She tried to let go of his hand, but he continued to hold hers tightly. Leaving the gates open, he led her across the expansive front yard toward the privacy hedges on the west side of the massive house.
“Have you ever tried ayahuasca?”
“No.” Where had that come from?
“The last time I did it was almost two years ago now. I trekked five miles through the Peruvian rainforest to a super-intense retreat run by one of the most renowned shamans in the world.”
Cara wiggled her fingers to get him to loosen his grip. “You can let go. I can still see well enough.”
“I was in a weird headspace when I went down there,” he continued, ignoring her. “Everything had kind of fizzled out career-wise, even the lifestyle platform. Our managers were both positive it would work: Finola and Dylan, chronicling their budding romance, promoting their favorite places, and endorsing highly curated products.”
Cara felt sick as she began to understand.
“But without all the brand ambassadorships you had. I mean, we almost had Alo Yoga, until they decided to invest in you. That didn’t make any sense—our demographics were much younger and hipper than yours.”
They walked around the house into the backyard. It featured two patios with all the requisite built-ins, a rectangular lawn as perfect as a putting green, and a glowing infinity pool that seemed to jut out into space.
“Brand ambassadorships are tricky,” Cara said. “Much trickier than they were even a couple of years ago, when influencing was at its peak. Now it takes time and consistency.”
Dylan paused by a row of partially submerged lounge chairs facing an infinity fire table along the edge of the pool, something she’d never seen before. He looked like he was considering what she was saying.
“Anyway, the thing about an ayahuasca experience is that it’s magical, but also unpredictable. For six hours, I lost all concept of myself. First, I was a bobcat, then a snake, then finally a hawk. I flew all over the world and saw brightly colored cities and mountains of geometric cubes. I met ancient warriors made out of candy. Near the end, my ancestors circled around me and asked me to state my purpose. When I couldn’t do it, they all laughed. All except an old woman with crazy silver hair. She snapped her fingers, and then suddenly I was with you. We were together on that catamaran when you were hit by the wave that made you famous as an influencer.”
Cara wanted to vomit. “You’re making this up.”
He closed his eyes, reliving the memory. “You were bleeding from your wrist, and you poured it into a cup and handed it to me. You told me: ‘You’ll need this for your journey.’”
“But what I really needed was this.” Letting go of her momentarily, he pushed up the sleeve of his shirt to reveal a watch.
Karl’s watch.
Cara almost vomited. “Take that off.”
“Oh, I will, when I tell the police I took it off your wrist.”
Dylan gripped her with both hands and strong-armed her over to the edge of the infinity pool.
“Why did you kill Karl?”
“I honestly didn’t expect him to defend a trophy wife so hard. I mean, he wasn’t exactly young. But he played football like mydad, so I guess I should have known he’d try to tackle me. I honestly thought you were dead, too. But then you weren’t, and everything just fell into place. After you were arrested, I had the idea for the podcast. It seemed like the perfect way to make sure no one suspected me. But also for you to nourish me with your fame. Just like the dream foretold. There’s no other way to interpret that message. Things happened the way they were meant to, spiritually and karmically speaking.”
EIGHTY-FIVE
JORDAN
Anybody else see a cruiser from Madera County Sheriff’s heading east on Sunset Boulevard with its flashers on?
—LAPD radio transmission
It was fully dark in the hills and the map directions ended at a closed gate. Behind it, the driveway swooped downhill to a garage with an empty vintage black Mustang parked in front. From the corner of the house, Jordan could see, it looked like a 1950s Hollywood party pad.
The gate had spikes on top and was set in a white brick wall tall enough that Jordan wasn’t getting over it without a ladder. Even if he could take a running jump and get his hands on top, he didn’t want to risk grabbing an anti-theft deterrent like broken glass. It had happened to one of his deputies.
And he also didn’t have a warrant.
He could have buzzed for entry, but he didn’t want to alert the occupants. And anyway, if Cara Campbell was indeed meeting Dylan Danvers to record part two of the interview he had promised his listeners, she was safe for the moment.
Looking uphill, he saw that if he followed the perimeter, the high ground on the shoulder of the hill would give him a view inside the compound. He was just about to start picking his way through the tinder-dry grass and scrubby cedar trees when he saw movement high above.
