Page 73 of Behind These Four Walls

At first, the recording was muffled static, and then a voice—soft but familiar, unsure—filled the room.

“Testing ... testing ... one, two. One, two. Hope this shit works.”

The phone nearly dropped from Isla’s hands. She was going years back in time: ten, nine, eight ...

Oh God, it was Eden.

Isla thought of the last moment she saw her.I might be late, so don’t wait up.

Hearing Eden’s voice after so long, Isla felt her throat constricting, the pain reminding her where she was.

Rey from the other end: “What’s that? Who is that?”

There wasn’t enough air to breathe, let alone answer him. She clutched the recorder tightly, barely managing to cut it off.

“Isla, what’s wrong?” Rey’s voice became frantic. “Are you there? Do I need to call the cops?” Rey’s questions came rapid-fire.

“E-E-Eden.” On the verge of hyperventilation, she could barely get the words out. “It’s Eden.”

Chapter Fifty-Six

She’d thought nothing else would be able to shock her the way she’d been shocked when she learned of Eden’s identity. She’d been wrong, because the world as she knew it had just stopped on its axis.

Rey was on it. “You’ll take that, okay?” Rey said slowly, as if to a child. “But you need to get with it. You need to get out of there. Listen later, okay? When you’re out of there.”

Unthinkingly, she put the recorder back in the ziplock and dropped it in her backpack. Time was slipping away too quickly, and there was nothing else she could take that wouldn’t be missed immediately. At least this had been in the way back, probably not thought of for a long while. She checked everything once more, ensuring that nothing would leap out to Jackson immediately if he opened his safe.

Just as she was closing the safe and sliding the panel back in place, headlights swept across the room.

“Oh shit, he’s back,” she said urgently. “I gotta turn the jammer off and the system back on, or else he’ll notice it’s not armed.” She pushed herself to her feet, looking around for a way out. The sliding doors. But as she was about to cross the doorway to get to them, the front door opened, and Jackson was nearing the hallway, in view. She darted to the nearest hiding place—the closet. She went in, closed the wooden slatteddoor, and squeezed herself behind his full rack of clothes, stilling them just as he walked into his room.

Jackson’s footsteps were heavy as he entered. Through the slats of the closet door, Isla watched him as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his sleeves. He paused, a curious expression on his face as he scanned the room. He started on the buttons on his chest, taking a few more steps. He faced the dresser, opening his shirt. Then he spun around quickly, his laser-sharp blue eyes narrowing and sweeping the room, as if he could tell something was off. Shit, had she forgotten something? Had she forgotten and worn a fragrance still lingering in the air that he found unfamiliar—or familiar—and was connecting to her?

Isla held her breath, willing for some sort of divine intervention, because this wouldn’t be like some TV show. He had a recording of Eden from God knows when. He was literally capable of anything. She was afraid he could hear the pounding of her heart, and she was brought back to that hunting party, when she was alone, being terrorized in the woods. That same feeling of terror crept up on her again. Why hadn’t she hurried and gotten out sooner? Had she disturbed something in the room?

He approached the closet, his movements slow and deliberate, a cat about to pounce on its prey. He stopped on the other side of the door. His body blocked the light, and he moved to open the door. Isla knew this was it for her. The door began to open. She braced for the worst.

Until the front door beeped and Brooke’s voice called from the doorway.

“Jackson? Are you in here?”

Jackson froze, then let go of the handle, leaving the door open a sliver. As he turned, his expression was a mix of irritation and surprise. “Where else would I be? My damn car’s in the drive,” he muttered to himself. “I just left you, Brooke. What are you doing here?” he asked, meeting her at the bedroom’s doorway. “And I told you about letting me know when you were going to come over. We need to be careful. Now more than ever with that woman hanging around.”

“Don’t mention that brat,” Brooke said. “She’s like a buzzing mosquito with all her endless questions. You know, Bennett says that she came out of Victor’s office right before he pulled Bennett and Danny out of the LA office and accused them of being behind that whole ordeal with that man, that Larry man.”

“Leonard.”

“Whatever. That old buzzard said they set Leroy up. But I betshewas the one who told Victor and told the press. With all her snooping around. What if Victor’s onto us and hired her secretly to expose how we’ve been working to solidify Bennett’s position to take over? The whole article shit was a ploy. I always thought it was ridiculous the way she just waltzed into our home and suddenly became Diane Sawyer.”

Jackson laughed. “Now the poor girl is a secret agent? Have some wine, Brooke. You need it.”

Isla’s hands clenched as they talked about her, but she was too scared to be pissed about it.

“You sure you’re not just jealous of her? She’s pretty. Sexy. Young. All the men are putty in her hands,” Jackson teased.

Isla adjusted her position, her legs cramping and her heart slowing down. She watched them through the slats; they were still lingering in the doorway.

Brooke playfully hit him on the chest. “Don’t joke around. You’re lucky I’ve kept you around all this time.”