The Cold Hard Truth: A Gripping Novel About Secrets and Lies

by Amanda Leigh Cowley

  I want to lay down and rest my head properly, but I’m fighting an overwhelming urge to drift off to sleep. I know I won’t be able to keep my eyes open if I do.

  “For the first couple of years, when you used to write back and tell me how ill he was, I would pray it was only a matter of time until he did the decent thing and gave up. But eventually I realised it wasn’t going to work, so I had to step up my game. Initially I toyed with the idea of hiring a hitman, but it just seemed too risky to involve someone else, so that’s when I decided to fly over and kill him myself.... It feels good to share this with you, Em. I’ve hated not being able to talk to you about this.”

  A salty tear runs down my face and onto my lips.

  “So, I got a fake passport from the dark web, which is time-consuming, but much easier than you’d think, and then I bought return tickets to London. Once I had everything in place, I told Mom I was going to San Francisco for a few days with college friends. She didn’t ask too many questions; I love that about her.”

  I wish I felt stronger. As soon as I found that trophy I should have smashed my way out of here and then knocked her out with it.

  “When I arrived in the UK, I made sure to keep my hood up on the street in case there was any CCTV. I know London is bad for that. I only put it down when Mike opened the door. Em, I hardly recognised him. He looked awful. He’d put on weight, and his face was all sunken and grey. I guess I’m to blame for that…. Anyway, when he saw me, he was so overcome with emotion, he cried. That made me feel bad, too. Here I was to kill him, and he actually cried with happiness.”

  I bite my cheek hard.

  “I told him I wanted to stay in London so I could hang out with you guys but I had no money. He told me not to be ridiculous and gave me all the details for your joint bank account. Just like I knew he would. He told me to transfer some money into my own account, but there was no way I could do that. That would’ve led the police straight to me. What I needed to do was empty the bank account without making it look suspicious, so I leaked the details to scammers. I know it sounds harsh, but with no Mike, and no money in the account, I knew you’d have to come and live with me and Mom. I was always looking at the bigger picture, Em. I knew once you came to California, to the warmth and sunshine, and me and Mom, you’d fall in love with the place like I did and never want to leave.”

  “After I got the bank details, I didn’t need anything else from him. So, that was when I did what I needed to do.”

  I press the back of my hand to my mouth to hold in a sob.

  “You have to understand I love you Emily, and I would do anything to protect you. I planned to be at the house at a time when I knew you’d be at college. After I killed him I was going to make an anonymous phone call to the police so they’d seal the place off and you wouldn’t have to see him like that. I was frantic when you showed up early. I never meant for you to witness any of that, and I never meant to hurt you. Please know you’re the last person I’d ever want to hurt.”

  My nails press into my palms. How can she not see how messed up this is?

  “It would be helpful if you could say something to let me know you understand.”

  I can’t hold my head up any longer. It feels too heavy. I give in and lay down on the wooden floor.

  Breathe in. Pause.

  Breathe out.

  “Em, I’m going to need you to track that person down from the library for me. The one who saw my name….”

  Her voice is fading in and out. I’m not sure if she’s moving around, or if my ears are playing tricks on me.

  “We need to shut her up in case she decides to tell anyone else….”

  Keeping my eyes open is too much effort. I let them fall closed, desperately trying to stay awake behind my eyelids.

  “I wanted to get rid of Dominic too, but I knew all his money, our house and the salon would end up with his sick wife. I thought we were stuck with him, but when you told me the British police were involving the local cops here, I realised I needed to point the finger away from me. Then something clicked. Dominic had the perfect motive to kill Mike. I don’t know why I never thought of it before. He was so jealous of Mike, and I knew if I could somehow get the cops to investigate him, they’d see his emails to Mom and find out how desperate he was not to lose her. Better than that, I’d used his laptop to search for information on how to get hold of a hitman in the London area. Even though I’d deleted it from his history, I knew an IT expert would find it easily enough. So, I threw in some extra pieces of incriminating evidence, a map of the area where you lived, and those bank account details, and buried them deep in his laptop case. Then I tipped the cops off anonymously, telling them….”

  She stops talking abruptly as something crashes nearby. It sounds like a door has been sent flying off its hinges. My heart thumps wildly, snapping my senses back to life but I can’t work out what’s happening on the other side of the door. I want to tighten my grip on the trophy but my hand won’t grip properly and it falls away from me.

  I hear familiar words being shouted. “You have the right to remain silent….”

  Police! Thank God.

  “If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney….”

  There’s the scrape of a chair and then a dazzling light as someone lands on their knees beside me.

  “Shit!”

  My heart lifts when I realise it’s Nate’s voice.

  “What did she do to you, Em?” He sounds distraught.

  It hurts to think. “My head….” It’s all I can manage.

  His hands are already on me, moving blood-matted hair to one side.

  “You’re going to be alright. Help is coming, okay? Just hang in there.”

  “I can’t feel….”

  He squeezes my hand. “Stay with me, Em. Try to keep your eyes open….”

