Page 32 of Every Step She Takes
Did the texts actually come from her?
I race down the stairs so fast I stumble on the last three. Her phone still lies on the couch. I reach for it and then stop. I can explain away fingerprints upstairs, but not on her phone.
DidI leave fingerprints upstairs?
In my initial panic, I’d envisioned my prints everywhere, but I don’t actually recall touching anything except Isabella herself, and I don’t think prints could be lifted from that.
I held the railing, but I’d been here yesterday, and no one would have cleaned since then.
Why am I thinking this through? I’m going to report her body and admit I was here.
Is that wise?
Yes, yes, it is. Whatever my experience with the media and the police, I still trust them in something like this. Isabella’s been dead for hours, and I only just arrived, and there will be no evidence I killed her.
Those texts…
If someone summoned me to this room, that means I’m being set up.
Maybe so, but it’s poorly done. I’ll be fine. I’m not about to leave prints intentionally, and the trail Ihaveleft supports my story.
I will call it in. I just want a look at Isabella’s phone first. I need to know what I’m dealing with here.
I grab a facecloth from the main bath and lift the phone. Then I realize I can’t check texts without touching the screen. I’ll need to wipe it down afterward.
The phone tries to recognize my face. It can’t, obviously. I glance upstairs and shiver.
I need to see the texts before the police get hold of this phone.
And I need to know what else happened last night, who the last person was that Isabella spoke to. Protect myself by having all the facts before I let the police take the phone.
Feeling like a ghoul, I slip back upstairs, bend over Isabella’s body and unlock the phone. Then I go into settings, turn off the screen lock and–
The doorbell rings. I shoot up from my crouch, slip to the steps and creep down. The ring comes again.
Should I answer it? Throw it open and say, “Isabella Morales is dead!” Or casually open it and pretend I just arrived, and we’ll “find” her body together?
Go away, please. Just go away so I can call 911 and do this properly.
Otherwise, how will it look? I’m found in the room with a dead body, a murdered woman whom I allegedly had every reason to hate.
My stomach seizes.
Imustbe the one to report this. Anything else will heap suspicion at my feet.
I’m frozen between the living room and the foyer. If that door opens, I’ll grab it and say I’ve found her. That’s all I can do. Play this through with honesty. I found Isabella. I was just about to call 911 when the doorbell rang, and I raced down to answer it.
A keycard slides through the reader. I snatch my purse from the floor and lunge forward, ready to yank open the door and tell whoever’s there–
As I reach for the knob, I see what’s still clutched in my hand.
Isabella’s cell phone.
Chapter Fifteen
I’m holding a murdered woman’s cell phone. I’ve unlocked it. My fingerprints are all over it.
The door starts to open, and I dive behind it. I don’t think. I can’t. I panic and scramble behind the door. Then I see the closet, its sliding door halfway open.
