Chapter Eleven
Present Day
The following evening, the Lyft pulled to a slow stop in front of the same gates where Isla had been a little over twenty-four hours ago.
The pink-velour-suit-clad driver adjusted her rearview mirror to appraise her customer.
Dubiousness furrowed Kim’s brow. “Want me to wait until they send you packing?”
The question drew Isla away from the thoughts that had been consuming her, ones of how she’d manage to find a way in, because Kim was definitely right.
If the guards in the station were anything like the ones last night, they weren’t letting Kim’s car cross their line, much less Isla.
Even if they did, what if they made her walk the half mile to the estate?
Isla’s wedge sandals weren’t made for walking.
Isla was also thinking about her conversation with Rey the night before and how they’d run through contingency plans should Holland not feel appreciative enough to personally get her keys back.
Kim continued. “These are the kind of people who won’t let anything other than limos and private cars in.”
“Your car is private,” Isla pointed out.
Kim sucked her teeth. “You know what I mean. This is King’s Valley. The Corrigan property is in the richest section off the Main Line. I’m surprised we made it up this far, to tell the truth.”
Isla was thinking the exact same thing but didn’t want to admit her concern out loud.
You’re really doing this? Last chance to back out and come home.
It had been Rey’s question to her after Hasaan had dropped her off at the Home Stays short-term-lease hotel last night, just in case the Corrigans had followed her, before she went on to the Red Roof.
It was what Isla asked herself right now as Kim stopped before the gate and they both watched, mesmerized, as the gigantic gates slid open and a guard stepped out of the building to greet them. Was she really doing this?
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Rey had said over FaceTime. “You can just come on back.”
He was in his usual spot, surrounded by his computer screens.
His face was illuminated in the multitude of colors from the screens as he watched them all one by one in the setup secretly housed in the loft of the small storefront café he owned.
A cover for what really paid the bills, cybersecurity work for Fortune 500 companies, and the little side hustle that Isla was in on but was currently taking a sabbatical from.
Or maybe this trip was their latest job.
A personal one for her. An unprofitable one for him.
“Cut your losses—hey, hear me out,” Rey said when Isla began to protest. How could he say that when they were talking about a missing girl?
Her friend? How could he not understand that even though it’d been so long, Isla had never forgotten Eden and had always felt guilty for leaving her.
For taking the money when she hadn’t shown and running.
Isla owed Eden, and this was the way she’d pay her back.
By finding out what this family had to do with Eden’s disappearance.
“I said I’m going at this on my own, so if anything goes down, there’s no blowback on you or Nat. Our clients won’t know. It’ll all be on me.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Don’t do that thing you do,” Rey said, in the initial throes of agitation.
She studied the wall. “My thing?”
“Yeah, purposely misinterpret everything anyone says to cause a fight and create a way for them to be pissed at you so you can be on your own.”
“Oh.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yeah. That thing.” He snorted, sitting back in his seat.
“Where’s Nat when I fucking need her? She’s better at talking you down off cliffs and shit that’s going to definitely be self-destructive.
Does Miss Lydia know what you’re doing? And we’re not even going to start on Charli, who’ll blow her lid when she finds out where you’ve gone and who you’ve gone to.
The dollar signs will be cha-chinging all through LA. ”
“She won’t know if you and Nat stay off her radar. Don’t be around when she comes looking for me.”
“No matter what you see or whatever happens, don’t break cover. Don’t ever let them onto you until you’re ready to drop the bomb and expose them.”
“Yes, teacher, I know this already. We’ve covered just about every possible scenario. Plus, I’ve done stuff like this with Nat for jobs.”
“Those were all jobs for clients. This is real life, and you’re going into their territory. Me and Nat aren’t right outside or on the street waiting in a van. We’re thousands of miles away. You’re going to be embedded. You’re gonna be at their mercy.”
“Or they’re going to be at mine because they don’t know I’m coming for them.”
Rey couldn’t settle down in his seat any farther, but his face showed a truth bomb was coming. “You don’t know what you know, and you’ll need them to tell you what you don’t know so you can uncover the truth. It won’t be so easy to escape if they get onto you. This family . . .”
He didn’t need to finish. She knew it all. This family was powerful. Too powerful. Not Hollywood-celebrity-and-elites power but real power that could blip a person into nonexistence. Isla had seen that happen firsthand. That was what she was back to rectify. What had happened to Eden?
“Whatever happens, you need to act as if it doesn’t faze you.” He paused. “No matter what you see, you do not break cover.”
Break cover. She cracked a smile, like she was some secret agent or something. Some kind of awkward 007. She wasn’t a spy. She was there for truth.
“Are you laughing? Because this is serious.” Though he had relaxed and was unable to mask his own humor and relief that she wasn’t slipping back into the depths of depression. If it hadn’t been for his idea to work with him on his “search-and-find team” . . .
For his benefit she repeated, “Nothing fazes me. I don’t give a damn.”
He eyed her. “No matter what.”
She said it again, mimicking his tone: “No matter what.” She almost held up a Girl Scout honor sign but, since she’d never been one, wasn’t sure quite what it looked like.
“Don’t get angry. And remember, they’re all like sharks. Even the most innocent-looking ones. Assume someone’s always watching. No matter who it is, their family comes first. Even if they seem to personally like you. You’re the outsider.”
“Got it.” She knew all this. She studied the photos of the family members stuck to the back wall in the closet and the network of associates, employees, and staff she’d gathered information on so far.
“Honey, he’s talking to you.”
Kim’s voice cut into Isla’s thoughts. She needed to get it together. She was on as of this moment.
“Sorry,” Isla said, and she gave a quick rundown of the night before.
