Chapter 10. Isabel, the Rising Star
Isabel, the Rising Star
TEN YEARS EARLIER, WEST HOLLYWOOD
The next day, Scout and I sat side by side on our couch and waited for the cops to arrive.
It would be any minute now. Surprising, even, that it had taken them twenty-four hours, but they’d probably needed to take Alden to the hospital first. The cuts we’d given him would require stitches, we’d made sure of it.
Fear rattled inside me at the thought of being handcuffed and taken to jail, but whenever I remembered Alden would spend the rest of his life haunted by Georgia, his body her monument, it made what was coming worth it.
I glanced out the apartment’s second-story window. No red-and-blue lights yet. Only the gentle glow of golden hour, palm fronds blowing in the breeze, the distant sound of an R not exactly cutting-edge, but Brooks was generally unbothered by things like fashion, his charm natural and easy, not artful.
“I guess not.” I crawled into the farthest corner of the couch, and he sank into the space Scout had left, handing me a fork. “Eat. I’m worried about you.”
I made a show of spearing a corkscrew. “Thanks.”
Brooks glanced at Scout’s closed door. “I honestly don’t know how she’s supposed to go on after this.”
His words shouldn’t have cut me, but they did. “Georgia was my sister, too.”
He turned. Even with concern marring his features, Brooks was effortlessly handsome, his shaggy, blond-flecked brown hair and bright blue eyes distracting. “I know. It’s just—she was Scout’s flesh and blood. I can’t imagine losing my brothers.”
I took a deep breath. Brooks didn’t know what I’d just done for Georgia. The sickness I’d committed in her name. I’d twisted myself into a new person last night, and you only made a sacrifice like that for a real sister.
“You can be family without blood,” I snapped, and dropped my bowl on the coffee table.
Brooks drew back. “Why are you acting like that?”
“Don’t tell me how to act.” Of course Brooks—the loyal, law-abiding law student—would judge me.
“Hey, you know what?” Brooks looked out the window, then back at me. “I was going to wait to say this, because I figured you were going through enough, but I’m your boyfriend, Iz. You’re supposed to lean on me. And all you’ve done since Georgia died is push me away.”
I was bitterness incarnate. “I’m sorry I haven’t reacted to her death in a way that meets your approval.”
He clenched his jaw. “That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. You and Scout, you’re disappearing into yourselves. Building this separate world where no one else is allowed. I want in.”
He wouldn’t. Not if he knew the violence it was harboring, the secret things I was capable of. He would be horrified, and I’d lose him.
“You should leave,” I said.
Brooks stared at me like I’d grown an extra head. “Isabel, I love you. Whatever you’re doing right now, please stop.”
He loved me. I’d said those words to him in the privacy of my own mind so many times, but we’d never said it out loud. And here he was, choosing this of all moments—
“I’m in love with you.” There was a pleading edge to his voice. Brooks searched my face. “Don’t push me away.”
Before I could respond, Scout burst from her room, carrying her ringing cell phone. “It’s Haley. You should be on this.”
I looked down at our agent’s name on her phone, then at Brooks. I tried to catch my breath, to figure out which one to choose, but Scout made the decision for me. “She’s probably calling to fire us,” she said, then pressed Accept. “Hi, Haley. You’re on speaker. Isabel’s here, too.”
Brooks sprang up from the couch. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Hi, Isabel.” Haley sounded taken aback. Maybe she’d intended to call us separately and fire us personally. How thoughtful. “This news really only concerns you, Scout.”
Scout frowned. “I’m not changing my mind about Wenda Word. I’m not going back.”
“Nor would I want you to.” Excitement lifted Haley’s voice higher. “Not when your music career is blowing up.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your album,” she said breathlessly. “People heard about your sister, I guess, and they started buying your album out of sympathy. It’s taking off.”
Scout blinked at me, at a loss.
“What exactly did they hear about Scout’s sister?” I asked. A thousand possibilities spun through my mind, none of them good.
“That she passed away from an accident at a party. A total tragedy. I hope you got my flowers, by the way.”
An accident. Where had that come from?
