As I drove the Mini Cooper out of Hartfield to Callen University, which was about thirty minutes away, I went over all I knew about Isla Waterstone.
She was definitely secretive online. There were no face shots of her online, not even in Camille’s albums. Camille had explained that Isla hated having her photo taken and would block out her face with her arm if a camera so much as came near her.
She apparently loved the kids, but she was in debt. Plus she hated the mayor and had been acting strange and M.I.A. with Camille. And the Harold Winken obsession? It was not looking good for our girl Isla.
I called Eleanor.
“Do you happen to have a picture of Isla?” I asked.
“Sure, I have some pictures of her with the kids. Why do you need them?”
“I’m just curious to know what she looks like.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Whatever I can do to help. I just really hope it’s not her, because she’s a sweet girl.”
“If you can send me a photo as soon as possible, that would be great.”
“If I can find it on my phone, I can forward one to you right away.”
“Thanks,” I said. “How is everything going? Did the police find anything yet?”
“Well, they are still looking for this old enemy of Richard’s, but I don’t know. We haven’t heard anything back yet.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Do you really think Isla is a suspect?”
“We’ll see,” I said vaguely. “But isn’t it odd that she hasn’t been around since the kidnapping, not even to comfort you?”
“Odd? Well, now that you mention it. I suppose, but I assumed she was busy with school. I’ve been so worried that I haven’t thought about Isla not being around. You’re right; it would’ve been nice if she called. I thought we were close.”
“Hmm, well. Did you know that she’s a big fan of Harold Winken?”
“Oh, the poet? Yes. She’s a huge fan. She was always quoting him to us, so much so that I started reading Winken. Matthew and Joanne have taken to his poetry too, and I didn’t think they were the poetry type. Even Henry has been quoting Winken. We have all his poetry collections. The house is Winken mad.”
“Really?”
Damn. There went my argument against Isla. But at least it did prove that it was someone close to the family.
“How many people outside of your family know that your household is crazy about Winken?”
“Plenty, I suppose. Why?”
“Are you aware that a portion of the first ransom note is from a Winken poem?”
“No. Really?”
“Yes.” I recited the lines to her.
“Oh my God.” Eleanor gasped. “I didn’t know. I mean, we do have dinner guests here sometimes, so maybe there are people who do know. I really didn’t think it could be my staff.”
“Well, we don’t know anything yet,” I assured her. “However, I’m trying to find out more about Isla. When was the last time she came into work?”
“The day before the Snowman Festival.”
“Did she act unusual at all?”
“No. Well, she was a bit stressed, but she was talking about a project she was working on for school, so she had her reasons.”
“Hmm, okay. Thanks.”
I hung up. The only thing to do was to find her and talk to her. Why was she M.I.A. with her girlfriend? Was that really her way of breaking up with her girlfriend, or was she merely busy with school? Or could there have been some other explanation — like planning a big kidnapping plot against the employer she hated so she could pay off her student debts?
I pulled up to the school. Now that people were aware of who I was in this town, staying incognito was a luxury. But I really wanted to be a good spy. Usually my bright red hair was a dead giveaway so it was tied back into a bun and covered with a black beanie hat. I was dressed in my spying outfit of black pants and a black turtleneck sweater. My face was completely bare, so pale that I looked like a snowman myself. You wouldn’t believe how much hair and makeup could transform a girl. Given enough of a makeup artist’s magic, I had the theory that most women could look like celebrities. That was why I tried not to take the title too seriously. Like anything, it came with perks and downsides.
Eleanor sent me a picture with a clear shot of Isla’s face. She was with the kids. They had built a castle out of foam blocks in the living room and Isla was kneeling between the two of them, smiling.
I pulled up to the building that Camille mentioned and checked the time. I was early because sometimes class let out early. At least that was what people who had gone to university have told me. I’d never gone to college, forgoing school in favor of a music career. I didn’t regret it for the most part, although seeing all the college students walking around with their books and chatting together in groups made me long for the experience.
