Let Her Lie, page 9
I walked carefully along the coast until I saw an outcropping of rocks. It had to be the same one Miracle had climbed across that day. I’ve never been the outdoor type, but something had come over me, drawing me closer and closer. I stepped up to the first stone, and my shoe slipped. I dropped to a knee and felt the fabric of my chinos tear.
That should have been enough. It was so dark that night. I had no idea what I was doing. For some reason, though, I rose back up and picked my way along the outcropping, getting farther and farther away from the sandy shore behind the neighborhood. As I did, it was as if I slipped out of myself and into the shade of a young girl. The mean girl’s words filled my head. I felt the betrayal, not just by her classmate but by her family, her entire existence. Her life was a lie.
At some point I sat down on the stones. Moisture wicked through my pants. I shivered, but even that didn’t break the spell. I watched the gentle lapping of the water, and something jumped a few yards out, sending a ripple of pale light across the surface. At the sound, an icy finger ran up my back. I turned quickly, expecting to find someone behind me, close, watching. My eyes strained to fight the darkness. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was out there.
“Hello,” I called out softly.
I swear I heard the shuffle of a foot. I tried to get up, too quickly, and slipped again. My shoe sank into a small tidal pool.
“Shit,” I hissed, stumbling to find more solid footing. “Who’s out there?”
There was no answer. I remained frozen. I could walk any street of New York at three in the morning and not feel even a fraction of the threat I did in that moment. With nothing near me but space, I felt exposed, naked. Yet I could feel her out there—Miracle Jones. Despite the Halo Killer’s threat, or because of it, I knew I’d find her. And uncover the mysterious tie between the famous Miracle Baby and the infamous Halo Killer.
CHAPTER
3
THE TRAIN RUMBLED north, leaving Newark, New Jersey, the last stop before Penn Station. I stared out the window at the empty darkness, processing everything that had happened. Jasper’s warning and Ginny’s voice seemed to dance inside my skull, pulsing down the veins of my neck, tightening the muscles in my arms and legs. One calf suddenly cramped. With a grunt, I thrust that leg out into the aisle, pulling my toes back as best I could.
The pain subsided and I repositioned my body. As I sat there, staring out at the night, I placed my palm on the window. It felt cold and real under my touch. In a way, it grounded me. I focused all of my attention on taking in a breath. Feeling my diaphragm expand and contract.
Before I realized it, I was under the city, pulling into Penn Station. I must have slept, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. It was as if time had jerked forward with the suddenness of a startle. I blinked, over and over again, trying to refocus my sense of place.
With a rattle, the train stopped. I remained seated, watching everyone depart into the tunnel. A conductor leaned over and spoke to me.
“You need to detrain, my friend.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
When I rose, I felt light-headed. I had to reach out and use the seat tops like ski polls to keep my balance. I followed the masses out and up the escalator.
“Theo!”
The sound of my name, the surprise of it, woke me up a bit. My head whipped around and I saw, of all people, Zora standing above me, waiting.
“Hey,” I said with a heavy wave of my hand.
At the top, I stepped out of the crowd and joined her. She looked so—I don’t know—awake. At least to me.
“How’d you know I would be here?” I asked.
Her eyebrow rose. “You texted me the train number. Remember?”
“No,” I said. “I mean, sure I do. It’s good to see you.”
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked, appearing only a little impatient.
I had no idea. I definitely didn’t recall reaching out to her.
“Let’s start walking,” I said. “I need to get back to my apartment so I can sleep.”
“Okay,” she said. “It’s on my way.”
Together we rose out of Penn Station and headed north on Ninth Avenue. I told her about my meetings with Martino and Jasper. She got excited when I showed her the video I’d retrieved from Jasper’s house.
“You broke in?” she asked, after watching it.
“Not really. He sent me there. Called me on my way back from Martino’s. Had me running up and down that little state.” I laughed. “Oh, shit, I almost forgot. I talked to this other woman. Ginny Harris.”
“Who’s she?” Zora asked.
We turned left on Thirty-Seventh. I could almost feel how comfy it would be to climb into bed and sleep for days.
“She’s Miracle Jones’ neighbor,” I said. “She gave me some great background on her.”
“And why would we need that? I thought we were doing a film on the Halo Killer.”
“We are,” I said. “But she’s a part of it. I’m sure.”
“Maybe,” Zora said, but I caught the change in her tone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You promised not to hide things from me.”
“You mean my trying to find Miracle? I … should have called you. Sorry, I was running on adrenaline.”
Zora continued to walk slowly away from me.
“Come on. I need to get home too,” she said.
Something was off. I really didn’t know what it was that I had picked up. Hesitancy, maybe. Distance. Distraction. I wasn’t sure, but my storyteller instinct had fired. And I needed to know.
“I’m not moving until you accept my apology.”
“Jesus, Theo, it’s cool.”
“Nope. Something is definitely up.”
“I was just thinking.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“Fine.” She threw her hands up. “But only if we keep walking.”
“Excellent,” I said, hurrying to catch back up with her.