Haley’s voice lifted again. “Your label called me, Scout, and they’re ecstatic at the sales. They want another album from you ASAP, to capitalize on the momentum.”
“Capitalize,” Scout repeated.
“Obviously, they know you’re grieving,” Haley said, “so take as much time as you need. But the sooner you can get it together, the better.”
“Haley,” Scout said slowly, “I’m going to need to call you back.”
“Of course, why don’t you—”
Scout hung up.
Hard knocking rattled the front door.
Oh god. The police had finally come.
“Scout? Isabel?” said a deep voice from behind the door. “It’s Detective Sutherland.”
I clutched Scout’s arm. Together, we rose from the couch.
From the kitchen, Brooks beelined to the door.
“No, Brooks, wait,” I called, but it was too late. He swung it open, revealing Sutherland on our welcome mat, wearing a dark trench coat and a baseball cap. He was alone. Even after what we’d done to Alden, the police still thought of us as easy enough targets for Sutherland to bring in on his own.
The strangest defiance flared in me.
“Good evening,” said the detective, removing his hat and clutching it to his chest. “May I come in?”
Brooks waited for our reaction with his hand poised on the door.
“Of course,” Scout said, amazing me with the evenness of her voice.
“Brooks,” I whispered, as the detective shuffled past him. Unlike Scout’s, my voice was thick with dread. “Can you give us some privacy?” I couldn’t bear to see the look on his face when he realized what I’d done.
He met my eyes, and I saw the sting of surprise and betrayal. He rocked back for a moment, and then, without another word, slipped out the door. I had the sudden fear that I might not see him again.
Of course I wouldn’t. I would be in jail.
“Ladies.” Detective Sutherland stopped a few feet away, worrying the rim of his hat. “I apologize for intruding, but I have news I wanted to share in person.”
His careful distance and apologetic tone were wrong. Where were the handcuffs? I wanted so badly to look at Scout, but held myself in check.
Sutherland cleared his throat. “Alden Banks was found dead in his home last night.”
“What?” I cried. The ground spun. I staggered backward into the couch.
Scout swayed but stayed upright. “He— How?” Her voice was raspy.
Sutherland bent his hat in half. “His family found him in the pool house. He hanged himself. We expect the media to pick up the story, given his father’s stature, but we aren’t sure if they’ll connect Alden’s death to your sister’s.
You should brace yourselves, just in case.
” He nodded at Scout. “As far as the LAPD is concerned, the two cases are connected.”
My heart raced so fast. I couldn’t process my disbelief. It lived in my veins as pure adrenaline.
“We aren’t going to release this information to the public,” Detective Sutherland said, “but I thought the two of you should know that Mr. Banks cut Georgia’s name into his chest before he died.
Based on his self-mutilation and where his body was found, we believe guilt drove him to take his own life. ”
They thought Alden had carved up himself. They didn’t suspect us. I couldn’t speak.
Sutherland took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
“I want to apologize on behalf of the entire Los Angeles Police Department that we weren’t able to bring charges against Alden for Georgia’s death.
It’s clear to me, now more than ever, that he killed her.
I’m sorry your sister’s story didn’t end with justice. ”
“But it did,” Scout said quietly. Her back was to me, so I couldn’t see her face. “In its own way.”
The detective dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “I’ll leave you to your night. You should be safe—I don’t think the media or others will bother you. But call if anything worries you, and I’ll send an officer. It’s the least we can do.”
Sutherland wanted to protect us. The irony.
After I closed the door behind him, locking the dead bolt, silence reigned in the apartment. I turned slowly and pressed my back against the door.
For a while, Scout and I just stared at each other. We were supposed to be on our way to jail right now. We stood in uncharted territory. Emotions warred inside me, battling for dominance. I had an instinct that whatever we said next, how we reacted in this pivotal moment, would come to define us.
After a long time, I raised my chin—partly so the tears in my eyes didn’t spill down my cheeks. “You and I both know he killed himself because of what we did. It’s our fault.” Guilt had won, flooding and claiming me.
But Scout’s dry eyes were steely. There was not a trace of guilt on her face. “Good,” she said. “I hope you’re right.”