Page 30 of Behind These Four Walls

Chapter Twenty-Four

Isla closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment to catch her breath. Since she’d arrived at the Corrigan estate the evening before, everything had been a whirlwind. She was glad to leave them, even if her earlier play had failed. Having one of the estate’s drivers return her to the rented studio apartment she’d been staying at for the past six weeks was like coming back to the real world. When she thought the car wasn’t lurking around with instructions to watch her, Isla walked the couple of blocks to the Red Roof Inn, where it had all begun for her.

The apartment was what they could know about her. However, this motel room was what she had to keep hidden. It was where she’d come to reconnect with the past, the memories of the time she’d spent in this very room serving as a reminder of why she’d returned to this town. Now, she needed to regroup and think of a contingency plan since shooting her shot with Victor Corrigan and failing miserably. Her phone buzzed.

Pack your bags and see you soon!!!

Isla was confused and read the words again, which did not compute. She was still trying to figure it out when a call interrupted, the number unknown. She answered, preparing to hang up if it was spam.

The voice boomed from the line as loudly as if he were in the room. “Isla, I’ll give you a shot with this article my wife wants me to do,” Victor said.

“But Mrs. Corrigan doesn’t seem to like me at all or want me around.”

“Is she the subject of this damnable piece, or am I? You let me worry about my wife. She’ll see it my way.” Isla didn’t believe anyone could see anything Victor wanted any other way than his.

She was stunned. “Why me? Like I said, I don’t have much experience.”

“Experience starts from somewhere, right? You said this could be what you need to get in the door. Plus, you got balls, and even though my wife has not welcomed you with open arms, that doesn’t deter you.” He sighed, the humor leaving his tone. “Plus, you remind me of someone I haven’t seen in a while.”

Isla’s heartbeat doubled. “Who might that be?”

There was a long pause, and without the rush of air in the background, she’d have thought he had hung up. “Just don’t get in my way. My schedule is tight, and I don’t know when I’ll be available for you, but I expect the piece to be done prior to the awards. Just be available when Dixon calls. Sound good?”

He didn’t wait for her response, disconnecting the call instead.

She gave Victor the reply he hadn’t waited to hear. “Sounds great.”

She went over to the tiny nightstand and pulled it away from the wall, turning it as she ran the tips of her fingers on the back of it. Her fingers stopped when they glided over the grooves in the wood. She turned it some more until she saw them. She traced the letters scratched roughly into the cheap wood with the tip of the metal emery board from her nail clippers.

EG & IT

were here

She let out a deep breath, refusing to allow the tears that wanted to spill to have their way. She couldn’t believe it had worked. She’d gone off plan, by gut, and it was such a sloppy scheme—built on a lot of chance, luck, and the goodwill of people—it shouldn’t have worked. But she’d done it.

Chapter Twenty-Five

She surveyed the room, images of where Eden had been and where she had been weaving in and out of her memory as they had for the past six weeks Isla had been in town. The room smelled faintly of old fabric and stale cigarette smoke, though theNo Smokingsign was very conspicuous on the door. The thin curtains barely kept the sunlight from creeping in and would be of little help if one needed the cocoon of darkness to sleep. There were two double beds with matching bedding that was an upgrade from ten years ago. A small desk set up for someone to work at, but it was lit with not-so-great light, next to a decent-sized flat-screen TV (another upgrade).

She twisted the lock above the doorknob, then flipped the top lock over the latch. She made sure to catch housekeeping every couple of days before they came in to change the towels and tidy the room. And theDo Not Disturbsign was always swinging from the doorknob on the other side because no one needed to walk in and see what she had inside.

The sliding glass doors leading to the balcony were across the room, to her right. The closet was to her left, and the tiny bathroom was as well. Isla went to the closet and slid its door open, revealing weeks of hard work—a sprawling collage of photos, sticky notes, and taped printouts covering most of the good-sized wall, with room to grow.

She sat on the floor, propped against the bed, as she looked at the back wall of the closet, where photos of the Corrigan family were strategically positioned, their closest associates extending from the Corrigan they were connected with. She looked at Eden’s photo—her best friend’s wide smile, from years ago, before her mother’s death, when she was happier—away from all the others while Isla had tried to figure out Eden’s connection to the family. Now Isla knew, and it left her with more questions than she’d had before.

Before, Isla had always wondered what Eden’s connection to this family was. What had drawn her to Charlottesville when it was not their final destination? Then, Isla had believed Eden wanted to speak with the Corrigans about her mother’s dismissal from her job as Mr. Corrigan’s assistant. Isla had wrongly assumed Eden was angry at the family for firing Elise and was looking to blame them for how Eden and her mother had ended up, even her mother getting cancer. But it wasn’t a wrongful dismissal. It was a freaking love triangle. Elise had a child with Victor who would have been about Bennett’s age. An affair, getting both women pregnant at the same time? Very messy and definitely a reason why Brooke and Victor would have wanted this dirty secret gone.

That couldn’t be it. Eden had told Isla she’d come to live with her mother after living with her father up until then. But she’d left it at that. Eden had always been vague, and Isla had respected her privacy. In Isla’s world, every kid had had stories they weren’t ready to share. Then, what had made Eden suddenly leave the estate after living there all her life—her mother’s illness? And what had angered Eden so much that after two years she still wanted to confront the Corrigans? Had it been bad enough for them to get rid of her?

Isla inched closer to the closet. She took Eden’s photo from its location and repositioned it with the rest of the Corrigan offspring in chronological order from youngest to oldest. Holland. Eden. Bennett. Myles. She considered them all for a long time, along with the small stickies, color-coded and assigned to specific family members, and her careful notes on each.

A Post-it beside Brooke’s photo read,Runs B&C Foundation, philanthropic, PR and marketing savvy.She took that sticky and added,Manipulative, nasty piece of work, classist & obsessed with the image of wealth and perfection. No fan of Myles.

Isla didn’t have to guess why. Brooke suffered from the classic and fabled evil-stepmother syndrome. She wanted her own children prioritized above any previous or other children her husband had. She’d do anything for Bennett because he was cultivated in her image. He was a son and was a perfect candidate for succession. He was also just as hungry as Brooke was. Holland was something different, Isla mused. More like Eden—sensitive, genuine.

Victor:CEO—larger than life. How far will he go to protect TCG?

Myles and Bennett had their own sections with the areas of the family business they oversaw, photos, and notes likeLeft for military—why? Won’t fight Bennett. Why?These were for Myles. And for Bennett:Set up Leonard? Erratic. Resentful. Jealous. Charming.All that after knowing him ten minutes. Bennett thought he wasn’t, but he was an open book. A separate corner of the map held Leonard’s obituary and a question mark connecting Bennett to it.