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

by Amanda Leigh Cowley

  I expect guilty feelings to wash over me any minute. Surely it can’t be right to laugh so hard when my dad’s dead and his murderer is still walking free? But deep down I know Dad would hate to see the shell of a person I’ve become; the kind of person he ended up. He would want me to grab happiness wherever and whenever I could. I know he would.

  I look back at Nate and a well of gratitude bubbles inside my chest. Even if it’s just for this fleeting moment, he’s made me feel light inside, and after the past six months, that feeling is a powerful drug.

  He twists round to face me, completely unaware of the powerful effect he’s had on me. He studies my face for a moment and his expression turns serious. “I love it when you smile, Em.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Not one of those half-assed, just-for-show smiles you sometimes do. When you smile like this, it takes my breath away.”

  I swallow hard, my skin tingling where he just touched me.

  His eyes linger on mine and he closes his mouth, inhaling deeply. I’m mesmerised by his changing expression, the way his eyes darken and how his jaw muscle flexes under his skin.

  We are staring at each other and I don’t know how the atmosphere became so charged or why I can’t bring myself to look away.

  His gaze leaves my eyes and travels to my mouth. I hold my breath as he strokes the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip, leaving a trail of heat behind. He applies just enough pressure to part it from my top lip.

  His eyes flick back to mine and an unspoken question hangs between us. My pulse quickens and I’m overwhelmed by a powerful need to feel his lips on mine. All I have to do is lean forward, tilt my head to the left....

  ‘When he sees a girl he likes, he turns on the full Nate O’Shea charm, gets what he wants, and then about a week later he hasn’t got the time of day for her.’

  I freeze at the impact of Sasha’s words.

  What the hell am I doing? He’s feeding me lines and I’m falling for them. I can’t believe I’m being so gullible.

  I snap my head back and a look of surprise flashes in his eyes.

  I bet he’s not used to girls resisting such a well-rehearsed seduction technique.

  I draw in my bottom lip and drag my teeth over it trying to erase the feel of his touch.

  He doesn’t say anything. He just looks at me with his eyebrows pressed down.

  “I uh ... I really should get back now and help the others.” I stand up, vigorously brushing the sand from my legs. “I guess I’ll see you back at the cafe.”

  I stuff my feet into my sandals and before he can respond I turn and march back up the beach towards O’Shea’s Place.

  Nate doesn’t try to follow and I’m glad.

  Chapter 14

  After the beach fiasco, work was a bit strange to say the least. Nate appeared back at the cafe about twenty minutes after I did. He acted completely normal, as if we hadn’t just had the most awkward experience ever. He had a quick conversation with Riley about ordering supplies, then he asked Lois about the customers’ reaction to some new menu items he’d introduced, and before he disappeared upstairs to the office, he came over to where I was preparing a green salad and quietly asked if I was alright.

  I’d looked up and met his concerned gaze confidently. “Yes, I’m fine.” I was pleased how bright and breezy I’d managed to sound. “Thanks for suggesting that walk. My headache has completely gone now.” It was a stupid thing to say. We both knew I never had a headache.

  Nate nodded, but a conflicting frown told me he thought it was a stupid thing to say too. Then he disappeared upstairs to the office and I didn’t see him for the rest of the day.

  When I arrived at O’Shea’s Place this morning, Riley told me Nate headed out early – some meeting with the bank and then a lunch appointment with his accountant. When I finished for the day a short while ago, he still hadn’t put in an appearance. I know he wouldn’t have stayed away just because of me; that would be crazy. But not seeing him; I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

  When I arrive home, Rachel and Harriet are both in the kitchen. The aroma of meat, sizzling onions, tomato and garlic makes my stomach rumble. Rachel is stood in front of the hob with a pan of Bolognese on the go and a pot of boiling water sending curls of steam into the atmosphere. She was a good cook when she could be bothered. I’d forgot that. Harriet is sitting on a bar stool with one leg tucked underneath her, her thumb furiously swiping on her phone. “Hey, Emily,” she says, looking up.

