Your Guilty Secret

by Rebecca Thornton

  Frankie Spearman spoke exclusively to the LA Times to say that he was sorry someone felt that they could sell him out. And he had no choice but to clear his name and that Lara King had ‘aggressively pursued him’ when she had arrived in LA with promises of sexual favors, in return for fame and roles in his movies.

  ‘I don’t like to speak ill of people when they are going through such awful pain, but I know how the media works and I know how all this will unfold. Given the recent #metoo campaign, where more and more women are speaking out about sexual molestation in this industry, I need to defend my name and good honor, before another Hollywood smear campaign ruins careers and lives. I would also like to say that for the women who have been put in horrible positions, and have spoken out about it, I salute you, and admire you.’

  He then goes on to wish Lara King ‘all the best’ and is ‘desperately praying for the safe return of their daughter’. He finished off by saying that he hoped to ‘get to know Ava when she returns. It’s at times like this that you realise that blood is indeed, thicker than water.’

  I’m guessing now we realise that there is more at stake here than we originally thought. That there are other players in the whole thing, with different agendas and the disappearance of Ava King might involve those who are closer to home than originally thought.

  Here with the latest updates on missing Ava King, brought to you by Lara and Ava King’s number one fan.

  Twitter: @ryan_gosling_wannabe

  August 27th 2018

  0730hrs

  I’d eventually fallen asleep with fractured images of Ava’s drawing in my mind. The small stick figures. The determined lines of her writing underneath each person. Ava King. Daddy. Joan. She saw Joan as her mother. The completion of her ideal family image. The memory of my own mother started to pull at the edges of my mind. I woke with a start, knowing that something awful had happened before my mind had even time to process that I’d been asleep.

  Ava. Guilt smothered me, that I’d managed to sleep when my daughter was God knows where. I wondered what the temperature had been in the past few hours. I imagined her outside walking, or curled up somewhere. Or if someone had taken her, I prayed they were looking after her. I got up from my bed to stop my mind from segueing onto more unpleasant images of where my daughter might be, or the things that might be happening to her.

  I got dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a light cotton jumper and tied my hair up in a low bun. I couldn’t contemplate showering, keeping clean or putting on any make-up, even though I knew I’d have to face the press soon.

  When I went downstairs, Conor and Detective Mcgraw were already up and waiting. They lowered their voices when I walked in.

  ‘I came back early.’ Detective Mcgraw slammed down a newspaper on the table. ‘Because my wife woke me up to this.’

  ‘Show me the article.’ I held out my hand but he shook his head.

  ‘No. I want to speak to you first,’ and then Anna appeared, wearing a new, belted navy suit and freshly applied lipstick.

  ‘I’m here,’ she said. ‘If you need me.’ She made her way over to the corner of the kitchen.

  ‘The question of Ava’s paternity’ – he covered the paper with his forearms – ‘has been revealed. Some pretty shocking news for all concerned,’ he went on.

  ‘I tried to come up and tell you,’ Conor interjected. ‘But . . .’ He nodded towards Detective Mcgraw.

  ‘But what?’ I snapped. ‘All of you colluding to spring this on me? During the worst time of my life? What does it say?’

  ‘You know exactly what it says,’ stated Detective Mcgraw. ‘You know, because you were one of the only people that knew who Ava’s father was. And you lied about it to everyone.’

  Conor looked furious and upset. I realised he was still waiting for me to tell him about England and that I hadn’t given him the chance to be alone with me. No wonder he was so agitated.

  ‘Look, Lara,’ he said. ‘We can turn this into a good thing. If any of the other stuff comes out, this will take the focus off.’ He looked like he wanted to tell me more but his sideways glance at Mcgraw told me he was too worried.

  ‘A good thing? It’s like a circus to me. I can tell you one thing.’ Mcgraw sounded resigned, and quiet, after his earlier aggression. ‘Manny Berkowitz has really made a name for himself now. And, Conor, you say that you can use this to distract from negative press, yet you have no consideration about what this might do to the actual case? When there’s a missing girl at the heart of this?’

  ‘Of course I do. At least it wasn’t me who leaked stuff from my own workplace,’ he retaliated, referring to the audio call.

