Chapter 18: The Pile-On

Joanna's POV

The story went live at six, and by seven it was everywhere.

THE SISTER WHO SLEPT HER WAY IN.

Under it ran a year of Kiera's texts to Dax, set out in a neat column with dates.

Where does Jo keep the notebooks? Which cabinet? Does she lock it?

Every hotel receipt was there, and every line she had fed him about me.

Tilda read it aloud at her kitchen table in a flat voice, and then stopped halfway through and shoved the laptop away.

"I hated her yesterday," she said. "I hate that I feel sick."

"So do I."

"He did this to save his own neck, didn't he?"

"He has a meeting with his lawyer at noon. This is his alibi."

Jude was on the phone in the next room with the site's editor, arguing in a low steady voice.

When he came back he shook his head.

"It's out. I can't pull it."

"I know."

By nine the comments had run past forty thousand.

They were not about Dax.

They said she was a snake, a stalker, a gold digger who had fooled a sister, a fan, a country.

They said she should be arrested for the bruises.

Someone had posted her home address.

At ten o'clock Kiera was due at the district attorney's office, where the judge had sent her testimony for review.

"You don't have to go," Tilda said.

"I'm going."

"Jo."

"If I stay in this kitchen I'll sit and enjoy it. And I don't want to enjoy it."

Jude drove.

The steps of the district attorney's building were packed from the curb to the door.

I counted five camera crews and more phones than I could count.

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