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was Hayley, of course, but her niece had her own life. She visited often, making time for an old woman. Hayley was going to Santa Barbara, then on to San Francisco to buy fabric for the fall line of clothes she was designing. It would be ten days or so before she returned. Until then, Meg would be on her own.

CHAPTER TWO
    F ARAH F ORDHAM pulled her sleek black Ferrari into the Twelve Acres parking lot just after 6:00 a.m. The facility was situated on prime real estate on Pacific Coast Highway, overlooking the coastline between Newport Beach and Laguna Beach. Why they called it Twelve Acres was beyond her; the place was a little over an acre of Cape Cod–style buildings shaded by stately palms.
    When Trent had called her at three this morning, he’d insisted she deliver the news of Hayley’s death to her old battle-ax aunt. Before he’d gotten that far, Trent had asked, “Did you do it?”
    “Do what?” Farah had been engaged in some extremely kinky sex—she loved being the dominatrix—with Kyle, her boyfriend.
    “Kill Hayley.”
    “That’s a hell of an idea.” Their father’s estate was currently in probate. As a CPA, Farah knew how big a chunk the state would claim, then the rest would be split three ways. Two would be better. One would be ideal.
    Despite having a successful business, Farah was overextended and trapped in the economic downturn. To make matters worse, her boyfriend was a residential real estate developer. His career was in limbo and she was supporting him.
    “Seriously, Hayley was blown to kingdom come by a car bomb.”
    “You’re kidding.” She tried to sound upset but doubted she’d fooled her brother.
    “I’m not joking. I’ve got to go to the station and give a statement. You have to tell Aunt Meg.”
    Great! Just great! Farah would rather be interviewed by the police than deliver bad news to Meg Amboy. The old crone was giving ninety a hard shove but she was still tough, the same woman who’d turned meager funds into a real estate empire by buying up what people assumed was worthless land east of L.A. Soon urban sprawl drove hundreds of thousands of people to what was laughingly called the “Inland Empire.”
    As far as Farah could tell, Meg Amboy loved two things. Money and Hayley. The old biddy had a heart condition; the news would probably kill her. The thought made Farah grin as she slithered out of the sports car she really couldn’t afford but loved with a passion. What would happen to Meg’s money with Hayley gone?
    Farah wondered if she could ingratiate herself with the old biddy. Considering the money involved and Meg’s lack of relatives, it wouldn’t hurt to try.
     
    M EG STARTED at the knock on the door to her suite. She made her way to the door and opened it. Farah Fordham stood there dressed in an expensive suit with a handbag that probably cost more than any nurse at Twelve Acres made in a month. What was she doing here?
    “May I come in?”
    Meg decided these were probably the first words Farah had ever directed to her other than a polite hello and goodbye at family functions. She eased the door open andwatched the young woman saunter in. Meg saw something of herself in Farah—not in the arrogant manner, but in the self-made young woman who’d put herself through college. Her brother, Trent, had ridden on his father’s coat tails, going into the family business. Not Farah; she had her own CPA firm.
    “Let’s sit down,” Farah said, looking as if she were facing a firing squad.
    Meg’s stomach heaved then took a sickening plunge. She staggered backward toward the small sofa where she’d been reading the paper. “Hayley,” she cried. “What’s happened?”
    Farah had hold of both Meg’s arms. She eased her down on the sofa before speaking. “There’s been an accident.”
    Relief washed through Meg, leaving her weak; blood pounded like hail in her ears. An accident. Well, she could deal with that. This might mean a prolonged stay in the hospital