  ‘It concerns me, Ms King’ – Detective Mcgraw turned to me, after a couple of seconds – ‘that you have lied to me consistently about the paternity of your daughter. You told us that you met someone at a party held by a Lucy Wigmore.’ I watched as he pushed the dial on his dictaphone and placed it near me. ‘Whom we’ve been chasing for God knows how many hours – sending us down totally the wrong path.’ I tried to interrupt, to tell him that I’d warned them that Ava’s paternity had nothing to do with her going missing.

  ‘Lying to the police during the investigation of your own daughter?’ He looked over at Anna. ‘Yet if reports here are to be believed, and I’ve never known Manny Berkowitz to make a bad call, you’ve known all along that Frankie Spearman is her father. You told me that you didn’t remember who her father was. So please, tell me, what else have you lied about?’ His voice was steady and quiet but suddenly he slammed his hands on my desk. ‘Lies,’ he shouted. ‘What other lies?’ His face went pale, the skin around his eyes dry. His demeanour was beginning to frighten me now.

  ‘Please,’ said Anna calmly. ‘Leave my client alone for a moment.’ But he stood up and walked around the table, doing his usual trick of not looking at me at all. His tongue kept darting in and out, touching his bottom lip.

  ‘It had nothing to do with Ava. I didn’t want things distracted. Everyone looking the wrong way.’ I glared at Conor.

  ‘It has everything to do with Ava,’ Detective Mcgraw replied. ‘Things are not looking good here, Ms King.’ He tapped the dictaphone. ‘You’ve deliberately tried to obstruct the investigation into your daughter’s disappearance by hiding the truth about something that could have a direct impact on finding her. The swimming pool annexe, Matthew’s drug taking and now Ava’s father. What else have you hidden from us?’

  ‘I can explain. I can explain it all. I can explain Frankie.’

  ‘Then before I start thinking, I suggest you tell us.’

  ‘Fine.’ I sounded like a sulky child which I hated myself for but I was furious with Detective Mcgraw for being so aggressive when I was so vulnerable. I saw Conor shift forward.

  ‘My singing career back in England was over,’ I told him. ‘Things had gone wrong over there. I wanted to start a new life over here. But it had got to me. The showbiz side of things. I wanted to reclaim what I had.’ I looked at Conor, trying to work out if he hated me or felt sorry for me. ‘Can we open the windows?’ Conor got up and pulled down the large window behind the table where I was sitting. The fresh air felt like poison to me. ‘I moved over here to LA,’ I went on. ‘To start again.’

  ‘And so what then? What happened?’

  ‘After having settled down here for a few years and taking bit-part jobs, the head of this film production company told me he’d make me a star. That I was to go and see him. He liked me. He held my hand in his office. He told me to . . .’

  ‘He told you to what?’ asked Detective Mcgraw.

  ‘Nothing. He said he’d make me famous. That he’d give me my own show. He told me he was going to give me a special audition and . . .’ I closed my eyes.

  ‘And you . . .’

  ‘Yes. I did. A few times. But eventually he gave me the part. In fact, he gave me a whole show and I don’t think any of us realised how amazing and successful it was going to be.�
�� I stopped and thought about how quickly I’d managed to erase everything that had happened in England. ‘Then, well, after that, Ava arrived and he said if I kept quiet, he’d make a mother and daughter show for us. It was brief. One month we were, you know, and the next we weren’t. We never went out or anything. It always happened in his office.’ I shut my eyes and the memories came flooding in. The large leather sofa in the corner. Posters of his films and TV shows hung on the walls, in huge, glass frames. The breathtaking view, scanning right across the Hollywood hills.

  I thought back to the times he told me to look out the window. ‘Over there,’ he had said. ‘The Hollywood sign. Look, that could all be yours.’ I had felt him then, thrust against me. ‘Look, just imagine . . . your name . . . God . . . you’re . . .’ And then he’d grunted and buckled up his belt. ‘Beautiful,’ he’d said, waving me back to the sofa. ‘Sit down.’ I’d done as I’d been told every time, my legs sticky against the leather. ‘Come back next week,’ he’d said, reading his emails on his computer. He had never even bothered to look up after that. Not even when I had said goodbye, except to hurry me out the room. ‘Did you hear what I said? We’ll get you sorted,’ he’d snap, and I knew then that he was getting pissed off with my presence.

