Chapter 2

2.

Caleb was showering in the master bedroom upstairs.

I was smoking on the leather sofa in the living room.

The phone rang as I was starting my second cigarette. The name "Blair St. James" flashed on the screen.

It rang for a full thirty seconds. I just watched it, not moving. I crushed the cigarette butt into the crystal ashtray and poured myself a glass of Pinot Noir.

The phone rang again. Still Blair. I answered it and casually put it on speaker.

Blair's signature voice, dripping with the entitled arrogance of the Upper East Side, came through. "Where's Caleb? Put him on the phone."

I didn't say a word, just tilted my head back and finished the wine in my glass.

"Harper, I know you're listening. Caleb’s phone is off, it's so annoying!"

"He's in the shower," I replied coolly. "What is it?"

Blair was silent for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her tone was sharp and acidic. "You two really can't waste a second, can you?"

I couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"We're a legally married couple, Blair. What we do in our own home is none of the NYPD's business."

"What are you getting at?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Blair shrieked, flustered. "Caleb is just a friend. I have no interest in him like that."

"Good to know," I said lightly. "So, what did you need?"

"The code!" Blair yelled, her voice urgent. "The alarm system code for his villa in the Hamptons. It's a long string of numbers, I can't remember it."