The gardener's shed smelled of gasoline and old grass. Jane didn't fumble with the padlock. She jammed a hairpin into the mechanism and twisted with a precise, practiced jerk. It was a skill learned the hard way in another life, after a landlord in Cleveland changed the locks on her with everything she owned still inside. The lock clicked open.
She slipped inside. The moonlight filtered through the dirty window, illuminating rows of sharp implements. She ignored the axes and the shears. She reached for a spool of high-test fishing line on the workbench. Next to it, she grabbed a small wrench from a toolkit.
Her hand tightened around the cold steel. A memory assaulted her. The boardroom, ten years from now. Alejandra throwing a file at her face, the paper slicing her cheek. You're a parasite, Jane. We're just cutting you out.
Jane shoved the items into her pockets. She wasn't just going to cut them out. She was going to erase them.
She exited the shed and took the long way around to the edge of the party. She stopped behind a large oak tree and messed up her hair. She rubbed her eyes until they were red. She hunched her shoulders, shrinking her posture.
She stepped into the light of the patio bar.
Heads turned. The whispers started immediately. Look, the stray is awake.
Alejandra spotted her instantly. She handed her champagne glass to a sycophant and glided over. Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass.
"Jane," Alejandra cooed. "You missed the opening toast. What a shame."
Jane looked at her shoes. She let her hands tremble visibly. "I'm sorry, Alejandra. I... I don't feel well."
Alejandra's eyes glittered with malice. This was exactly what she wanted. Weakness. Submission. She leaned in close, her expensive perfume cloying and sweet.
"I have something that will make you feel better," Alejandra whispered. "Meet me at the old overlook in the ravine. Fifteen minutes. Don't be late, or I'll tell Daddy you were stealing silverware again."
Jane's heart rate didn't spike. She kept her breathing shallow, mimicking panic. "Okay. I'll be there."
Alejandra patted Jane's cheek, a gesture that was more of a slap than a caress. She turned back to her friends, flashing a thumbs-up.
Jane watched her walk away. The moment Alejandra's back was turned, Jane's posture straightened. The fear evaporated from her face, leaving only a blank slate.
She slipped away from the bar and headed for the main house. She entered through the side door near the kitchen and made a beeline for the guest powder room on the first floor. It was a small, opulent room with gold fixtures.
Jane locked the door. She knelt under the sink. She felt around the back of the P-trap until her fingers brushed against a loose tile. She pried it open.
A plastic bag fell out. Inside were several pills and small packets of white powder. Kolby's emergency stash. Jane knew about it because in her previous life, she was the one who had to flush it down the toilet when the police came for a raid that never happened.
She took a bottle of muscle relaxants. She dumped three pills onto a paper towel and used the bottom of a heavy glass soap dispenser to crush them into a fine dust. She folded the paper carefully and tucked it into the cuff of her sleeve.
She unlocked the door and stepped out.
A body slammed into her.
"Watch it, bitch."
Kolby Norman swayed in the hallway. His eyes were glassy, his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He grabbed Jane's arm, his fingers digging into her bicep. He smelled of sweat and stale vodka.
"Where you going, little bastard?" he sneered.
Jane looked at his neck. It would be so easy. A quick twist. A crushed windpipe. She forced herself to shrink back, to whimper.
"Please, Kolby. I'm sick."
Kolby shoved her away. She hit the wall hard. "Get out of my face. You ruin the vibe."
He stumbled into the bathroom she had just vacated.
Jane hurried down the hall. As soon as she turned the corner, she stopped. She brushed the spot on her arm where he had touched her, as if wiping away filth.
She checked her watch. 11:45 PM.
Alejandra would be heading to the ravine in ten minutes to set up her prank. Jane had to get there first. She slipped out the back door and broke into a run, heading toward the tree line.
From the balcony above, Hudson Ellison swirled the scotch in his glass. He watched the girl in the black tracksuit vanish into the woods. He took a sip of his drink. The ice clinked against the crystal. He didn't know what game she was playing, but for the first time all night, he was interested.
