Page 72 of Is Anyone Listening?
"Tessa was drinking, but it looks like she might have been drugged by Nathan Carmichael, who wanted her to forget he told her he found Jessica's diamond ring on the beach and kept it to sell."
Her gaze widened, and for the first time, it felt like I was actually telling her something she didn't already know.
"I don’t know anything about that," she said. "He found a ring?"
"Apparently so, but he didn't tell anyone about it. Nathan also suggested that Jessica made it to shore alive and disappeared after that."
"Well, that actually supports what Tom believes, that Jessica had a reason to disappear, and that's how she chose to do it. I prefer that scenario than that she died at sea."
It was frustrating to have every theory I came up with rebuffed. Either my grandmother clearly believed that nothing had happened to anyone, or she was an excellent actress.
"I need to get to work," Ellen said, abruptly ending our conversation. "What are your plans?"
"I'd like to stay here for another day or two. Tessa won't be able to travel back to New York until the weekend, and I need to figure out what to do about a car, since the one we borrowed from Tessa's roommate is now in the ocean. Is there a car rental agency in town?"
"Not in Stonecross, but there's one in Cork Harbor."
"Okay."
"I'm not sure why you want to stay here. You clearly think I've done something to hurt these women."
"I don't think that, but I do believe you don't want to look at the situation too closely. Or consider the fact that someone else here might not be who you think they are."
"Are you talking about Ray?"
"He's an ex-con."
"You have done your research. Which means you know that he served his time and has had no problems since he was released. You don't have to be afraid of him. He looks rougher and tougher than he is."
"That's good to hear."
Ellen hesitated, then said, "You can stay until your friend is ready to leave, but you can't record or film in your room, and you can't interrogate my employees. Obviously, I can't stop you from talking to people in town or filming elsewhere, but this inn is meant to be a sanctuary for my guests, and I already had two check out this morning based on what they heard last night. Those are my terms. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it. But I have a condition, too."
"I don't think you're in a position to be making conditions," Ellen said tartly.
I ignored that. "We talk again, at least once, maybe twice, and you tell me more about you, your family, about my father's childhood, and where I come from."
"David won't like that."
"But I will. And it's my decision, not his."
A small glint of admiration flitted through her eyes, but it was gone so fast I was sure I'd just imagined it. "All right. But now I have to get to work." As she stood up, she said, "I have a car you can use. It's in the garage. It's the blue Mini Cooper." She walked over to her desk and pulled out a key. Before she handed it over, she gave me a serious look. "If what you've told me is true, be careful."
"I'm going to try," I said as I took the key. "Thank you." As I left her apartment, I wasn't sure why either of us had agreed that I could stay at the inn or that we would talk again, because both seemed like perilous propositions.
Chapter Eighteen
As I left Ellen's apartment, I paused in the corridor, my gaze drawn to a door at the far end. It was painted the same cream color as the walls, easy to miss if you weren't looking for it. A door that led somewhere—maybe to storage, maybe to a basement, or maybe to something else entirely.
I took a step toward it, then stopped. Ellen would be coming out any minute, and I couldn't risk getting caught snooping around her private quarters after she'd just agreed to let me stay. I'd come back later.
Turning, I headed back down the hallway, out the side entrance, and through the garden, ending up on the yoga deck, which was currently empty.
The morning air was crisp and a little salty. I walked to the edge of the property where the perfectly manicured lawn gave way to wild grass and then to nothing—just the sheer drop of the cliffs.
I stood there, looking down at the rocks and churning water far below, thinking about my grandfather. He'd allegedly come out here to nail some boards over the windows, to check on the property, and somehow ended up farther away from the house than he'd intended. He'd fallen to his death, and I felt almost dizzy as I looked down at the steep, treacherous drop.
