Page 36 of Tell Me Your Lies

“My daughter Mia and our guest Alani Fairchild.” Linc stops pacing and turns to the man wearing a vest with the word “Forensics” in bold lettering front and back. He turns back to speak to the original male detective. “How much longer will this take? I’ve given you all the information you require. Everyone is tired and hungry.”

“We’ll be out of your way shortly but the forensics team will probably work late into the night on the yacht.” The detective’s forehead crinkles into a frown as he stares at Linc. “It would have made our job easier if you hadn’t had the entire vessel scrubbed from head to foot before docking.”

“It happens automatically.” Linc shrugs nonchalantly. “No one had any idea that Allison was missing until we all disembarked. The yacht is always cleaned to make sure everyone takes their personal possessions with them when they leave. Once they have all eaten breakfast, they are told to collect their things and move to the upper decks. At that time their rooms are cleaned. As you have noticed I have a large contingency of staff on board. I want my yacht to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. I can’t imagine what it’d be like leaving it filthy and having to wait for it to be cleaned before I can use it.”

I stand motionless to allow a forensics guy to swab inside my mouth. It’s simple and painless. I’m guessing the results will be back soon. It depends on the volume of people being tested today. I sigh with relief. I have a little more time to prove that I’m innocent. Someone must have seen me out on the deck. I did sit alone for most of the night and the only person I really spoke to was Lucas. He has already promised to vouch for me, so I can only hope that the cops accept our story… unless the DNA comes back as a match to me.

FORTY-FIVE

The subdued tone that arrived with the cops hung over everyone like a cloak of doom all through dinner. I can’t wait to get away and slip out of the dining room. I turn at the sound of footsteps running up the stairs behind me. “Did you want to speak to me, Lucas?”

“After everything that’s happened, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep.” His full mouth curls into a smile. “If you need some company, I’m going to work on a few songs. Music is a great way to relax from the stress of what’s going on around us.”

I smile back at him. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I was thinking of working on the book for a while. I need something to distract me as well. I might see you later.”

“Sure.” He nods and lopes back down the stairs.

Once inside my room, I lock the door behind me. This has become a habit of late, because people in this house don’t knock, they just walk right in. I want to take another look at the flash drive that Allison gave me. I’ve read most of the files but there are so many folders, I don’t want to miss anything. My purse is on the bedside table exactly where I left it. I pick it up and lay it down beside my laptop. I wait for the computer to boot up, enter my password and then search through my purse for the flash drive. I’m sure I slid it inside a zipped compartment, where I keep my ID. It’s not there. I take out my phone and car keys, turn my purse upside down and shake it. An assortment of coins and a credit card holder containing a few bills scatter across the desk but all the flash drives are missing, Jenny’s and my two backup copies. I drag in a deep breath, glad I’d taken the precaution to make copies and hide everything at Sam and Willow’s house. The horrible feeling that my privacy has been invaded again crawls around my throat in a chokehold.

I stare at the computer screen and a sinking feeling grabs me. I go to my recent files and check the dates on each one only to find them all with today’s date. Since the last time someone tampered with my files, I encrypt them and save them to the cloud, fully aware that someone might be watching me. I retrieve the files and compare the original documents to the ones on my computer using the compare function. I gape in astonishment at the number of changes that someone has made to my work. Anger crawls up my spine, I send the documents back to the cloud and lean back in my chair, not sure what to do. Why are they doing this to me? No, I tap my fingernails on the desktop—who is doing this to me—and what reason could they possibly have?

Why would Isabelle tamper with my files? She has the absolute right to make any edits that she requires. I made it very clear when I took this position that she was in the driver’s seat. Or is it her? Is someone else meddling with my work or are they trying to send me crazy? It seems to be a common thing around here, to tell me one thing and mean something else. Every person in this house tells the same story in a different way. What was on Jenny’s flash drive that was so important and what did I miss? Whoever took the flash drive must figure I’ve read all of Jenny’s files and I’m a threat. I stare at my hands, seeing the blood and feeling the knife. Have I been set up to be blackmailed—or am I next on the list to be murdered?

If Isabelle didn’t want the truth to come out—or has a dirty little secret that would ruin everyone—why did she decide to have someone write her memoirs? It seems crazy to me. So, who would gain by keeping the secret? I snort with amusement. Everyone surrounding the Linc Boswell fame. Not only the family, but the band, the entourage, the manager and other family members who benefit from a very generous man.

Who came back to the house first? I try to recall the conversations everyone had after we discovered that Allison was missing. The guests, entourage, manager, recording executives, the other band members then Mia and Oliver returned followed by Isabelle. Linc went next and sometime after, I followed with Lucas. I recall Lucas mentioning they spread us out so that the full security team can be with everyone on the walk back to the house. With the crazy people bobbing around in boats, watching our every move, it is apparently safer that way. I guess the staff remained behind to make sure everything was shipshape. This would give any number of people who milled around the house before leaving the opportunity to get into my room. I swallow hard. Two things I need to do—go home and ask Sam to take a blood sample from me and have it analyzed for drugs, and then grab a copy of the files I missed on Jenny’s flash drive. They’d have no idea I made a copy and wouldn’t search for another. I stand, push everything back into my bag and head downstairs.

