Her Dark Lies Read online

  And then it hits him. If Will has been in his rooms since breakfast, how did he see Claire by the stairs this morning?

  52

  Tansy and Rue

  Silly people, thinking they’re safe. That they got away with it.

  I will show them.

  I will not be forgotten, erased, made insignificant.

  I will not be conquered.

  All it takes is the click of a button and their dirty little secrets will see the light of day.

  What do you think they’ll do to keep it quiet?

  I know the lengths they’ll go to. They have no idea how far I’m willing to take this.

  Clearly I haven’t dosed the tea enough. I will fix this, now.

  They will rue the day they hurt me.

  They will rue the day they created me.

  53

  When a Door Closes, a Window Opens

  Harper sits on the edge of the Chinoiserie chair by her terrace door, staring out at the murky sea. She has been here, mortified, since the fiasco upstairs and her conversation with the head of security, an acerbic woman who’d clearly thought Harper was a first-class idiot. She’s waiting for someone to come and take her bags and throw her on a boat. She can imagine Ana Compton up there in her tower giving orders. “Never mind the storm, if it sinks, all the better.”

  To think, she’d been taken in by a hoax. By an imposter. Ami fucking Eister, whoever the hell that was. Harper’s own ambition got in the way of her common sense. She’d never stopped to wonder why a magazine like Flair would trust an untested rookie reporter with such a huge story. When Claire finds out, she is going to be livid. And she’ll be well within her rights to be.

  There is a soft knocking against the door, which swings open a moment later.

  “Harper? May I come in?”

  Ana Compton stands in the doorway to Harper’s room. Time to be escorted to the guillotine.

  Harper jumps to her feet. “Of course.”

  Ana moves through the room like a gentle wave, takes the chair opposite Harper. She has Harper’s camera, which she sets on the table between them. She sits with her legs crossed, her look appraising. Calm.

  “I suspect you want to know what’s happening?”

  “Do you know what’s happening? If so, yes, I would.”

  “We don’t know everything. Not yet. Brice’s people are still working on the injunction, for starters. I thought you and I could talk a bit while they’re getting the story quashed.”

  “But it’s true, isn’t it? About the women who’ve died here?”

  “Accidents happen, Harper.”

  “Henna fell down the stairs. Fatima’s mother went missing. Will’s wife drowned in the grotto. Eliza was shot. And Morgan—”

  “Died when she went over the cliff wall. But she fell off the ledge, Harper. She wasn’t killed.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I was there.”

  Harper feels the jerk of the live wire inside her. There is a story, after all. “What?”

  “I was there the night Morgan went over the wall.”

  “But Jack—”

  “Arrived after she’d already fallen. They had a terrible fight—Morgan was quite unstable, as we came to find out—and she rushed out of the house into the storm. We all went looking for her. Jack and Fatima went down to the cottages, Elliot and I went up toward the cliff, Will and Brice went to the landing. We searched the whole island, and finally came across her, ranting, walking atop the cliffside rock boundary. The rain was so heavy; the rocks were slick. She slipped, and went over the edge, before we could catch her.”

  Harper can see the cliff out the window. Imagining a body plunging from its apex into the sea is all too easy.

  “By the time the storm abated, and we were able to send a boat around the promontory, the body had washed away.”

  “Why would you lie? You said she died in California? That makes no sense.”

  “Doesn’t it?” Ana sits back, hands atop her knees. “We are very private people. The last thing a family like us needs is extra scrutiny. Things were...well, that’s neither here nor there. Brice’s business dealings were especially fraught at the time, and we didn’t need anyone poking around in the island’s history. This is one of the few places we can escape to that is remote enough to keep the press away. It is a sacred place for us, in many ways. A quiet retreat. Our sanctuary.”

  Harper shakes her head. “But her hand... Her hand washed up on a beach in California.”

  Ana nods. “A well-placed fabrication. We needed the chapter closed. And we didn’t want any more publicity around Jack. He took Morgan’s death hard. We needed to protect him. Protecting my family is paramount, Harper. There is nothing I won’t do to keep my boys safe, and happy. One day you may even understand that.”

  “Then who is Ami Eister?”

  Ana sits straighter. “That we don’t know. But whoever she is, she is a danger, and she must be stopped.”

  “I’m just...so confused. I looked her up. She’s totally legit. She’s on the masthead at Flair. I read some articles she wrote.”

  “We think you probably saw a mocked-up and cached version of the website. Easy to do. It’s basically a well-executed phishing scam. An overlay. Her phone number would look like she was from Flair, same extensions, just spoofed to go to the phone she possessed. Her email as well. She sent you links, right? For you to check her out?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sure, once we examine your computer, we’ll find the software that was planted. Keystroke analysis wouldn’t surprise me, she’s been keeping close tabs on things. It’s a ruse. All a ruse. We don’t kill people, Harper. We aren’t that kind of family. That’s for books and movies.”

  “But you do broker in information.”

  “Yes. That we do.”

  Harper feels a tiny bit of vindication. “Then not everything she told me was a lie. You truly don’t know who it is?”

