“You sure this is it?” she asked.
“It’s not like there’s a mailbox, so it’s impossible to know, but considering it’s the only thing out here . . .” He finished the statement with a lift of his shoulders.
“It’s just . . .” Aster ventured forward until she stood uncertainly before the door. “It’s nicer than I expected. The pictures made it seem like a dump. Not some cool, vintage Airstream with a well-tended plant by the door.”
“It’s a cactus,” Ryan said. “Doesn’t require a whole lot of TLC. But I guess it makes sense. Madison would want it to look nice from the outside at least, seeing how image-conscious she is.”
Aster detected a note of bitterness in his tone, and it left her wondering if maybe Ryan still carried the tiniest bit of a torch for his former flame. But just as quickly, she shook the thought away. Ryan had assured her plenty of times he was totally over her—that he’d never really been all that into her to begin with. At the start of the summer, it would’ve been impossible to believe that any guy could be so blasé about having dated Madison Brooks. But a lot had happened since then, and Aster had no reason to feel insecure about Ryan’s superstar ex-girlfriend. Not after the morning they’d just spent together.
Ryan made for the door and knocked a few times. When no one answered, he tried the latch, but of course it was locked.
“It’s metal,” Aster said, stating the obvious. “So it’s not like you can kick it in.”
Ryan flexed his hands and considered his options. “True. But maybe there’s a way to jimmy the window wide enough for you to slip in?”
Aster wanted in there as badly as he did, probably more. But she wasn’t entirely sold on the idea.
“I’ll give you a boost.” Ryan handed her his cup and slipped a credit card from his wallet, which he then ran between the window glass and the gasket. “Luckily, there’s no screen.” He spoke between gritted teeth as he worked to pry it open.
When that didn’t work, Aster watched in amazement when he pulled a screwdriver from his back pocket and set about disconnecting the crank bars so he could maneuver them to pop open.
“Let me guess, you were a Boy Scout.” She gestured toward the screwdriver.
“Sadly, not for long.” He shot her a quick smile. “I missed too many meetings when I got cast as a regular on my first series, so I had to quit.” With the bar where he wanted it, he pulled the window wide open. “There.” Satisfied, he motioned that it was her turn.
Aster glanced nervously between the window and Ryan. This was no time for second-guessing. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d broken into one of Madison’s residences.
Setting the cups on an unseen surface inside, she placed her hands on the ledge and said, “On three . . .” The next thing she knew, she was halfway inside, gazing in wonder at the space before her.
“Anything?”
“No spoilers.” Aster pulled herself in, then swung her legs around until her feet hit the ground. She stared in amazement as she made her way across the dark hardwood floor and slid open the dead bolt that unlocked the front door. “Welcome.” She arced her arm wide and stepped aside to make room for Ryan.
He stopped in the center and looked around, his expression as uncertain as she currently felt. “Not what I expected.”
Aster readily agreed.
The space was narrow, long, and extremely well organized into separate individual areas. At the nearer end, there was an alcove with a bed covered in a plush shearling throw and an abundance of expensive-looking decorative pillows. In place of a door, there was a screen of shimmering crystal-beaded curtains.
There was a surprisingly nice bathroom featuring just the sort of deluxe, high-end fixtures you’d expect to find in an A-lister’s trailer.
Aside from the small kitchen with the custom table and eating nook, there was a den set up at the far end, with large cushions for lounging, and a low carved table littered with books, candles, and an assortment of crystals.
“It looks like some high-end fortune-teller’s trailer,” Ryan said. “The only things missing are tarot cards and a raven.”
“It’s the perfect place for a secret, romantic getaway. You sure you’ve never been here?” She flashed him an accusatory look. There she was, feeling jealous again. She shook her head and started over. “Anyway, it’s nothing like the photos she commissioned.”
Ryan moved toward one of the tables and checked out her collection of art books. “Even though it’s nothing like her house in LA, this definitely represents another side of her. Maybe her real side, for all I know. Hard to say what’s real and what’s pretend. Sometimes I wonder if she even knows.”
“Meaning?” Aster watched as Ryan picked up a large chunk of polished rose quartz crystal and turned it over in his palm, before setting it back down.
“A lot of actresses are more comfortable playing someone other than themselves. And since Madison created a fictional past, sometimes I wonder if she maybe started to believe it. You know, like if you repeat the same lie so many times, it starts to seem real.”
“Like in those diary entries,” Aster said. “Where she mentions how she’s always playing a role. She was just a kid when she wrote that.”
Ryan scratched at his jaw. “Interesting as it is to speculate, none of it really gives us what we’re looking for, though, does it?” He frowned as his gaze searched the room. “There’s no saggy couch, no stained rug, no messed-up table holding a smoking gun.”
Aster worried he was ready to call it quits, because she was just getting started. She wandered the different areas. Taking a closer look inside the bathroom, she cried, “She was here!” Her hands shook as she stood in the doorway. She’d never once doubted Madison was alive, but having the proof laid out before her momentarily robbed her of breath. “She was here—look!” Her legs trembled so much she grasped at the door frame to steady herself.