I hear music coming from Lucas’ room and walk toward it, drawn by the melody. The door is open as usual and he is sitting on the sofa. He looks up at me and smiles. I hold up my car keys. “I need a few things from home. I’ll be back in a little while—is that okay? Linc told me to tell him or you if I’m leaving.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” He indicates with his chin toward the outside. “There are fans at the gate and paparazzi. It’s all over the news that someone fell off the yacht. I can send a bodyguard with you.”

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. They don’t know me. I’ll go past unnoticed like a member of the staff but if you come it will be pandemonium and they’ll likely follow us to my parents’ house and, trust me, they wouldn’t like the notoriety.”

“Okay, lock your doors, and drop by when you come back. There’s a tune I want to share with you.” Lucas meets my gaze. “You look so worried. Don’t be. I’m sure this will all blow over soon. Dad is convinced once the autopsy comes back that it will prove that Allison went under the prop of one of the paparazzi boats.” He shrugs. “Who’d want to kill her?”

I nod and turn to go. “That’s exactly what I’d like to know.”

FORTY-SIX

I haven’t really known what it’s like to be famous until I drive out of the Boswells’ estate. Now, I realize why there are two gates to drive through at the entrance and bodyguards. I believed this to be a little bizarre but now I understand how it’s used for crowd control. I sit in my truck in no man’s land with people moving behind the second gate like ants, all trying to get into a pot of honey. As the gate swings open, people rush at me. Paparazzi press the cameras against my windows and bright flashes go off in my face. I’m terrified. Everyone is talking at once, yelling questions at me as if I know what’s happening. Their faces contort like gargoyles coming out of the night. Bright spots flash in my eyes as I try to make my way through the crowd without hitting anyone. I drive slowly until they give up and drop back. I don’t go straight to my parents’ house. I weave through the back roads until I’m sure no one is following. When I’m safely through the gate and into the six-car garage, I sit for a while trembling. I can’t imagine how the Boswells live like that. It must be like living in a fishbowl.

I use my key to get inside and find my parents still eating dinner in the dining room. I’ve been trying to decide what I should say to them to explain why I want a blood test. Can I trust my parents with the truth? No, I don’t believe I can.

“Alani.” Willow smiles at me. “Sit down, we’re just having coffee. I have a splendid cheeseboard. Do help yourself.”

“What happened at the Boswells’?” Sam raises one eyebrow. “I caught the tail end of the news this morning. Did someone go missing?”

I sit down and help myself to coffee. Not that I feel like drinking any, I just need something to do with my hands. Willow places a plate in front of me and pushes the cheeseboard in my direction. I select a few pieces of cheese, some of the nuts and dried fruit. I turn my attention to Sam. “Honestly, I don’t know what happened. I was at the party on board the yacht last night and I believe someone slipped something into my drink. I became dizzy. Everything moved in and out of focus. I ended up falling into the hot tub and if Lucas hadn’t been there to help me, I would have probably drowned.”

“Dear Lord! Did anything else happen to you?” Willow looks at me anxiously. “Nobody harmed you, did they?”

I shake my head. “Not that I’m aware. Lucas as you know is a recovering addict and was very concerned about my condition. He took me to his cabin and we sat drinking coffee most of the night. I eventually grabbed a couple of hours’ sleep this afternoon but then we heard the news about Isabelle’s PA, Allison, going missing and I decided to come and see you. It’s a long story but a body was found on the beach and then later the cops came and told us they suspected homicide. They returned with a search warrant and took swabs for DNA samples. Apparently, Allison scratched her attacker.” I swallow the bile creeping up the back of my throat. “The problem is I can’t account for the time between when I spilled my drink, which was probably around eleven, and when Lucas found me at two. There’s no time frame for when Allison went missing as yet but I need to know if I was drugged and the name of the substance. I don’t want to be accused of murder.”

“The DNA sample will clear you but if you want me to take a blood test and have it analyzed for date rape drugs, I can do that no problem at all.” Sam stands. “I’ll grab what I need.” He checks his watch. “I can take it to an urgent test facility and get the results back within hours. The only problem is that most date rape drugs leave your system in eight hours or so. To make sure, I’ll need a urine sample as well.” He dashes from the room.

It surprises me when Willow accompanies Sam when he leaves to take the tests to the laboratory. As I walk to my room, I wonder if she is afraid to be in the house alone with me? I know they say they have no concerns about me being the daughter of a psychopath, but likely recent events have changed their minds. I find what I need and go to Willow’s computer to make more copies of mine and Jenny’s files. I place one copy of Jenny’s files inside my pocket and head back downstairs. I’ve always known the combination to my parents’ safe, and after sliding all the flash drives into an envelope with my name on the front, I go down to Sam’s study and add them to the piles of items inside. I take time to scan the room. The idea that someone is watching me all the time flits into my brain. There are no cameras, and the room has remained much the same since I was a child. Even the smell is the same. The comforting odor of Sam’s aftershave and old books lingers like an afterthought. The overstuffed office chair with its squeaky wheels is like an old friend, as is the huge old mahogany desk. Built in England during Victorian times and shipped to America by Sam after he’d seen it in an auction not long after he’d purchased this house, it dominates the room. I can recall hiding under it when I was very small. They are good memories and something I clung to for many years. I inhale the familiar smell. In truth Sam and Willow have always been there for me. I wonder if they’ll accept my apology—I was young and headstrong but they didn’t deserve my contempt. I must make peace between us before it’s too late.

FORTY-SEVEN