Page 42 of What They'll Say About Us

Knowing I couldn't keep stalling, I got out of the car and walked up to the front door, seeing the notice of the alarm system on the door. I rang the bell, trying to look calm and friendly, because I was quite sure I was on camera.

A moment later, the door opened, but it wasn't Sloane who greeted me; it was a dark-haired man with olive skin and a handsome face. In his arms was a baby girl dressed in a fluffy pink dress, a barrette pulling back her blonde curls. She appeared to be eight or nine months old.

"Hello," he said with a curious gleam in his brown eyes as he bounced the squirmy baby in his arms. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Tessa Conway, an old friend of Sloane's. I was hoping to speak to her. Is she here?"

"Tessa Conway," he repeated, his smile dimming.

"Yes." As I waited for him to respond, a woman came up behind him.

I almost didn't recognize this version of Sloane. She wore a sleeveless navy-blue sheath dress, her light-brown hair styled back from her face, expensive jewelry adorning her ears, her neck, her wrists, and fingers. She looked pretty, sophisticated, and…shocked.

"Tessa," she whispered, putting a hand to her mouth.

"Hi, Sloane. I was hoping to speak to you."

"I—uh. I guess I have a few minutes." She looked at the man. "Garrett, do you mind watching Grace? Elana should be back soon."

"Sure. I'm Garrett Delano, Sloane's husband," he told me.

"It's nice to meet you."

"Come in." He stepped back and waved me forward.

The entry hall was formal, with a marble floor, a round table with a perfect vase of flowers on it, and a sweeping staircase going up to the second floor. On one side of the entry was an archway leading to what appeared to be a den, and on the other was a matching arch leading to the living room. Next to that arch was a huge abstract painting of blues and grays that felt like day and night, dark and light.

"That's beautiful," I murmured.

"Thanks," Sloane said. "It's one of mine."

"I always knew you were talented; I just didn't know how much."

"Let's go outside," Sloane said, leading me through the luxurious living room to a wall of patio doors which opened into a beautiful backyard with a massive lawn area, a child's playground that Sloane's baby was years away from playing in, and a beautiful gazebo at the far edge of the property. That's where she took me.

As we sat down on the bench in the gazebo, she crossed her smooth legs and twisted her hands in her lap, then said, "I know why you're here. You're trying to find out what happened to Paige. Everyone has been calling me since you came back, since you announced on your podcast you don't believe Paige's death was an accident. What changed? Why don't you believe that anymore?"

"Alina asked me to publicize Paige's death so the police would reopen her case."

Sloane tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "I understand why Alina can't let go of her grief. It's hard to accept something so tragic."

"Her brother doesn't share her interest in me reopening the case," I commented. "Ray is very angry about it."

"I'm sure he doesn't want his mother to be hurt again. She had a difficult time after Paige died. I heard she had a nervous breakdown. I know she was hospitalized for a few weeks."

"I didn't know that."

"Opening all this up again could be devastating for her."

"I guess that explains why Ray is against it, but Alina feels very strongly that Paige should get justice, and I have to say the more I've started talking to people and looking into things, the more I'm beginning to believe it wasn't an accident. What do you think, Sloane? You lived with her. You probably knew her better than anyone."

"I never understood why she was at the lakefront by herself after midnight. It didn't make sense to me, but in the couple of weeks prior to her death, she wasn't acting normally. She was tense. She was on her phone but kind of secretive about it. She was snappish, and she wasn't usually like that. She was also not very nice to Nate. He was confused. He didn't understand why she was suddenly pushing him away and getting pissed off about nothing."

"And you don't know why she was doing that?"

"I think it had to do with the play. She felt tremendous pressure to do well. It was her first breakout lead role. And she knew that you and others didn't think she was up to it. Her anxiety was off the charts. She couldn't sleep, so she'd take something for that. Then she couldn't wake up, so she started borrowing Adderall from people to make it through the day. And then after rehearsal, she was ready for a few drinks. When the police told me she was probably drunk or on something and accidentally fell into the lake, that part made sense."

"Who was she getting Adderall from?"