Say It Again (First Wives, #5)(62)

She lined her lips with pink, filled it in with a nude lipstick.

Two Jennifers came to mind. “Is there a reason for this question?”

She smacked her lips together, peered over her nose while she put the cap on the lipstick and placed it back in her makeup bag. “I need a name. Sasha isn’t going to work.”

Ohhh . . . “Jennifer.”

She held her breath, stared in disbelief. “Jennifer it is.”

He was starting to like this fantasy.

“Do your parents know where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing?”

“They haven’t known what I was doing since the seventh grade.”

“When was the last time you spoke?”

“At Amelia’s funeral. Wait, I did speak to my mom right before I flew to Germany.”

“Not your dad?”

“No.” He had made a routine of avoiding conversations with his father as much as humanly possible.

“Did you hint at flying overseas?”

AJ pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was angry he wasn’t looking into Amelia’s death harder. I was an ass . . . didn’t realize that she was grieving and wasn’t in a place to process anything other than the fact that my sister was gone.” The weight of that sat in his chest.

“Have you processed that?”

AJ glanced up, had a hard time meeting her eyes. “Probably not. It’s why I’m still functioning.”

“Falling apart later is a good plan,” she said softly.

He glanced over, found her studying her image in the mirror. “When was the last time you fell apart?”

AJ noticed her fists clench.

“Do you? Fall apart?”

He saw her go through a process . . . deep breath, relax her hands, ease her shoulders, close her eyes, and blow air out slowly. He’d seen this before . . . her reset button. He’d bet money she’d change the subject with her next words.

“You went to Vegas. Wanted to get lost in your grief. We met, spent the next several days consuming tequila and blowing money. You went back with me to LA. I rent a guesthouse in the Hollywood Hills. Not traceable. I wait tables. You’ve been footing the bill. My clothes, trip back home. You think I’m the one.”

AJ ignored her change of subject, smiled at the way her resolve and control centered her. Apparently later hadn’t come for her, and falling apart wasn’t an option.

“The one?”

“Yeah. Jennifer Stone. Waitress and insecure. Never graduated from college, wanted to be an actress. I’ll play it close enough to perfect to where they won’t dismiss me on sight but want to know more about me. When your mother . . . or maybe your father opens up, that’s when you start asking questions.”

AJ sat back, rested his ankle on his knee at thirty thousand feet. “What kind of questions?”

“About raising children . . . boarding school? I’m the one, you’re thinking about those things. How did your parents manage with your father working all the time? What was the goal? Did they regret anything? This is when you capture as much information as you can.”

Could he do that?

“Stay focused. Don’t fall down an emotional rabbit hole. Your sister’s death has made you reconsider a lot of things. And that’s what I want you to think about when we’re there. Amelia. Can you do that?”

“Explain to me why we can’t walk in there, show my father the picture, and ask what the hell is up?” Confront the question head-on. That was his way.

Sasha placed both hands on the table, stared with her lips in a thin line. “How well do you know your father? Do you know his friends, their friends? How about his time as the ambassador? How much were you aware of, living in the States while your sister was at Richter?”

Her questions were fired off so fast he couldn’t begin to answer them.

“If your father is guilty of anything, he won’t answer your questions with the truth.” She paused. “But you already know that. We stay long enough to gather information, for me to get into your father’s computer, see if there is any connection still lingering between him and Pohl.”

“I can’t fathom my father having anything to do with Amelia’s death.” He pictured his father’s face at the funeral. He’d aged five years that week. He said next to nothing to anyone at the funeral or the reception after. It was his mother who thanked everyone for coming and played hostess.

“He may have no idea. Before we leave, we’ll know one way or the other.” Sasha turned back to the mirror, picked up the dirty blonde bob cut wig and pulled it over her head. Within a few minutes she’d managed to tuck and comb away any sign that the hair wasn’t her own. She shook her head several times, fluffed the edges, and turned to smile at him. “What do you think?” Her question was said with her perfect American accent.

He walked over to her and touched the edges. Before she could protest, he leaned down and kissed her. “Not bad, Jennifer.”



Sitting in the passenger seat of an economy rental car while AJ drove them from the airport to Amelia’s condo offered Sasha the opportunity to watch his emotions. The closer they came to his sister’s place, the harder he gripped the wheel.

“You certain your parents haven’t gone in and cleared the place out?”