Let Her Lie, page 10
“Hit play, Theo,” she said, her words rock hard.
“What’s—”
“Hit play, please.”
I didn’t want to do what she said. I even thought it might be some kind of power play, her ordering me around. Curiosity, however, is a powerful motivator. My finger seemed to move of its own accord. I pressed the white triangle and could only stare. The shot was dark and grainy, obviously from a security camera. It took me only a second to recognize where it had been taken. The Wild Orchid on Hollywood Boulevard.
“Really …” I stammered, incensed.
Pepper didn’t say anything. She just motioned toward the screen. And I watched Geri Bender step up onto the stage, gripping the shining pole as she did.
“So what, Pepper. She’s a dancer.”
That smirk stayed on her face. “Just watch.”
That’s when I knew. I slapped my hand on the screen, trying to stop the video before I showed up, bills in hand. Before Geri sauntered over to me. Before …
“This is how you treat the people you work with.”
“This is how I protect my investments,” she answered.
“I’m out of here!”
I got up so quickly that the chair almost tipped over. Before I could open the office door, Pepper barked out an order.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said.
My fingers wrapping around the handle, I looked over my shoulder.
“You’re going to stop me?”
“Sit back down, please. This is getting out of hand.”
“You mean the part about you illegally videotaping me?”
“No, I mean the part about you having an affair with your subject’s sister. Using her one-sided story to accuse the Tulsa Police Department of grossly mishandling her brother’s case.”
“Fuck you, Pepper,” I snapped.
Her eyes slowly closed. “That was my last warning, Theo.”
“Kiss my ass,” I said, and stormed out.
* * *
Minutes after that meeting, I sat in traffic. The rage boiled up, escaping in random shouts and curses. I could not believe what had happened. That Pepper had somehow gotten video of Geri and me together. In the moment, I didn’t question my behavior. Or my decisions. Maybe it was my meteoric rise, the effect fame had on me, but I saw myself as untouchable.
If you’ve never hit it big in Hollywood, if you’ve never walked into the swankest nightclub through the VIP entrance or if a bunch of rich people have never bid on your work, you might judge me. Certainly, a few people who fit that bill did. But looking back, after everything that’s happened since, I still can’t understand how I handled that situation. It was like I had gotten high on some drug, but the rush lasted weeks, maybe months. Worse, I’d become addicted to it.
I opened up my phone and posted the clip from my Bender film, the one I’d shown Pepper, to Twitter. As I inched up the ramp of a cloverleaf, I watched the number of likes racing upward. I hadn’t traveled more than a mile before it had over a thousand retweets. I laughed. I felt vindicated. Until, as I scrolled through the comments, I saw someone had posted another video, the one Pepper had shown me. As my clip went viral, so did Pepper’s. A messy lawsuit followed. She won, and I was told to return the advance her company had paid, most of which I’d already spent. Life after fame is expensive in so many ways.
CHAPTER
5
I HAD NO IDEA what time it was when I finally staggered out of the Ace Hotel restroom. I barely remember leaving the lobby. Somehow I headed in the right direction, across Twenty-Ninth and then up Eighth Avenue. As I meandered toward Hell’s Kitchen, I pulled out my phone and tried to call Zora. She didn’t pick up, so I left a message, not realizing how hard that single bourbon had hit me.
“It’s me. Look, I didn’t do anything wrong, you know. I mean, that whole Cassandra thing. I didn’t know. I mean, she doesn’t have to be such a … We are onto something here. The video … Oh my God, the video. This whole Miracle thing … You could have told me you were worried. And … I mean, I’m sorry if I got too personal. You’re … I … It’s all cool to me, you know. Anyway. Just call me. I mean … and I’m sorry. Yeah … call me.”
I had to take a breath before continuing, and I sort of lost track again. “Oh, shit, I forgot … Jasper threatened me. Threatened to kill me. I couldn’t believe it. He said if I didn’t stay away from the girl, from Miracle Jones, that he’d kill me. I swear. It’s crazy.”
For a second, I was distracted by the light on Thirty-Second. I forgot I was leaving a message until I’d crossed.
“Yeah, okay. Call me. Soon. When you can. Okay? Yeah … ’bye.”
For some reason, I just kept walking. Though I was in no condition to work, I started to put the pieces together. I laid out what I had. Something painting Jasper as on the edge. Something about the woman in that first story he’d told me. Walking on the beach. Like his first victim. Full circle. It had to be Miracle, somehow. He must have stumbled across the daughter of his first victim. But what were the odds? That seemed impossible.
Had I been 100 percent, I would have stopped there. Like I said, I’m no novelist. No action movie director. I can’t bend the lines of reality to make the story work. Plus, I just wasn’t thinking straight. There was no way Miracle just randomly ended up on the beach in that exact second. Yet, in the moment, it fit so perfectly. So cosmically. It all made sense. Jasper needed to find Miracle. Kill her. And it would all be over. Full circle.