  “Hi, honey.” Rachel looks up briefly before dipping a wooden spoon into the pan and stirring the Bolognese mixture. “How was your day?”

  She seems different today. I wonder if it’s because she’s taken her medication, or if she naturally has good and bad days.

  “Yeah, not bad. How about you? How was your day … Mom?” The word feels strange on my lips and it hangs in the air.

  She turns to face me, holding the spoon aloft. Her eyebrows are raised and her lips gradually ease into a smile. “Uh … how was my day? Yeah. I-it was good, thanks.”

  “So, was it busy in the salon?” I’m trying to act like we’re just a normal mother and daughter having a normal conversation the way normal mothers and daughters do.

  “Yes. Yes, it was.” Her eyes have gone all glittery. The way she’s looking at me, you’d think I’d just told her I was pregnant or something.

  I nod. “That’s the best way. I much prefer work when it’s busy….” I’m aware Harriet’s thumb has stopped swiping and she’s silently watching the pair of us.

  “It makes the day go so much quicker, I find.” The harder I try, the clumsier I sound. I just can’t seem to hit the right note.

  Rachel does a funny little shake of her head and then her expression goes back to somewhere near normal. “So….” She presses her little finger to the corners of her eyes. “How’s life at that café of yours?” She puts the spoon down and plucks a packet of spaghetti off the side, tipping some of the strands into the boiling water. “Are you still enjoying it?”

  “Yes. It’s great.” Well I was enjoying it until I stuffed up and made everything so flipping awkward.

  “You haven’t had a change of heart yet then?” She uses a pasta fork to nudge the rest of the spaghetti into the water.

  “Change of heart about what?”

  “Coming to join me at the salon….” She turns to look at me with her brow furrowed, like that was such an obvious question.

  I shake my head. “Thanks, but I’m happy working at the café. I think I’ll just stay where I am.”

  She waves the pasta fork in the air. “But you’d love it at the salon, Em. I know you would. You could do pretty much any job you wanted; receptionist, nail technician, eyelashes. I’d train you up.”

  “Mom,” Harriet interjects. “Give Emily a break. If she wants to join you at the salon, she knows she only has to ask.”

  I cringe inside, waiting for Rachel - Mom to fly off the handle, but instead she just pouts. “Okay. But promise me, you will speak up if you change your mind.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  She puts the pasta fork down and steps closer. I hold my breath as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I just want you to be happy, honey.”

  “I know. Thank you.”

  She nods and then turns her attention back to the bubbling pan of Bolognese.

  Harriet is smiling, obviously pleased with our progress. She puts her phone down on the work surface and stands up, stretching. “Hey, I just thought of something. Do you fancy coming to the sunset beach party tomorrow night, Em?”

  “Oh, don’t you start as well. Lois hasn’t stopped going on about it at work. I really don’t fancy it.”

  She puts her hands together in a begging gesture. “Come on, Em. It’ll do you good. If you’re not sure, how about you just agree to come for an hour?” Her eyes are huge and pleading.

  “Oh, I don’t know….”

  Her express
ion is so hopeful. And I remember the promise I made to myself about trying harder with Harriet. So I know I’m going to give in.

  “One measly hour, Em. That’s all I’m asking. If you hate it, I’ll come home with you. But if you love it….”

  I raise my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Just an hour though. And there is no, ‘if I love it.’ I will definitely be coming home after one hour.

  “You won’t regret it.” She leans across and gives me a quick hug.

  I blow out a deep breath and pray Nate won’t be there. That would make things so much worse.

  My phone rings and I grab it, retreating into the sunroom for a bit of privacy.

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, is this Emily?” The voice is male and the accent is British. It sounds funny after a couple of weeks away from the UK. Clipped and formal. Probably how I sound to everyone here.

  “Yes, this is Emily. Who is this?”

  “DI Martin … Frank. I’m calling in relation to your dad’s case.”

