Yeah, I pretty much knew he knew who I was, but hearing him say my name cements it. I quickly look around, even though I know we’re alone out here.
“If you know who I am,” I say, lowering my voice, “then why haven’t you told anyone? Why should I trust you not to blab it to the world?”
“It’s a better story if I have actual details. Not that a couple of good pictures wouldn’t be worth a lot. Those gossip sites are much more interested in speculations than facts. I, however, am more interested in the truth.”
Oh, what a fine, upstanding reporter he is! I’d probably throw up again if my stomach weren’t already empty.
“If you wanted to sit down and do an exclusive interview after this, I know a few magazines that would pay top dollar,” he says. “Honestly, it’s probably a good financial move in the long run. Keep your name in the press. Keep the masses wondering what you’ll do next. Celebrities have built entire careers out of nothing more than one ridiculous exploit after another.”
Is that what he thinks I want? Money and fame again? I want the world to forget about my family and our house and our financial situation.
“I’m not interested,” I tell him.
“Fair enough,” he says with a nod. “And I’ll respect that. But I’m not sure other people here share that attitude.”
I cross my arms. “What exactly do you want? Why didn’t you just ask me for all of this outright?”
“Because there’s a lot more going on with this place than you, Ms. Cunningham. I came here looking for a very different story, and I found you instead. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my first lead.”
“I don’t understand. You think I can help you with that?” Clearly I have him as fooled as the rest of them if he thinks I’ve been focused on anything but myself all this time.
“I would imagine someone in your position would have a pretty healthy interest in Edward Carolson,” he says casually.
Well, he’s right about that, at least. Okay. I’ll bite.
“You’re looking for dirt on Carolson, then?” I ask.
“This project is big news. It’s brought him into the eye of the general public. Naturally, my editors are pretty hungry for information.”
I take a deep breath. “Well, I’m not sure what you think I know about him. I’ve hardly said a word to the man.”
“But you seem pretty close to Ward Brannon.”
My back stiffens. “What?”
“Ward Brannon. You know—carries around a hammer. Lots of muscles. If you like that sort of thing.”
How does he know about me and Ward? It’s not exactly like the two of us were flashing that around or anything. I’m completely creeped out right now.
But that’s not even the most important issue here.
“What’s Ward got to do with any of this?” I say.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out. Carolson himself requested him for the job. Flew him all the way in from Chicago. Why? From what I can see, he didn’t have any particularly spectacular credentials. And even here, he’s not leading any of the projects. So why all of that extra effort? What makes him special?”
I shake my head. “How am I supposed to know that?” But inside, my brain is freaking out: He’s right. What’s going on here?
It must be pretty clear that I don’t have a clue. He smiles and nods and doesn’t press me.
“Just thought I’d check,” he says. “But it would be extremely helpful if you kept your ears open for me.”
Or what? He’s going to tell everyone my secret?
“I’ll think about it,” I say, just to get him off my back.
“I sincerely hope that you do.” He’s still wearing that awful smile. As if we’re talking about friggin’ puppies or something and not yet another complication in what’s already the biggest mess of my life.
“Well,” he continues, “on that note, I should probably return to dinner. Wouldn’t want to miss anything. Are you coming, Ms. Thomas?”
I don’t miss the mocking tone of that final word. I shake my head.
“Clearly, something isn’t sitting right with me.” I don’t even bother waving at the mess I’ve made on the rosemary bush. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
He nods. “I’ll vouch for you with your boss.”
As if I need any favors from him. After all of this. But I don’t say anything else. I’m sick and angry and my head is throbbing.
I run back up to my room. My legs give out twice on the stairs, and by the time I’m back at my horrible little dorm, I have half a dozen new bruises. But I don’t care. I’ve started to shake again, and my heart is pounding at breakneck speed. I can feel it in my ears. I crouch down on the floor, my back against the door, and hug my knees.
Breathe, I remind myself. Breathe, Lou.
But there are so many thoughts rushing through my head that those words get lost. I’m gasping for air and rocking back and forth against the door, trying to stay afloat.
Finally, some minutes or hours later, I finally come back to myself, and I climb to my feet and stumble over to my bed. It’s almost ten o’clock. Still an hour until I meet Ward. Asher’s weird insinuations are still floating around in my head, but I push them aside. Yes, there’s something going on, but I don’t want to think about that right now. I’m barely holding myself together.
What happens now? Do I stay here? Or do I run from this place, run from Asher’s threats?
No. No running. Especially since the minute I leave, there’s no reason for him to keep quiet about who I am. Sure, he won’t have his “exclusive interview,” but he knows I’m here. That’s enough. God forbid he was actually able to snap a picture of me. He has enough expensive equipment with him, I wouldn’t be surprised. If I didn’t realize he caught me and Ward sneaking off together, then who knows what else I missed? How many incriminating photos has he managed to capture?
Maybe I deserve it. Maybe the world should be allowed to see what a psycho I am. It’s only right, after all. Let everyone see. Let Ward finally know what a crazy freak I am.
But what about my brother? Whatever I do reflects back on him, too. We’re the only Cunninghams left. Whether it’s fair or not, he will probably get dragged into any tabloid storm with me.
Thinking of him reminds me that he sent me that email earlier. I’m sure it will only make me feel crappier to read it now, but maybe, just maybe, another glimpse at his new, perfect life will give me the hope to get on with things. If he can do it, if he can figure things out, then maybe I can, too.