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

by Amanda Leigh Cowley

  Nate frowns and moves his chair closer. He puts his arm around my shoulders and draws me into the warmth of his chest. I hesitate for a moment before relaxing my body into his. My ear is pressed against his top and I hear his heart beating inside, strong and steady.

  “I hope you’re wrong,” he says.

  I swallow hard. “I hope so, too.”

  We sit in silence for a moment until I start to feel uncomfortable and peel myself away from the sanctuary of him.

  Nate clears his throat and leans back. “Why doesn’t she like you working here?”

  “I think she’s jealous of the time I spend here. She wants me to go and work at the salon with her instead.” I shrug. “Maybe she left those reviews so O’Shea’s Place would suffer and you’d have to let me go?”

  His eyebrows flick up. “I guess it’s a possibility.”

  “I don’t know what to think, Nate. My head is swimming.”

  “Look, I’m sure it’s not her, but do you think you should tell that detective what you’ve just told me?”

  “I-I don’t know. What if she’s innocent?”

  “But what if she’s not?”

  I bite my lip as I try to make an impossible decision. Then I stand up and pull my phone out, hoping the screen will somehow give me a clue what to do.

  I look back at Nate. “I’ll tell them I don’t think it’s her, though.”

  Nate nods.

  I take a deep breath and pull up Ramirez’s number.

  I can’t get hold of him and end up speaking to someone in his office, who turns out to be a lot more generous with information than Ramirez was. He informs me they have been monitoring Rachel in the background - she was one of the reasons California Law Enforcement got involved in the first place. He went on to say if I could prove to them I wasn’t the one who accessed the bank account and left the reviews in the library, they might take more interest in that line of enquiry. My protest about never having set foot in the library falls on deaf ears again.

  When I finish the call, I fill Nate in on what he said and how they still don’t believe me.

  “Right.” He stands up and sandpapers his hands together. “First thing tomorrow, you and I are going to the library to see if we can get any more information about who used that computer.”

  “Oh, right. Yes, that’s a good idea.”

  “In the meantime, I think you should move in here with me and Riley. You can have the bedroom next to the office and Riley can sleep in my room. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be at home right now.”

  I want to say no. But he’s right. I can’t be at the house with Rachel until I found out for sure who murdered Dad.

  “Thank you.” I say quietly. “But just until this is all sorted.”

  Chapter 26

  I tap out a note to Harriet explaining I’m going to be staying at Nate’s apartment for a while, until everything’s blown over.

  She texts straight back.

  “What? Don’t be silly. Dominic’s not allowed anywhere near the house. It’s part of his bail conditions. You have to come home, Em. We need you here.”

  I wait a few minutes before replying.

  “Sorry, Harriet. I just can’t be there right now. I need you too, so please come visit me at O’Shea’s. You’re always welcome. Love you. xx”

  My ringtone bursts to life and Harriet’s name flashes on the screen. I take a deep breath before swiping to answer.

  “What’s up, Em?” Her voice is thick with irritation. “What do you mean, you can’t bring yourself to come home?”

  “I found out something today….” I stop talking to gather my thoughts. I can’t tell her my suspicions about Mom. I don’t really believe them myself and I know Harriet will hit the roof if I mention it to her. I decide to stick to what I found out and see what conclusion she draws by herself.

  “Em … you still there?”

  “Yes. Remember I told you someone had left negative reviews for O’Shea’s Place?”

  “Yes….”

  “Well it turns out it was the same person who accessed Dad’s old bank account.”

  “Really? How do you know that?”

  “The police traced the IP address. The account was accessed and the reviews were left over the same time-period from the same computer at the library. How crazy is that?”

  “Well … what are the police doing about it? Can they find out who it was?”

  “They’re a bit stuck. They tried checking the CCTV but it wasn’t working last weekend. There was some kind of a technical fault. They don’t seem too bothered anyway. Because they think I’m the person who accessed the account, they think I must be the person who left the reviews for O’Shea’s. The bottom line is, now they think I’m a liar and none of it is related to Dad’s murder.”

  “Oh, Em….”

  “So I’m left trying to figure out what happened by myself. Why would Dominic be interested in sabotaging Nate’s café?”

  “I don’t know … it doesn’t add up.”

  She’s not biting. My shoulders sag. I decide to use another tactic.

  “Do you think it’s weird how Mom’s so convinced Dominic is innocent, even though he has a motive, a witness apparently overheard him saying he’d killed Dad, and he had maps and plans of the house?”

  “Yes, but … Dominic’s her security. She loves him in her own funny way. The thought of him being sent to prison is way too much for her to comprehend.”

  “So, you’re saying she’s more worried about losing her boyfriend than worrying he might be responsible for the murder of her daughter’s father? Isn’t that a bit twisted?”

  “Yes, I guess … but you know she’s not well. She needs you, Em. Now, more than ever. And you know she has abandonment issues. If you come home, then between us, we can take care of her and hopefully she’ll be okay whatever happens.”

  She hasn’t even considered Mom could be guilty.

  “No, I’ve made my mind up, Harriet. I’m sorry, but I’m staying here.”

