“You didn’t say why Ben Northcutt was here,” I said, sitting down. “I know he’s writing about you. Why would you talk to him?”

“It’s always good to know what your enemy is up to. Mr. Northcutt considers himself more clever than he really is. Anyway, I thought you were here to discuss our siblings.” Her green eyes were catlike, and I realized she thought I was a toy she could bat around. She wasn’t an opponent I could beat with force. I’d have to spar on her terms.

“Why did you hate my sister so much?” I asked.

“Oh, are we playing truth or dare?” she asked. “Fine, I’ll go first. I hated her because she was the perfect little blonde daughter doll my father always wanted. She was pretty and skinny and eager to please. Father thought the sun rose and set on her.”

“Are you fishing for compliments?”

“I know I’m hot,” Juliet said. “But I’m the plush, deluxe, sardonic version of that doll. My father started sending me to fat camp when I was eight.”

“There’s a lot that’s messed up about your family.”

“Unlike your family, I suppose,” Juliet shot back. “The untroubled Crawleys.”

“Fair enough,” I admitted.

“I answered your question. Time to answer mine. What did you hate about Caroline?”

That caught me by surprise. “I loved my sister.”

“I’m not talking about that,” Juliet said. “We’ve all got mixed feelings about family lurking under the surface.”

“I don’t. Caro was a good person. She tried to help people.”

“If you’re going to stay, you have to be honest, Deirdre. Otherwise, you may as well leave now.”

I wanted to walk out, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I liked to think of myself as a person who faced up to the truth, but I had run away from it too many times. “I hated that Caroline stayed close to our father, even after all the times he hit our mother.” My mouth was dry, and my heart squeezed tight inside my chest. It felt like it might explode through my rib cage. I put my hands on my knees and leaned back a little.

“I didn’t know that. About your family, I mean.” Juliet uncrossed her legs and reached for a strawberry from the fruit plate on the ottoman. “I’d say I’m sorry, but that’s so patronizing. I wish Caroline had told me that.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes sense of her,” Juliet said. “I thought she was a little bitch who enjoyed being Miss Perfect. Instead, she was just being the good girl trying to manage every last detail. You get that in families with abuse. Some people think they can create order by doing everything right.”

“What is this, Psychology 101?” I tried to make it a joke, but Juliet’s words landed hard. When I’d been in the psychiatric hospital at fifteen, I’d had doctors prodding at me, trying to trick me into talking. Nothing made me feel more vulnerable than that.

Juliet shrugged. “I wanted to study psychology, but I had to go into hotel administration. This is as close to a hobby as I have.”

“Did you ever have therapy?”

“No. If I had, someone in my family would’ve bought off the therapist and used my ramblings against me. What about you?”

I shook my head. “It’s been suggested, but no. Is this how you got your superiority complex?”

“I’ve spent more time analyzing my own family than anyone else’s,” Juliet said. “Thraxtons are dysfunctional. I blame my father as the corrupting influence, but my brother is the worst example.”

“Why?”

“Because he wants all of the benefits but plays by none of the rules,” Juliet said. “He does what he wants, and yet my father would bring him in to run the business in a heartbeat if Theo would agree.”

“Isn’t that more of a comment on your father than Theo?” I asked.

At that moment, something behind me clamped onto my neck. I shouted and jumped to my feet.

“Calm down,” Juliet said. “That’s just Bartleby.”

I half-turned and saw a small caramel-colored mammal with rounded ears on top of his head. Its warm amber eyes were regarding me with curiosity.

“He’s a kinkajou. They’re very affectionate,” Juliet said, putting a strawberry in my hand. “Feed him, and he’ll be yours forever.”

“Where do you get these creatures?”

“His owner was going to feed him to a crocodile,” Juliet said. “The creep asked if I wanted to watch, and I said, ‘I would prefer not to.’” I must’ve looked blank, because she added, “You know, like Bartleby the Scrivener.”

“Never heard of him.”

