Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
My mind is in a spin. So many things are happening, it’s difficult for me to keep track.
Everything seems to be connected and it’s as if I’m a piece on a chessboard being moved from one place to the other under the control of destiny.
I run each incident through my mind and, reaching for a pen, make a list. The trigger for everything that’s happened to me came about the day I discovered I’d been adopted.
The reasons at the time had been sketchy but since discovering the truth it’s been a domino effect.
It makes me wonder if my adopted father Sam is involved, mainly because he put me in this position.
He recommended me as the ghostwriter of Isabelle’s memoirs.
Did he know she had been there the night I was born, giving birth to Mia?
Sam and Willow would have gone to the hospital to collect me, and maybe the nurse there told them about having a celebrity at the hospital during the hurricane?
Did my father assume that I’d discover my mother’s name?
Does he know I have a brother, who is just like our dad?
My parents live in a close community. Sam is the go-to plastic surgeon for everyone around here.
He would have heard about the murder after the release of “Black Valentine” and as a frequent visitor to the house did he see the title on the sheet music and make the link?
I know he used the information about attending the victim of the shooting and not reporting it to gain leverage to get me the job.
He knows I’m like a dog with a bone when it comes to searching for the truth.
I’m wondering now if he sent me here to see the crossed-out title on “Black Valentine,” so I’ll hunt down what really happened.
Sam knows a ton of things about this family and patient-doctor confidentiality only goes one way.
Is he concerned that if Isabelle suspects he knows something about my mother’s murder, she might use the fact he didn’t report the gunshot wound to blackmail him into silence?
I don’t trust Sam any longer as he lied to me all my life.
How long will it be before he approaches me to discover if I’ve gotten any information about Linc or the other members of his entourage who might be responsible for Rachel’s death?
If I prove they were involved, will Sam ask me to keep it a secret so he can keep the information up his sleeve as a trump card, to prevent Isabelle from talking to the cops about the shooting?
I need to speak to Linc. The moment I step from my room I hear the piano downstairs and head in that direction.
I find Linc sitting at the piano, playing, and Lucas adding an incredible riff.
Linc stops, stands and scribbles something on a sheet of paper.
As Lucas continues as if in a world of his own, I stand in the doorway enthralled.
The music seems to curl around the room, the notes telling their own story of sorrow and loss.
He stops playing when he sees me. I lift my chin and smile.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. ”
“You’re not.” Linc flashes a white smile at me. “In fact, I need an opinion on these lyrics. They’re not finished yet.” He meets my gaze. “Do you mind?”
It’s strange but I feel relaxed as I join them—as if it’s normal. “I’d love to hear them.”
“Thanks.” Linc nods to Lucas.
“She lay on the deck, in a crimson cloud,
No one had seen her, the night wore a shroud.
Whispers of vengeance still hang in the air,
The blade cut deep—no mercy, no prayer.”
“I wrote the second verse.” Lucas plays as Linc sings.
“Her screams went unnoticed, the truth left to rot,
A promise broken, a crime never forgot.
Steel kissed her neck, and took her fame,
Now ghosts of the guilty will carry her name.”
“Now the chorus, something like…” Linc nods at Lucas.
“Blood on the tide, the silence won’t break,
Secrets are held by the choices we make.
Screams in the dark, the truth is a lie,
Her name is a curse that will echo through time.”
I stand speechless as they play it again.
“It’s incredible.” I blow out a breath. “Very powerful.” The parallel between that song and “Black Valentine” concerns me.
I walk slowly to the piano and look at Linc.
“This is obviously a song about a murderer, much the same as ‘Black Valentine.’ Doesn’t it concern you that someone might try to stage a murder like this song? ”
“Whoa.” Lucas reacts as if I’d slapped him. “Here we go again.”
“How did you know about the ‘Black Valentine’ murder?” Linc’s eyes narrow and his shoulders tense. “Who’s been spreading lies about me?”
