Chapter 5
FIVE
I sleep for ten hours on my return to my adoptive parents’ home and wake before six.
My mind is clearer this morning. I’m too nervous to eat and after downing a cup of coffee, I call ahead to Isabelle’s to inform them that I’m driving over from my parents’ place.
It doesn’t take me long to spot the sprawling ultramodern mansion sitting high on a hill opposite the ocean.
One side is a wall of tinted glass reflecting the waves crashing on the sand.
The old estate has double large wrought iron gates with biometric access but a hut is situated just inside.
A man wearing a security uniform steps out and, opening a small gate in the fence, approaches swirling one finger for me to buzz down my window.
“I’m Alani Fairchild, Isabelle is expecting me. ”
“Show me your ID.” The man with shoulders broad enough to carry a refrigerator holds out one meaty hand.
I rummage through my purse and pull out my license and hand it to him.
He gives it a superficial glance, hands it back and then turns on his heel and goes back through the gate.
Moments later the first large wrought iron gates squeak open and I drive inside but before the second set opens the first clang shut behind me.
I’m in no man’s land, no way back or forward.
This place is like a prison. My heart races as I wait for the second gates to open slowly.
I drive through and look in my rearview mirror as the gates slam shut, trapping me inside the estate.
Trying hard to push down the feeling that I’ve made a huge mistake coming here, I keep going.
As I negotiate the circular driveway, another man steps out to meet me. I buzz down my window and stare at him.
“Give me your keys. I’ll grab your bags and park it for you.” He holds out a hand. “The garage is along there on the left.” He indicates with his chin.
I’m being controlled from the get-go. No keys means absolutely no escape.
I glance at the high fences surrounding the property.
This level of security is suffocating. I lift my chin, not wanting the man to see how concerned I am, and open my door to look at him.
I don’t recognize him from any of the family photos. “And you are?” I hand out my keys.
“Bill.” He takes the keys and points to a set of double doors. “Through there. Allison, Ms. Croft’s PA, is waiting for you.”
As I gaze at the house the security cameras swivel and follow me as if someone’s watching me in real time.
I can imagine Isabelle standing in front of a screen checking me out.
From what I’ve read about her she is a little off center and very much an egotistic drama queen.
As I approach the door, it opens and a woman around my age gives me a cheery smile. I smile back. “You must be Allison.”
“Yes, come in out of the heat.” Allison stands to one side and allows me to pass.
The scent of fresh flowers wafts over me as I step inside.
The house is huge and spreads out in all directions.
I’ll need a map to find my way around. Vases of flowers perch on white marble pedestals each side of the doorways.
The foyer ceiling goes up to a round glass tower and the Italian marble beneath my feet stretches out as far as the eye can see.
An archway to my right leads to a spectacular room with a grand piano.
It’s set before a line of huge windows overlooking the sea.
Sheet music with hastily written notes and lyrics spills across the top and onto the floor.
Some of the documents are held down with a bottle of bourbon and a glass; others are pinned under a beautifully handcrafted bamboo brush pot filled with pens and pencils.
I hurry after Allison, and we walk along a mirrored hallway, each mirror distorting the reflection, making me dizzy.
We turn into another hallway lined with platinum albums on one side and framed images of Isabelle on the other.
“I hadn’t realized Linc had so many albums.”
“They go back way before I was born.” Allison smiles at me. “He works odd hours and sleeps when he wants to. He’s in a different mood every time he wakes.”
I consider her. She might be a good inside story source. “You know I’ll be talking to everyone. Is there any information you feel I need going forward?”
“Linc’s entourage.” She lowers her voice and glances around. “They’re a wild bunch. They party hard and I wouldn’t trust them as far as I could throw them. The music is loud and drugs and alcohol flow free.”
My experience with people in entertainment has given me an open mind when it comes to the lives of the rich and famous.
I nod, glad of her confidence. “I figure if it gets too noisy, I’ll ask Isabelle if I can stay at my parents’ house for the weekends.
It will make life easier. If I plan to get this book written in the time frame that Isabelle requires, I’ll need some peace and quiet.
” I flick her a glance. “Apart from the wild parties is there anything else I should know about?”
“Strange things happen here.” Allison slows her walk. “If you want my advice, I would stay in your room with the door locked.”