  They’re the last words I hear before it all goes dark.

  Chapter 32

  I wake up to the smell of disinfectant. My vision’s blurry so I can’t tell where I am, but I know I’m lying in a bed. There’s a lot of noise going on around me; people talking, machines beeping and footsteps echoing on the floor.

  There’s a dull ache at the back of my head. I raise my hand to feel it, but a bandage is in the way.

  Am I in hospital?

  How did I get hurt?

  I sift through my memory desperately trying to remember.

  I was at the flat with Harriet when someone called me on my phone. Something about a name….

  Harriet quizzed me after. She wanted to know what the call was about and she got angry.

  Why did she get so angry?

  The Starbucks cup … Harriet’s name on it.

  A wave of emotion grips me as the full details flash back.

  I squeeze my eyes shut and press my head into the pillow.

  Not Harriet. Anyone but Harriet….

  I lay there with my eyes shut for a long time. I think I may have even drifted back to sleep. The next thing I’m aware of is a feeling of pressure on my arm. I open my eyes, blink a couple of times and a nurse comes into view. She’s wearing a blue V-neck tunic over a white long-sleeved top. She smiles at me while she fiddles with a blood pressure cuff.

  “Are you back with us now, Emily?” Her voice is soft and soothing with a Caribbean lilt.

  I try to talk but my tongue is practically stuck to the roof of my mouth so I just nod.

  She notices. “Let me finish doing this and I’ll get you a drink, sweetie.”

  “Thanks,” I manage to croak.

  She raises her eyebrows and points to my left. I turn to see a crumpled-looking Nate asleep in a visitor’s chair. His head is resting on a pillow wedged between the back of the chair and the wall and his long legs stretch out in front of him.

  “He’s been here ever since you were brought in,” she says. “We’ve been telling him to go home and get a prope
r rest, but he won’t leave your side.”

  She releases the pressure on the cuff and puts it to one side before pouring me a cup of water and tipping it up to my mouth. “You’ve got a good one there.” She glances back at Nate and smiles. “Hold on tightly to that one.”

  I sip the icy water, dribbling some of it down my chin. “How long have I been in here?” I ask when she pulls the cup away.

  “Three days.”

  “Really?” I cough to try and make my voice stronger, but all it does is make my head pound. “Have I been unconscious all that time?”

  She shakes her head. “You’ve been in and out. But this is the first time you’ve been fully coherent. I’m going to fetch the doctor in a minute so she can do her checks.”

  “Em?” I turn to see Nate rising from his chair. His top is creased and his hair’s all messed up, but he looks so good it takes my breath away. I give him a wobbly smile.

  The nurse smiles at Nate and then backs out through the curtain.

  Nate leans over the bed, his eyes filled with concern. “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  “I’ve been worried about you,” he says frowning. “Do you remember why you’re in hospital?”

  I close my eyes and inhale. “Yes.”

  I feel the warmth from his hand as he smooths hair away from my face. “Harriet’s in custody now and Dominic has been released.”

  I sniff. “Good.”

  “Rachel’s been calling to see how you are. Lois gave her my number when she rang the café.”

  I open my eyes. “Has she been in to see me?”

  His lips form a sad smile and he shakes his head.

  I look away.

  “She sounded really choked,” he adds. “It must be hell having one daughter in hospital and the other arrested for murder. She asked me to get in touch as soon as there’s any news so I’ll text her to let her know you’re back with us.” He reaches for his phone.

  “Wait….”

  His hand stills above his pocket.

  “Don’t call her.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I think I should at least let her know you’re making sense now. It’ll put her mind at rest….”

  “Not yet.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “I can’t handle seeing her. Maybe let her know I’m okay once visiting hours have finished.”

  He gives a half-smile. “If she’s anything like me she won’t care about visiting hours.”

  “She’s not like you, Nate. She’s nothing like you.”

  He sags and pushes his phone deeper into his pocket. “Okay. Whatever you think’s best.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He steps closer and sits on the side of the bed, the faint smell of his aftershave familiar and comforting. He reaches for my hand and places it between both of his. “Harriet’s admitted everything,” he says. “Killing both men and framing Dominic….”

  I raise my chin. “Both men?”

  “Oh, right. You wouldn’t know about the other one.” He gives a small shake of his head like he can’t quite believe what he’s saying. “Harriet killed her dad, too.”

  The pounding in my head intensifies.

  “She told the police that when she and your mom moved back to California, one of the first things she did was track down her birth father and kill him.”

  “Jesus,” I whisper. “She would have only been around fifteen.”

  He rakes a hand through his hair and nods. “Her dad was an addict and living on the streets and the police didn’t investigate it thoroughly at the time. They put it down to a random street crime, but everything she said checked out. They have no doubt she’s telling the truth.”

  I shudder. “She’s bat shit crazy, isn’t she?”

  Nate squeezes my hand and I close my eyes for a moment, concentrating on the comfort of his touch.

  “I know it’s a lot to get your head around,” he says. “But you’ll be okay, Em.”