Not that I was ever a huge fan of being in school. I hated high school. But I admit I did have a chip on my shoulder for missing college, because it was the experience most people had. I’d missed the fun parties and clubs. And friends my age who were normal. Even sitting in a lecture would’ve been fun once in a while. Maybe.
Now that I was there, I did like the feel of a campus. The buildings were brown and old. I bet it smelled old too. It was quite a contrast to sleek hotels and big stadiums. Or the hole-in-the-wall bars where I sang when I was first starting my music career.
Maybe some part of me did want to go to university even when I was young—maybe it wasn’t about following Sterling as I’d always believed. Part of it was probably that I did long for the normal experience that others got to have. Although the other part of me, the part who wanted to sing and be on stage, was a lot louder. So loud that I listened and followed it. Then I actually got what I wanted. My career exploded. I couldn’t regret my decision, right? How many other girls were struggling to be singers? I struggled and I made it. That was something to be proud of. I knew that after awhile I would’ve gotten tired of the campus life and would’ve been aching to go out and sing.
After waiting for another ten minutes in the car, students began streaming out the front doors. I watched for the face in Eleanor’s photograph.
In the photo, Isla was dressed in a black T-shirt, jeans, and black Converse sneakers. She had a short boyish haircut, a round face, and a thin but fit frame. What if I missed her if she was wearing a hat or a hood or something? I tried to carefully look at each face, but it was a strain, sitting in that car, to try to look at everyone. And I was also trying not to look too eager.
The students weren’t too quick to move because the weather was nice today. The air was still and the snow was fresh and crunchy on the ground—not too much slush yet, except in the gutters. The students stood in circles, chatting away, and many smoked and tried to look cool.
It made me think of Nick. Nick used to smoke, right around the time I met him. On our second date I told him that I didn’t like men who smoked, but on the third time we went out, he showed me his patch and told me that he vowed to quit. And he did. It was hard when he had to do a film when he had to smoke, but he used herbal cigarettes.
It was sweet how he quit for me. I did love him, but I couldn’t be with both Nick and Sterling. Of course, Nick wouldn’t be single for long. Girls were always buzzing around him like bees to honey. Maybe that was part of the reason I chose Sterling too: the insecurity that I would lose Nick and that I was replaceable by the bevy of Hollywood girls who came onto the scene every day.
Finally Isla came out. She was wearing black jeans, the same black Converse sneakers, and a puffy navy winter jacket. She could’ve been mistaken for boy, although a very pretty one.
Isla walked towards one crowd of smokers and lit up. She smoked and chatted with them for a bit, laughing and in a good mood. I wanted to wait until she was alone to approach her in case I got recognized by a bunch of college kids, but the crowd lingered.
Then something interesting happened. A petite girl with long curly blond hair came up behind Isla. They separated from the crowd and kissed. They were all over each other in front of that school. Camille was right. Isla was cheating on her. Or dumped her. But it did seem like she had a thing for blondes.
They began walking, and I didn’t know whether to drive on, or get out and follow them. It didn’t matter because Isla stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and answered the phone. She signalled to the blond girl that it was a private call and that she had to go. She quickly kissed her goodbye and turned the corner. I quickly restarted the car and followed her around the corner.
I pulled up to the curb and waited to see what she would do next. I couldn’t decide whether to get out, follow her and try to listen in on the conversation, or to continue to tail her in my car. I was more comfortable in my car. There were way too many people around to stay incognito for long.
I didn’t have to decide because Isla took out her keys and unlocked her Jeep. The old Jeep was black and looked like it was from the 80s. Where did Isla have to go that was so important? Although one little mystery was solved—whether she was cheating on Camille or not—there were plenty of other reasons why I still suspected her.
So I followed her. I made sure to stay two to three cars behind her so that she wouldn’t catch me. Whenever I was in L.A. and driving around, I could always tell who was tailing me. The paparazzi, however, didn’t know a thing about being inconspicuous.
She drove off, back in the direction of Hartfield.
