feet were a beautiful pair of gold high heels – a strikingly modern touch to the ancient scene. The photographer in black led me out onto the set and posed me, leaning my back against a white pillar. Blake appeared a moment later.

  I bit my lip, squelching the rush of emotions at being so near him. Disgust at what he’d done mingled with the memory of the night I’d spent in his arms. How could I have been so wrong about him?

  The photographer told Blake to kneel at my feet. He did, giving me a secret smile that said he was enjoying the intimate pose. I did my best dominatrix look back.

  “Perfecto!” the photographer yelled and started clicking away.

  “You look hot in a toga,” Blake whispered.

  “Shh. I’m working, slave boy.”

  His mischievous grin grew. “Yes, goddess.”

  I turned my head the other direction, hardly able to look at him without wanting to throttle the man.

  Somehow I made it through the shoot without vomiting. Even with Blake giving me the moon eyes the entire time. By the end, I felt like I’d run a marathon, though the shoot had lasted only a couple of hours. When it was over I quickly rushed back to wardrobe, changing into my own clothes. I took a few deep breaths, telling myself I could do this.

  “Hey, kid, you okay?” R.J. asked, coming up behind me as
I was strapping my shoes on.

  “Yeah, fine,” I lied. “Why?”

  “You sound like you’re hyperventilating. What’s wrong? Something going on between you and Blake?”

  I shook my head. Then paused. If there was anyone who might have insight into Blake and Angel’s relationship, it was R.J.

  I leaned in close. “R.J., I think Blake killed Angel.”

  His mega sized smile dropped. “Alec told me you’d been asking questions, but I didn’t believe you seriously thought Blake could have anything to do with Angel’s death. I told you, he tried to save her.”

  I shook my head. “I know, but… but I’m certain.”

  He leaned in. “You have proof?”

  “Yes.” I bit my lip again. “Well, not exactly. I mean… look, you’re going to have to trust me on this. I know who killed Angel.”

  R.J. stared at me for a moment, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to say something.

  But didn’t get the chance as Alec joined our little group.

  “That was fantastic, Kya. I’d be surprised if I’m not looking at the next Heidi Klum.”

  “I don’t know about that,” I said, my eyes still on R.J. His brow was furrowed, his lips set in a thin line, digesting what I’d just told him.

  “You’re just being modest,” Alec joked. “I can tell you’re going to have a long future with Parker models.”

  “A girl can hope.”

  “Wow, killer dress, Kya.”