Chapter 46
As I lie on Fiona’s bed upstairs at Cara and Ethan’s place, I call Garcia. Once again, no answer. He should be done questioning Ava by now. It’s been hours.
And yes, I know he very likely can’t answer my questions so he’s probably ignoring my calls. Unless he’s still questioning her at midnight.
My eyes are gritty but I pull the stolen laptop back onto my lap and sit up. After I made a (very edited) statement to the cops, they let me, Alex and Marcus go. I think Marcus may have stayed at the station, but I also don’t care. He’s firmly in the enemy camp now.
As if my thoughts conjured him, his name appears on my caller ID. For a moment I think about answering, even regret not doing it, but I can’t talk to him. I don’t care what he has to say.
Because the more I look at the files on Ava’s computer, the more I find.
It’s clear that Ava removed older test files.
There should be hard copies somewhere, if anyone bothered to save them.
Or maybe that’s what Cara had saved. Maybe that’s what she was going to expose.
I need to give this laptop to Garcia, or to let him “find it” at Ava’s house.
I don’t know if they had a warrant to search Ava’s place and it’s only something I thought of belatedly—well after Alex snagged it for me.
Alex’s name appears on caller ID and my finger hovers over the answer button. But then I ignore her too and fall back against the fluffy pillows. If it’s an emergency, she’ll text me.
I thought about crashing in the pool house.
Or even driving back home to Seattle. But I’m too tired, and short of sleeping in Cara’s bed, this is the closest I can get to her.
Ethan took Fiona back to his parents’ so everyone is over there tonight.
I have a feeling they’ll come home tomorrow.
Especially if it’s revealed that Ava was behind everything.
I need to tell them about Ava’s arrest, but it’s too much. It’s going to gut all of them, to know that their mom’s best friend… I can’t even think it. She took them in the day of Cara’s murder. There’s a certain kind of coldness there that I can’t fathom.
A text comes in from Alex now. Are you okay? I understand if you don’t want to talk, I just want to make sure you don’t do something stupid.
I’m as well as can be. And if you’re implying what I think, I’m good. Promise, I add because Alex doesn’t deserve my attitude. I’m not drinking. I add a little more just so she won’t worry.
Despite what an asshole I can be, she’s always been a good partner and friend.
Feeling emotional, I type, You’re a good friend, thank you.
Okay, I’m coming over.
OMG, stop. I’m fine. I just appreciate everything you’ve done, that’s all.
You’re sure?
Definitely. I’m about to crash. Unless you have news?
Nothing yet. Except I saw Marcus leave the station.
Ava still there?
Yep.
That is something. Okay, I’ll talk to you in the morning. Technically it’s morning already.
She sends some emojis and I set my phone down and close my eyes. There’s nothing else I can do now anyway.
Ava is in custody and I’m just hopeful that whatever rich lawyer she or Marcus hired doesn’t get her out on bail. I hope that bitch rots.
***
After three hours of sleep, I’m mainlining coffee and back on Ava’s laptop.
I’m going to have to give it to Garcia soon (or put it back at Ava’s house so the cops can find it) so I’m taking every second possible to read over all the files.
As I look at the plethora of testing and all the emails, something is bothering me.
But I don’t know what it is.
Even so, there’s something at the back of my brain.
We need to talk.
I blink in surprise at the incoming text from Marcus. I should ignore it. It’s three in the morning. He’s just angry that his girlfriend is locked up. Don’t do it, I order myself. But then end up texting Fuck you.
I can prove Ava didn’t do it.
Then prove it to the cops, not me.
Three little dots pop up, then disappear, then pop up again. I can’t… Technically I can, but she doesn’t want me to.
Oh come on! I thought you used to be a spy, I text. Because I’m pretty sure he worked for one of the alphabet agencies. Foxe is absolutely convinced he used to be CIA. And while she can be paranoid, she’s not usually wrong. Come up with something better.
I have a video of us. An intimate one taken at the time…everything happened. Ava was with me the whole morning.
At your house? Is it on your security cameras?
I turned off my security. I always do when she comes over. But the other video is of a personal nature and it’s time-stamped. The metadata will show it too.
So give it to the cops.
If I give it to them, it becomes part of evidence. Official. And I don’t trust someone not to leak it. Look at the metadata yourself and tell me what you think.
This sounds like a ploy to get me to his place. I’ll think about it.