My brain kept churning. I storyboarded Jasper’s life. I painted transitions and camera angles. I could hear gulls calling in the background as his mother talked about her divorce, about how much she didn’t know. I framed shots of the moon and of bright-yellow daylilies. Morning fog shrouding a dark little cabin surrounded by the straight, thin trunks of white pines that jutted out of the soft earth like the devil’s fingers. In my head, I scored the entire thing, a dark mix between Requiem for a Dream and the old Halloween movie.
Too much.
That’s what Zora would say. I was pushing too hard. My eyes came up when her voice thrust itself into my head. And I realized I was way farther away from my building. In fact, I had to slow at the closest intersection and check the street signs like a lost tourist. I was shocked to find how far off I’d gone.
In that instant, an eerie feeling moved through me. It was like a shiver without the shake. As it passed, I looked left and right and back again, searching for eyes I knew were watching me. But I saw nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing more than the sparse crowd moving along the evening streets somewhere near Hell’s Kitchen, I hoped.
My searching stopped on the glowing windows of the Starbucks across Forty-Third Street. I stared at the faces I could see through the glass. No one even paid attention. I doubted they could see me through the glare. But I couldn’t shake the feeling. Someone was watching me.
Then, as if I remembered it for the first time, my conversation with Steph came back to me. The severity of what she’d said. The risk I was in. Cassandra could destroy me, especially considering the thin ice upon which my career lay. With a single word, her father could make sure that I never worked again in Hollywood. Or New York. Or Austin or Nashville or anywhere.
Hurrying, possibly a bit frantic, I headed north on Ninth Avenue. With every step, I fought the urge to look over my shoulder. At the same time, a cold sweet broke out on my forehead. I could feel perspiration soaking through my shirt too. Someone was watching me, someone out there in the darkness, following my every step. My throat tightened, like someone was trying to choke me, but going at it in agonizingly slow motion. I sped up, my heart racing even faster.
Ignoring the crosswalk, I stepped out onto the street, thinking I would head west. A cab swerved around me. The horn blared. A vivid image of the driver showed his face contorted in rage, transforming into Jasper’s birdlike features. His piercing little eyes.
I stumbled up to the curb.
“You okay?” someone asked.
That’s what got me to stop. I blinked and saw the man. He was short, probably five and a half feet, and built like a firefighter. He wore all black, which contrasted with his thick, styled salt-and-pepper hair. His eyes, as he watched me, were soft, concerned. I stared into them and felt strangely safe.
“Yeah,” I said, between huffs. “I’m okay.”
“You scared of something?”
“No, no.” I put my hand up.
The guy smiled. “We all go a little mad sometimes.”
“What?” I said, my tone sharp.
“Whoa, nothing, man,” the guy said, taking a step back. “It’s just an old movie quote. Take care of yourself, buddy. You don’t look so good.”
The guy shook his head before walking away. I took a deep breath and let out a soft laugh. The guy was actually right. I was going a little mad. No one was watching me. Everything would be okay. I just needed to speak with Kent—he would smooth over everything. That and get some sleep.
So I moved one block at a time, breathing in and out, keeping my head down and my eyes locked on the sidewalk in front of me. When I reached my building, I took the front steps as slowly and deliberately as I could. I pulled the handle, and the door opened.
Crossing my lobby, I honestly thought it was over. I thought it was all in my head. That I’d let the case get to me. Let it come close to pushing me off my already precarious ledge. I was debating whether or not to call Kent as I rose up the stairwell. Midthought, I opened the door to my floor and stepped out. My head turned and I looked down the hallway. That’s when I saw it, a flash of bright yellow. And I knew, even from that distance, what it was. A yellow daylily circled into the shape of a perfect halo, sitting right outside my apartment door.
CHAPTER
6
“THEO?”
The voice came out of the void. Out of utter and total blackness. It drew me back like a harpoon through my temples. Like fire under my skin. For a second, I was nothing. Then I was painfully conscious. My eyes cracked open and the daylight made me blink. I saw Greg from the third floor. He stood over me, obviously concerned.
“How’d you get in?” I asked, the words like gravel stuck in my throat.
“What?”
Something seemed very off. My head turned. Despite the throbbing pain and the horrid taste in my mouth, I looked around and realized I wasn’t in my apartment. No, I was lying on the ground in our building’s lobby.
“Shit,” I whispered, as the image of the halo came back to me.
“Have you been here all night?”
Trying to stay calm, I looked up at Greg. “Yeah … I guess. I … uh … got locked out.”
“That sucks,” he said. “I can call the super.”
“No,” I said quickly.
With my palms on the floor, I pushed myself up. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. I definitely felt better than the night before, at least until that flower flashed in my mind again. And the realization struck in full. Jasper had been to my apartment!
Panic surged, wiping away the last of my disorientation. He’d been there. He was out of prison. He was coming for me. I staggered back, away from Greg.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“What? Yeah!” I stared at him. “Did you see the news this morning?”
He looked totally confused. “Some.”
“Was there … did someone … break out of prison?”
“Huh?” Greg frowned. “Maybe I should call—”
“No,” I said, throwing my hands up. “I’m cool. Just tired … I guess.”
