All That Lies Broken (Ashmore's Folly Book 2)

by Forrest, Lindsey

  Cue, stage left. The corps de ballet twinkling offstage after the principal. Meg said brightly, “Right behind you, Mom. I’ll get my stuff together.” And, because she couldn’t resist – some temptations were just too strong – “Talk to you later, Jules.”

  As she climbed the kitchen stairs behind her mother, she felt Julie’s cold stare on her. Jeez! That girl was a world-class B. But maybe she wasn’t as dumb as she looked, either. Meg figured she had only a few minutes, tops, before Julie came up with a way to retrieve that chip.

  Gotta go through me first, coz.

  “I’ve got to check email,” she told her mother when they reached the room they had shared the night before. Laura merely nodded, laid her robe on the bed, and disappeared into the bathroom.

  ~•~

  Meg booted up and waited to hear the shower start. Then she crossed to the bed where Laura had tossed the robe and dug into the pocket where her mother had put the card. The pockets were deep; no wonder she’d forgotten about it.

  Cameron St. Bride had outfitted the laptop with all the extras. One of those extras happened to be an all-in-one card and floppy disk reader that plugged into the high-speed USB port.

  The card fit perfectly into the second slot on the card reader. Meg glanced at the door – how long before Julie invented a convincing cover story? – and plugged the card reader into the port just as the familiar OS logo flashed on the screen.

  A couple of keystrokes, and she opened the card. Six files. Six big files – they filled most of the card’s capacity. She didn’t recognize the file extension, but the icon next to the files indicated sound. She double-clicked the first file, and up came the media player.

  She didn’t dare turn up the volume, so she had to strain to hear. Not music, as she expected, but someone talking. She put her ear down to the built-in speaker and started the file again.

  I stopped keeping a journal years ago.

  A journal! Meg pursed her lips. Even better than music that Julie had downloaded illegally. Who cared about that – Meg had a fabulous library of music downloads that her mother knew nothing about. But someone’s online diary – and not Julie’s either. That wasn’t Julie talking – what she’d heard of Julie so far.

  She double-clicked the second file.

  So why did I marry Richard? I look back across time, and I haven’t a clue.

  Meg’s eyes snapped open wide. Even better! Diana!

  She had hit the jackpot.

  Angel Meg and Devil Meg had a two-second debate that Devil Meg won handily. Some things just begged to be hacked, particularly when they appeared on a silver platter in the form of the personal journal of someone wondering why she had married the man your mother was now hooked up with.

  She could learn all kinds of dirt on Richard Ashmore.

  Meg stopped the file, opened up a window for the hard drive, and created a folder. Simple matter of select all, then drag-and-drop. Then wait and wait and wait, because these files were huge, and even a high-speed USB port could only transfer files so fast.

  The third file had transferred when she heard a soft tread out in the hall. Julie, no doubt, coming to claim the card. Gosh, Meg, you know, I think I might have dropped that….

  Fourth file, done. Meg watched anxiously as the fifth file started, the counter ticking down the seconds remaining. Julie was hesitating; she heard her cousin approach, stop, and then retreat back along the hall.

  Fifth file transferred. Number six started, but it was easily the biggest file on the card. 90 seconds remaining. One and a half minutes. One and a half stupid, insignificant little minutes, except then she heard Julie approaching again.

  75 seconds remaining.

  A discreet knock on the door. Meg called out, “Just a second,” and looked back at the screen.

  60 seconds remaining. In the bathroom, the shower stopped running.

  One minute. What could you do in a minute? Not a lot. You couldn’t chat on the phone and get the latest scoop. You couldn’t listen to a whole song. You probably couldn’t even get dressed. But you could transfer a file. You could take an elevator from the 107th floor to safety.

  Julie knocked again.

  “I said, just a second.”

  30 seconds. Julie called through the door, “I need to ask you something.”

  Huh, I wonder what.

  15 seconds. Meg counted each one down and gave a silent cheer when the file transfer box disappeared. She pulled the reader out of the port, yanked the card out of the reader, and went diving for the bathrobe still flung across the bed.

