Anything For You: A Gripping Psychological Thriller by Marissa Finch

Author:Marissa Finch [Finch, Marissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-11T22:00:00+00:00

I was worried about finding a place to park at the Allbrights, but I needn’t have. Addison had hired a valet for the event. A young man in a crisp white jacket greeted us, and I handed over my keys.

You and I trudged up to the Allbrights front door, which opened before we even had a chance to knock. I expected a harried-looking housekeeper, or maybe even Addison herself, but we were instead greeted by a polished hostess with a gleaming black ponytail. She looked better suited to a nightclub than to … whatever this was.

“Name?” She held an iPad.

“Nicolette Winchester. And my daughter, Ella.”

She ran a sharp coral nail down the screen. “Hi Nicolette,” she said, apparently deeming us acceptable. “You can both go on through to the salon.”

You and I exchanged a glance. We both tried not to laugh. This whole thing felt absurd, in a grim sort of way.

In the salon, a decent crowd had gathered. We had both worn black dresses, and we weren’t the only ones. The room felt more like a wake than whatever kind of celebration Addison had intended. Though Addison herself was clearly trying. She wore a daffodil-yellow skirt suit with a matching yellow hat. The hat had yellow netting that hung down over her eyes. I wondered if that was meant to distract from how dreadful she looked underneath. Even with a thick layer of make-up, I could see the way her face had become hollow and gaunt, the way her eyes sank down into their sockets. She held a glass of champagne and laughed, but the sound was as hollow as her cheeks. Alistair stood beside her. He, too, had opted for something other than black, probably at Addison’s behest. He wore a fitted steel blue suit, a yellow tie that matched his wife’s dress. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He looked like he’d rather be dead.

“Oh, Nicolette, I’m so glad you could make it.” Addison sashayed over. “And Ella.” Her voice broke at your name, and she covered it with a cough. “It would mean so much to Amber that you’re here.”

“We wouldn’t have missed it.” I leaned in and kissed the air beside her cheek. “Is there any news?”

“Nothing yet, but we’re still hopeful.” She held out her arms and gave you a hug that lasted a little too long.

She did sound hopeful, at least more so than the last time I spoke to her, but there was something manic about her tone. Maybe it wasn’t optimism but uppers.

“Great turnout,” I said, looking around. “Amber was very loved.”

“She is, Nicolette. She is very loved.”

“Of course. She is.” Damn. Stupid slip up.

“You must try the salmon cakes. I can’t eat a thing, of course, but I hear they’re divine.”

She snapped her fingers, and two waiters appeared in front of us, one carrying an assortment of salmon cakes and some sort of pastry with protruding shrimp tails, and the other bearing a silver tray loaded with glasses of bubbly champagne.

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