Page 80 of Behind These Four Walls

“I care.” It was all Isla could offer as consolation. “Take care of yourself, Holland.”

She hung up before Holland had a chance to say anything more, and refocused, with only one thing on her mind. Getting into Jackson’s unit.

The place was nondescript and old school, a more run-down place than she’d imagined a meticulous person like Jackson would utilize. The main office was dark, which was perfect. And the fact that this place was so old was perfect too. It meant no fancy security cameras or keypad entry systems, just the thick padlocks, and that no one would be payingattention if nothing looked broken into. Isla used all of those assurances to boost her courage as she glanced at the photo of Jackson’s invoice and compared that number with the ones above each corrugated metal door. This wasn’t like when she had Rey and Nat nearby, working a job with her. She was entirely on her own.

Gravel crunched beneath her boots as she finally stopped in front of H48 at the end of the last row of units in the farthest, darkest area of the grounds. Of course it was. It was one of the largest units, and she wondered what was so big that Jackson needed so much room all the way over here. Surely not old furniture. The units were secured with combination padlocks; this one had a four-digit lock setup. No problem. She’d cracked these before, YouTube videos saving the day as usual. She fished out a tension wrench, put the tinyMaglitein her mouth with its beam spotlighting the lock, and began working.

It was relatively warm even this late at night, and humid. Or maybe it was her anxiety and her intense concentration as she worked the lock, using the wrench to add tension to the hook shackle as she started from the bottom row and rotated backward through each number, listening for the distinctive deep tick of the correct number. The first was always the most difficult, in her opinion. The shackle downshifted, disengaging the first inner lock. She repeated the process three more times. Click, click, click. Each time, the shackle shifted with each disengaged portion. At the top roll, the shackle popped open. Her body relaxed with relief. She switched from the mini MAG to the regular one, pulled the latch, and braced herself as she lifted the door.

A thick cloud of dust and stale air hit her full force, making her cough and her eyes water. She waited for the dust to clear and shined the bright light inside. The unit was massive, empty apart from the single object, draped under a heavy cover, sitting in the middle of the room.

Maybe it was old furniture after all, all clumped together. Maybe a vehicle?

Okay. If Jackson was a car collector, again, why would he keep a car in some obsolete facility an hour from town? And why would the unitlook like no one had been here for years? There was a thick layer of dust on the built-in shelves, and cobwebs. She didn’t want to think of the spiders that had made those webs. Ignorance, in this case, was her bliss.

Dust motes swirled in the strong beam of light as she approached the covered shape. She gripped a portion and pulled, revealing a Jeep underneath.

She yanked the rest, and this time was unaffected by the plume of dust that had collected on the top of the car cover typically used for all weather. She took an involuntary step back as her mind worked to register what she was seeing.

It was the unmistakable yellow that sparked a memory from the recesses of her mind. The Jeep with aftermarket additions for continuous hours of off-roading.

The motel. The Jeep pulling up. The dome light illuminating the figures inside. Eden hesitating before climbing in. Eden looking back at Isla, who was watching from the second-floor walkway, confused and scared. Eden with the imperceptible shake of her head to sayKeep quiet.

The vehicle that had taken Eden away.

Roger’s Jeep, the one everyone had thought stolen, was here.

There were too many realizations assailing her at once. They made her double over with nausea as the magnitude of what had happened to Eden and who was involved grew. That it was people she knew and trusted made it all worse. There was a reason Danny had wanted to stop her and James, and now she knew. There was a reason why Jackson had hid Roger’s Jeep all this time. Because it linked Bennett to Eden the night she went missing, and Jackson couldn’t afford for Bennett to be connected to her disappearance. Not when he planned to take over the Corrigan Group.

Isla barely had the presence of mind to get back in the game. She fumbled for her phone and snapped a picture of the license plate and the VIN in the bottom corner of the windshield. She didn’t need it to tell her what she already knew, but if things went sideways, this could be proof, placing Roger and one of the others in the vehicle that Islahad watched Eden get into. She replaced the car cover the way she had found it. She couldn’t do anything about the disturbed dust should Jackson finally come to check out his little secret. She backed out of the unit, sucking in huge gulps of fresh air, and collected the bag she’d left just outside.

Back in the car, she gripped the wheel, heart still hammering. She had to be smart. Had to be careful.

She thought back to Roger joking around with Danny and Bennett the day they went hunting, talking about his lost first love.

“You remember your first ride?” Bennett asked. “The Jeep that you backed into the tree stump that one time, making that dent in the bumper?”

“Cops ever find it?” Danny asked, laughing.

“Hell no,” Roger replied, sounding wistful.

None of them knew what had happened to Roger’s Jeep. They had no clue.

But Jackson did.

Chapter Sixty-One

The night of the reception, after Victor had received his award, the Corrigan estate illuminated the night beneath a canopy of lights. Everyone was there in celebration of Victor’s Man of the Year award. The guests mingled, raising glasses of champagne in his honor.

For Isla, the reception would be the final night of her ten-year journey, and she supposed the opulent setting was fitting and also ironic. She was about to reveal something so ugly against the backdrop of glamour and beauty. The last thing she could do for Eden before she finally, really and truly moved on with her life. She hadn’t had contact with any of the Corrigans, and they hadn’t reached out. Not even Holland, who Isla knew must have returned home for her father’s special evening. Isla didn’t want to think about all the lies Brooke must have filled her with.

Their whole sordid mess would come out tonight. Isla was sure of it. She had ignored Charli’s calls, heard from Nat and Rey that she’d returned bragging about a windfall of money she’d just come into and that Isla was fired from the retirement home courtesy of her. Isla would miss taking care of Miss Lydia, but she’d see her again, as a guest.

Myles sent an invitation to the reception via courier so she could get past the gates. Isla prepared by going to one of the department stores and buying herself a black gown, elegant but likely modest compared tothe shimmering couture that would surround her as she made her way to the Corrigans’ theater room. There Myles would lead his family in for the big show. And then the finale would occur. All while their guests were plied with champagne and food fit for the gods.

For the first time since Isla had stepped foot on Corrigan property, the main gates to the estate were open and freely letting the long train of cars in. White-gloved valets in impeccable uniforms guided sleek luxury cars into perfectly aligned rows. Guests draped in gowns and tuxedos that definitely put Isla’s off-the-hanger dress to shame floated toward the club’s entrance. She stuck to the periphery, clutching her invitation and the cloak that covered her backpack like lifelines. She hoped no one would see her until it was time.

The estate could have been ripped straight from the pages of a fairy tale. Brooke had really outdone herself this time in more ways than one. Gleaming chandeliers reflected off polished marble floors. A string quartet played a lilting waltz from a corner alcove while the jazz band meant for later waited for their turn, when they’d really turn the party up.