The Disappearance of Stephanie Mailer: A gripping new thriller with a killer twist Joël Dicker (booksvooks TXT) 📖

stood and made their way to the stage. Meta Ostrovski and Steven Bergdorf.

“What are you two doing here?” Hayward asked.

“I’m here to audition,” Ostrovski said.

“So am I,” Bergdorf said.

Hayward got up to hand both men their lines. Then he sat again and read out the stage directions that were their cue.

It is a gloomy morning. Rain is falling. On a country road, the traffic is paralyzed. A vast bottleneck has formed. The motorists, at the ends of their tethers, blow their horns angrily. A man is jogging along the side of the road, past the line of motionless cars. He approaches the officer on duty.

Ostrovski jogged towards Bergdorf, making a convincing show of being out of breath. Mayor Brown sat up a little in his seat.

OSTROVSKI

: What’s going on?

STEVEN BERGDORF:

There’s been an accident.

OSTROVSKI

: How? What happened?

STEVEN BERGDORF

: It was a motorcycle. The man went straight into a tree. It’s a mess back there. If I were you, I’d keep on going.

As the scene unfolded, against all his expectations the mayor found himself being drawn into their performances. The difference from what had come before was night and day.

“Kirk,” he hissed. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Thirty seconds later, Hayward had made his decision.

“O.K.,” he said, getting to his feet. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

“No, wait, Kirk!” Ostrovski said, putting his hands together as if in prayer. “You’ve got to give us more time.”

“Relax, Meta,” Hayward said with a sly smile. “You’re in the play.”

He then turned to face the auditorium and the other waiting aspirants, as Ostrovski went over to clap Bergdorf on the back.

“We have our first two cast members!” the director announced.

* * *

The afternoon was coming to an end when, in the main room of the courthouse in Orphea, after an interminable wait, Carolina Eden finally appeared before Judge Abe Cooperstein.

Escorted by a police officer, she advanced unsteadily toward the judge, her body exhausted by a night in the cells and her eyes red with tears. “So, what do we have here?” Judge Cooperstein said, skimming through the report he had been passed. “Case number 23450, munici-pality of Orphea against Miss Carolina Eden. Miss Eden, I read here that you were arrested yesterday afternoon at the wheel of a car, while stuffing heroin up your nose. Is that correct?”

Carolina threw a terrified glance at Benjamin Graff, who encouraged her with a nod of the head to answer as they had agreed.

“Yes, your honor,” she replied.

“May I know, miss, why a nice girl like you is taking drugs?”

“I made a big mistake, your honor. I’m in a weird place in my life right now. But I’m doing everything I can to get out of it. I’m seeing a psychiatrist in New York.”

“So this isn’t the first time you’ve taken drugs?”

“No, your honor.”

“Are you a regular consumer?”

“No, your honor. I wouldn’t say that.”

“But the police did find a large quantity among your effects.”

Carolina lowered her head. Jerry and Cynthia Eden felt their stomachs knotting. If the judge knew anything about Tara Scalini, their daughter was in big trouble.

“What are you doing with your life?” Cooperstein said.

“Not much right now,” Carolina said.

“Why’s that?”

Carolina started crying. She wanted to tell him the whole story, to tell him about Tara. She deserved to go to prison. Since she couldn’t get a grip on herself, she couldn’t answer the question, and Cooperstein went on:

“I admit, Miss Eden, that there’s a point in the police report that troubles me.”

There was a moment’s silence. Jerry and Cynthia felt their hearts explode in their chests. The judge knew the whole story. Prison was guaranteed. But Cooperstein asked:

“Why did you park outside that house to take the drugs? I mean, anyone else would have gone to the woods, the beach, a private place, right? But you parked by the gate of a house. Just like that, in full view. It’s hardly surprising the occupants called the police. You must admit that’s strange.”

The tension for the Edens was too great.

“It’s our old vacation home,” Carolina said. “My parents had to sell it because of me.”

The judge was intrigued. “Because of you?”

Eden wanted to stand up, or cry out, or do anything to stop the hearing. But Graff got in first. He took advantage of Carolina’s hesitation to reply in her place:

“Your honor, all my client asks is to make amends and come to terms with life. It’s obvious that what she did yesterday was a cry for help. She parked outside the house because she knew she would be found. She knew her father would think to look for her there. Carolina and her father came to Orphea to find themselves and get their lives back on the right footing.”

Judge Cooperstein looked away from Carolina, gazed at the lawyer for a moment, then returned to the defendant.

“Is that true, young lady?”

“Yes,” she said in a low voice.

The judge seemed satisfied with the answer. Graff’s stratagem had worked.

“I think you deserve a second chance,” Cooperstein decreed. “But remember: this is an opportunity you have to seize. Is your father here?”

Eden stood up immediately.

“I’m here, your honor. Jerry Eden, Carolina’s father.”

“Mr Eden, this concerns you, too, since I understand you came here with your daughter to rebuild your relationship.”

“That’s correct, your honor.”

“And what were you planning to do with your daughter here in Orphea?”

The question caught Eden off guard. The judge, noticing his hesitation, added:

“Don’t tell me, Mr Eden, that you came here just to let your daughter see out her angst by a hotel swimming pool?”

“No, your honor. We wanted to audition together for the play. When Carolina was little, she said she wanted to be an actress. She even wrote a play three years ago.”

The judge allowed himself a moment’s thought. He looked at Eden, then at Carolina, and declared, “Very well. Miss Eden, I suspend the sentence provided you participate with your father in this play.”

“Thank you, your honor,” Carolina said with a smile. “I won’t disappoint you.”

“I hope not, Miss Eden. Let’s be quite