Watch Your Back by Karen Rose Page B

Emma was taking no chances.
    ‘Emma. Be reasonable.’
    Emma snorted. ‘You’ve got to be kidding me. You want me to be reasonable? You want me in a safe house? Then you go with me. And before you threaten to push me out the door, just remember that I was there when the ER doctor examined you and I know all of the places you’re bleeding and/or bruised. One good jab and you’re down for the count.’
    ‘I like her.’ JD came down the stairs. ‘She’s smart.’
    Stevie glared at them both. ‘She’s a stubborn pain in the ass.’
    Emma shrugged. ‘Hello, pot. Meet kettle. So, Detective Fitzpatrick, do we need to worry about the Boogie Man jumping out of a closet when we go to sleep tonight?’
    ‘Nope. I thought at first that someone had tossed Izzy’s room, but I think it was Izzy. Clothes everywhere. Half of her closet’s on her bed.’
    Stevie frowned. ‘Her room was neat when we left today.’
    ‘Then either she’s been home to change, or Goldilocks tried on her clothes, put on her makeup, and locked up her jewelry box before leaving.’
    Stevie pushed herself to her feet. ‘I’ll check it out.’
    ‘How do you know someone put on her makeup?’ Emma asked.
    ‘Her makeup brushes were still damp and there were lipstick-covered tissues all over the dresser.’ JD lifted a shoulder. ‘I have a wife who likes to wear makeup. I’m always shoving Lucy’s brushes out of the way just so I can have a few inches of counter space to shave.’
    ‘Poor baby,’ Stevie muttered. She pushed past him and muscled her way up the stairs, with Emma behind her and JD bringing up the rear. Izzy’s room was a mess, very uncharacteristic of her neat-as-a-pin sister. ‘It looks like a tornado went through here.’
    ‘Is anything missing?’ JD asked.
    Stevie stepped into Izzy’s closet. ‘Her glass slippers are gone.’
    Emma stuck her head through the closet doorway. ‘Izzy has glass slippers?’
    ‘They’re really acrylic or something, but Cordelia called them glass slippers when she was a toddler, and it stuck. Izzy wears them with her best dress.’ Stevie sorted through the clothes. ‘Which is missing, too.’ She surveyed the shelves. Pointed to an obviously empty space. ‘Her camera is missing. All her lenses and filters, too.’
    ‘Maybe she took pictures of Cordelia at ballet?’ Emma suggested.
    ‘Maybe. But it was just a class. Cordy’s recital isn’t until next month.’ Or was it? Oh God, please don’t let it have been today. She’d already called the ballet teacher four times, but the teacher didn’t usually return calls until all of her afternoon classes were over. Which should have been by now. Hurrying to Cordelia’s room, Stevie dialed again.
    Reva Stanislaski answered as Stevie threw open Cordelia’s closet door. Her leotard and practice shoes were gone, but the pink tutu she wore to recitals was hanging there undisturbed.
    ‘Mrs Stanislaski, hello. This is Stevie Mazzetti, Cordelia’s mom.’
    ‘Mrs Mazzetti. How good it is to hear from you. I hope Cordelia is well.’
    Stevie frowned. ‘What do you mean? You saw her a few hours ago. Wasn’t she well then?’ There was a pause during which Stevie’s heart began to race. ‘Wasn’t she okay today?’
    ‘I didn’t see her today, Mrs Mazzetti. I haven’t seen Cordelia in over two months.’
    ‘I . . . I don’t understand. She goes to class, every Saturday afternoon. My sister Izabela has been bringing her.’
    ‘Izabela withdrew her from my class at the beginning of January, right after the new year. Cordelia seemed to be having some trouble.’
    ‘What kind of trouble?’ Stevie asked flatly.
    ‘She seemed to get upset easily. The least little mistake and she’d burst into tears.’
    Stevie’s maternal defensiveness came to full alert. ‘Perhaps it was the manner in which the correction was given.’
    ‘I never corrected her,’ Mrs Stanislaski said sadly. ‘Cordelia was more than aware of her own mistakes. I