I was disappointed when she pulled into the parking lot of a supermarket. This was her important errand? Maybe she wasn’t the kidnapper; maybe she was just a normal college girl after all. I could still go in and ask her questions, but I didn’t want her to know that I’d been following her. She was probably going home so I figured that I’d wait and follow her to her house. If she had anything suspicious going on at her house, I’d be more apt to find out. What if her father was in on it? He didn’t exactly sound like a first-class citizen. Anything was possible.
Sterling had told me that this was what detective work was like sometimes, all the waiting around in cars. Frankly, it wasn’t that exciting. Nick played a spy in his action movie, Alive or Dead. That looked a lot more exciting. Spying was only fun in the movies. Plus, Nick had been super sexy in that role.
The sun set while I waited. It sure got dark fast in January. I was beginning to feel sleepy.
Isla finally came out with three plastic bags of groceries. She placed them in the back of the car and then drove off.
As I drove after her, my phone rang. It was Sterling.
“Emma, hey.”
“What’s up?”
“What are you up to?” he asked casually, or trying to sound casual.
“I’m just grocery shopping,” I said.
“You? Grocery shopping? Shouldn’t you have an assistant for that?”
“No. But in New York, my housekeeper did it.”
“Okay, well, I know that you know about the new ransom note,” he said.
“The one about the money?” I asked.
“Yes. And I just have this feeling that you are going to get involved somehow.”
I hadn’t planned out what to do yet, but he was right: I was planning on going to the Canoe Creek later, but I had been hoping that I would figure out who did it before it came to that so there wouldn’t need to be a big showdown.
“What do you mean?” I asked innocently.
“You know what I mean. I just wanted to warn you because we’ve got a lot of undercover guys covering the whole thing. We have the Canoe Creek bugged and everything. There’ll be guns. It’ll be too dangerous for you.”
“Guns? But you know the kidnapper will be with the kids.”
“We’re going to be careful, but if this guy is armed, it’s a possibility. That’s just a worst-case scenario, but I don’t want you to be in a dangerous situation like that. The guns are just for protection, and we might not use them, especially if the kids are involved, but if this guy is armed and dangerous, we are prepared. And I think we figured out part of his plan. We discovered that there’s a hidden section in the Canoe Creek after talking to a historian about the place. There used to be a hidden speakeasy in the basement and there’s a passage out that leads to the forest. So I think this guy will use this tunnel tonight.”
“Really? Wow. That’s crazy.”
“Yes. So we’re stationed around the area in the forest where the tunnel leads to.”
“Just tread lightly,” I said. “Remember those kids.”
“Promise me that you won’t get involved. We have plenty of men on this case. Please promise me.”
I couldn’t do that.
“Sterling, I think we’re breaking up. Can’t hear you.”
“Emma…”
I hung up.
Isla’s Jeep was still in my sight, but we weren’t in Hartfield. We were going further out north, into the woods. Isla lived in Hartfield. Where would she go?
As we made our way farther up and the cars became scarce on the road, I turned my headlights off. As long as I stayed close enough to Isla, I could still see enough of the road.
She kept going, driving right up into the woods. I’d been up to this neck of the woods once. My high school friend Jennifer’s family had a cabin up here, and I used to come here with her on some weekends.
What was Isla doing near these cabins?
She pulled up to a moderately sized cabin. We were surrounded by trees. The moon was out and it was a spooky place to be. I parked a good distance away from her. Thankfully Mirabelle’s car was dark and blended in. There was no time to hide the car. Isla was moving fast.
I got out and followed her. Each step crunched the snow. It sounded extra loud in the silence.
She approached the cabin and I saw Isla drop the bag of groceries on the porch and walk away. Then she pulled out her phone and began texting. This was odd. I got closer, and Isla walked away, back into her car and I heard her drive off.
I prayed that she didn’t see my car on her way out.
When she was gone, I waited. There were shadows moving in the light of the cabin windows.
The most bizarre sight greeted me when the door of the cabin opened. I gasped.