Chapter 19
Halfway through the arduous three-hour drive to her hotel in Maine, fighting off one painful memory after another, Naomi stops for gas and more coffee.
And to read the email from Emily. She removes the lid from the Starbucks cup to let some of the steam escape and breathes in the soothing earthy scent.
Her heart flutters as she takes a long sip—protesting at the intake of more caffeine.
She can’t remember if it’s her fifth or sixth cup of the day.
Maybe seventh. The liquid burns her throat on the way down, but it’s a welcome feeling.
She exhales as she opens her email, trying to ignore her racing heart. Think like a journalist, she tells herself. Be professional, not emotional.
But Emily’s email doesn’t help calm her. Her hand trembles as she reads the second paragraph, and she winces in pain as coffee scorches her hand.
“Fuck!” She drops the cup into the holder, cursing again as it spills over the plastic console. She’ll have to clean the car before dropping it back off at Aunt Mary’s. She forces herself to breathe.
Jade and Faye knew each other?
How had she not made the connection before?
She supposes it’s because she was logged into C*Leb’s social accounts at the time.
Usually, that was more beneficial when researching a case, more likely to show her connections between celebrities.
Her personal accounts are almost dormant and useless.
She lets out a frustrated laugh, knowing she might have seen this sooner if she had been logged into her accounts instead.
But would she have even thought anything of it?
They were Facebook friends, which didn’t mean anything.
Of course they probably ran in the same circles…
But what if Faye knew something about Jade’s death, so they killed her too…
She runs her hands over her face, hating that she can’t control her thoughts. Feeling herself spiraling and in need of a distraction, she closes the email and calls Joel.
Once he picks up, she quickly lets him know she got an exclusive with Emily Dutton and that she plans to have the piece about Jade potentially being strangled—and that being connected to Harlow’s VMAs fall—ready to publish on Monday. Joel is pleased, but can tell something is up.
“You alright?” he asks.
The simple question nearly causes Naomi to burst into tears, which scares her. Matt used to joke she had a heart made of ice because he’d never seen her cry. Not until Faye died.
“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks.” She wavers on whether to share her thoughts about Faye but decides against it. “Just exhausted.”
He doesn’t buy it.
“Naomi,” he starts. “What’s the matter?”
She tells him about Faye, and how she thinks her death could possibly be connected to the Harlow case. “I know it sounds stupid, but there are so many similarities to Jade, and I just found out they were Facebook friends too and I don’t know…”
Still on the verge of tears, she tilts her chin up and opens her eyes wide while pressing her tongue hard against the roof of her mouth.
You’re being ridiculous, she chides herself. Harlow Hayes didn’t kill your fucking sister. That’s crazy.
“Oh sweetheart,” Joel says. It’s the first time she’s ever heard a genuine softness in his voice. “Listen, it’s not stupid. I don’t know how many times I have to tell ya you’re one of my best reporters, it’s why I snapped you up straight outta college, okay?”
Naomi laughs, wiping the snot running from her nose with the back of her hand.
“And it’s completely understandable for you to make those connections. For this to undoubtedly bring your grief to the forefront. If I had known that covering Harlow would have taken this turn, I woulda never sent you, never put you through this.” He sighs.
Naomi’s throat stings as she fights back tears. Jesus Christ, pull it together. She bites at her cuticles, wincing at the pain as she tears off another piece of skin.
“But try and think objectively for a second,” he continues.
“Is it really so strange that Jade knew your sister? Two young, beautiful aspiring musicians living in New York. They could have easily met at a party and linked up on social media. It makes perfect sense for them to know each other, run in the same circles. While it’s a huge-ass city, the gigging circuit ain’t that different to the reporting circuit.
How many times do you run into the same reporters, photographers, paparazzi from other outlets?
I bet you’re Facebook friends with some of them. ”
A small weight lifts off Naomi’s chest. He’s right—she is. She exhales the breath she’s been holding, feeling another small weight fall away.
“And I know us reporters from New York pretend like this stuff we cover doesn’t bother us.
So I’m going to tell you something my California-born-and-bred ex-wife told me when I first met her.
It’s okay to feel things. Feeling things doesn’t make you weak.
It makes you human. And humans write better stories. ”
It’s the cheesiest thing she’s ever heard him say, but it makes her feel miles better in the moment. “Thanks, Joel, you big sop,” she jokes, sniffling.
“I don’t like to remember most things my ex-wives have said to me, but I always try to remember that one. Because in all seriousness, Nay, AI is comin’ for us writers so the only way we don’t lose our jobs to these computers is by using being human to our advantage.”