She shook her head. “I was just thinking how crazy these investigations get. I was a private detective first. I trained with this old guy in Queens. It was wild stuff. But always the same, you know. Mostly like my dad, really. I found myself in some seedy places. Surrounded by bad people. I was still in high school, although my boss had no idea. I would skip so much he thought I’d already finished. I was too young, but I just needed to get away from my house. My parents. Especially my father.
“The longer I did it, the closer I got to bad stuff. Eventually, I gave pills a try. I shouldn’t have, but I thought I was unstoppable. Like every other kid my age. Pills turned to shots, if you know what I mean. And I ended up spending more time chasing hits than I did running down dirty old men cheating on their wives.”
My mouth hung open for a second. “Are you talking about heroin?”
She nodded, but gave me a look like I shouldn’t have said it out loud.
“Yeah. I lost that job. And my parents kicked me out. I hit the streets, hard. Got bad, fast. Then … she found me.”
“Who?”
“No one you know. But she was like you. A filmmaker. She was doing a story on the opioid epidemic. She ended up talking to these guys I hung around with sometimes. When she saw me, with my hair, and my height—”
“And your beauty,” I said without thinking.
“God, Theo. I didn’t mean that. I just mean I looked like the perfect character for her story. She started interviewing me. But … I guess … it went off script. We got personal, you know. She started caring about me. And I started caring about her. The closer we got, the more I wanted to help her too. I started bringing people around. Finding new angles for her. She just kept telling me how good I was at it.
“She got me my first job in the business. And … she got me clean. Everything … just kind of happened after that.” She laughed. “Not that you asked or anything. Wow, what is it about you? I never tell anyone this kind of shit.”
I stared into her eyes. “You loved her, didn’t you?”
Zora stiffened. “What?”
“That woman. You fell in love wi—”
“Enough,” Zora snapped. “I have to go.”
At the corner, she turned south, away from me. I called after her.
“Zora, I’m sorry. I didn’t …”
But she wouldn’t slow down. She just left me there. With a shake of my head, I turned toward my apartment. I really needed to sleep. Maybe grab something to eat first. I’d fix things with her in the—
My phone rang. I yanked it out of my pocket, expecting it to be Zora, but it wasn’t. It was my agent, Stephanie. I checked the time before answering it. When I noticed how late it was, I grunted.
“Hey, it’s Steph,” she said.
“Hey.” I tried to sound upbeat. “How are you?”
“Good. Are you in the city?”
“Just got back.”
I hadn’t spoken to her since the day I left Los Angeles. And she knew I was behind in repaying Pepper. That wasn’t what had me nervous, though. The truth was that I hadn’t told her about the new project. I should have, and I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t. Somehow I could already tell she knew, though.
“Huh,” she said. “Well, I thought we should touch base. I wanted to see what you were up to.”
“Me?” I asked.
I felt like a fool. Or a cheater. Maybe both.
“Yeah. Look, I ran into Kent Barre tonight.”
I closed my eyes. “You did? Are you in the city?”
“Yup.”
I swallowed. “I was going to call you.”
“No worries, Theo. Let’s catch up. Can you get a drink at the Ace?”
“Right now? Oh, geez, Steph. I haven’t slept in like three days. Maybe I should—”
“I totally understand,” she interrupted. “Get some sleep. But hit the pause button on your project until we can—”
“What?” I shouted.
“Just until we talk,” she said.
“I’m heading to the Ace right now,” I snapped. “Don’t leave!”
* * *
By the time I reached the front entrance of the Ace Hotel, it was after midnight. I had never been there before, and the place reminded me of an art deco university library. Given the late hour, I had to slip past a surprising number of people bunched around a large table that ran across the entire space. A full coffee shop took up the far corner. I scanned the crowd, but Stephanie wasn’t anywhere in sight. As I moved toward the barista, intending to order an Earl Grey and maybe a muffin if they looked good, my phone went off. It was a text from her.
At the bar.
Stuffing the phone back into my front pocket, I moved across the room behind the long metal table and up the stairs to the restaurant. I found her immediately. Then I noted the Scotch on the rocks in front of her. Stephanie turned and smiled at me.
“Hey there.”
I took a seat, my eyes moving off of hers quicker than I’d meant.
“What do you want to drink?” she asked.
“I’m …”
I paused. Aside from a couple of granola bars I’d bought at the train station in Wilmington, I hadn’t really eaten in more than a day. I could barely keep my eyes open. But I knew I needed to have something. The thought of stomaching a bourbon, or even a beer at that point, felt like too much. But I did it anyway. She ordered the drink and turned back to me.
“Is this about the money I still owe Pepper? I’m getting it together.”
“Not that,” she said. “I hear you’re working on something new.”
“Yeah. I meant to drop you a note; I just …”
“The Halo Killer?”
I nodded, knowing Kent had told her. My drink arrived, and I took a large swallow of bourbon, more than I intended.
“You should have talked to me,” she said. “There were other people looking at that story. Important people.”
My eyes widened. “Kent told me that no one …”
“I’m not sure you understood him.” She took a breath. “There was a producer big on it. About to fund a young director. But they got cold feet when they heard you landed Zora.”
