Bree looked at her partner and snorted. "Jessup, do you ever think about what's in your head before you actually say it?"

Mark shrugged, reaching into his pocket for a lollipop and his keys. "No. Why would I do that for?"

Bree shook her head, her shoulders jumping up and down in laughter.  "There's never a dull moment with you around. If your best idea is to get Sebastian Dover's sister to confess is to get her to fall in love with you, you might as well forget about solving this case."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mark popped the candy in his mouth and opened the door to his car, waiting for his partner to explain.

"It means you aren't exactly rich girl boyfriend material."

"Rich, rich, rich. Is that all you can say? And why the hell not by the way? Damn. That rhymed again, didn't it?"

Bree nodded, getting into Mark's car. 

"I'm a good-looking guy. I'm funny. I have a respectable job," Mark counted off the reasons against his fingers. "I don't hog the sheets."

"Two of those are subjective. Besides, you're not charming enough to win someone like her over."

"Whoa...whoa... whoa...now I'm really starting to get my feelings hurt here. I ooze charm. Do you smell that?" Mark asked, sniffing the air. "That's the smell of my charm oozing out of me--it's so strong! I can't control it."

Bree laughed. "You're  so immature. Are you sure it's not your cheap cologne? We need to think of another angle when it comes to this case. What are we missing?"

Mark popped his lollipop in his mouth and started the engine of his car. "Well, we've investigated the driver, Trey Dawson. He was just a punk for hire but nothing big. Just small stuff. The million-dollar question is why would Calista Dover get in a car with him, to begin with?"

"If she's crying amnesia there's no way we'll find out by asking her."

"The brother won't talk to us. He just keeps talking about his lawyers. Is that all rich people can say when they're being accused of murder?" Mark shook his head before turning the car towards the police station.

"Of course but crying 'lawyer' makes him that much more suspicious," Bree said while digging through her purse for some gum. Chewing the stuff always made her concentrate better.

"Calista Dover is supposed to be single," Mark said. "What if she isn't?"

"Or wasn't," Bree murmured. Her head popped up and she stared at Mark with wide eyes. "Dawson! Do you think she was dating Trey Dawson and kept it hidden?"

"It's possible. It may seem unusual but she could've been dating him. You know these rich girls like to live dangerously by slumming it with us regular guys."

"That's a stereotype," Bree said.

"Girls like her don't stay single. Maybe she wanted to know what it was like to have a poor lover. Eating out at McDonald's, drives down country roads, watching Netflix...you know, dates on a budget."

"Is that what you do with your women?" Bree shook her head. Mark chuckled. "No. Calista Dover's known for being a party girl. She would never have willingly gone out with someone like him. Some of the interviews even indicated that she had a thing about germs. Why would she purposely associate with someone as scruffy as Trey Dawson?"

"Don't speak ill of the dead," Mark reminded her absent-mindedly now crunching on the hard candy of the lollipop he had been sucking on earlier. "What if Dawson really did kidnap her? Or what if she was at that church for a totally different reason? All this time we've been assuming that she was somehow responsible but what if she was also a victim?"

"What would be the reason for him to kidnap her? Money's the obvious answer but her brother denied ever receiving a ransom request. As for her being in the church, none of the other church members recognized her as someone that attended St. Anthony's so her being there would be pretty far-fetched."

"Far-fetched but not impossible." Mark tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. "The truck was so destroyed it was hard to prove someone was in there with Dawson. What if she really was in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"More like the wrong place at the worst time. If that was the case, then why did Dawson ram into that church? Let's say he did abduct her and she tried to get away. They struggled over the steering wheel and bam...they head into the church." Bree clapped her hands together for emphasis. It was a scenario they had gone over before but Mark nodded as though it was the first time he'd heard it.

"But Dawson wasn't smart enough to come up with such an elaborate plan. He was just a gofer and never the mastermind. Maybe someone hired Dawson. Maybe whoever hired Dawson was the secret boyfriend."  

"Then we're back to Calista Dover and it's all speculation unless we have some proof. How do we get her to talk? We can't get near her when her brother is around," Bree reminded Mark. "If she really is innocent, don't you think she'd feel bad about the people who died that night? Wouldn't she want to help us figure out what happened?"

"You're assuming that she isn't a cold-hearted shark like her brother. You think she might talk if we remind her about all the victims?" Mark asked. He quickly shook his head, answering his own questions. "These rich people are all the same so I wouldn't bet money on her."

"Another stereotype. Anyway, I don't know but it's something to think about," Bree said softly before finding her gum and popping it into her mouth. "It's our job to find out one way or the other. Someone has to be held responsible for St. Anthony's and the public isn't satisfied with just Trey Dawson."