  ‘And that was that, really.’ I stood up. ‘He’s her father. Ava’s.’

  ‘Are you saying,’ said Detective Mcgraw, looking down at his hands, ‘that in your opinion, he took advantage of you? Used his power in return for sexual favours?’

  I looked around me. My house. I thought about the sparkling blue pool outside. I thought about my life. The show he’d produced, that had turned me from a fading star in England into a global celebrity. The power I now wielded with my Instagram account. My Twitter. My endorsements.

  ‘I don’t know what that has to do with anything, Detective Mcgraw.’

  ‘Right,’ Anna interrupted. ‘Enough. My client is done.’

  ‘It has everything to do with everything. I’m trying to work out if there’s any motive at all, you see, for the disappearance of your daughter. Whether someone did take her.’ Detective Mcgraw slowed his voice right down. ‘Maybe Ms King here was about to sell her story. Maybe she had contacted Frankie Spearman. A ploy between her and Matthew to gain more fame. More money. Spearman thought he’d given you a little warning. Who knows? But we’re looking into it. Looking into it very, very closely.’ He came right up to me and stared into my eyes.

  ‘No,’ I said, shaking. ‘Please, Anna. Get him out of here.’ I wanted to speak more but I was afraid of the feelings that were about to erupt inside me. It felt like I was back in England again, at the top of those metal steps. Hands out. Push. Thud. I didn’t want to do anything I might regret, so I let it drop. ‘Just leave. Please.’ As Detective Mcgraw left the room, I shouted after him. ‘I had Ava. I’ll never regret that.’

  ‘You didn’t answer the question, Ms King.’ He didn’t even bother turning around. ‘About Frankie Spearman taking advantage of you.’

  ‘I did. I answered it. I told you, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter at all. He gave me Ava. And so I don’t care. I don’t care what happened. I just care that you find her.’

  Detective Mcgraw walked off. I was left alone with just Conor and Anna in the room. I signalled for them not to talk. I needed time to think. Weirdly, I wanted Joan here. I wanted someone to make the house feel normal again. I wanted quiet, to think about Ava’s father and whether I should get in contact with him. How I’d emailed his PA when I’d given birth.

  Mr Spearman thanks you for the email and would be pleased to offer you a meeting with his lawyer at three p.m. tomorrow afternoon at their offices.

  He had kept to his word though. He had made stars out of me and his daughter. I wondered what had happened to Isabella, too, Ben and Kaycee’s daughter. The last time I’d seen her she’d been a few weeks old, in Kaycee’s arms and now she’d be nearing eighteen. I thought about the temptation Frankie had lured me in with. ‘This’ – he had pointed to the Hollywood sign – ‘could all be yours.’ I had got them, I thought. My dreams. They had come true. And now, here they were – once sparkling and filled with promise, blackened to the core.

  England, December 2004

  ‘Isabella’s been crying all morning,’ Kaycee said. ‘She must know something’s up.’ I walked over with a cup of tea and handed it to Kaycee, but she pulled the baby close to her and turned her head away.

  ‘Please, let me,’ I began, but she buried her head into the small, soft scalp and let out a cry. ‘Kaycee. Please. Let me explain. Please.’ I wanted to tell her how it just had got all too much – everyone staring. How the dentist’s anaesthetic had affected my judgement but I’d known as I had been reeling through everything, it sounded lame. That Kaycee had probably never even raised her voice and there she was, harbouring me in her beautifully warm house, for something awful I’d done.

  ‘I need to feed her.’ She undid her top button and turned her back to me. I looked at the back of her plaid collar, the shield of her long, brown hair. I felt myself about to cry. Kaycee. Kind, lovely Kaycee who wouldn’t even let me near her child in case I polluted the air between us.

  ‘Kaycee, listen, she . . . she made me do it. She pushed me to it . . . let me just explain what happened. Please. It’s not what you think.’ But I just heard the soft tut and shhhh as she fed her baby.