  On her way to the door, she lowered the screen on the laptop.

  “Hey.” She smiled brightly at her cousin. Julie must be terrible at cards; her face showed everything. Why was she so anxious about Diana’s journal? “Sorry I took so long. What’s up?”

  It was too funny, really. Julie said rapidly, “You-know-that-card-Laura-found-well-I-think-it’s-mine-I-must-have-dropped-it-from-my-MP3-player.”

  Good one, Jules. Meg said, “Oh, sure. I’ll get it for you.”

  Fingers in the pocket where she had just shoved the card. She brought it back to the door and held it out to Julie. “Here you go,” she said. “I’ll tell Mom I gave it to you.”

  “Oh.” Julie looked confused again, but she made a quick recovery. “Oh, okay. That’s a good idea. I don’t want Laura to worry. And – uh, thanks, Meg. See you downstairs.”

  She sped off along the hallway as if she were afraid that Meg was going to chase her down and wrestle the card back. Meg watched until her cousin vanished into a room on the adjoining wall and smiled. Too bad she couldn’t see what Julie was doing with the card behind that door.

  She knew what she was going to do. She sat down at her laptop, picked up her MP3 player – thanks for the idea, Jules! – and attached it to the USB port. The player’s flash ROM was almost full, but a few ruthless deletions freed up some space.

  As Dad always said, Stop talking and listen. You’ll learn more.

  ~•~

  Breakfast was excruciating. Good thing her mother and Richard Ashmore didn’t run out of things to say to each other, because Julie had nothing interesting to contribute and Meg got tired, quick, of trying to keep the conversation going.

  The only thing that made it bearable was watching the lovebirds. She saw an ease there, a sense of connection between them that she couldn’t remember ever seeing between her parents. Well, there wouldn’t have been, would there, since that marriage had been heading south for longer than she could remember. Still, she didn’t think she had ever seen Laura so – well, animated and sparkling, silly almost – recounting a mishap with some lost baggage on her last tour, and how she’d gone on stage wearing a gown that she’d had to run out and buy.

  “Poor baby,” said Richard, and grinned at her. “No haute couture for you.”

  “I know,” Laura said, and shuddered melodramatically. “Off the rack. Like you common folk.”

  Richard Ashmore showed a fun side too, talking about some client who had insisted on moving a wall even though it cut off access to half the building. He had a nice easy way about him with Julie too, and she blossomed when she forgot she was supposed to be hating his girlfriend and shooting daggers at her cousin. He seemed like an okay dad.

  So what was it about her, Meg, that brought out that stick-up-the-wazoo act in him? Did he really think she was so terrible? And why did she care anyway?

  It might be possible to like this guy.

  Until he brought Laura’s wrath down on her head. “How is summer school going? I hear you’ve had problems with math.”

  “Yes, and that reminds me,” Laura said. “You’ve still got a week to go. Did you think of that before you got on the plane?”

  This was not how she had planned to trot out her careful plan about attending class via web cam and faxing in her homework. Meg shot Richard an injured look – he should have minded his own business – only to be cut off by her mother before she could ge
t more than a few words out. “No way. You’re going back to summer school if I have to drag you there myself.”

  “Mom.” She tried to sound reasonable. “Can we talk about this? Please? I have it all worked out.”

  “We’ll talk about it,” said Laura ominously, and across the table, Miss Julie Ashmore looked smug. She probably got straight A’s in math. “You’re finishing that class.”

  The pancakes tasted like sawdust after that.

  It was a relief when they were finally finished and on their way to drop Laura and Meg off at Edwards Lake. “I’ll be at my office most of the day,” Richard said to Laura, and for all the world, he sounded like – no, she wasn’t going there, the idea turned her stomach.

  They couldn’t. They just couldn’t. Mom couldn’t do this to her.

  It had been one thing to move to London after the separation. Mom had the play, and it had even been fun at first, getting to live in another country for a year. It had been sad leaving Dad, but he traveled a lot, anyway, and he’d given her the satellite phone so she could call him whenever she liked. If – if it hadn’t happened, then the year might have been okay, instead of something she and Mom just barely got through.