I clear my throat. It’s obvious I’ve stepped into forbidden territory.
I try to make light of the situation. “Oh, I was having a session with Isabelle just before and she mentioned it might be something that we could put into the book. She showed me the framed sheet music of ‘Black Valentine’ in the recording studio downstairs. It must have been a very stressful time for you. I understand that you were one of the suspects in the case?”
“Isabelle, huh?” Linc shakes his head slowly. “She knows better than to dig up that type of dirt. What else did she tell you?”
I can see no anger, only disappointment in his face.
“That your persona as a bad boy, who plays the field, is a lie.” I suck in a breath.
“She told me she’s very jealous of anyone that you’re seen with but doesn’t believe you’ve been unfaithful.
I told her that wasn’t something we should put into the book mainly because the bad boy image is why your fans love you so much. ”
“Thanks. It’s good to know you have some common sense, not like my wife.
” Linc shakes his head. “I was on tour when that murder happened. I was never a suspect—nor were any of my band. I didn’t know a thing about it until I came home.
Of course, the cops investigated everyone in the house.
The fact that it happened in a local motel didn’t help.
” He rubs a hand across his lips and reaches for a glass of water on the top of the piano.
He takes a few sips and then narrows his gaze at me.
“What I find distasteful is that I believe the success of that particular song was based on the fact that poor woman died. There were rumors that I came back on a private plane, committed the murder and then returned to the tour.”
“He played it up on stage as well, by drawing his finger across his neck during the song.” Lucas grins at me. “The crowd went wild. I figure they wanted him to be the killer and the fact he’d gotten away with it was even more intriguing for them.”
That makes sense and I nod. “It’s a very good story but one that should be in your memoirs and not Isabelle’s. It seems to me it didn’t affect her at all.”
“Nothing actually affects Isabelle, unless I bring a woman home. Then I figure she’d go ballistic.
” Linc smiles at me. “As you get to know me better, you’ll understand I have a great interest in people.
I like talking to people about their lives.
Becoming a rock star at eighteen, I really haven’t had much time to enjoy mine.
” He waves a hand around the room. “This is the only world I really know and walking out on stage every six months or so—that and writing songs—is a passion. It is not the glamorous life that you believe. Even if I go out on my yacht fishing, the paparazzi are somewhere close by. I doubt I’d be able to find the few minutes in a day I’d need to kill someone.
Outside these walls there is always someone watching me—well, me and Lucas anyway. ”
“You should come outside with me and walk along the beach.” Lucas gives me a wink.
“By the morning the tabloids will be telling the world that I have a new girlfriend. When in fact, I don’t have anyone in my life whatsoever, mainly because I can’t go anywhere to meet anyone.
” He sighs. “I know this is why I started taking drugs. I married the first person I met. I didn’t love her and the drugs were an escape from reality.
Now I’m clean my music is pure. I play better than ever, maybe because my hands don’t shake any longer.
I enjoy the solitude. Right now, there’s nothing on the outside I’m interested in, although one day I would like to find a soulmate.
I don’t figure going into old age without anyone is a good thing. ”
“I’d love to know your story.” Linc beckons me into the family room that overlooks the beach. “I’ll call for something to eat. Coffee?”
I follow him with Lucas close behind. “Yeah, and I’m suddenly hungry.”
“I tend to eat at unusual times during the day mainly because I get involved in what I’m doing and miss meals.
It’s easier for both me and Lucas to order something from the kitchen when we’re hungry.
We always have breakfast together when we’re home and of course dinner. Isabelle won’t have it any other way.”
I sit down on the huge leather sofa and my attention moves around the room.
Everything is about music or movies and there are photographs of the children when they were young.
Older people appear in the images as well and I assume they are the grandparents.
There are framed tour posters along one wall, each one of them with a “sold out” banner across them.
I want to get up and walk around and admire everything.
