Chapter 38. Isabel, the Assistant
Isabel, the Assistant
PRESENT DAY
Emmy held Scout’s handgun on us without flinching. The storm finally broke with a thunderclap outside the windows of Easton’s office, though no rain yet poured from the swirling steel-gray clouds.
There had to be a mistake.
“Emmy, it’s us. Isabel and Scout.” I waved at myself, then at Scout, who remained immobile on the floor next to Easton’s slumped body, her eyes locked on the gun.
“She knows who we are,” Scout said quietly. Slowly, she rose to her feet, careful not to nudge Easton, whose blood was seeping from his head wound into the plush cream carpet.
I blinked. Of course Emmy knew who we were. Her new face was a shrine to Scout’s. “But— Didn’t you hear us? Easton—” I glanced down at him. “I’m sorry for what he did. But he and Georgia were having an affair and it went too far. He’s been hiding the truth for ten years.”
Emmy moved on silent bare feet across the carpet, gun held aloft. Scout backed away, slipping to my side, leaning against the desk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her reach behind her back, feeling for the bloody Golden Globe. Her eyes never left Emmy.
“I have a feeling Emmy knows that, too,” Scout said.
“What?”
Emmy halted. I locked eyes with her from across the room. Was she wearing contacts? Her eyes used to be brown—I could’ve sworn. Now they were the same blue-green as Scout’s. “What does she mean?” I demanded. “How do you know what happened to Georgia?”
Emmy’s voice was startlingly calm. “Because I was there.”