Page 52 of You Found Me
A nightmare.
She wanted out of this no-longer-safe house, but they wouldn’t let her leave. She was a witness. She had to give a statement. She had to go over and over and over it. Every step she’d taken. Everything she’d touched. Everything she knew about the photos and Scott and the party and…it was a blur. All of it.
The only thing that reached through the haze was the blazing truth that a man she barely knew had been beaten almost to death and it was her fault.
She felt lost.
Alone.
She desperately wanted to throw herself into Lizzie’s arms. The urge to run home was so overwhelming it almost made her dizzy, but it would put her sister at risk.
Her pregnant sister.
She refused to let that happen.
“I think we’re done here,” Ward said as he strode into the room. “The police will leave a patrol in the neighborhood for a few hours while we clear out. The team will stay here to give the illusion that you’re still in the house.”
Della stood. Her legs felt wobbly and numb, but she forced herself to walk like this was the most important stage she’d ever been on, and pushed air into her lungs to keep her voice steady. “You still haven’t said where we’re going.”
“I’ll tell you once we’re on the road.”
A flare of irritation settled in the middle of her forehead. “Why can’t you tell me now?”
“Because I’m not taking the chance that we’ll be overheard.” He took out his phone and started tapping on it.
She wondered who he was messaging. His expression wasn’t irritated or commanding. It was…reluctant?
“Okay, Della. Come with me,” Annie said from the doorway. She held a black duffel bag in one hand and a dining room chair in the other.
Della followed her, relieved to finally have something to do that didn’t involve endless questions from the police or furtive glances from just about everyone. “Who’s he texting? He looks like a kid being forced to eat a vegetable.”
Annie snort-laughed as she bypassed her now off-limits bedroom in favor of the guest room on the opposite side. “That’s exactly what he’s doing.”
Della paused. “Hey, what are we doing? I thought we were going to pack a go bag.”
“Not to worry. I’ve already done that. All you have to do is get changed.” Annie tilted her head toward the guest room.
“Changed?” Della glanced down. They’d let her get out of her stage costume and into shorts and a T-shirt. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“Nothing. It’s just, well,you.” Annie maneuvered the bag and chair through the doorway with what looked like well-practiced ease. “You need to transition from the stage to the street. That means clothes you wouldn’t normally choose. Different makeup. New hair.”
Annie positioned the chair in front of the vanity and put the bag on the counter.
Della eyed it with suspicion. “What do you mean ‘new hair’?”
Annie pulled a box out of the bag and held it up with a gameshow smile. It featured a woman with deep auburn hair. “Red. The perfect color for blending in.”
Della had been blonde her entire life. When she and her sisters posed for pictures, it was always brunettes on the outside, blondes in the middle. She and Mattie had been blessed with Mama’s honey curls, and Piper and Lizzie had gotten Daddy’s straight chestnut hair. “You’re kidding.”
“Not even a little bit.” Annie set gloves, a cape, and a makeup kit on the counter. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid to dye your hair. There’s no way that honey-blonde is natural.”
“Yes, it is.” Della ran a hand over her hair. It was a tangled mess. “Mostly.”
Annie gave a disbelieving snort. “You’re talking to a model here. I know processed hair when I see it.”
Della’s cheeks flushed. “It’s highlighted. That’s all. Just a few streaks.”
More than a few, if she were honest. The last time she’d had her hair done, her head had been covered in enough foil to qualify her for Conspiracy of the Month club.