  Harriet’s tone changes. “Em, your relationship with Mom is fragile enough. What are you trying to do, kick it into touch altogether?”

  “No, of course not. I just need to stay away from her until we get answers.”

  “Oh, this is ridiculous. I just want to get to the part when all this is forgotten so we can put it behind us and concentrate on being a family again.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘All this’ will never be forgotten as far as I’m concerned. How can it be when I lost Dad?

  “Look, Harriet,” I say softly. “Just tell her I’m working some long shifts at the café and it’s easier if I stay here. I hope she doesn’t react badly because I don’t want you to have to deal with the fallout. But there’s no way I can be at home right now.” I quickly say goodbye and hang up before she can speak again.

  Chapter 27

  A quick google search tells us the public library opens at nine thirty. Nate and I are stood outside the grand cream and terracotta building by nine twenty-five. It’s on a busy street, nestled between a bank and a Starbucks with palm trees stretching to the skies either side of the large glass entrance. To the left a flag pole proudly holds up the Stars and Stripes and to the right, another displays the bear flag of California.

  We’re further inland here and there’s no breeze at all. Even though it’s early, the heat is stifling.

  We stand in the shade of the entrance, and I lean on the trunk of a tree and fan myself with my hand.

  “Not used to our weather yet?” Nate asks.

  I shake my head. “I just need a breeze, then I’ll be okay.”

  “Good job you weren’t here in the height of summer. You’d have melted.”

  I give him a small smile. “I’ll get used to it.”

  “They’ll open up in a minute,” he says, glancing at his watch. “It’ll be cool inside.”

  I nod, my stomach churning as I remind myself why we’re here. I stroke the little b
utterfly brooch pinned to my top and exhale a shaky breath.

  “Hey.” Cool blue eyes study my face. “How are you bearing up?”

  “I’m doing alright,” I say, not completely fooling Nate or myself.

  “It’ll be okay, Em. This is a step in the right direction.”

  I meet his gaze and my heart squeezes. He’s going out of his way to make this crap situation more bearable. “Thanks for bringing me here, and being so good about everything. Especially after….”

  He raises a hand and shakes his head, stopping my sentence. “You don’t deserve any of this, Em. I just hope it all gets resolved as soon as possible.”

  We both turn our heads as a member of staff walks up to the glass entrance and unlocks the door. She’s got a severe haircut and a heart-shaped face which narrows into a pointed little chin. She’s wearing a chunky blue necklace, and on her arms, dozens of multi-coloured bangles clatter every time she moves. So much for the peace and quiet of the library.

  “Good morning,” she says enthusiastically. “Come on in.” She turns and heads back into the interior of the library, her heels creating a clicking sound as they make contact with the tiled floor.

  We step into the cool foyer of the building, holding the door for a couple of other customers who have just appeared, before quickening our pace to fall in step with the lady who let us in.

  “We were wondering if it’s possible to speak to the manager?” Nate says.

  “Yes, of course. That’s me. My name’s Jen Walden.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jen. I’m Nate O’Shea and this is Emily Everett.”

  We all stop at a large semi-circle counter where a man is busy shuffling a huge pile of index cards.

  “What can I help you with?” Jen says, resting her elbow on the counter and smiling up at Nate.

  “Someone who used this library last weekend left multiple bad reviews for a café. We wanted to try and find out who it was.”

  Her eyes narrow and she looks him up and down for a moment. “Would that be your café of the same name – O’Shea’s Place?”

  He nods.

  “I thought so. I only know the name because we’ve had a couple of requests recently trying to check our CCTV. One of the enquiries was from TripAdvisor about those reviews.” She takes her arm off the counter and stands up straight. “I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time. We couldn’t help TripAdvisor or the police because we’ve been experiencing a technical fault with our cameras. Unfortunately, they weren’t recording last weekend.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Nate says. “We’re aware of that. We were hoping a member of staff might have seen whoever it was. We thought we might be able to help jog their memory.”

  I open my bag and pluck out two photos we printed off last night. One is of Dominic wearing a grey suit with a white shirt and red and navy-blue striped tie. His body is at an angle to the camera but his face is central and the light from the camera travels though his thinning hair and bounces off his scalp.

  The other picture is of my mom. It would be a good photo if she wasn’t trying so hard. She’s got her hair pulled forward over her shoulders, her eyebrows are raised and she’s pouting at the camera, channelling her inner Kardashian. I did try to find a better one, but she was more or less pulling the same pose in every photo.

  I clear my throat. “We wanted to know if either of these two could’ve been using that computer between three and five on Saturday afternoon.”

  Jen barely looks at the photos before shaking her head. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to help you with that either. When the police came in, they spoke to the staff on that floor and they have no idea who it might have been. We’re a huge library Mr O’Shea; no one could be expected to remember details like that. That’s why we have CCTV.”

  Nate bangs his fist on the counter. “Yeah, well it would be awesome if it actually worked.”

  I grab hold of his hand and squeeze it, hoping to calm him down a bit.

  “I’m sorry.” Jen’s tone is bristly now. “Like I said, we really can’t be of any more help to you.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for nothing.” Nate turns away from the counter. “Come on, Em.”

