Chapter 4

The next few days were a blur of rehearsals.

Our parents drilled Tiffany on Anna Reid's mannerisms, her soft way of speaking, her known habits.

They coached themselves on their story.

"We were driving near the woods where Mrs. Vance's car was found..." Dad would begin, his voice full of false concern.

"...and we saw this poor woman, dazed, by the side of the road," Mom would continue, dabbing at dry eyes.

"She looked so much like the missing philanthropist, we just had to help!"

Tiffany practiced her amnesia. "I... I don't remember much. Just flashes. It's all so confusing."

It was a sickening performance.

Then, Dad made the call.

He used a burner phone, dialing the private number Vance's team had released for credible tips.

His voice was suitably grave, reporting their "discovery."

My heart hammered. The plan was in motion.

I made a show of panic. "I can't be here when he comes. What if he thinks I'm involved? I just did the makeup, that's all!"

I tried to head for the door.

Mom grabbed my arm, her fingers digging in. "Don't you dare leave! You'll stay and back up our story."

Dad blocked my path. "If you mess this up for us, Chloe, you'll regret it. We're this close!"

Threats. Always threats.

Suddenly, the quiet street outside erupted.

Headlights cut through the evening gloom.

The sound of powerful engines.

A fleet of black SUVs, sleek and menacing, pulled up in front of our shabby house.

Doors opened. Men in dark suits emerged, fanning out.

My father's jaw dropped.

Mom gasped.

Tiffany froze, her eyes wide.

Elijah Vance was here.