  My heart does a funny flutter in my chest. “Okay….” I sink down onto the sofa.

  “I need to touch base with you regarding a recent development.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “Your bank has been in touch with us regarding your account….”

  “Yes, they said they were going to call you.” I notice Mom and Harriet hovering in the doorway.

  “We’ve been investigating the fraudulent activity on the account and we need to rule out that it’s linked to your dad’s murder.”

  “What?” I breathe. “How can it be linked to Dad’s murder?”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Everett. I can’t go into details with you at the moment. Can you confirm you’re still in the United States?”

  “Yes. I’m staying with my mother in California.” I reel off the address to him. Mom and Harriet exchange confused looks.

  “Okay. I’m going to get in touch with the local police force over there and share our findings with them.”

  “Why? Can you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “We’re still establishing some of the facts, but someone from law enforcement local to you will be in touch with more news soon. I promise.”

  He hangs up the call and I’m left shaking my head in bewilderment.

  “Who was that on the phone?” Harriet asks, sitting down next to me.

  “Uh … that was the detective in charge of Dad’s case. He said there’d been some kind of development. But then he wouldn’t really tell me what it was.”

  Harriet frowns.

  “Have they finally got a suspect?” Mom asks.

  I shake my head. “No, but for some reason they’re passing the case details to the police over here.”

  Her eyes widen. “Here? What on earth for?”

  I shake my head. “I have no idea.”

  She straightens her spine. “Seems odd they won’t share any details. I don’t have any faith the British police know what they’re doing.” She turns on her heel, heads back into the kitchen and gets back to stirring the Bolognese.

  Chapter 15

  All I want to do is lie on my bed and shut the world out. But with Harriet, Lois and Riley all threatening to drag me to the party if I don’t show up, I know it will be easier to go for the promised one hour, and get it over and done with. But what the hell do you even wear to a sunset beach party?

  After taking a shower I slip on some underwear before pulling out a couple of drawers and sorting through the small collection of tops, skirts and shorts I bought with me. Two minutes later I slam the drawers shut in defeat and flop down on the bed with a grunt.

  “Nothing to wear, huh?” Harriet has appeared in my doorway. She’s wearing shorts which highlight her ridiculously long legs; good genes from Mom that bypassed me. She’s teamed the shorts with a red bandana top showing off her flat stomach and belly-piercing, a beige, sleeveless fringed cardi and she’s styled her hair into an intricate braided topknot.

  “You look stunning, Harriet.”

  Her face lights up. “Thank you.”

  I scratch my head. “I have no idea where to even start. I’ve never been to a beach party before.”

  “Relax, Em. Anything goes.” She grins. “Come with me, I’ve got loads of stuff you can borrow.”

  I heave myself off the bed, grab my long-sleeved cardi and pull it on before following Harriet across the landing to her room.

  The smell of hairspray hangs heavy in the air. There are handbags, hair products and jewellery scattered all over her unmade bed and it looks like she tried on half her closet before chucking it on the floor. On the dressing table are about twenty bottles of lotions and potions and an over-stuffed make-up bag splitting at the seams.

  Harriet bites her lip. “It doesn’t take long to get back in a mess, does it?”

  I smile. “I guess not.”

  “It’s like a disease with me.” She laughs. “I can’t help it. Mom keeps a healthy distance.”

  “Well, she always was a neat freak, wasn’t she? ‘A place for everything and everything in its place.’ Isn’t that what she always used to say?”

  “Yeah, well she’s kind of given up saying that to me now.” She pads over to her closet. “So ... what to wear to a sunset beach party?” She slides open the doors and rifles through a few items. “Here.” She slips an item off a hanger and throws it at me. “This will look perfect on you.”

  I catch the flimsy material and hold it up to examine it. I throw Harriet a frown. “It’s see-through.”

  “I know. You wear it over your swimwear.”

  I give it back to her. “Have you got something a bit … less revealing?”

  She shakes her head and has another rummage. “Okay, how about this?” She unhooks another dress from its hanger and throws it at me.