There is so much to see. Different awards sit on a mantel above a huge fireplace as if they’d just been dropped there when returning from an award ceremony.
Although the house is spotlessly clean, it still has a very casual air about it.
As my gaze lingers around the room it stops on Linc sitting forward in his chair elbows on his knees and his hands gripped loosely together.
“So, Alani, I know very little about you.” Linc’s mouth turns up in the corners. “Sam mostly speaks to Isabelle but I know he’s very proud of you, and so is Willow. For you to make it in New York alone and the success you have attained at your age is commendable.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “When you started, you wrote an incredible song, which immediately went into the charts and your group became famous overnight. I guess that happens to one in a million but you’ve never been a one-hit wonder, have you?
Your music and Lucas’ have always been incredible.
” I smile. “I had friends in high places. My father being a plastic surgeon to the stars meant that when I started writing articles for newspapers they got picked up just because of my surname. I know this and made a real effort to make sure everything I wrote was perfect. I never wanted to be accused of flying on his coattails. I know he was influential in me getting one of the best agents in New York and I know Isabelle chose me for her book because of Sam’s intervention. ”
“Sam?” Linc’s brow furrows and his gaze intensifies. “You don’t call him Dad?”
As I expect this family to be open and honest with me, I can only trust them with my secret.
“The night before I left for college, I discovered I’d been adopted.
The people I’d called Mom and Dad had lied to me my entire life.
We were estranged for the entire time I was at college.
This visit, to work with Isabelle, is the first time I’ve seen them for ages.
” I sigh. “It’s not something I want people to know about but as we’re all laying our cards on the table, I figured I need to trust you as much as you’re trusting me with your secrets. ”
“Haven’t you found your birth parents’ names?” Lucas holds up a hand for me to be quiet as a woman comes into the room carrying a large tray followed by another.
Once the coffee, sandwiches, cakes and pastries are laid out on the coffee table and the women departed, I tell them the story of my birth.
I leave out the part about my mother likely being the woman giving birth beside Isabelle in the hospital during the hurricane and the fact that my father is a murdering psychopath.
I decide to bend the truth a little. “My mother was left for dead, and her rapist never found. There was never a court case so no records exist for me to track her down. I have tried but she was underage at the time and her file was sealed. When I talk to Sam and Willow, they say they have no knowledge of her at all. I guess I’m glad I was able to be raised in a loving family but I still resent the fact that they didn’t tell me earlier.
I believe it was mainly because my grandparents would tell me how much I’d look like this person or that person when they were the same age.
I don’t know why they lied to me but I feel like I don’t trust them anymore. ”
“Man, that’s twisted.” Lucas fills a plate with sandwiches and then pours coffee into three cups. “So, this guy was either a young dude and his date got out of hand—she likely covered for him and maybe thought he’d marry her—or he is a serial rapist and is still out there doing it.”
“Don’t worry about Lucas.” Linc gives his son a disapproving stare. “Apart from music, his greatest love is true crime.”
I’m surprised and intrigued. “Me too. I figure if I hadn’t become a writer, I would have joined the police force in some way or even the FBI.
I like investigating things and doing research.
I need to fact-check every item that goes into a book that I write about someone.
I don’t want the book to be removed from the shelves or become part of a court case for defamation. ”
“Well, unfortunately this family has many skeletons in the closet.” Linc piles his plate with food, leans back and sighs.
“The world we live in attracts trouble. There are many things I don’t want getting into the press, so come to me if you find anything overly derogatory.
I understand you need sensationalism to assist Isabelle in selling her story but not the type that ruins careers.
Some things need to remain hidden.” He gives me a long look and his eyes bore into my soul. “You get my meaning—right, Alani?”
I look into Linc’s eyes and his expression is deadly serious. I wonder what it is they don’t want me to know about? Have there been more “accidental” shootings they’re not telling me about? A shiver runs down my spine and I clear my throat. “Not a problem.”