Greg backed toward the door. I smiled, trying to make him feel better. Once he left, I looked at the stairwell and felt very cold. I dreaded the idea, what I was thinking, but I had to know. So I forced myself to go up, one agonizing step at a time.
“It didn’t happen,” I kept telling myself.
But the memory was so real, so vivid. More so than anything else from the night before. I could have convinced myself that the meeting with Stephanie had never happened. I’d pushed myself way too hard. I was obviously exhausted.
At the door to my floor, I froze. I had to know, though. So I fought back the fear and pushed it open. Holding my breath, I leaned forward, stretching my neck so that only my eyes crested the doorframe. And there was no sign of the flower.
* * *
I sat down on my bed, focused solely on my breathing. In and out. In and out. There was no flower. It was all a hallucination. I could barely think straight. It was all in my head. The Halo Killer was in my head.
“Shit,” I hissed.
With a spastic swipe, I fished out my phone. I saw the call I’d placed to Zora. Closing my eyes, I dug a finger into my temple. I vaguely remembered a rambling message I might have left.
“Reckless,” I muttered, falling back onto the mattress.
It started with Geri Bender. That’s what I told myself. I’d fallen for the wrong woman. An honest mistake. Nothing reckless about that.
Now, Cassandra. Zora was already nervous. Closing my eyes, I let the phone drop from heavy fingers. It rattled to the hardwood, but I didn’t have the energy to check the screen, see if it had cracked. Instead, I closed my eyes. With the briefest, maybe clearest, thought I’d had in over a year, I truly regretted every bit of my past success before falling into a fitful sleep, full of Jasper’s shrill voice and eyes staring out of the darkness.
* * *
The ringing wouldn’t stop. It pulled me out of the darkness, though it didn’t touch the despair that clung to me as strongly as it had when I first shut my eyes. I needed to quit. Do something different. Normal.
“I should have been a barista,” I said, leaning over the edge of the bed.
Grabbing the phone, I answered it without looking, trying to catch it before it went to voice mail. I was sure it was Zora. Calling to let me down easily. A laugh escaped my lips at that thought. She’d never do it easily.
“Hey,” I said. “Sorry—”
“Hello?”
The voice was strong, firm, but definitely not Zora’s. I bolted to my feet.
“Hello, uh … this is Theo Snyder.”
“Mr. Snyder. This is Meg Jones. Miracle’s—”
“Miracle Jones’s mom,” I blurted out.
“Yes,” she said, properly. “I’m very sorry to be bothering you. My neighbor, Virginia Harris, gave me your card this morning.”
“Yes, I was down there talking to her …” I had to pause to be sure exactly when I had been down there. “Yesterday. I’m so glad you called.”
“Okay,” Meg said. “I want to be clear here. I have no interest in taking part in your movie. And I hope my daughter will feel the same.”
“Mrs. Jones—” I said, trying to protest.
“He doesn’t deserve it, you know. The attention. You should just leave it alone. Have you thought about how the families are going to feel? How my daughter would feel?”
“I …”
My earlier doubts flared. I’d thought about it before, but as harsh as it may sound, it hadn’t mattered to me. The work was more important than an individual’s emotions. But hearing her words, piling them atop the doubts I’d felt before the call—they threatened to swallow me whole, weigh me down until I sank into the darkness of it all.
“That’s not why I’m calling, however.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I just wanted to ask you. Have you … seen my daughter?”
“Miracle?”
“Of course,” she snapped. Then her voice returned to its businesslike tone. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I just needed to know if you had spoken to her. Or seen her.”
My heart missed a beat. “Is she missing?”
“I don’t know if I’d say that.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“It’s been almost three days.”
“That’s not too long. Do you usually see her every day?”
Meg hesitated before answering. When she spoke, she seemed to choose her words with great care.
“She left her baby son with me. And said she’d only be gone for a couple of hours.”
My eyes widened. “She left her baby?”
“It’s not like her,” Meg said defensively. “Not really.”
“Do you have any idea where she might be?”
“No,” she said. “Things have been … I don’t know. Since they caught that man last year. Maybe even before that. I’m not sure. But I don’t want to bother you with that. If you haven’t spoken to her, I’ll let you—”
“Meg,” I said. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but I think your daughter might be involved in something. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I think Jasper Ross-Johnson may have—”
“He’s in prison, Mr. Snyder. I don’t appreciate—”
“No, sorry. I just … look, I work with one of the best investigators in the country. If anyone can find your daughter, she can.”
“I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Ms. Jones, please. Let me help you.”
I could hear her breathing for a moment. When she spoke again, that ironlike strength was gone.
“Could she be in trouble?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered, hearing a baby in the background for the first time. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”
“Okay,” Meg said, still sounding unsure.
Then she told me about her daughter. And, at the mention of Miracle’s name, the camera in my head began to roll.
* * *
ACT TWO/SCENE 4
EXT. BAYSIDE HOME—DAY
MIRACLE JONES sits on the gentle rise of the roof, looking out over the water. She hugs her knees, her expression locked on some thought deep in her mind. The text notification on her phone sounds. She glances at the screen, then back at the sparkling bay. A CHYRON appears at the top of the screen: MAY 14, 2016.
