Lorea stood in front of Sylvia’s closet staring at the space where the wedding dress should have been hanging. “She’ll kill me.”
I frowned. “No, she’ll kill us.”
“Who will?” Tony asked.
“One of the gowns belonged to Sylvia Rockfort.” I cleared my throat and pushed down the panic threatening to overtake me. “She’s getting married in three weeks.”
Sylvia’s B-star rating wasn’t enough to attract her a lot of attention, but most residents of Sun Valley had seen their fair city highlighted in the tabloids when she dated Brock Grafton.
Tony grimaced.
“She’s going to be so angry when she finds out. We’d like to keep this quiet for a few days, if possible,” I said.
“We’ll file a report, but the most important thing to do now is contact your insurance adjuster. You do have theft insurance?”
