Twisted Read Free

knife, slicing through her flesh. The blood. The pain. It was an image she couldn’t escape. It had changed the course of her life.
    It had changed her.
    Now she winced, belatedly realizing she should have put on her street gloves before venturing outside. Her occupational therapist would be royally pissed if she knew. Well, no point in fishing for them now. She was practically at her car.
    A few minutes later, she hopped into her Subaru Outback. It took her extra time to turn the key in the ignition, and she gritted her teeth against the discomfort.
    The engine had just turned over when her cell phone rang.
    The caller ID read
private
. Not unusual. Most of her clients chose to protect their privacy.
    “Sloane Burbank,” she said into the mouthpiece.
    “Sloane?” a women’s tentative voice replied. “This is Hope Truman. Penny’s mother. I don’t know if you remember me.”
    “Mrs. Truman—hello—of course I remember you.” Sloane’s brows arched in surprise. It had been a dozen years since she’d spoken to the Trumans, although she and Penny had been inseparable friends in elementary and middle school. Even afterward, when Penny had gone on to attend a private high school, they’d still gotten together for shop-till-you-drop days and sleepovers. Then social lives, college applications, and life had kicked in, and they’d eventually grown apart and ultimately lost touch. But the memories of their antics, their secret codes, and shared adolescence were the kind that lasted forever, like cherished diaries.
    “How are you?” Sloane asked. “And how’s Penny? Last I heard she was working her way up the editorial ladder at
Harper’s Bazaar
.”
    “Then you don’t know.”
    “Know what?”
    “That’s why I’m calling.” Mrs. Truman took a deep breath. “Penny disappeared almost a year ago.”
    Sloane’s spine straightened. “When you say disappeared…”
    “I mean vanished into thin air. Without a trace. And without a word to Ronald and me. No contact whatsoever.”
    “No contact from Penny—or from anyone?” Sloane’s trained mind kicked into gear. The Trumans were wealthy and high-visibility. Ronald Truman was a renowned cardiologist at Mount Sinai. He was always making medical headlines. And recently his self-help books on keeping your heart healthy had topped the bestseller lists.
    Making the Trumans ideal candidates for extortion.
    “No contact from anyone,” Mrs. Truman was answering.
    “You never received a ransom call or note?”
    “Never. And God knows, we waited. Trust me, Sloane, we went through every channel and considered every option. Including the unthinkable—that it was a kidnapping gone wrong. But Penny’s body was never found.” A shaky sigh. “I’m aware of how slim the odds are. It’s been eleven months. But she’s my daughter. I can’t let it go.”
    “I understand.”
    Sloane knew a lot more about the odds than Mrs. Truman did. And what she knew made her sick.
    “I just read the newspaper article about you and the conference you’re speaking at,” Mrs. Truman continued. “I had no idea you were an FBI agent, or that you’d left to apply your skills as a private consultant. When I saw those words—it was the first glimmer of hope I’ve felt in months. We’ve exhausted all avenues. I remember what close friends you and Penny were. You were inseparable for years. I’m asking you—no, I’m begging you—before you leave Manhattan, would you stop by my apartment? I realize I’m asking a great deal, and with absolutely no notice. I’m willing to pay anything you ask—double or triple your normal rates. I’ll have my driver pick you up at the campus and drop you off there afterward. Whatever it takes to—”
    “That’s not necessary,” Sloane interrupted. There were a hundred questions running through her mind. But this situation had to be probed in person. “Penny was a big part of my life. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it. The