Page 75 of Her Dark Lies

No answer, but a glance between the two of them. Damn it. Has she gone too far?

“I’m sorry. We’ll stay with the present family, if you’re more comfortable. You went into computers instead of following your father to Hollywood, right, Mr. Compton?”

“Yes. I was fascinated by the advances in technology. And I was better at math than he was.”

Harper laughs obediently. “That’s awesome. Could you look over at Mrs. Compton for a moment, please? Thank you, that’s great. You’re both household names. What is that like? I mean, you seem so...normal. But your lives, your histories, are extraordinary.”

“We’ve been very blessed,” Ana says, practically stretching under the praise. The wolf is gone, the wariness fled. Harper can practically hear the thoughts:This is a puff piece. This girl is just an Instagram phenom who might or might not be able to write—isn’t she sweet with her “new method” for interviewing.She’s being nosy, who can blame her.“It’s our mission, our calling, to give back to as many people as we can. The Foundation is the perfect example of this.”

“True altruism.”

“You’re too kind. We’re not doing this for ourselves. We’re trying to make a real difference in the lives of the world’s less fortunate. It’s the least we can do. With Jack at the helm, the Foundation has grown exponentially. We’re saving lives, changing the course of humanity.”

Harper stands upright, camera down. “Youhavemade a difference in so many lives. It’s amazing. And that’s something I’m confused about. Why would you risk four generations of genuine legacy over one woman’s death?”

The wolf is back. “Excuse me?”

“Morgan. Jack’s first wife. She didn’t die in California. She died here. On Isola. Why would you want to cover that up? If it was an accident...like May was an accident. Like Elevana was an accident. Like Eliza was an accident. Morgan died falling off the cliff here. If it was an accident, like all the others, why would you pretend it happened in California?”

Ana’s face is stone and she is out of the chair like a shot. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. We’re done here, Harper.”

Brice, too, is in motion, though he’s headed toward Harper’s phone, which is on the table.

She scoops it up before he can get there. “I’m still taping. Don’t come any closer.”

Brice continues advancing.

“I’ll scream.”

He sighs. “They always do. Give me that. You’ve abused our hospitality, and it’s time for you to go.”

“Why did Jack kill Morgan?” she says into the phone, praying, praying it’s still live, still working. “Why did you cover up her death?”

Brice has her backed up against the wall now. He wrenches the phone from her hand.

“Stop that. You’re hurting me.”

He ignores her, goes to turn off the audio. She watches his face fall when he realizes that it’s a phone call, an open line. He clicks it off, carefully. Turns off her phone completely.

“Who did you call, Harper?” His voice is quiet, but the intensity makes her squirm. Shit.

“My editor. She was listening.” This is said with no small amount of pride—they can’t do anything to her, there was a third party. A witness. Thank God Ami suggested it—it worked perfectly.

“And who is your editor, pray tell?”

“Her name is Ami Eister. And she is transcribing the conversation as we speak. She heard everything.”God, I hope she did. Between the words and the video, because Harper was recording the last few minutes on her camera, too, and thank God Brice doesn’t seem to know this, because he hasn’t even glanced at the camera on the table.

This will be a smash. Even if they deny it, the look of fear on both of their faces when she mentioned Morgan’s death is enough to lodge doubt. The way they swung into action confirmed it. They clearly covered it up. My God, Ami was right.

“Ami Eister?” Ana asks sharply. “Your editor’s name is Ami Eister?”

“Answer the question,” Harper tries again, forcing herself to stay with the story, stay engaged with exposing their deception, just like Ami taught her. “Why would you lie about Morgan’s death?”

Brice is making a call now. He taps a nail against his front teeth as he waits for it to connect. “Yes. I need Karmen, please. Thank you.”

He doesn’t seem fazed. Neither does Ana. Their entire demeanors have changed.

What the hell? They should be freaking out. “I’d like my phone, please.”