  But this – this would be so much worse.

  Maybe this was a fling like Mark had said, something Laura had to get out of her system. Meg was afraid it wasn’t. She had never seen her mother like this around her father – relaxed, light-hearted. He’d been larger than life, dwarfing everyone around him. Richard Ashmore was no shrinking violet – you knew who ran the show there at Ashmore Park – but at least he didn’t suck all the oxygen out of the room.

  So maybe he was the best thing since sliced bread for Mom, but what about her?

  She might get exiled to this godforsaken place where there were just trees and trees and trees – no malls she’d seen so far, no video stores, just trees and trees and more damn trees. Did they even have ballet? She might end up with a stepfather who had already proved he was one tough customer, and – the ultimate horror – she might end up as the younger stepsister to that stuck-up B. It was one thing to acquire a little brother and sister by adoption; she wouldn’t lose her place in the firmament. But to take second place to Julie—

  Oh, Mom, no, please no.

  She sat in the back beside her cousin, both of them with nothing to say. She sneaked a look. Julie looked just as glum, contemplating the terrible future ahead.

  Hmmm. So Julie might have some use as an ally.

  “So, Julie,” she finally said, “you’ve got an MP3 player? We’ll have to swap songs.”

  “What?” Nothing got by Richard Ashmore. “You’ve been downloading songs, Julie?”

  Meg wanted to smack him. Like he was such a Boy Scout. I’ve got one word for you, Mr. Ashmore. Francesca.

  “No, Dad. I don’t do that,” said Julie piously, and shot Meg a venomous look that said loud and clear: I hate you. I really do. Go away and do not ever come back.

  Meg tried to telegraph back: We’re on the same side here. You don’t want him to get married. I sure as hell don’t want to move up here. Work with me, and we can break these two apart so fast, they won’t know what happened.

  “You know what I think about illegal downloading, Meg,” said Laura.

  “Yes, Mom,” Meg said with equal piety, and resolved to password her music library as soon as she got her hands on her laptop.

  Tree and trees and more trees. She was thinking that summer school was preferable to being stuck in this place – even listening to Emma pretending not to hate Mom – when some excitement appeared on the road ahead.

  Flashing lights. Two police cars partially blocked the road, so that Richard Ashmore had to slow down and maneuver to the left as they passed. As he pulled level, they all – everyone except Laura, who was leaning back against the headrest with her eyes closed – caught a glimpse of the disturbance. A car was wrapped around a tree – well, wrapped wasn’t the right word. The car had more than met its match; the right front end was obliterated, the whole right side smashed. Any passenger in the front seat must have been killed instantly, although, ironically, the driver’s side looked almost untouched. The car was so damaged that it was difficult to tell even what color it was.

  Julie gasped.

  “Good Lord,” Richard said. “The driver must have skidded off the road. A good thing—”

  He bit off the rest of his word, and braked.

  Within seconds, he turned the Lexus around.

  WTF? Meg looked at the totaled car again as he pulled even with it, and this time the gasp came from her. “Mom—”

  And Richard, urgent, quiet, “Laura. Laura, open your eyes.”

  She did then. Meg’s mother leaned forward and stared at the wreck, and her shock hung in the air, a living thing among them.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “My car. My car!”

  Chapter 14: Going Off the Rails

  ACROSS THE UNITED STATES AND THE WORLD, people spent July 5th at work and at home.

  ~•~

  That morning, two guests at the Ashmore & McIntire party posted their experiences online. Sara McIntire, tween daughter of Mel and Scott McIntire, wrote on her blog:

  Went to Dad’s company party – totally horrible!!! SO BORING. Forced to babysit so my mom could sit there with the Queen B’s, lapping up the sauce and talking to Lucy M. Bros. acted up – wish those two would just dry up and disappear, so gross, they make disgusting noises like it’s so hilarious. So unfair I had to look after them. Total torture! Why am I in this family???

  J was hanging all over Mike O. Heard Mr. A caught them making out. Wish I’d seen it!

