Page 89 of Her Dark Lies

Jack stops by the door. “How long has he been this way Petra? Sometimes good, sometimes bad?”

“It’s gotten worse over the past six months. The more we keep things at an even keel, the better he is. His medication works well, most of the time. I’ll give him some extra this afternoon, so he doesn’t feel unwell tonight. He is getting worse, though, I’m afraid. You saw him yesterday. He is...how do you say it? All over the place.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“But this was nice, yes? Like last night, downstairs, he knew you, knew what was going on. He’s been so excited for the wedding.”

Jack tears up, thinking of his strong grandfather being felled by the insidious disease.

“You’re sure he was here all afternoon?”

“Si. Especially after he slipped away from me last night. I stayed right out here. I would have seen him pass by me. I was relieved he slept at all, sometimes the medicine doesn’t knock him out, just makes him drowsy and cranky.”

“Thank you, Petra. I’ll be back by in a while, try introducing him to Claire again. Keep the door locked, all right? Don’t let him wander alone. If he wants to go for a walk, you go with him.”

Without asking why, she nods and shuts the door behind him. He hears the deadbolt snap into place and blows out a breath, heading toward the second floor.

And then it hits him. If Will has been in his rooms since breakfast, how did he see Claire by the stairs this morning?

52

Tansy and Rue

Silly people, thinking they’re safe. That they got away with it.

I will show them.

I will not be forgotten, erased, made insignificant.

I will not be conquered.

All it takes is the click of a button and their dirty little secrets will see the light of day.

What do you think they’ll do to keep it quiet?

I know the lengths they’ll go to. They have no idea how far I’m willing to take this.

Clearly I haven’t dosed the tea enough. I will fix this, now.

They will rue the day they hurt me.

They will rue the day they created me.

53

When a Door Closes, a Window Opens

Harper sits on the edge of the Chinoiserie chair by her terrace door, staring out at the murky sea. She has been here, mortified, since the fiasco upstairs and her conversation with the head of security, an acerbic woman who’d clearly thought Harper was a first-class idiot. She’s waiting for someone to come and take her bags and throw her on a boat. She can imagine Ana Compton up there in her tower giving orders.“Never mind the storm, if it sinks, all the better.”

To think, she’d been taken in by a hoax. By an imposter. Ami fucking Eister, whoever the hell that was. Harper’s own ambition got in the way of her common sense. She’d never stopped to wonder why a magazine likeFlairwould trust an untested rookie reporter with such a huge story. When Claire finds out, she is going to be livid. And she’ll be well within her rights to be.

There is a soft knocking against the door, which swings open a moment later.

“Harper? May I come in?”

Ana Compton stands in the doorway to Harper’s room. Time to be escorted to the guillotine.

Harper jumps to her feet. “Of course.”