Dark Redemption - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,52

to make it right."

"It's not going to make it right. Just one good deed in the ledger against, what is it? Fifty, one hundred bad ones? No. That's not going to make it right. You know it and I know it."

31

Jacqueline

I go back to the cottage and I don't find Allison. I wander around the streets not knowing where she could have gone or what could've happened.

Her stuff is still there, so either something happened this morning or last night, or she's still somewhere out trying to teach me a lesson, but where and why?

The more hours that pass, the more frantic I become and I even consider going to the police but first, I need to talk to him.

I walk up to Dante's property and ring the doorbell. A few minutes later, they ring me inside.

Adele is sitting by the pool, relaxing with a book and a cocktail and after a brief hello, I say that I have to talk to Lincoln about something.

"You're supposed to be on vacation," Adele yells after me, "this isn't the time to think about your investments."

I force a laugh and go inside. In the kitchen I find Dante and Lincoln icing their faces with bags of frozen peas.

"Oh my God, what happened?" I ask.

Marguerite emerges from the walk-in refrigerator.

"These two got into a fight, can you believe it? I mean, it's like they're teenagers."

I stand with my whole body clenched tight waiting for their explanation. Does Marguerite know what happened?

Did Dante confront Lincoln about Allison and that's why they both look like they do, or does this have nothing to do with it whatsoever?

Both Lincoln and Dante give me strained looks and I realize that they didn't tell Marguerite a thing. She must think that they just got into a fight over nothing in particular, stupid childhood sibling rivalry situation, and I play along for a little.

"Sorry, I get really lightheaded if I'm on my feet for too long, but I'll be out in a little bit," she says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it lightly. "I want to catch up for sure tonight."

"Yeah, I'd love that.” I nod.

When I hear her footsteps disappear down the hallway and wait for the door to open and shut, that's when I finally turn to them, Lincoln in particular.

"Where's Allison?" I ask.

"I have no idea.” He shakes his head.

"What happened?"

At first, he tries to deny it, to hesitate but Dante clears his throat and he finally admits the truth.

"Please don't tell Marguerite a thing," he says in a very hushed tone.

I nod. "I just want to know where my friend is."

"Nothing happened. I mean, we met at the party, she was there alone, I was there alone. We started chatting. We had fun. And then we left around five in the morning. She said she was going to walk back but it's five miles away, so I convinced her that I would drop her off."

"And you did?" I ask.

He nods. "Right in front of the gate. I saw her punching in the code and then walking toward the cottage. That's when I drove away."

"What time was this?"

"Around 5:30 or so. A few people went out to get breakfast, but she didn't want to, so I dropped her off and came home."

"Then what?" I ask, crossing my hands.

"Then I went to bed," he says, clearing his throat.

What I want to hear him say is that he climbed into bed with Marguerite and lied to her about where he was but this isn't the time to make an enemy.

Of course, I judge him, but I need his help.

He's the last person that I know who has seen Allison.

"So you don't know anything about what happened to her after that?"

"No, I thought she just went in and fell asleep and that's it."

His story's plausible, it's also possible that she did go inside, sleep it off and then disappeared when I happened to come by closer to midday.

All of this is very plausible, but is it realistic?

Is it something that could have happened? I don't know.

I tap my fingers on the quartz island and pop grapes mindlessly in my mouth with my other hand.

Whenever I'm nervous or going through something, food is always a solace, it fills the time and gives me something to do with my hands and my mouth.

We talk about the outcomes in somewhat hushed tones. Dante doesn't seem nearly as worried as he should be and Lincoln could care less, he just keeps looking over his