UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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“This isn’t working out quite as I’d hoped.” Dana Alexander’s voice was silky smooth, clinically cool in its expression of disdain.
Ariana pursed her lips. Sometimes it was downright irritating talking to the British woman, with her supercilious airs and her stuck-up accent. It wasn’t like Ariana to experience xenophobia—she had nothing against folks seeking a new life in the United States. But sweet Lord of mercy, some Europeans were just so damn precious.
“Only so far I can push things with the girl. It gets to looking like harassment.”
“No doubt,” came the dry response. “That’s why I made provision for an alternative source of information. But things have dried up on that front, too.”
“You absolutely certain? Maybe the kids just got settled into a routine?”
“Always a possibility,” said Alexander. “And yet, I think not. Their lives were just getting so interesting. Lucy almost expelled, John-Michael being investigated by the police, Paolo hiding something—I still don’t know what. And now? All I’m hearing is ‘sweet little Grace, the devoted daughter.’ Such an angel, what a saint! So dedicated to her cause, to her pen pals, the poor lonely prisoners.”
“Maya doesn’t know that the guy on death row is Grace’s father. Gotta expect the girl to have a little bit of fellow feeling for her.”
Alexander’s response was fiercely snapped out. “Of course Maya doesn’t know! The fact that Vesper is that girl’s father just makes her all the more sympathetic. If Maya were ever to discover that particular gem, I doubt I’ll ever hear anything else from that little brat house again.”
“Sounds like Maya is already choosing her words more carefully.”
“Indeed. That’s why it may be time to proceed to Plan B.”
“There’s a Plan B?”
“There’s always a Plan B. Pack your bags. You’d better pop along to LA. Surely you’re overdue an unfortunate fall from the wagon? Booze or pills—I don’t care which you tell her you’ve gone for. Poor you, you’ve no one to turn to except dear little Lucasta from rehab. In the words of Lady Macbeth, darling, ‘Screw your courage to the sticking-place, and we’ll not fail.’”
Ariana could almost hear the smug smile on the other end of the phone. But then there was a marked shift in Dana Alexander’s tone. This time it was pure ice.
“There’s nothing I despise so much as a spoiled child, Ariana. It’s time I took a more active role in their lives. Time to bring the heat to Venice Beach.”