  I chew the inside of my lip and look at him.

  “And when you’re not okay, I’ll be here for you.” He gives me a small smile.

  “Thank you,” I whisper. “And thank you for being there when it really mattered.”

  He squeezes my hand a little bit harder.

  I clear my throat. “Nate, what made you come back early that day? I thought you’d called to say the car broke down and you were going to be late?”

  “I lied. When Harriet answered your phone, she had this weird tone going on and I knew something wasn’t right. Then I heard you shouting in the background.”

  My lips wobble. “You heard that?”

  He nods. “So I told her the car broke down; pretended that was the reason I was calling. I didn’t want her to panic and do something stupid. Riley called the cops while I jumped every red light to get back to the café as quick as I could.”

  My voice comes out all choked, “Thank you so much.”

  “You don’t need to thank me, Em. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

  Chapter 33

  One Month Later

  Nate, Lois and Riley have been a great source of comfort to me over the last four weeks. They’ve been kind and patient, especially Nate who’s listened to me rant on about Harriet, sometimes late into the night. I haven’t got around to moving back in with Rachel … Mom yet. I’m not even sure what to call her these days. Anyway, Nate and Riley insisted I carry on living at the café after I came out of hospital, so I did. Most nights, Riley stays at Lois’ anyway, so he’s happy with the arrangement.

  It would be perfect if I didn’t have such strong feelings for Nate. Sometimes I can’t sleep at night because I know he’s so close. I ache to be with him. If he came to me at night, I honestly don’t know if I’d have the strength to send him away.

  Twice, when Riley’s been at Lois’, I’ve got up in the middle of the night and stood outside Nate’s bedroom door. Luckily, both times, common sense prevailed and I dragged myself back to my own room. I know my head’s not in the right place to have a relationship with Nate, not after everything that’s happened. He’s been my rock; my chink of light amid all the craziness. I can’t bear the thought of messing him around and hurting him again.

  And I think my world’s just about to get crazier.

  Harriet’s been begging to see me … in prison.

  She’s said there’s something important she needs to tell me.

  I feel I already heard enough when she barricaded me in the cupboard. But one month on, I have to admit curiosity has got the better of me. I’ve decided I’ll visit her once, and once only. Plus, the therapist Nate persuaded me to see said it will help to give me closure. Apparently burying my emotions and letting them fester isn’t healthy.

  Nate’s driving me to the facility in his Mustang. The roof is down as usual, but it’s an ungodly hour and there’s a cool wind whipping my hair across my face. I scrape my hair back and fix it in a ponytail before pressing back into my seat.

  As we leave the ocean behind, I do a mental checklist to make sure I’ve complied with everything on the prison’s long list of dos and don’ts: Don’t wear metal jewellery, do take photographic ID, don’t dress in anything too tight, don’t dress in anything resembling the correctional officers’ uniform, don’t dress in anything resembling the prisoners’ orange outfit – as if. The list goes on. I’m pretty sure my patterned shirt and black jeans don’t violate any rules.

  Nate reaches out and puts his hand on top of mine. “I know you’re dreading this, Em, but remember, if you don’t like what she’s saying, you don’t have to stay and listen. You don’t owe her anything.”

  “I know.” I squeeze his hand as the dune-coloured facility appears on the horizon.

  It’s not long before Nate pulls the Mustang into a parking space and kills the engine. Coach upon coach fills the parking lot.

  Nate twists around to look at me. “Are you sure you’re re
ady for this?”

  I blow out a deep breath and nod. “I think so.”

  “It’s not too late to back out.”

  I laugh. “But we’ve come all this way.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “No,” I say, stretching my neck out. “I need to do this.”

  “Okay.” He gives me a smile of encouragement. “I’ll be right here waiting for you when you come back out.”

  I lean over to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Nate.” Then I climb out of my seat and raise both arms, attempting to stretch away the discomfort of three hours’ driving.

  I turn and give Nate a final wave before following several groups of people towards the visitors’ entrance.

  Inside it’s a bit like an airport, except the staff are more disapproving. I join a queue and when it’s my turn, put my bag into a bucket to be x-rayed.

  I don’t mind being asked to take my sneakers off, but I’m a bit shocked when I’m asked to remove my bra and shake it out. I manage to unhook it and slide it through the arm of my shirt without exposing myself. A stocky female correctional officer swipes a metal detector over me before patting me down. Then she tells me to unbutton my pants, trousers to me, before running her gloved fingers around the waistline. Next, I’m asked to remove my hairband and shake out my ponytail. My hair’s still wild from the journey and after I shake it out, I dread to think what I look like.

  “Open your mouth,” the officer instructs. She sounds bored. She’s probably said the same thing a hundred times already this morning.

  I open my mouth.

  “Wider.”

  I open my mouth as wide as I can and try not to gag as she swipes her fingers inside. Satisfied I’m not hiding anything in there, she points me in the direction of yet another queue where I’m asked to hand over my passport before my hand gets an ultraviolet stamp and I’m issued with a pass.