  “We’re tracing her right now. She’s been texting my sons. Karmen has visuals of her visiting Claire in Nashville. We’ll have her identity soon enough. And then...” Ana’s face changes, goes completely feral, and Harper shivers. “And then, we will stop her. This...disruption...isn’t seemly.”

  Harper has to make this right. This woman holds her future in her perfectly manicured hands. “Mrs. Compton, I’m so embarrassed. I have abused your trust, and your kindness. Will you be able to forgive me?”

  Those cold eyes bore right through her. “I admit, I’m not thrilled by your lack of faith in us, that you wouldn’t at least have the courtesy to talk to us before you tried to land the scoop of the century.”

  Harper nods, chagrined. “It wasn’t very classy.”

  “No, it wasn’t. But I admire your ambition. I admire the guts it took to try and go up against us. You were trying to right a wrong. A wrong that didn’t happen, a malicious prank, but a wrong, nonetheless. And that’s something I can understand.”

  “I’m grateful to hear that, Mrs. Compton.”

  “Please. Call me Ana.”

  “I... Okay. Ana.”

  “Which brings me to why we’re having this little chat. Here’s what I’d like to talk to you about, Harper. You’re smart. You’re stylish. You have guts, and determination, and independence. We’ve already established that you are ambitious, to a fault. You’re also an excellent photographer and have quite a following. I’ve just lost my right hand. Henna was the most dynamic woman I’ve ever worked with. She too had style, and determination, and ambition. You remind me of her, in many ways. I know this is a sudden offer, but I wonder if you’d be interested in working for me. Taking over Henna’s position.”

  Harper’s head snaps up.

  “I just tried to blow up your family, and you’re offering me a job?”

  “I’
m offering you an opportunity.”

  Harper laughs, mirthlessly. “Claire won’t like it.”

  Ana smiles. “From what I can tell, you don’t particularly worry about your sister’s opinion, do you? We’ll make it work. We aren’t all together like this very often. You wouldn’t have to see her if you didn’t want to—we could work the schedules so you’re elsewhere. But I think, perhaps, you’ve had your revenge? A sister is an important part of a woman’s life. I wish I had one. I always have. Good, bad, indifferent. It’s a blood tie that can’t be broken.”

  “Some things aren’t forgivable.” Harper hears the bitterness in her tone. She can’t help it. Forgiving Claire is impossible.

  “I understand. Well, you think about it. If you decide you’d like to work with me, you let me know.”

  Harper makes the decision without another thought. If this woman is magnanimous enough to offer her a position after she’d tried to screw her to the wall? It feels right, and she can always leave if it doesn’t work out.

  “I would like to, actually. Yes.”

  Ana’s face breaks into a wide smile, and Harper is struck by her beauty.

  “Excellent. I took the liberty of having an NDA drafted. As you can imagine, what I’ve just told you is quite personal to the family. This will cover our current and future conversations. Will you sign it?”

  Ana sets the blue-backed paper on the table between them, and hands Harper a pen. She barely glances at the document before signing. Is it her imagination, or do Ana Compton’s shoulders relax a fraction when Harper sets down the pen?

  “Wonderful. Let’s get through the wedding this evening, and tomorrow we’ll sit down and discuss your salary, your duties, and what I feel you can bring to the table. And you can think about how you’d like to work with me. And with your sister, of course.”

  “That sounds great, Mrs. Compton.”

  “Ana. Please.”

  “Ana. The wedding is this evening?”

  “In light of everything that’s happening, we’re going to move up the ceremony. I assume you’ll want to take some photographs of your sister?” She nods at Harper’s camera. “It has a fresh SD card. I’m sure you understand.”

  Harper sighs. “I do. It’s a shame. The photographs I took of you were wonderful.”

  “We’ll do it again. Thank you, Harper. This is a burden lifted.”

  “No, Ana. Thank you.”

  “Before you do anything else, you need to talk to Karmen again, so she can get the process moving for your background check. Just give her your basic information, social, address, and we’ll get the ball rolling. That won’t be a problem, will it?”

  “No. Absolutely no problem at all.”

  “Good. When you’re finished with Karmen, get dressed. Help your sister. Check in with your mother. I trust you can handle her this evening?”

  There is no question what Ana is implying. “I can. I will.”

  “Good. I look forward to working with you, Harper.”

  Ana gives her a little wave and disappears into the hallway.

  Holy shit.

  Holy shit!

  She’s going to work for Ana Compton.

  Of all the ways today was supposed to shake out, this had never entered her mind.

  * * *

  Brice is waiting for Ana when she gets back to their suite.

  “So?”

  “She’s in.”

  “That was quite a gamble, telling her what happened. You knew she’d go for it?”

  “I hoped she would. Keeping her close is the best way to keep the family safe. Besides, she does have excellent style. She’ll do. We better get ready.”

  Ana moves toward the closet, but Brice reaches out a hand and stops her.

  “We’ve made a mistake.”

  “I know. I’m going to fix it. Don’t worry.”

  At his look, she says it again.

  “Don’t worry, Brice. I have a feeling I know what’s going on. Let’s just get the kids married, and we’ll deal with it. Jack is right, he wants to protect Claire, and giving her our name is the best thing we can do.”

