Page 54 of Her Dark Lies

Adulthood hasn’t softened Harper’s stance. She’s tolerated Claire’s attempts at friendship. The constant apologies, asking her to be in and shoot the wedding, getting her the interview of a lifetime, are all just markers, adding up, though always falling short. Not that Harper isn’t going to take advantage. She is owed that much, at least.

Maybe, when this sham of a wedding is over, when the most powerful family in the country is on their knees, beholden to her, maybe then she’ll feel like the scales are tipping back toward even.

But appearances must be kept until she is ready to lower the boom.

Claire doesn’t deserve the path she’s tripped onto. After all she’s done, and Jack Compton still wants her? Used goods for a prince. Though maybe they deserve each other. Jack Compton is...what? Too rich? Too perfect? Too handsome? Too crooked?

Definitely too crooked.

Harper has been digging around in the Compton’s world for months now, ever since Claire admitted she and Jack were getting serious. Harper just couldn’t understand why a powerful, wealthy man like Jackson Compton would want a used-up mouse of a train wreck from Nashville.

She wanted to do an exposé of the family—this was her dream, after all, investigative journalism. Instagram was just a springboard. But Harper got nowhere of worth, just found a load of perpetual, simmering resentments without any teeth, until the email came.

She had no idea who it was from. She’d nearly deleted it as junk. But she didn’t, reminding herself that if she wanted to be an actual journalist, tips could come in the oddest ways. She trusted her instincts and opened the note. Unsigned, with only one line.

You should look into the history of the island. It’s cursed.

Attached was a photograph. When she saw it, her heart began to race.

It was Isle Isola.

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she started researching. She found a story about a housekeeper named Elevana who went missing. There could be something there, but Harper had the feeling that wasn’t what the email was suggesting. It just wasn’t...big enough.

She kept digging. She pulled every conceivable article and interview of the Compton family, starting with Jack’s grandfather. Will Compton was the one who was famous first, after all. His exploits were legend.

And she found out his wife died on the island, a drowning accident. Tragic, but hardly something that would break down the doors.

There was one line in aRolling Stoneinterview that gave her pause. Will Compton mentioned his mother’s untimely demise in a hunting accident. His great-grandfather William was some sort of government bigwig during the Second World War—he was the one who’d rebuilt the Villa. Eliza was shot by one of her own hunting party.

On the island.

Two wives, dead. One drowned. One shot. A missing, presumed dead housekeeper from the house. That was three women.

And then she found the story about Jack’s dead ex-wife.

She found it in the comments section of a random personal blog from a kid who lived in Naples, talking about the history of the area around Pompeii. She was shocked the Comptons hadn’t had it taken down, but then again, even the tightest ships leak at times.

Who else saw the searchlights over the sea toward Isola last night?

And in the threaded response, this:

I have a friend who works on Isola. He said there are rumors about an accident last night, that the new wife went over the cliff. Has anyone heard the same?

Nothing else. No one answered. No one commented.

It was the date that jumped out at her. According to all the online sources, Jackson Compton married Morgan Fraser on July 7, 2011. She went missing and was presumed dead July 20, off the coast of Monterey. Harper double-checked it.

The blog comments were dated July 21, 2011.

The day after Morgan died.

And there it was. Not only was there a pattern, there was also a cover-up. A big cover-up.

Morgan didn’t die in California. She died on Isola.

Four women dead, all tied to a single family, and a single familial location? That was compelling as hell.

She couldn’t figure out why the Comptons would lie about Morgan Fraser Compton’s death, though. Why would they stake their lives, their word? Why would they cover it up? Why would they even try? What difference did it make whether the woman died in California or Italy?