  I stood watching Kaycee, waiting for her to give in and look at me so I could talk to her. Ten minutes later, Ben walked in and my phone rang. Joanne.

  ‘Hello?’ I sang. If I styled this out, it would be OK.

  ‘Lara,’ she replied. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Walthamstow,’ I tried to sound casual but there was a waver to my voice that I couldn’t disguise.

  ‘I’m coming to get you. Message me the address. Straight away.’

  ‘What—’

  ‘You know what.’

  I thought back to the red light on the video camera, following me round, as I had leered into her face. You fucking ugly, cheap whore. And then afterwards. Kaycee’s eyes as I’d walked towards her in the dark. She’d seen everything. She’d seen what I’d done. It hadn’t been so bad, I told myself. That bit would never get out. It was just a small act. The things I had said in the bathroom – they will all die down. I didn’t need to worry about what happened afterwards, did I? And anyway – she deserved it. It made me feel better saying that.

  That stupid bitch. She totally deserved it.

  August 26th 2018

  0946hrs

  The Disappearance

  ‘OK, favourite boy in your class at the moment,’ I said, as we swung out of the drive. The palm trees lining the roads always made me happy. Always reminded me of how far I’d come since England. I had promised myself that I’d tell Ava bits about her background today on the car journey. I’d explain where I’d grown up. That despite my attempts at trying, my parents no longer spoke to me. I felt the familiar drag on my solar plexus. The thought that they’d culled me after they’d seen me tell a few white lies about my background on live TV. Despite all that, I think about how unremarkable my background had actually been. Except for me, I thought. Something had always felt hollow inside of me, for reasons I could never work out.

  ‘Um, I haven’t seen any boys this summer,’ she replied.

  ‘Stop sucking on your hair.’ I pulled her long ponytail out her mouth. ‘Are you going to be like this all day?’ I patted her leg but she didn’t reply. ‘OK. How about you tell me . . .’ We drove down the roads of The Hidden Hills. ‘What flavour ice cream are you going to have?’

  ‘Strawberry?’

  ‘Strawberry. Good idea, me too.’ I wanted to tell her that the paps might be around. I carried on driving, trying to rid myself of the mental tic that kept telling me to make the call. Don’t do it. Don’t do it. I gripped the steering wheel.

  ‘How about sprinkles and those jelly baby things too, Ava?’

  �
��Can we?’ She turned and looked at me. ‘For real?’

  ‘We sure can.’ I swung out of The Hidden Hills drive and soon we were on the freeway. Peace, at last. ‘Nice,’ I said. ‘Being just you and me, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Nice not having him around. Sometimes you act funny in front of him.’ I’d never heard Ava talk like this before. Joan. I swerved the car a little. What was happening to my sweet little six-year-old? I opened the window, leaning my face into the breeze. I slowed down a bit and that’s when I saw a car right behind us. The road was otherwise totally clear. I took no notice of it except I sped up slightly so that we were on our own. I wondered if somehow the paps had got hold of our whereabouts.

  ‘Well,’ I said, taking a deep breath. ‘He is rather good-looking, isn’t he?’ I laughed but inside, my blood was boiling. I was going to have to have a word with Joan. Put her in her place and tell her to stop filling my daughter’s head with things she didn’t understand. But then Ava laughed too.

  ‘He is,’ she said, ‘that’s why all the girls in my class love him so much.’ Her face flushed and she smiled but then she got all serious. ‘Is that why he can do whatever he wants?’ she asked. ‘Because he’s so good-looking?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean, Ava. Look over there.’ I pointed at a random building I’d never even seen before now. A wooden-planked shed. ‘What on earth do we think that is?’ I carried on, talking, hoping she’d get distracted. My voice got lost in the wind and I could tell that my daughter’s mind was far away and it was OK, we were all alone now, there were no more cars in sight, and I decided then to keep my mind focused on the now and to enjoy the view. I thought it would be a comfortable silence between us but a strange feeling kept nipping at my stomach. Keep driving, and it will go away, I told myself, so I pressed my foot on the accelerator and hoped for calm.