  54

  An Epic Failure of Imagination

  Now that she’s out from under the spyglass of suspicion, Harper Hunter answers Karmen’s questions enthusiastically. She is young. So young. Karmen hopes Ana knows what she’s doing. She’d called down moments before Harper practically skipped into Karmen’s office. “Get her in the system, and make sure there aren’t going to be any more surprises, do you understand me? I am finished with this nonsense.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Karmen tosses her reading glasses onto the desk.

  “We’ll need to do a full interview once the wedding is over, but that should do for now. I look forward to getting to know you better, Harper. Ana is a brilliant woman. You’re going to enjoy working with her.”

  “Do you? Enjoy working with her?”

  “Most of the time,” Karmen says with a smile. “I understand we’re to have the wedding this evening. You’d best go get ready.”

  Harper looks like she wants to ask more questions, but reads Karmen’s impatience and simply says, “Thanks. See you later, I hope.”

  Already polite. Already deferent. Already intuitive. She seems smart, has an undeniable presence. She is so very different from her sister. Claire’s strength simmers inside her, only exposing itself when needed; Harper’s explodes from every smile, every step, every wave of her hand. Maybe Ana knows what she’s doing after all.

  Karmen opens an employment file, loads in the information, then goes back to her more pressing issue, trying to identify Ami Eister.

  The traffic cameras in Nashville proved to be most helpful. She’s found a good angle of the impostor standing on the corner by the Turnip Truck grocery store. She is wearing black, head to toe, from her sunglasses to her knee-high boots. Her hair is done up in a French twist. She crosses the street without looking left or right, moving swiftly, turns left, and walks directly to the door to Claire’s studio.

  “Gotcha.”

  Karmen marks the time and date, swaps to the camera on the traffic light to see if she can do a better face capture.

  She gets another angle. Then another.

  Three points. That’s more than enough. Karmen plugs the still shots into the database. She traces out a jawline, an ear, the distance between the temples.

  The software will do the rest. She has to trust the technology. This could take hours. She could have let one of the team in New York do this work, but it’s important that she, and she alone, discover this woman’s identity.

  She should get some rest; she’s totally burned out. Instead, she turns to the internet, and does some more searching on Ami Eister.

  Clearly, someone is playing an angle against the Comptons, and against Claire. The two situations—the break-in, the visitation—are linked, no doubt. Maybe this woman is dating, or married to, Shane McGowan, and he’s talked her into doing things for him.

  She lets the thought sit for a moment. It’s possible.

  Flip it. The woman talks a thug into doing some work for her. And to twist the knife a bit, chooses a someone designed to truly hurt the victim. Revenge is an excellent motivator.

  Karmen has read the court transcripts; she knows Shane McGowan covered for his young girlfriend. His lies meant Claire didn’t go to jail for the robbery of the Mapco. But McGowan did.

  Claire cost him five years of his life. His own stupidity landed him in jail for the rest of the decade since that first arrest. After ten years behind bars, it wouldn’t take much to convince him to screw over the girl who sent him there in the first place, right?

  People’s pasts are interesting places. Even the most upstanding citizen has something to hide. Most unpaid parking tickets don’t lead to the capture of a serial killer, but
sometimes, they become a catalyst of another sort.

  She turns back to the computer, does a quick search.

  Morgan Fraser, twenty-three, flame-red hair and a bod to match. Now, this woman looks like she belongs to the Comptons. Not a sweet, gilded butterfly like Claire, or lush like Harper; Morgan was a raging lioness. Karmen can practically feel the power coming off the woman through the screen. She was dynamic in photos. In person? She was mesmerizing. Mesmerizing enough to capture the eyes and heart of a rich young playboy.

  Though Karmen knows the details from the inside, she reads more. About how the two met. How Morgan Fraser, the hot young engineer sweeping through Silicon Valley, had landed 120 million in venture capital funds to produce high-resolution microcameras for laptops. She’d approached Brice at the Allen and Company conference in Sun Valley. How she’d scored an invite was still up for discussion—the conference was one of the most private, most elite in the world. Brice couldn’t help himself—he bought out her nascent company over lunch. She’d already gotten her hooks into Jack at that point.

  Microcameras. Morgan developed microcameras. Like what they’d pulled out of Claire Hunter’s house? Over twenty miniature wireless encrypted cameras had been stashed throughout the house, and Karmen still had no idea where they’d been transmitting to.

  The computer dings. The facial recognition has a hit.

  The program has two photographs side by side. One is the profile shot of the woman who visited Claire. The other...

  No.

  That’s impossible. They don’t even look alike.

  There are things that you can’t change about yourself with traditional plastic surgery. The distance between your eyes. The depth of your eye sockets. The length of your jawline. The shape and set of your ears. It’s why facial recognition software is so accurate.

  Though the two women don’t look at all the same, the program has found a match. And that means...

  Karmen’s senses have come alive. Everything crashes together, and she grabs her phone. She has to warn the family, now.

  The knife slams between her ribs and she falls forward onto the keyboard. The shock of the attack freezes her senses just long enough for the knife to be pulled out and slammed in again, and once more, so deep she knows this is it. She is done.