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Infamous: the page-turning thriller from New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël. Alyson NoelЧитать онлайн книгу.

Infamous: the page-turning thriller from New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël - Alyson  Noel


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saw that Trena had arrived early. Then again, Trena was always one step ahead. Resigned to the situation, Layla claimed the opposite bench.

      “What surprises you most, the location or my willingness to meet?” Layla asked.

      “Wasn’t sure you’d show.” A slight breeze kicked up and Layla watched as Trena lifted a hand in an attempt to keep her wild mane of bronze curls from blowing into her face.

      “Why? Because you implicated me in a crime I didn’t commit?” Layla was tired, but not too tired to call her out. But again, Trena was a pro and took the harsh words in stride.

      “How you holding up?” She studied Layla with concern.

      Layla sighed. There was no point in pretending she was any better off than she was. “I watched your show last night.”

      Trena arched a perfectly groomed brow. “You and a million other people.” Though the words reeked of smug self-satisfaction, the delivery was the opposite. Trena was merely stating a fact.

      “How’d you get ahold of Madison’s birth certificate?” Layla figured Trena would hedge on the answer.

      “My source came through.” Trena lifted her slim shoulders and crossed her legs at the knee. “How’d you get ahold of Madison’s diary? Or at least I hope that’s her diary, because if not . . .” She left the sentence unfinished. When Layla didn’t take the bait, Trena said, “Last time we met, you asked about libel laws. I’m guessing that’s why?”

      Layla gave a quick nod and waited for a hand-holding couple to move well out of earshot. Maybe she’d made a mistake choosing such a public place to meet?

      Sensing Layla’s concern, Trena leaned toward her and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I guess your post means you’ve determined it is in fact Madison’s?”

      Layla screwed her eyes shut and slowly shook her head. When she opened them, she said, “My blog was hacked.” One look at Trena’s sardonic smirk was all it took for Layla to know her words had not landed the way she’d intended. “I mean, yeah. Obviously, the post was mine. I wrote the opening. Only I left it in my draft folder. I guess someone got tired of waiting.”

      “Who got tired?” Trena’s voice took on a confessional tone.

      “I don’t know. I don’t have a clue who’s behind this. Some anonymous person has been sending me packages that contain stuff about Madison, mainly diary entries, and they always include a threatening note.”

      “What kind of threats?” The cautious look on Trena’s face made Layla wonder if she knew more than she was letting on.

      Layla shrugged. “Some that came true.” She focused on the shiny Cartier watch encircling Trena’s wrist. A recent upgrade from the Timex she’d once worn.

      Trena caught Layla looking and flashed the diamond bezel in a way that caused the stones to catch the light and glint. “A gift from my producer,” she said. “One of the perks of bringing in the highest ratings in the network’s history.”

      “Guess your producer owes us all a watch then. Seeing as how you couldn’t have told the story without the access we gave you.”

      Layla shot Trena a look that dared her to refute it, but Trena didn’t so much as flinch. She just smiled seamlessly and said, “For the record, you’re not the only one who’s received threatening notes. It’s why I was with Larsen the night you were arrested. I wanted there to be a record in case I went missing. I think you know how the night unraveled from there.”

      “Any suspects? Regarding the sender, I mean.”

      Trena bit her lip in a way that seemed false. Like she was trying to appear conflicted, when in fact, she felt just the opposite. “At first I thought it might be James.” She worked her lip and paused. “You know, the bouncer at Night for Night?”

      “And now?” Layla prompted, striving to keep her face free of suspicion. No point in letting Trena know she doubted her story.

      Trena adopted a faraway gaze. Lifting her shoulders, she said, “Why don’t you delete the blog post?”

      “It’s a little late, don’t you think?”

      “So what’re you going to do?”

      Layla sighed. “Whatever they tell me to.”

      “That doesn’t sound like you.”

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