Those words thunder in my ears. She says them offhandedly, stating a simple fact. As if Jamison’s mother died of some tragic accident or natural cause.
“YoumurderedIsabella,” I say, barely able to force the words out. “She trusted you and–”
“Isabella never trusted me. She tolerated me, for Colt’s sake. I spent my life working for that man, and who did he turn to? Who did he rely on? A woman too wrapped up in herself and her career to take proper care of him. That summer, he was having a midlife crisis, and she barely noticed. All she cared about was her silly show.”
The hairs on my neck rise. “Is Colt actually correct? That someone set him up that summer? With me?” I step toward her. “You hired me. You didn’t stop the scandal because you didn’twantto. You wanted Colt’s name in the papers again, and you wanted Isabella gone, and you thought that would do it.”
“Long-suffering Isabella,” Karla says. “That’s the only decent role she ever played. But she couldn’t even stick with that one. Hooks up with a musician half her age and intends to divorce Colt to marry him. That was bad enough. Then she brings you to New York and plans to drag Colt down by reopening the past.”
“Going public with me,” I murmur. “You didn’t plan to kill Isabella, but when Jamie called you after the accident, you saw an opportunity. Kill her. Put Jamie in your debt. Frame me to reignite that old scandal and remind the world just how irresistible Colt Gordon is. Fourteen years later, I’m still so obsessed with him that I murder my so-called rival. Except you knew, even with the planted evidence, it was hardly an airtight case. So you hired a guy to stalk me.” I meet her gaze. “You hired him to kill me.”
Her lips stretch in a humorless smile. “You have quite the imagination there. Perhaps you could have been a screenwriter after all. If someone was following you, Lucy, might I suggest it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fact that you are a wanted fugitive.”
“Possibly. That would certainly explain why you think you can get away with killing me or framing Jamie, as if there’s no one else here but the three of us.”
She hesitates. It’s only a flicker behind her eyes, but I catch it.
“I didn’t come alone,” I say. “You should know that, though, if you hired the man who held a gun to me yesterday. I mean, he’d have told you, right? Told you that his attempted abduction was foiled bymyprivate eye, who also took his gun.”
I purse my lips. “Unless he failed to disclose that the last time you spoke. Kind of embarrassing, I guess.Myhired guy disarmingyourhired guy in broad daylight. Tricking him with a fake tourist routine. If he is your guy, you deserve a refund.”
Her expression answers for her. It is ice-cold with rage. Then her hand moves. I see it out of the corner of my eye, just the slightest move.
My brain screams a warning, and I twist so fast, I stumble, and the gun fires. I don’t know if it’s the twist or the stumble, but one of them saves my life. The bullet whizzes past, and I’m doing another awkward move, half-scrambling, half-diving for the forest. Thewhooshof a silenced shot just as I hit the ground.
“Gen!”
Marco’s shout comes from somewhere in the forest, and Karla wheels, gun raised. I scream a warning, my heart hammering as I lunge in Marco’s direction.
A streak of motion flies from the other side of the house. Karla is looking the other way, scanning the forest. At the last second, she hears the sound behind her, and my mouth opens to call another warning, but Jamison is already in flight, knocking her flying. He pins her gun hand, his other hand at her throat.
“You murderingbitch,” he snarls.
A strangled gurgling from Karla, cut short by Jamison.
“Is this what you did to her, Karla? Is this what you did to my mother?”
I race over to them. Jamison has his knee on Karla’s chest, his hands around her throat as she writhes and wheezes.
“Did you think I was too stupid to figure it out?” he asks. “Or too weak to do anything about it? Toosensitive?”
He leans his weight onto her. “Am I stronger than you expected? You’re the one who insisted I do that movie with Dad. Maybe you’re regretting that now. Maybe you’re regretting a lot of things now.”
“Jamie,” I say.
He startles. Guilt and shame flood his face just like when he was a boy and I caught him destroying that script in his room.
That look vanishes in a second, replaced by hard anger and determination, his jaw setting. He does ease up on her throat, though, and Karla sputters and gasps for air.
“I called her,” he says. “Called her for help. That’s what we’re supposed to do when we run into trouble. I used to joke I should have her phone number tattooed on my arm. Call in case of emergency. Or blackout. Or overdose.” He looks down at Karla. “Or in case my mother falls, and hits her head and isn’t breathing.”
I glance over as Marco walks from the forest. He’s moving quietly, careful not to interrupt.
I turn back to Jamison. “You thought your mother was dead. So you called Karla.”
He nods, his eyes brimming with tears. “She said I had to get out of there before anyone knew I was at Mom’s hotel that night. I’m an addict and an alcoholic, and if the police didn’t blame me, the press would. She said that for Tiana and Dad’s sake, I had to leave. She’d tidy up and slip back to her room downstairs. When the hotel staff found Mom, it’d look like an accident.”
He swipes away tears as he stands. “I shouldn’t have left. I just… I was in shock, and I kept thinking that if I left, maybe I’d wake up in an alley and realize I’d stopped to get a fix and hallucinated the whole thing.”
