The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(15)

“Like a rock.” He removed his sunglasses and tucked them into a pocket. “That’s what Ambien is for.”

A frown needled at her. “Wasn’t Ambien blamed in a sleepwalking murder once?” she asked. “Wait, no—it was like a whole crop of cases.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’re not having this conversation.”

She moistened her lips to hide a smile. No man liked admitting he needed assistance for anything. Jack was no exception.

A press of the doorbell, and a tune of double notes echoed through the house. “When you wake up on the roof of the Drake or in the middle of the freeway naked, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The door opened before he could fire off a comeback. Finley had anticipated a member of the household staff would greet them, but she had guessed wrong.

Sophia Legard, looking as regal as ever, stood before them. Her dark hair was cut and styled in an elegant blown-back bob, revealing smooth skin highlighted with just the right amount of makeup. As in her media photos, it was her green eyes that grabbed your attention. Wide, watchful. Cautious, maybe. She wore a sophisticated black formfitting dress.

“Good morning,” Finley offered, propping a smile in place. “I’m Finley O’Sullivan.”

Sophia blinked at Finley and immediately turned her attention to the boss. “Jack, we’re so glad you’re here.” She opened the door wider and ushered Jack inside, her arm entwining with his.

First-name basis. Touchy feely. Note to self: What the hell, Jack?

Finley followed, closing the door behind her.

The vast foyer was exactly what Finley had expected. Lavish. Museum-like. She should have felt right at home, except she hadn’t felt at home where she’d grown up in a long time now.

Derrick had changed everything. Her heart skipped a beat.

She blinked away the painful distraction.

“Knowing you would be here is the only reason I slept at all last night,” Sophia said as she glided along the marble floor like an otherworldly being in a wisp of black silky smoke curling around Jack in his handsome navy suit.

At a towering set of french doors, they entered a grand parlor decorated in the same untouchable luxury. Perched on a long white sofa was Cecelia Legard with her shaggy dark hair. She didn’t look up. Her attention remained transfixed on her fingers where they lay knotted in her lap. Her dress was a charcoal gray, almost black as well. Unlike her mother, who wore designer shoes with daggerlike heels, Cecelia’s feet were bare; her toenails, like her fingernails, were short and unpainted.

“Cecelia, you remember Jack,” Sophia said to her daughter.

Cecelia glanced up at Jack and gave a vague nod.

“Cecelia,” he said.

“This is his associate, Finley O’Sullivan.” Sophia gestured to Finley.

Cecelia gave Finley the same sort of acknowledgment.

Finley returned the gesture.

“Sit wherever you like.” Sophia announced this as she settled on the sofa near her daughter.

Jack waited for Finley, who chose the chair directly across from Cecelia. Finley asked, “Olivia will be joining us as well?”

Cecelia flinched at her sister’s name.

Jack took the chair neighboring Finley’s while Sophia sat in silence, apparently grappling for a response to the question.

“Olivia prefers to meet with you . . . privately,” Sophia said with only one stumble. “At her hotel. It’s still difficult for her to be here.”

Jack nodded. “Whatever works best for her. I’m sure she’s feeling a bit jet-lagged this morning.”

“We could reschedule,” Finley offered, “if you prefer to do this together.”

Cecelia looked up, her gaze locking with Finley’s. “She won’t come here. She hates this house. Hates us.”

Her voice was oddly rusty, as if she rarely used it. She looked away as suddenly as she’d spoken. The hope for an honest and revealing response was the reason Finley had made the suggestion.

“She doesn’t hate us, Cecelia.” Sophia rolled her eyes and gave her head a little shake. “She’s lived away for years now. This doesn’t feel like home anymore. She’s more comfortable in her own space.”

Cecelia’s fingers tightened so hard around each other they turned a bright white blotched with red. “I’m sure you’re right, Mother.”

“I’m certain,” Finley offered in an effort to lessen the tension, “this is a very painful time for all of you.”

“Having this nightmare ripped open again can’t be easy,” Jack added. “It was painful enough the first time.”

Finley barely kept the frown off her face. How would he know how painful it had been for the family? Was his comment only a sympathetic gesture?

“It is unconscionable, and yet, here we are.” Sophia pressed Finley with a stern glare as if she were the one who’d spoken. “Jack assures me you are the very best investigator on his staff. He’s quite convinced you’ll be able to get to the bottom of whatever this horrible man is up to.”

Finley wasn’t surprised that Jack had presented her in this way. Particularly since she was his only investigator. Besides, he couldn’t exactly tell the woman that part of Finley’s job was to determine whether or not one or more of the three Legard women was lying.