  “Thanks anyway,” I say, following Nate back out to the foyer. Instead of heading for the doors as I expected, Nate walks across to the elevators.

  “Let’s go and take a quick look at the computer suite. No harm in taking a look around, is there?”

  I shrug. “I guess not.”

  As we get into the lift, an oriental girl who followed us in through the main doors earlier steps in behind us. She’s wearing pale blue shorts, a cream t-shirt and has a navy-blue bag slung across her shoulder. She presses herself into the corner and doesn’t make eye contact.

  “Maybe if we show staff on that floor the pictures of your mom and Dominic, they might remember seeing one of them here at the weekend? That would be a start, wouldn’t it?

  I sigh, doubtful. “I can’t see any harm in asking.”

  The elevator stops and we’re deposited onto the second floor. The girl exits first and we follow her through double doors into a huge room. I look around and my heart sinks. Around the perimeter of the room are rows and rows of book-lined shelves and in the centre are four long rows of back-to-back computer screens, about fifty in total.

  We make our way to the counter where a buxom woman of about sixty is sorting books from one pile to another. She has short blonde hair and is wearing a floral shirt with glasses swinging from a chain around her neck. Her name badge says ‘Yvonne.’

  She looks up and smiles. “Can I help you?”

  We introduce ourselves and Nate explains what we’re looking for.

  She presses her lips together and frowns. “We’ve been asked about that before. The problem is….” She raises her hand to point over to the screens. “The computer in question is the third one from the left on the back row. It’s practically out of our sight.”

  Nate and I both turn and squint in that direction. I try to imagine my mom or Dominic sitting there.

  “So many people use them on a daily basis, there’s no way we can keep track. We did try to help the police but I’m sorry, none of us can remember….”

  “We completely understand,” I say. “What we wanted to ask is if you would look at a couple of photos and tell us if you ever remember seeing these people on your floor?”

  “Of course, we’ll help in any way we can.” She plucks the glasses off her chest and sits them on the end of her nose.

  “Rita, Valeria….” She motions to two women behind her to join us. “Come, take a look at these photos. See if you recognise anyone.”

  Both ladies drop what they’re doing, pull confused expressions and walk over to join Yvonne at the counter.

  I open my bag and pull out the two photos, carefully tucking one behind the other so Dominic’s photo is at the front. I hold it up so it faces all three women. There’s a tremor in my hand and I concentrate to keep it still.

  The women lean in close to study Dominic’s features. Yvonne is the first to shake her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognise him at all.”

  Rita and Valeria both agree; they’re sure they’ve never seen him before either.

  “Okay.” I slide that photo off the top and tuck it behind the one of Mom. “How about this one?”

  My hand is shaking so much this time, I end up placing the photo down on the counter instead. “What do you think? Have any of you seen her in here recently?”

  One of the ladies, Rita, shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know what to tell you. She could have been here, but it’s hard to say. We see so many people.”

  “We realise it’s difficult,” Nate says. “But if you can just try to remember if you’ve seen her in here, it would be really helpful.”

  Valeria shakes her head. “I never seen her before. Definitely not. I have a good memory for faces and I know she never been in here while I was working.”

  Nate and I both
focus on Yvonne. Our last hope. As she looks at the photo her eyes narrow and her lips press tight. She reaches out and touches the photo and I realise I’m holding my breath.

  “Yvonne….” Nate encourages. “Do you think you’ve ever seen her before?”

  She takes her glasses off and drops them so they bounce off her chest. Then she looks up at us and shakes her head. “No, sorry. She reminded me of someone who used to work here years ago, but now I’ve had a good look, I can tell it’s not her.”

  My shoulders sag with relief. Even though we haven’t moved any further forward, I’m glad. I’m holding onto the hope that Mom’s innocent so my world doesn’t come crashing down for a second time.

  Nate sighs. “Okay, thanks anyway ladies. Can we leave you a number in case you remember anything relevant?”

  “Yes, of course,” Yvonne says, taking the lid off a pen and handing it to him.

  “It doesn’t matter how insignificant,” he says, scribbling down his name and number. “Anything you remember at all.”

  We say our goodbyes and head back towards the elevators.

  “I’m sorry, Em,” Nate says as we walk. “I hoped this visit would shed some light on things for you. I feel like I’ve just wasted your time.”

  I reach out and touch his arm. “Don’t apologise. At least we tried.”

  I sense someone is watching us and when I look around, I notice the oriental girl from earlier standing by the elevator shaft, looking our way.

  She doesn’t take her eyes off us and it feels awkward, so I give her a smile.

  As we draw level, she says something to me, but her voice is so soft I struggle to make out her words. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”

  She takes a breath. “I said, I think I might be able to help you.” Then she looks down at her feet, nervous energy radiating off her.

  I try to encourage her. “Please, if you think you know something that might help, you have to tell us.” Hell, I would get down on my knees and beg her if I thought it would make a difference.

  She looks back up and frowns. “I don’t want you to think I’m interfering.”

  “No, we definitely don’t think you’re interfering,” Nate says. “Whatever it is, no matter how random, please share it with us.”