the family,” Vanessa answered, her voice confident.
“I’m still remembering ninety-five percent of your body on display in a popular magazine, and the gossip headlines when you were a minor, having an affair with the head of that modeling agency. And what about the wild parties and the boyfriend-turned-stalker? I can’t see you doing anything without attracting headlines,” her father said, snapping his fingers and reaching for the paper still dangling from Michelle’s hand.
Vanessa cringed. Who but her father could dismiss her life with such negativity?
“What about me?” Michelle asked, giving her father the paper. “I want to go into modeling, too. People my age model all the time. I could go down on location with Vanessa and make some contacts—”
“Michelle, we’ve already had this discussion,” Lonette said, regarding her daughter sternly. “That’s not the sort of life we want for you.”
Steeped in déjà vu, Vanessa knew how Michelle felt. The life her parents demanded was comparable to a padded cell.
Right now though, with her current assignment and what she knew about the modeling world, she was glad her parents were keeping Michelle out of it. She couldn’t stand the thought of Michelle going through all that she had.
“You guys never let me do anything!” Michelle whined. Tears filled her eyes. “When Vanessa started—”
Manfred Dawson’s heavy voice cut through her objections. “Michelle, the answer is no. Don’t ask again.”
Just then, Robert appeared in the doorway to announce dinner, and as the family headed for the dining room, a pouting Michelle ran off to her room.
Vanessa sat through a strained, awkward dinner with her parents. Her appetite gone, she pushed grilled salmon with creamed dill sauce, stir-fried green beans and a twice-baked potato around on her plate.
Her father frowned every time he looked at her. It was a silent reproach. Nothing she said reached him. She found herself wondering, when had he ever smiled at her and been supportive? Only when she did as he dictated. He wanted a puppet, not a daughter.
Her mother chattered on about things—the next ball, the garden club meeting and her church work. When her gaze met Vanessa’s there was a sort of desperation in her eyes. Lonette really hated discord among her family. After an initial effort to resolve things, her usual solution was to try to act as if nothing had happened and hope it would go away. It never worked.
Vanessa refused the crème brûlée dessert and got ready to leave. She loved her parents, but she had a job to do. A job she couldn’t tell them about.
Before she left, Vanessa stopped by Michelle’s room to talk and try to smooth things over. At first, Michelle was too angry to say much, but when she heard that Vanessa was leaving for Miami in the morning, she turned red-rimmed eyes on her sister and said, “I thought you said that you’d never go back, that it was full of nothing but bad memories?”
Vanessa nodded. “I did, and I meant it, but I have something important to do. I’m not just going back to model, I’m going back to do something for a friend and I gave my word.”
“What are you going to do?” Michelle asked, curiosity in her eyes as she searched Vanessa’s face. “You can tell me.”
Vanessa knew better than to play this game. “No, I can’t. Just take my word for it.”
Michelle’s eyes sparkled with tears. “You’re going to leave me here with them. Let me come with you! I won’t be any trouble. I know how to take care of myself.”
Nothing was further from the truth. Smoothing her sister’s hair, Vanessa leaned in and hugged her. “I can’t. They’d disown me if I did that.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Michelle said. “Daddy keeps taking away the money and you still keep doing what you want.”
Vanessa met her sister’s gaze. “You’re right,” she admitted. “I do keep doing what I have to do. I’m an adult. Daddy thinks he knows what’s best for me, but he’s lived his life and made his own decisions. Do you see? I’ve got to do what I think is best, even if it’s a mistake.”
Michelle’s next question haunted Vanessa all the way back to her condo. “Is this modeling job a mistake?”
Vanessa left New York on a morning flight to Miami. There, she picked up the red Jag convertible they’d leased for her. Afterward, she followed the leasing agent’s directions to her new condo on Ocean Drive.
As the concierge unloaded her luggage and the valet accepted her keys, Vanessa studied the building where the models had been killed. The large, three-story structure was big enough to guarantee some privacy, but nothing like the high-rises that dotted Ocean Drive. Part of the building was set in a lush, tropical garden, the rest on the beach.
A blue-uniformed man opened the lobby door and Vanessa stepped into the building wearing Seven for All Mankind custom jeans made to fit her curvy butt just right and a lilac silk tank top. Her heels clicked as she crossed a marbled lobby to stop at the service desk and get directions to her condo. Minutes later, she was back outside in the hot sun, rounding the building to stop in front of her unit.
A tall blonde in dark glasses, swim shorts and a bikini top came out of the next unit and pulled the door shut. “Moving in?” she asked, smiling.
Recognizing one of the models to be photographed for Inside Sports, Vanessa returned the smile. “Yes. I’m Vanessa. How are you?”
“Right now, I’m just getting started on the fun.” The blonde pushed the sunglasses down her nose to peer at Vanessa. “Your hazel eyes…I thought I recognized you. You’re Vanessa Dawson, aren’t you?”
Flattered, Vanessa felt her smile widen. “Yes, I am.”
“I’m Annika LaVatia, fellow model on the Inside Sports project.” She moved closer. “Welcome to Miami! You’ll love this place. It’s got everything a girl could want.”
“Really?” Vanessa let the question hang in the air, wondering if “everything” included drugs.
“Oh yeah,” Annika bubbled on, “I love having my own town house and still being able to get room service, and the waiters bringing the food are hot. Add that you’re just steps from the beach, and you can’t beat the security. Then there’s a bunch of restaurants close by.”
“It sounds like a dream.” Vanessa fitted her key into the lock. “There’s only one thing that could turn this into a nightmare…”
“I can’t imagine a thing,” Annika said, flipping back a long strand of hair.
“Well, I heard about some models getting killed in a condo on Ocean Drive,” Vanessa said cautiously. “A friend of mine insists that this is the place.”
“Oh.” Annika’s voice dropped a few octaves. “This is the place,” she reluctantly admitted.
“But not the same unit?” Vanessa let a note of fear creep into her voice.
“Lord, no. That unit was ripped apart. Besides, it’s closer to the beach and it has to be redecorated.”
