Page 41 of Behind These Four Walls
She crossed the Persian rug on the gleaming wood floor, took in the scent of leather from his furniture and the reek of stale cigar smoke. A sleek liquor cabinet stood in the corner with several decanters of various brown- and amber-colored liquids in them, untouched.
What stuck out to Isla, like a beacon of light shining brightly against all the other books lining the wall, was the Shakespearean playHamlet. Isla paused in front of it, reaching out as if to touch it but stopping short, memory coming upon her. Eden’s favorite. She’d mentioned a time when she used to be in theater in high school and found it the best thing about high school, if there was such a thing as the best part of high school.
What is it about Hamlet?Isla had asked.Everyone dies.
It’s about revenge and redemption,Eden had said solemnly with awe mixed in.It’s about revealing everyone’s dirty secrets and their betrayals by holding a mirror in front of them and cutting out the rot that was the ruin of that family.
Isla had shivered listening to her.Like I said, depressing and everyone dies.
Yet here it was. Eden’s favorite play. She pulled out the well-worn book and showed it to Victor.
His eyes squinted as he read the title, a wry smile spreading on his lips. “It was the favorite play of someone special to me. She loved Shakespeare and the British classics. But this one really spoke to her. I brought it here because it was something she loved. Makes me feel close to her, wherever she is. Careful—that particular edition was extremely expensive to obtain.” Isla put it back.
Victor offered, “Sit.” He gestured to the chair in front of his massive desk, the imposing piece of dark wood polished to a mirrorlike sheen.
Isla sat in the chair he’d indicated, trying not to fidget under Victor’s steady gaze. He leaned back in his chair, fingers again steepled under his chin as he studied her, his expression unreadable. Isla sat upstraight, determined not to falter in front of him or make him feel she was being anything but authentic and innocent of any ulterior motives.
“You’ll forgive me,” he finally said, low and measured. “I’m not accustomed to being interviewed by my employees. I’m usually the one doing the asking.”
“Thanks again for letting me do this. I know it’s not your norm. Everyone practically fights gladiator-style to work for you.”
“Yet you got in so easily and quickly,” he said, narrowing his eyes, still looking at her intently. “That’s not our normal protocol, and believe me, I’ve heard about it from my wife, sons, Dixon, security. Why do you think that is, Isla?”
Isla smiled brightly, though her heart was pounding. She shrugged. “My winning smile?”
He huffed out a laugh. It rang through his office and likely could be heard outside. Dixon popped his head in inquisitively, but Victor waved him out.
Isla let herself relax a little. So far, so good. She had to tread carefully. This was the start of her investigation into Eden’s disappearance, and she couldn’t afford any mistakes. Not with a man like him.
“I’m glad you find me amusing. I think there are still some of the family who haven’t taken to me quite yet.”
He smirked, raising an eyebrow. “You must be referring to my wife.” A statement rather than a question. “I heard she has you in staff housing rather than a guesthouse. I can get it changed if it’s a problem for you. I’ve already heard about it from Holland. Her mother can be a bit ...” He looked to the ceiling for the right words.
“Petty?” Isla muttered. Rey and Nat would get a kick out of this. Charli would ask who this alien being was.
Victor controlled himself. “Yes,” he breathed out truthfully. “Don’t let her get under your skin, okay? She can be overly protective of—” He broke off.
Isla kept a straight face. “Her territory?”
Victor frowned, but it wasn’t serious. “Isla, that’s my wife. My family.” Like he felt the need to offer a flimsy attempt at showing respect for his wife. “That’s a less than diplomatic way of putting it. My wife, in particular, has a talent for making her opinions known.”
Isla nodded sagely. “Yes. Yes she does.” But she offered no apologies, and he didn’t push for one. “The staff housing is better than some of the places I’ve lived. And the scenery is to die for. I don’t need much. I’m adaptable.” That was the truth.
He looked as if she were feeding him a load of bull. “Are you now.” A statement, not a question.
But she knew it was really a test. Everything with Victor would be a test to see what kind of person he was dealing with and what it was they wanted from him, how far they’d go to get it. Isla would try her hardest not to fall into that trap.
“Really. I’m just appreciative and honored you gave me this shot, since you don’t know me so well.”
“Speaking of.” Victor opened up a manila folder in front of him and read through its contents. “Isla Thorne, graduate of UCLA, major in journalism, double minor in film and TV and business, as you already told us. You live near Venice Beach and work as one of the caregivers at a retirement facility, Brighton Springs Retirement. You’ve been working there for eight years. Before then, McDonald’s.” He considered her. “Why McDonald’s?”
“I liked the Big Macs,” she quipped.
She prayed Rey’s technical genius held. She’d kept a pretty low profile anyway since moving to LA, but she hoped there wasn’t anything left to link her to Daytona and Eden. It was odd having parts of her life read back to her—the scrubbed and sanitized parts, thanks to Rey and even Charli, who’d come through long ago with a fake ID that put her at two years older than she was. There would be no information about Daytona and her being a ward of the state.
Victor chuckled. “They have great fries.”
Isla snorted. As if any of these people would ever step foot in a McDonald’s. She doubtedfast foodwas in their vocabulary.