“It’s a short story by Herman Melville. You should read it.”

I held the strawberry above the kinkajou’s head. He reached for it with delicate sharp-clawed paws and took a bite. His eyes stayed on mine. I petted his head, and his fur felt like thick velvet.

“He likes you,” Juliet said. “People are disappointing, but pets never are.”

“He’s pretty cute. Who would feed him to a crocodile?”

“We do business with some shady characters. But you already know that, don’t you?”

“That’s what Ben Northcutt claimed.” I petted the kinkajou, pretending to be casual. “But he’s a liar. He said my sister was a criminal. As if that would happen in a million years.”

It was a little bit of reverse psychology, but it worked wonders. Ask a direct question, and Juliet would bob and weave. Praise my sister, and she had to tear her down.

“Oh, you can’t imagine dear virtuous Caroline getting her hands dirty,” Juliet said. “I’m sure she kept it from you, but Caroline was up to her eyeballs in Thraxton schemes. Your sister loved money.”

“She used it to help people,” I countered. “She gave an awful lot to charity.”

“Hosting galas isn’t giving to charity. It’s dressing up and showing off so people can admire you.”

“Ben Northcutt was the cockroach problem you talked about with your father last night?” At the Thraxton house, I’d wondered what they were really discussing. Insects hadn’t seemed likely, especially since Caro had told them to pay out. Suddenly, it made sense.

Juliet nodded. “He’s been hanging around for months. He threatens to write a big exposé about us, but he runs away when he gets some cash. He’s like a squirrel with an acorn.”

“He didn’t look happy when I saw him. No acorn today?”

“No acorn ever again.”

“I lied when I said I didn’t tell him anything,” I said. “Caro sent me a message to read after she died. In it, she said Theo killed his first wife. I talked to your dad, and he basically confirmed it. Did you know?”

“I saw Theo the night it happened,” Juliet said. “My father told me he’d chartered a plane, and I had to take my brother to rehab. I’ve hated Theo with every fiber of my being since that night.”

“Because he killed someone?”

“Because my father didn’t care. He said I shouldn’t blame Theo, that it was an accident. It made me ill. He’s always excused my brother’s bad behavior. I don’t know why. Nothing I did was ever good enough.” She stared at the Anubis statue, as if it could give her the answers she needed.

“I’m the outcast in my family,” I said. “Bet that’s news to you.”

“What a shocker.” She smiled, and it wasn’t even her usual smirk. “Theo left me a message last night, and it’s looping around my brain. My father used to tell me I shouldn’t be so hard on Theo. But the truth is, if anyone screwed him up, it was our parents.”

CHAPTER 40

THEO

When my flight landed, there was no one I wanted to see more than Teddy, but I headed straight from the taxi into my father’s home. The butler who answered the door gave me a frozen smile and led me inside. The air in that frigid mausoleum of a house crackled as if a storm were rolling in.

There was something reptilian in the stone-cold stillness of my father’s face as I walked into his study.

“The prodigal son has returned,” he said. “How was your trip?”

“I’m here to tell you to go rot in hell.”

“That bad?” He kept his tone light. “I always loved Berlin in the spring. We lived there for a few years while I was setting up the European side of the business. You probably don’t remember.”

It was surreal, listening to his prattle. I was there to confront him, and he was acting as if nothing had changed between us.

“You murdered Mirelle,” I said. “You made my life a torment—you made me believe I was a killer! I’m going to take my son to live somewhere far, far away from you.”

“You are welcome to try,” he answered. “There’s no evidence of your being able to provide a stable home. In fact, there’s no evidence that you are stable. Let’s consider how this plays out in court before you make any rash decisions.”

“You killed Mirelle,” I repeated. “Don’t you have any remorse about that?”

“I didn’t kill anyone, Theo. I can prove that I wasn’t in Berlin that night.” He looked me in the eye, unflinching. “I suppose you met with Klaus on your little jaunt.”

“He admitted to hiring Mirelle, at your request.”