Page 37 of The Getaway

“Okay, about that. So . . . we maybe had a little too much fun. It was a great party, man,” he said to Marshall hopefully, like maybe this would buy him some brownie points. Marshall’s jaw worked, and he said nothing. Cole cleared his throat. “Anyway, I passed out at some point. When I woke up, I had all these texts saying they were shutting down the party and they couldn’t find me, so they were going. The house was, like, dark and clearly locked up for the night. So I crashed.”

“Wow. Those are some friends,” Florence muttered under her breath.

“Wait, you’re a promoter?” Vienna asked eagerly.

“Vienna, not now,” Gemma said.

“Where?” Marshall was fully alert.

“Where what?”

“Where did you crash?” he asked impatiently.

“A den or something, I guess? I don’t know what you rich people name all these rooms.” He chuckled, then went serious when no one else joined him. “It’s by the garage.”

Everyone looked at Marshall, who shrugged. It seemed he didn’t know the house as well as they all assumed he did.

“There’s a big TV and some other random crap in there, and there were a couple of couches, so I grabbed a throw and fell asleep. When I woke up this morning, this was happening.” He waved a hand toward the ceiling in an attempt to reference the storm.

“And you’re alone? Did you see anything?” Marshall asked.

Cole did a double take at the question. “See what? No. I just slept. And . . . maybe took some crackers and caviar from the kitchen.”

“Real nice,” Grant said under his breath.

“What? I was starving!” He put the towel fully over his head now, drying his hair, then brought it down to dry his forearms. “And yes, I’m alone.”

“Bullshit,” Florence said.

“Florence!” Gemma admonished, the response automatic.

“No way, Mom! He had someone with him. Whoever it was took off just before he did!” Florence asserted.

“She’s right. I’ve got it all on camera,” Vienna added, gesturing at the ridiculous device on her head.

“I swear to God, I’m alone,” Cole said, but he didn’t quite look anyone in the eye as he said it. “Go check that den room thing. I slept there by myself.”

“Grant, you keep him here,” Marshall said, taking charge. “I’ll get the others. We’re gonna search the house.”

“What? I just told you—”

But Marshall wasn’t listening. He’d clearly moved on to another objective. “Maybe one of them saw what happened to Lincoln.”

17

Suzy

“This is ridiculous. Why are we doing this?” Suzy asked, as she, Wintour, and Sean headed down the hallway to the west wing of the Villa. She could already smell the sawdust that characterized every remodel she’d ever been involved in, even though they’d yet to come across any evidence of this latest construction. Marshall had already checked the den their squatter had indicated he’d used as his overnight digs, and found no one else in there, but he hadn’t been deterred. Now everyone was paired off and checking the house. Marshall and Marley had taken the east wing while Gemma and Juliet had started upstairs. Grant and Trevor were keeping an eye on the intruder while the twins were sequestered in their rooms. Hazel, for her part, was still passed out. Probably the best possible scenario for her. “What if someone is here, and they’re violent? What if they killed Lincoln?”

“No one killed Lincoln,” Sean said.

“How do you know that? Anything could have happened to him out there. And before we thought we knew who was here when it happened, but now . . .”

Sean paused in front of the door to Lily’s art studio and sighed a world-weary sigh. “Should we go in?”

“It’s kind of what we’re here for,” Suzy shot back, then sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

He opened the door, and Suzy gasped.