“I’ve been trying to call Holland all day to tell her I have her ID and keys but haven’t been able to get through.
I just figured I’d come and drop them off now after work.
I’m sure she’s looking for her keys.” She didn’t dare ask to go in and raise suspicion.
“A girl needs her keys, you know,” Kim chimed in.
The guard at the gate glanced back into the little control room, saying that the family was not to be disturbed unless there was an emergency.
“I would just hate for them to get lost waiting to get into her hands, you know? School ID, dorm keys or something . . .” Isla let him think about the consequences. “Are you sure you want to be responsible for not calling about something like this?”
Kim tutted under her breath, then said, “I mean, buddy, do you know who you work for?”
He mumbled into the tiny communications unit on his shoulder.
She held the lanyard out the window. “Or I can leave it with you? Do you have one of those big yellow envelopes or something? She can come get it later when she has a moment, but I gotta get back to town, and these rideshares only have a five-minute wait before they have to go.”
“Oh, don’t mind me,” Kim said. “I’m here to see this little drama to the end.”
Isla waved the lanyard at the guard, beseeching him to take it from her and relieve her of this responsibility. He backed away even farther, as if the lanyard was the president’s football with all the codes to send nukes.
“Just give us a moment to get the word, ma’am.”
Isla balked. Ma’am. She touched her face, displeased with his choice of label.
“Ma’am,” she whispered. “Do I look like a ma’am?”
Kim chuckled. “Honey, they have to call everyone that. I think they even call kids ‘little miss’ or ‘young such and such.’ They’re super proper here, I heard. I have a cousin who used to work in the kitchen for them.”
The guard watched them warily as Kim and Isla switched to discussing the pros and cons of both rideshares.
A second guard jogged over to them. Beyond the gates, Isla spotted tiny headlights heading toward them.
“Barnwell, what are you doing? They’re waiting at the house, and a car will be here soon to take her.” The second guard was an older man in his forties and clearly the senior guard.
Isla asked, “Take who?”
Barnwell tried explaining, but his words were nothing more than hand gestures toward the locked door and at the two women, one glaring from the driver’s seat and the other looking as if she wanted to run.
“I just wanted to return the keys. I said I’d leave them at the gate,” Isla offered.
“Get back to the station and monitor the screens,” the older guard said to Barnwell before redirecting his attention to her. “Yes, my apologies, Miss Thorne.”
How he knew her last name was lost on her, and hearing him say it so easily threw Isla off.
“Miss Corrigan asked that you bring her belongings to the house. She’ll meet you there.”
Holland. That’s right, Isla thought with relief. They had introduced themselves when they first met.
Kim whistled, restarting the car’s ignition with gusto. “I should play numbers in the lotto, because what?” Exactly. Which was why Isla needed to play it cool and like getting inside was never in her plans.
Kim continued, “But we are in there. Hell, I just knew they were gonna turn us away faster than a hot flash at the country club’s garden party.”
The guard’s face colored. “Not you, ma’am, just her.”
Isla asked, “We can’t just drive in and out, then? I’m already in this car.”
He shook his head, his expression conveying his familiarity with doling out rejection and disappointment. “No, ma’am. No unapproved and unregistered cars on the premises.” He flicked his gaze at Kim, then back to Isla. “Ma’am.” His hand inched toward the door handle, prompting her.
A dark-silver sedan arrived and came to a stop inside the gate. Guard number two was much nicer. He offered Isla a smile as Kim unlocked the doors, clearly disappointed that she wouldn’t get to see the famed estate up close and personal.
Isla gathered her things and stepped from the air-conditioning into the mugginess. “Look, I’m just dropping this off. Can’t I just leave it with the person in the other car? Because how am I going to get back home, Mr. Groyer?” She sounded out the name written on his tag.
He stood straighter, and the smile he gave her went from polite respect to genuine kindness. Isla had learned from her father long ago that names were important. Referring to people, even those who served you, by their names let them know you saw them, because it was too easy for many to be unseen.
“They’ll find accommodations for your return.”
“I don’t feel right about leaving her like this when that wasn’t the plan.” Kim spoke up, in a true mama-bear move that Isla found touching.
“We’ll get her home safely, ma’am. You can turn around right here and have a safe drive back down and a good night, ma’am.”
With that, Isla and the ever-protective Lyft driver, Kim, said their goodbyes and went their separate ways, with Isla heading to the waiting sedan, where the driver had already opened the door for her.
The other side of the gates was like entering a new world. They followed the road deeper onto the property, the guard gate and the rest of the world becoming faint behind her. The tree-lined road to the main house led a half a mile toward the actual property.
Lights from the inner grounds and sprawling $15 million mansion loomed ahead just behind the crest of the hill like sunrise, and even though Isla was not there just to return the keys she’d taken, she couldn’t deny how beautiful the estate was.
It wasn’t like being on the tour buses in LA.
Isla reminded herself that behind all this beauty was something bad at its core.
That she was there to infiltrate the family.
To insinuate herself into their good graces using whatever means necessary.
She didn’t ask questions as she took in the scenery, committing even the most minor thing to memory.
The driver didn’t point out any landmarks as they drove past the staff quarters and maintenance buildings, then guest quarters—the buildings becoming more ornate and regal the closer they got to the main house, though all of it looked fancy to Isla—the small lake and personal golf course designed by Victor himself, perfectly manicured acres of lush green lawn and shaped bushes, trails where staff would transport any guests, staff, and family members in golf carts without making conversation as they drove, remaining as serious and wordless as Secret Service.
But that was okay. Because Isla Thorne had gone further and quicker than she’d anticipated.
What a stroke of luck. But her work wasn’t nearly done.
She’d only made it inside.