Infamous (Beautiful Idols 3)
Ryan squinted past her shoulder. “I don’t see it.”
“Look, right there—in the sink. Madison was here! Recently, too!”
Aster’s voice pitched high, her heart slamming wildly against her chest. She’d always thought that sort of good news would make her feel jubilant, triumphant. Not like she was on the verge of cardiac arrest.
“Look—the sink is wet and the towels and bath mat are damp! Also, there’s stuff in the trash.”
Ryan remained unresponsive, and Aster couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t believe her, or because he did.
She pointed toward the bowl of the sink, where there was a dab of toothpaste stuck to the side. “She was here. I’m telling you.” She plucked the toothbrush from the ceramic cup. The bristles were wet. She turned to Ryan. “This proves it.”
Ryan remained unconvinced. His features were arranged in what she’d come to recognize as his go-to I hate to break it to you but face.
“Do you seriously not see what I do?” She knew she sounded hysterical, but the evidence was right there in front of them. Why was he so blind to the facts?
“Aster, I’m sorry,” he said. “But damp towels and a glob of toothpaste don’t exactly prove anything. Maybe someone else has been staying here. It’s entirely possible now that she’s been missing so long.”
“Like who? Who’s been staying here?”
“I don’t know.” He squinted. “A squatter—someone who broke in, liked what they saw, and decided to hang around for a while.”
“You’re joking, right?”
He pressed his lips together. “I just don’t think it’s enough to go on.”
“Okay, well, then how about this?” She picked up the hairbrush that was lying on the counter. It was tangled with both dark and light hairs. “Pending a DNA test, I’m going to go out on a limb and declare these hairs came from Madison.”
Ryan’s skeptical gaz
e met hers. “Even the blond one?”
“Could be from a wig. Just like the one she wore in the photo.”
“So, what do you suggest? Should we bag it for evidence?”
Aster frowned. “Why are you being like this?”
Ryan looked uneasy.
“You’re acting like you don’t believe me—like I’m some desperate crazy person trying to turn the slightest thing into proof.” She reached inside the trash can, batted aside the used tissue, and retrieved an empty water bottle along with a crumpled M&M’s bag. “Here,” she said. “In case you need more proof.”
“It’s a water bottle.” Ryan frowned. “Someone’s water bottle, but not necessarily Madison’s.” He pried the bottle away and tossed it back in the can. “Besides, Madison doesn’t eat candy.”
Aster dropped her head in her hands. She was acting crazy. Her desperate need for answers had altered her ability to think straight.
“I’m a mess,” she said. “I’m losing my mind. I don’t even know what to do anymore.”
She lifted her gaze to find she’d spoken to an empty room.
“Ryan?” She peeked around the doorway and found him standing very still with his back turned toward her. Her heart sank. Great. She’d finally gone too far. And now he . . .
He glanced over his shoulder. His face pale, he said, “You were right. She was here.”
Aster raced toward him, struggling to make out whatever it was he dangled from the tip of his index finger.
He dropped it onto the center of her palm, rendering Aster speechless when she gazed at Madison’s diamond-encrusted Piaget watch.
“Where’d you find this?”