  I catch it and hold it upright. It’s pretty, really pretty; jade material with a dark grey pattern and the neckline has a beaded embellishment. But I can’t wear it. It’s sleeveless. I press my lips together and shake my head. “Not this one, sorry.”

  “Okay then,” she says under her breath. “Drop it on the bed. I’ll put it away later. Let’s find something a nun would be happy to wear.”

  I slide the dress back onto the hanger and walk over to hang it up.

  “Got it.” Her tone is triumphant. “You have to like this one. It’s summery and perfect for prudes who like to keep it all under wraps.” She’s holding up a pale pink sleeveless maxi dress.

  I don’t take it from her and her face pulls into a frown. “Oh come on, Emily. What’s your problem with this one? Don’t you like dresses or something?”

  I shake my head. “It’s not that.”

  She takes a step back from the closet. “Well you’d better give me a clue, or we’ll be here all day.”

  I chew the inside of my cheek. “I don’t want my arms on show.”

  “Why on earth not?”

  I take a deep breath. “My scar.”

  Her eyes flick down to my arm, but she can’t see the scar because of my cardi. “Really? It bothers you that much?”

  I nod. “I hate the thought of people seeing it.”

  Harriet’s brows pull together and she shakes her head softly. “You can’t worry about what other people think. You can’t let it rule what you wear.”

  “I’d just prefer something long-sleeved, if you’ve got anything....”

  She ignores me. “Em, listen to me. You are beautiful. One stupid scar doesn’t take that away.”

  I force a smile. “Thanks for saying that, but it’s not about how I look.” I sigh. “I don’t want people to see the scar because they always want to know how it happened. It’s just easier if I keep it covered and then I don’t have to talk about it.”

  Harriet’s eyes have gone all shiny and she blinks hard.

  “Anyway,” I say, trying to break the low mood I’ve introduced. “How about a long-sleeved dress? Have you got one of those?”

  S
he stares at me for a long moment. She looks so sad I almost feel the need to grab the see-through dress and tell her I’m over it, and of course I’ll wear it. But then she takes a deep breath and turns back to the closet. “Actually, I have something that would be perfect.” She scrapes hangers along the metal pole until she finds what she’s looking for. “Yes,” she hisses and lifts out a long-sleeved top in a soft material with a blue batik print. “You have to love this.”

  I reach out and touch the sleeve. “It’s beautiful.”

  She slips it off the hanger and hands it to me. “And it’ll look amazing on you.”

  I take a deep breath and smile. “Thank you, Harriet.”

  She bends down, picks up a pair of beaded sandals and thrusts them into my hand. “We’re about the same shoe size, aren’t we?” Then she walks over to her dressing table and untangles a couple of necklaces from several others hanging off her mirror. “You’ll need these too. Go put it all on and then I’ll put some waves into your hair.”

  “Oh no ... remember, I’m only staying for an hour. You don’t need to go to all this effort.”

  “I insist, Em. It’s the least I can do.”

  About forty-five minutes later Harriet has seen to it that I’m dressed, accessorized and spritzed with an orange blossom and cedarwood perfume. She’s sculpted loose waves into my hair and sprayed them in place before rearranging and spraying again. She grabs my hand and pulls me next to her in front of the mirror.

  “Damn, Em.” She juts out her hip and places a hand on it. “Don’t we look hot?”

  I don’t say anything for a moment. I’m staring into the mirror with my jaw dropped, barely recognising the girl in front of me. I never wear this much make-up, ever. And as for my hair…. I feel like someone completely different. But that’s a good thing as far as I’m concerned.

  “Thank you, Harriet,” I breathe.

  “Hey, no problem.” She stands behind me and fiddles with a section of my hair. Then she surprises me by stooping forward and wrapping her arms around me, resting her chin on my shoulder. She catches my eye in the mirror. “I love doing this sort of thing. This is what sisters are supposed to do, isn’t it? We’ve been missing out on this kind of thing for way too long.”