Layla shrugged. “Some that came true.” She focused on the shiny Cartier watch encircling Trena’s wrist. A recent upgrade from the Timex she’d once worn.
Trena caught Layla looking and flashed the diamond bezel in a way that caused the stones to catch the light and glint. “A gift from my producer,” she said. “One of the perks of bringing in the highest ratings in the network’s history.”
“Guess your producer owes us all a watch then. Seeing as how you couldn’t have told the story without the access we gave you.”
Layla shot Trena a look that dared her to refute it, but Trena didn’t so much as flinch. She just smiled seamlessly and said, “For the record, you’re not the only one who’s received threatening notes. It’s why I was with Larsen the night you were arrested. I wanted there to be a record in case I went missing. I think you know how the night unraveled from there.”
“Any suspects? Regarding the sender, I mean.”
Trena bit her lip in a way that seemed false. Like she was trying to appear conflicted, when in fact, she felt just the opposite. “At first I thought it might be James.” She worked her lip and paused. “You know, the bouncer at Night for Night?”
“And now?” Layla prompted, striving to keep her face free of suspicion. No point in letting Trena know she doubted her story.
Trena adopted a faraway gaze. Lifting her shoulders, she said, “Why don’t you delete the blog post?”
“It’s a little late, don’t you think?”
“So what’re you going to do?”
Layla sighed. “Whatever they tell me to.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I can’t even tell you how many death threats I’ve received. I feel unsafe just sitting here now.”
“Some people are immune to facts,” Trena said. “No matter what kind of proof you show them, they’ll always default to their personal paranoia and bias. But while your fear is understandable, make no mistake: this is exactly the moment you decide who you’re going to be. When your back’s against the wall, that’s when you discover what you’re really made of.”
Trena spoke in earnest, but Layla responded by rolling her eyes. “Pretty sure I saw that exact quote on an inspirational meme.”
To her surprise, Trena laughed. “Listen, I think I know you well enough to know you don’t sit around waiting for people to tell you what to do. You’re smarter than most, and your vision cuts right through the bullshit. Don’t deny that part of yourself—use it! Now more than ever, you’ve got to put your strengths to work so you can clear your name. As a journalist, your credibility depends on your reputation. You lose the trust of the people, you lose everything.”
Layla grew quiet, allowing the words to sink in. “It’s not just the notes and the death threats. Whoever’s behind this always knows right where to find me. They have access to everything.”
“So, who has direct access to your life outside of Aster, Tommy, and Ryan?”
“My dad.” Layla shrugged. “Mateo—or at least he used to. Ira.” Her gaze leveled on Trena’s.
“So perhaps we should take a closer look at some of them.”
“Aster, Tommy, and Ryan were arrested too.”
“And what about Mateo? Where was he?”
“He wasn’t there.”
“But he knew you were going?”
“Forget Mateo,” Layla snapped, surprising herself. “Not because of any lingering feelings for him, but . . .” Before she could finish, Trena shot her a knowing look that annoyed Layla to no end. “Just because a relationship ends, doesn’t mean—” She caught herself before she could go any further. Overexplaining was only making it worse. “Whatever, just . . . no.”
“That leaves Ira. Also, your dad, but let’s just stick with Ira.”
It wasn’t like Layla hadn’t always considered Ira a suspect, but she had no idea where to begin.
“Problem is, I haven’t been able to uncover much of anything. Certainly no ties to West Virginia, though there was a stint in Oklahoma that for some reason he keeps under wraps.”
“Oklahoma?” Layla jerked to attention.
“He went to university there, though not for long. It was right before he moved to LA.”
“Do you know when that was?” Layla fought to keep her cool and seem only mildly interested.
“Nearly two decades ago, but there’s no connection to Madison. Thing is, if Ira is behind this, which I really believe he could be, then there’s got to be a connection somewhere, something that links him to Madison. So far, all I’ve managed to uncover is the stuff you already know. . . .”
Trena went on to list Madison’s lies. How she wasn’t really a tragic yet well-bred East Coast prep, but rather little MaryDella Slocum, born and raised in West Virginia until the night her parents mysteriously died in a fire and she was reborn as Madison.
Layla tuned her out. She’d heard it all before. It was Ira’s stint in Oklahoma that intrigued her the most.
Tommy was from Oklahoma. And though Trena had been vague about the dates, Tommy was eighteen, soon to be nineteen. Ira having been there around two decades ago gave new insight into something that had always bothered her, a sort of nagging truth she could never quite grasp.
Tommy possessed an uncanny understanding of Ira’s motivations. Once, when Layla questioned him, Tommy had been quick to dismiss it, claiming he simply liked to know who he worked for.
At the time, Layla let it pass. But now, if what Trena said was true, then Layla was sure Ira Redman was Tommy’s father.
“I found a news report claiming two dead and two injured in that fire. Madison burned her arm, as we all know, but I got the impression the article wasn’t referring to her. . . .” Trena droned on while Layla pretended to listen. Truth was, her mind was in a whirl.
Tommy Phillips was Ira Redman’s son!
The more Layla thought about it, the more it made sense.
Their nearly identical navy-blue eyes only served to seal it.
Layla looked at Trena, wondering if she should tell her.
“Before MaryDella was
