Page 65 of Every Step She Takes
Not exactly, but something in it… I’ve heard that voice before.
An actor? That would make sense. It’s the circle Isabella travels in, and I may have heard her lover in a movie or show.
I tuck the information away in hopes an answer will rise from my subconscious later.
The problem with hanging out at my hotel is that it feels like a prison cell… which only reminds me of where I could end up. It drives me crazy, though, sitting there, trying to read a magazine when I should be doing something, anything. I’m wanted for murder, damn it.
So I should… start interviewing witnesses? Break into the morgue to further examine Isabella’s body? Call my nonexistent contacts in the police department?
I’m not a detective. Worse, as the actual prime suspect, I can’t even play amateur sleuth beyond looking for clues on the Internet.
Or I can get a lawyer. The thought makes my gorge rise, thinking of Thompson. I can tell myself he was an exception, but he’d been the only one who’d touch my case, meaning anyone else who might could be Thompson 2.0.
Still, I should do some defense-attorney research. See whether there’s anyone who looks like a possibility.
I head out again to pick up the nearest source of free Wi-Fi and log on to find another message from TPI – my mental name for Thompson’s private investigator.
TPI’s email comes with attachments. The first is a screenshot of Colt’s Instagram post from yesterday morning. It’s him on a veranda overlooking the ocean with the caption:
Early bird catches the worm! Or so I hear. Decided to try it once. God, it’s early. And I don’t even get a sunrise on this coast.
The time stamp is 8:03 a.m. Eastern, meaning 5:03 a.m. in California. By 7:10 a.m. yesterday, Isabella’s body had been discovered. Is that why TPI sent it? Suggesting this was Colt’s reaction to the “your wife is dead” phone call? It’s unlikely Colt knew by 8:03. He’d been relaxing on his deck with his first coffee, taking a selfie for…
No, it’s not a selfie, which means someone else snapped it. Still, I’m not sure I get the point of Thompson’s PI sending it to me. Does this imply Colt had a lover spend the night?
You know how you could answer these questions, Lucy? Read the damn email.
Lucy
I hope you’re someplace safe. If you need any advice on finding a spot, please let me know. I would like to speak soon. Speak online, I mean. I realize it will take much more than the contents of this email to convince you that I can be trusted for an in-person conversation.
The attached photo was posted to Colt Gordon’s Instagram account yesterday morning. I suspect he was informed of the murder and immediately posted this photograph to be clear he was on the West Coast at the time.
Twenty minutes later, this appeared on his Twitter:
This is Karla Ellis, Colt’s business manager. He has received some terrible news this morning, and he will be withdrawing from all social media. Please respect the family’s privacy at this time. Thank you.
I sent the photograph because it wasn’t taken at 5:03 a.m. yesterday. It was pitch black in California at that time. I estimate it was taken closer to 7 a.m., on a different day, obviously.
I believe Colt received the news and scrambled to post a photograph “proving” he was at home when he was not. Does that mean he was at a lover’s house that night? Or that he wasn’t in California at all?
I’m still digging. I just wanted to send you this as an indication of what I can do.
Your first question will be why I’m doing this at all. Money. I’ll make no bones about that. Fighting for a noble cause is laudable, but it doesn’t pay my bills. However, I am not asking you for money.
As I said, I’ve worked for lawyers. In civil suits, they aren’t paid unless they win their case. I believe this situation is similar. There is money to be had here for whoever tells your story. I will admit, I fancy myself something of a writer. My payment then is that I have your permission to tell this story once it is finished.
I will be blunt. If you are taken into custody and found guilty, your story has minimal value. If you avoid arrest and are ultimately vindicated, though? That is – pardon my language – one hell of a tale. I want to be the one to tell it.
So here is my offer. Talk to me. Allow me to continue working your case. At some point, I will ask for permission in the form of a binding contract. That contract, though, will stipulate that it is null and void in the event that you are convicted of this crime.
I could point out that I’m taking a chance believing in you. Sadly, I’ve never been much of a salesman. Instead, I’ll point out that, considering the stakes for me, I’m fully motivated to prove your innocence.
Beneath that, he – from his use of “salesman,” I presume he’s male – gives me instructions on how I can talk to him via a messaging app. He’s set up a new account for himself and provided his username. He’s asked only that whatever username I choose, it starts with anL, so he’ll know it’s me when I ping him.
He has a good story here. It’s bogus, of course, but TPI – or his boss, Thompson – has at least come up with a more plausible explanation than “I’m offering to help you because it’s the right thing to do.”
Okay, Mr. Thompson. Let’s see what you’ve got.
