Chapter Thirty-Four

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Wherever they go, I'm following.

But Ian's car doesn't move. I can't see what's happening inside it, but after less than two minutes, Ashley jumps out. Ian pulls away, his tires squealing.

I've got a few seconds to make a decision: Follow him or stay with her?

I pick Ashley; she seems more likely to give me answers. I step out of my Jeep as she makes her way through the lot, her sneakers soundless against the asphalt. She reaches a blue Nissan with a dented back fender and is unlocking the door when I call her name.

She spins around, her eyes widening.

"Hey." I walk to her side. "I was hoping to catch you."

I can sense her mind churning. She has no idea what I've seen, so she settles on acting innocent.

"I just got off work. Is everything okay?"

I shake my head. "Ashley, come on. I know you texted Ian Barclay and told him to meet you here."

I'm gambling, but it's a calculated one. Ian was flustered by the texts; he cut our drinks short to race over here. It wasn't a scheduled encounter, at least not on Ian's end.

Ashley rears back. "What did he tell you?" Her head whips around as she scans the lot. "Did you call the police?"

I try to mask the fact that her last question throws me. If Ashley and Ian began having an affair after Tina's death—my initial suspicion—I doubt she'd bring up the police. Something else is brewing between the two of them.

"Not yet. I'm giving you a chance to explain first."

Ashley wraps her arms around herself. "Okay, okay. Can we talk in my car, though?"

As I take a step closer to her Nissan, a shiver runs through me. It isn't because I'm chilly.

I don't trust Ashley. I don't trust anyone right now.

And I don't like it that I've begun to doubt some of my instincts. I sipped the beer Ian offered, and now I'm about to get into the car of a near stranger who has pepper spray on the key chain in her hand.

When I first took this case, I identified with Rose. Now my experiences are beginning to replicate Tina's: the police invasion, Rose's alternatingly warm and cold affect toward me, my worry someone has been messing with my stuff. Maybe I should be paranoid.

"No," I tell her. "We're going to talk out here. Tell me how this started."

Ashley's voice quavers. "I was never going to do anything with the photo. I just wanted Ian to think I was."

I nod crisply, as if this information isn't new to me. It's amazing how much people will reveal when they assume you're already privy to the details of a situation.

"I need to see it."

Ashley pulls her phone out of her bag and touches the screen, then hands it to me.

I stare down at a selfie of Tina in bed at the Barclay estate. I recognize the blue-and-white quilt and the wood bed frame in the attic. Ian lies next to her, the covers drawn up halfway over his bare, muscular chest. He looks like he's napping. Tina's long hair tumbles over her bare shoulders, covering her breasts. She's smiling.

There's no universe in which there could be an innocent explanation for this picture. The tabloids would go crazy for it. It's the sort of thing that would live forever on the Internet, the first image to appear anytime Ian's name was searched.

"You have to understand, I lost so much when I got fired. I'm making two hundred bucks less every week. I have to pay rent now, too. And I always got a big Christmas bonus, but this year that's not gonna happen… I didn't do this just for me. I'm going to split the money with Tina's mom."

So it's blackmail. Ashley is surprising me; I didn't think she had it in her.

I scramble for a question that won't reveal how little I actually know. "You're splitting it half and half?"

Ashley nods vigorously. "Yes. I swear. Tina's mom still lives in the Philippines, and Tina used to send her something every month. I just wanted to do something for her, you know?"

I nod slowly.

"The money won't mean anything to Ian. But it means everything to me."

I'm not so sure about that—Ian can't have a lot of cash floating around—but I pretend to accept it.

Ashley seems to interpret my silence as judgment. She scrambles to tell me more.

"The Barclays are just like the family I used to work for. They always fly first class with their kids, but when we nannies travel with them, they put us back in coach. They spend more on a pair of shoes than they pay us in a month. The only reason they want us to live in is so we're always on call. They want us to be invisible until they need us." Ashley pauses to gulp in a breath. "Ian didn't care about Tina. None of them did. The Barclays didn't even go to her memorial service. She gave the Barclays everything, and now it's like she never existed to them."

She wipes her eyes and sniffs. "So yeah, I guess I just wanted to make them pay."

"How much?" I ask.

"Five thousand. Twice. Once for me and once for Mrs. De la Cruz."

If I told her to return the money, I'm certain she would—especially if I threatened to bring the police into it. Blackmail is a felony.

I step back and gesture toward Ashley's car. "You look cold. You should head home."

Her forehead wrinkles. "What are you going to do?"

Ian didn't even go to Tina's memorial service. None of the Barclays did.

"I'm going to do the same thing the Barclays did to Tina. I'm going to forget all about it."

Relief crashes over Ashley's face as I walk away.