"No." Mark sighed tossing the stick of his eaten lollipop into the change tray of his car "The people want blood. And it's more exciting for them when it's blue blood like Calista Dover's."

Money equals power. Power means safety. Safety means staying alive.

Calista recited the phrase in her head as she was wheeled out of the hospital by Roger Lambert, Sebastian Dover's assistant.

"Don't worry, Ms. Dover. The reporters won't see you. This is a secret exit especially designed for the hospital's wealthier clients. They've assured me that not one picture of you leaving the hospital will be taken," Roger said in a friendly voice. 

Calista nodded. It was weird to have someone call her Ms. Dover. That wasn't her name. She could've walked out of the secret entrance but Roger insisted that he push her out in a wheelchair. Calista had received physical therapy weeks ago. She was as good as new with the exception of her throat and her mind. She still couldn't recall the night she ended up in that church.

A shiver ran through her as she tried to remember what happened.

"Are you cold?" Roger asked.

Calista shook her head, her fingers wrapping around the armrests of the wheelchair.

"Mr. Dover insisted you be discharged after those detectives came by this morning. He asked that I remind you not to talk to anyone without your lawyer present. If you need a private nurse, that can be arranged."

Calista was confused by the man named Sebastian. Why did his actions insinuate guilt on her behalf? Calista had seen the online articles about the victims of St. Anthony's church. The public was blaming her as a passenger of Trey Dawson's truck. It was as if they assumed they both purposely drove into the church.

Why was I there?

The question was one Calista was beginning to believe she'd never solve.

Roger ensured her safety on the ride to what he referred to as the mansion.

Mansion?

Calista couldn't imagine living in a mansion and her breath caught in her throat when they pulled up to Sebastian Dover's residence. It was a mansion alright. Lush gardens surrounded the walkways which led up to the massive home.

"I...I live here?" Calista pointed to Sebastian's home.

Roger frowned. "You don't remember? Oh, that's right...Mr. Dover mentioned you had amnesia. No, you don't live here...well you didn't. You do now. You used to have your own condo downtown."

"Used to?"

Roger cleared his throat. "Mr. Dover had me get rid of the condo. He advised me that it would be in your best interest to live here."

"I see," Calista whispered, not really seeing anything. She bit the inside of her mouth, a habit she had when she was having a tough time staying quiet.

"I'm sorry."  Roger grimaced. "I can tell you're upset but I did warn him you wouldn't like being told what to do. He said your health came first and you could yell at him all day I was still to get rid of the condo."

She was tasting blood now. So her brother knew his sister wouldn't like him selling her home but he did it anyway? She felt slighted on behalf of Calista Dover.

"He wanted me to tell you that he wouldn't be home for dinner today. He had an unexpected meeting come up two towns over. I'm to stay with you at the mansion until he returns tonight. Are you okay with that?" Roger asked tentatively.

Calista wondered what he would have done if she shook her head that it wasn't okay. Would he have stayed anyway?

After he stepped inside, Roger led her to her room and reminded her that dinner would be served soon. She shook her head and pointed to her stomach before mouthing, "Not hungry."

Roger nodded. "Well it's getting late. You should get some sleep."

He closed the door behind him and Calista quickly scanned the room. Until she could figure out what was going on with Adam and her supposed death, she had decided to pose as the rich Calista Dover. She looked like her so it wouldn't hurt for the time being. She'd need to know as much about Calista Dover as she could. The room itself didn't give away any clues. It was as if someone had decorated it to match a variety of feminine tastes. Cream-colored walls with satin curtains and wooden floors. The vanity was decorated with pictures of her and Sebastian.

She didn't live here so Sebastian probably had someone decorate it.

Calista sighed. The room would be no help to her. After getting ready for bed, she crawled beneath the covers and switched off the bedside lamp. Two hours later, the door to her bedroom creaked open and the light from the hall woke her.

A dark figure stood in the light but she couldn't make out his face.

Calista kept her eyes slightly closed, feigning sleep. Her hands tightened around the blanket wrapped around her when the figure started to walk closer to her. She could hear his footsteps against the wooden floor.

Step. Step. Tap.

Step. Step. Tap.

She bit the inside of her mouth and waited.

"Calista?" the male whispered.

Calista didn't know what was going on but she was starting to believe that whatever she thought she had dreamt at the hospital earlier wasn't a dream and perhaps both she and Calista Dover had been in some serious trouble.

She squeezed her eyes tight when she felt an icy-cold hand on her cheek and despite the pain in her throat, Calista gave a blood-curdling scream.