She laughs again, thinking of one of the outlandish theories she saw online about Harlow being an AI who got out of control. “Right, I’ll keep that in mind.”
“But anyway, try and stay focused. Colton’s funeral is tomorrow, right?”
She confirms, thankful for the change in subject.
“How are you planning on—”
“The less you know, the better, probably,” she says before he can finish his question.
Joel doesn’t necessarily encourage breaking rules, but he isn’t against it if one of his reporters thinks it worthwhile. “Just don’t do anything illegal…”
“Well, make sure you’re on standby tomorrow afternoon in case I need you to bail me out.”
“Hey, you get arrested, you’re on your own, kid.”
“Yeah, whatever,” she replies before hanging up and pulling out onto the interstate.
She knows Joel will be there for her if she needs him, something she didn’t realize was so important to her until now. The fact somehow comforts and disquiets her at the same time.
*
Two hours later, Naomi arrives at her hotel in Haverhill, Massachusetts, about an hour south of Colton’s hometown in Maine. It’s late and she knows she should get some sleep before tomorrow’s event. But, once again, her anxiety keeps her up.
She decides against re-opening Emily’s email, vowing not to view the autopsy report again until after Colton’s funeral; she’ll need to be focused for that and obsessing over connections between Faye and Jade’s death isn’t going to help.
So instead she tries to be productive, spending time practicing her cover story for tomorrow and scanning photos of people attending, trying to memorize the different faces she can expect to see.
She wants to be prepared and know who to avoid.
Not that anyone should recognize her, but some people, like Colton’s and Harlow’s manager Sam Brixton, might be able to poke holes in Naomi’s cover story of previously working on Colton’s PR team.
So as much as she wants to talk to him, especially now she knows Jade was last seen at his pre-VMAs party, the funeral probably won’t be the best place.
She jots down certain questions and notes for herself before checking her outfit one last time, feeling somewhat confident in her plan.
Naomi turns the light out again, desperate for her brain to shut off and stop tormenting her for a few hours, but her heart and mind are still racing, made worse by the copious amounts of caffeine flowing through her system.
All she can picture is Harlow Hayes attacking her sister.
Strangling her like Jade and then pumping her full of drugs before lighting the house on fire.
Groaning in frustration at knowing how sleep-deprived she’s going to feel tomorrow, she rolls over and grabs her phone, intending to put on a sleep story from the Calm app, but instead she instinctively opens Twitter one more time.
None of the posts contain anything new, just more of the same hate-filled posts lacking actual substance or evidence.
Nothing like @BobTheFloppp’s first video, which actually contained facts and brought new information to light.
She goes to @BobTheFloppp’s profile, but he hasn’t posted any updates since his original video.
In fact, she can’t find the video at all.
She feels unsettled, wondering if he was forced to take it down. Threatened.
Naomi realizes she didn’t do much digging into the Bill Lever case aside from asking Bobby a few questions. She hasn’t even looked into Harlow’s whereabouts the night of Bill’s death. Her heart races as a new wave of adrenaline shoots through her.
Bill Lever was found deceased in his home in Los Angeles the morning of February 1, 2022, so Naomi searches for “Harlow Hayes February 1, 2022.”
She breathes a sigh of both relief and disappointment when she sees a post from user @MilaLovesHH from the date in question.
It’s a photo of Harlow in the window of an Italian restaurant, sitting across from another thin blonde woman.
According to Mila, Harlow was spotted out for dinner with Colton’s sister-in-law Casey Scott, on the night of Bill Lever’s death.
In Maine. On the other side of the country from where Bill Lever died.
Naomi frowns, confused by a different photo of Harlow in the post below, also dated February 1, 2022. This one is from @CrazieHazie414HH: Harlow grabbing a green juice on Rodeo Drive this AM. brB actually dying.
Naomi looks back up at the previous post, rereading it.
She realizes the fan must have meant that Harlow was out the night before, judging by the nighttime shot.
Of course, Naomi thinks. The one day I need to know where she was, it can’t be simple.
Spotted in Los Angeles the morning of, but on the other side of the country the night before.
So did she kill Bill Lever and then go get a green juice? Was that her pick-me-up after a kill?
She zooms in on the photo of Harlow and Casey Scott, interested that Harlow was still hanging out with Casey after her final breakup with Colton. That means they must have been close. That Casey felt some sort of loyalty to Harlow, and not just to the Scott family.
Naomi shuts her eyes, finally able to relax now that she has a specific person to target at the funeral tomorrow.