  All the way there, just boring stuff about Mr. A and how he’s getting a divorce and high time. SO BORED. I don’t see why I have to go every single year and pretend to be nice to perfect J with her perfect house and her perfect father and her perfect life.

  Only excitement was Mr. A’s wife crashed the party. Mom was livid. Bitched to Dad all the way home, how D just came to make trouble. Said Mr. A’s new gf looked ready to faint. Didn’t know he had one. Bet J hates that.

  But here’s the exciting part: Mr. A’s gf is a famous singer! Cat Courtney. And she’s D’s sister – bet that’s one happy family! Stuff about some concert, then D dragged CC up to sing. CC sang a real sweet song about Franny, and you should have seen D’s face. Bet she wanted to pull CC’s hair out. I would, if my sister stole my guy. Then she sang opera, really beautiful, and she signed autographs. I got one. She signed it: To Sara, May her hopes and dreams come true, Love, Cat Courtney. Wasn’t that beautiful? D looked like she wanted to puke.

  Except the one who was puking was CC. Saw her losing it all over the roses in the side yard. Maybe D poisoned her. Maybe she’s pg! J will hate that. Can’t be Daddy’s little princess anymore.

  All the way home, Mom went on and on about Mr. A and D and CC, and how if he has any sense he’ll leap at the chance, he needs the money, and what happens when D finds out about CC. I say, what about when J finds out about CC? Bet Princess J won’t like sharing her dad.

  Will put up pix! Ciao!

  ~•~

  Amy Stewart, investment banker, nursing mother, and Queen Bee, posted a note to her brother on her family’s message board:

  Horrible storm here last night. Knocked out power to over 30K. We were lucky, though, ours came back on early a.m.

  Fireworks galore at the party! As usual, Ashmore Park. Wanted to stay home this year, weather hot and humid, but Jim has been Richard A’s internist for years, so we made the obligatory appearance. His almost-ex showed up and made a scene. He looked royally p’oed. Per Mel, he’s getting remarried, but if the new gf was there, she kept quiet. Just love these family dramas. Better than any soap.

  Real story was Lucy’s sister came. This is the long-lost sister who ran away as a teenager, hadn’t been heard from in years, appeared out of the blue three weeks ago. Her name is Laura St. Bride, and yes, it’s that St. Bride. Father-in-law o
wned St. Bride Investments. Husband died on 9/11, CEO of St. Bride Data, tragic story. Mel told us all about it. Left her $300M. Quiet little thing, didn’t say much. Just sat there. You’d never guess she had $$$. Got the feeling Mel made her uncomfortable.

  But here’s the shocker: She’s the singer, Cat Courtney! Who knew! Lucy was hovering around her, very protective, but then stupid Diana showed up, spilled the beans, dragged her up to sing for everyone. I thought Lucy and Richard were going to kill Diana on the spot – certainly solve his problems. Lots of tension. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

  Very different when Cat got up there to sing. At the QB table, you’d never guess she was anybody. Faded into the background, not “on.” Once she started to sing, though, she made you listen. Dynamic, very powerful. We’re definitely going to the concert.

  Took a pic. Look and weep – I got to meet a real star! Ha! And you thought nothing ever happens in W’burg.

  Hope you and Molly had fun at Lake Sam. Wish I’d been there with you guys. Maybe next year. Much love. Amy.

  ~•~

  Brian Schneider went to work, laid out his research to his managing editor, hoping to get approval for a quick trip to Virginia, and got torpedoed.

  “You realize,” said his editor, “the flaw in all this. You’ve connected Cat Courtney to Laura Abbott. No problem there.” He picked up the picture from Lucy Maitland’s Missing – Need Information web page. “This says it all. This girl is Cat Courtney. But you haven’t definitively tied Laura St. Bride to either Laura Abbott or Cat Courtney.”

  Damn it all. He’d realized that himself, driving in to work. If he hadn’t been hung over from too little sleep, too much wild sex, and too many hours researching corporate records, he would have seen the hole in his chain of evidence earlier.