Then I get back on Ava’s computer. I don’t know if I believe Marcus.
He clearly loves Ava and it’s likely that he has the skills (or knows someone who does) to fake a video or even metadata.
It’s relatively easy to manipulate EXIF on pictures and images.
Videos are a slightly different beast. It’s doable, but…
As I think about his texts, I plug in the time frame he gave me that Ava had supposedly been with him.
My stomach tightens as I look at the history on her laptop. There’s a big chance Marcus is lying. In fact, I’m pretty sure he made a career out of being a liar.
But…I need to get this to Garcia.
I don’t care that it’s after three in the morning. I get dressed and pack up the laptop and my other things and slide on my backpack. But as I start to head downstairs, I pause at a sound.
There’s a dog barking in the distance.
But no, it’s not that. There’s something else.
And that’s when I smell it—smoke.
Panic punches through me as I hurry to the bedroom door. I don’t see smoke under the doorway but there’s a familiar, acrid scent of accelerant tinging the air. I ease open Fiona’s bedroom door and peer out into the hallway.
The scent of smoke hits me hard and I shut the door.
Shit, shit, shit.
I call 911 and report the fire even as I open the window. A blast of cold air hits me. I tell the operator I’ve got to go and hang up without waiting for a response.
I can’t believe this is happening. The only silver lining is that the girls and Ethan aren’t home. But someone did this—maybe they’re still nearby. I’m very aware of that fact as I climb out onto the sloping roof.
I briefly think about trying to make it down the stairs and out one of the doors, but I don’t know how widespread the fire is. I’m worried that I’ll pass out from smoke inhalation so I’m risking breaking a bone or two instead.
I curse as I lie flat on my stomach and shimmy downward. My sweater gets caught and pulls upward as I slide lower. I wince as my stomach gets scratched up, but I need to get out of here. I can just faintly hear sirens in the distance and hope they’re for me. If so, they reacted fast.
I make it to the edge of the roof and scoot down as far as I can go. Moving backward, I drop down over the edge and realize my mistake as I try to hold on to the gutter.
I grasp onto the metal edge, but it gives under my weight immediately, creaking under the pressure. It snaps free and then I’m falling.
Before I even have a chance to cry out, pain punches through my hip as I awkwardly land on a mosaic table then tumble into the small rock garden.
I lie there for a moment, breathing through the pain. I curse again as I manage to shove up to my feet and stumble away from the house. I can’t see any flames through the glass doors into the kitchen, but there’s smoke coming from the direction of the garage.
I limp away from the house, heading for the other side of the pool.
Feeling paranoid as I try to hurry, I slide my backpack off and pull out my pepper spray. I grip it tightly in my hand as I continue limping toward the pool house. I’m rounding it and moving toward the long driveway when I see movement inside and freeze. What the hell?
Someone is inside.
I reach into my pocket and pull my phone out, try to call 911 again as I start to hurry away. It’s hard to move fast, but I need to get to the front gate and get out of here.
The door suddenly slides open and my stomach drops.
Ryan Chatelain steps out, holding a pistol directly at me. “You weren’t supposed to be here,” he growls, as if this situation is all my fault.
My heart jumps, adrenaline surging through me as I stare down the weapon. I regret grabbing my pepper spray over my gun right about now. “You killed Cara?” I blurt out.
“Drop your phone.”
Swiping across the screen, I gently set it on the concrete and take a step toward him.
“Hands up!”
The sirens are louder now. Not in the neighborhood yet, but they’re close.
I do as he says, holding my hands in the air. “What are you going to do? Shoot me like you shot my sister?”
“I had no choice. She was going to ruin everything.” He looks around wildly as the sound of the sirens pierces the air, a ticking clock—he’s going to be caught if he doesn’t do something.
“You and Ava planned this?”
He stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “Ava had nothing to do with this. Shit, shit, shit… Get inside now.”
“No.” He can shoot me out here. Somehow I sound a lot braver than I feel.
“God, you’re just like your sister,” he snarls. “She just wouldn’t listen. No, she was going to tell our investors. Our board.” He’s practically foaming at the mouth now. “I couldn’t let that happen, now could I!”
I have so many questions—like how Cory Powell and Hannah Brown are involved—but I don’t think I’ll get any answers right now. And it doesn’t matter. He killed my sister. That’s what I wanted to know. This bastard killed Cara.