“Good,” I said, with the last of my bravado.
“Not good. Cassandra was the filmmaker,” Stephanie answered.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered.
I’m not going to use her last name, although everyone knows it. Cassandra’s father is an icon in Hollywood. In one choppy motion, I finished my drink, then put my head down on the bar. “Are you kidding?”
“No,” I heard her say. “And she knows you jumped her. And now Kent’s hearing stuff. And he’s not the only one. It seems Zora has too.”
“What do you mean? I just saw her tonight.”
“When I saw Kent today, he told me she’s nervous about the chatter. She might be out.”
“That’s just not—”
“It’s worse than that.”
My head shot up. “How? How can it be worse?”
“Kent heard another rumor. It’s not good. Really not good.”
Every ounce of energy leaked out of my body. “What?”
“Seems Cassandra is out for funding on a new project.”
“Okay …?”
Stephanie actually looked sad. “Kent said she wants to do a film about Joseph Bender … and you.”
CHAPTER
4
“I GOT TO GO ,” I moaned.
Standing, I lurched toward the stairs. Steph followed.
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded, but my head spun. I moved ahead of her into the lobby. I felt dozens of faces turn, eyes boring into me. I put a hand up, waving Stephanie off. As I did, my stomach cramped, causing my eyes to water. Through a glassy blur, I searched for the restrooms. When I saw the sign for the elevators, I hurried in that direction.
“Theo?” she called out behind me.
“I’ll call you,” I managed to answer.
From there, I lost track of her. Despite the continued feeling of being watched, everyone around me disappeared, as if they’d slipped behind a rising curtain. All I could see was that sign.
“Excuse me,” someone said.
Maybe I’d bumped them. I have no idea. Luckily, the bathrooms were back there. I broke into a sprint, hitting the door hard as I stormed into the men’s room. The stall was open. Sliding to my knees, I was sick, horribly. Sweat stung my eyes and rolled down my sides, under my clothes. I moaned, then heard the bathroom door swing open and close again.
When it was done, I couldn’t get up off the cold tile. With effort, I swung a heavy hand up and managed to flush the toilet. Then I rolled to the side, my shoulder resting against the shining metal divider.
“She won’t do it,” I muttered.
I wanted to cry. Or scream. But I had the energy for neither. Instead, my eyes still watering, all I could think about was Bender. And his sister.
* * *
After the instant success of The Basement, I was supposed to be living the dream. It had been released to shocking fanfare. Everyone was talking about it, in the business and across the country. In the blink of an eye, I went from obscurity to fame. My dream had come true.
On top of that, I had what I thought at the time was an amazing start for my next project. I was waist-deep in the story of Joseph Bender, a man accused of a murder I believed he hadn’t committed.
One second I was on top of the world. The next, I sat across from my film’s producer, calmly watching her view dailies from the past week. I felt excited, untouchable. Until she stopped the reel.
“You can’t use any of this,” she said.
Pepper was a friend of Kent and his father. She’d been producing films for only about five years before that day. But she’d outbid everyone else for the chance to support my film.
“Excuse me?” I asked, shocked.
Pepper leaned forward, the Italian leather of her desk chair making the softest, smoothest hiss. Though a blush rose on her cheeks, her eyes pierced mine.
“Maybe I’m missing something.” She tented her hands. “Maybe, over the last six months, you’ve amassed hours of film, mountains of proof. But … I hear that’s not really the case.”
If that meeting had taken place prior to The Basement, I would have been appropriately nervous at that point. More importantly, I wouldn’t have kept my financier in the dark for so long. I certainly would have given her thoughts and opinions the proper consideration. Instead, my hackles lifted.
“You hear, huh? And who might you be hearing from?”
Pepper took a deep breath. She was younger than me. But her tone hid any hint of that fact.
“Theo,” she said softly. “It’s a small town. I thought you’d know that by now. Look, you have some cachet. This isn’t a disaster. In fact, I understand you have the foundation of another winner. But this stuff with his sister. What she’s saying about the police. It’s great. But I don’t think there is even a touch of truth to it. Did you vet her at all?”
“Are you serious?” I snapped. “Geri is amazing. Better, she’s right. The cops basically tortured Bender. They held him for almost two days in a shitty little interview room. Pumped him full of sugar and nicotine to keep him awake. Pressed him, mercilessly, until he finally said what they wanted.”
“I’ve seen the police video. That’s not really how it looks.”
“They put that out!”
“Don’t raise your voice,” she said.
“I didn’t—”
“You did. I’m not your sister. Or your girlfriend. And I’m certainly not Geri Bender.”
When she said that, the first hint of doubt tickled the back of my throat. The hubris of my fame, however, immediately coated it. I leaned forward.
“Is this about what she does? How she looks? I’d expect better of you, Pepper. That’s pretty catty.”
I shouldn’t have said that. When it came out later that I had called Pepper Thompson catty, it didn’t look good at all. In the moment, I truly believed it. But that faith lasted no longer than a second. With a sharp smirk on her face, Pepper slid her iPad across the desk.
That should have been enough. It was so dark that night. I had no idea what I was doing. For some reason, though, I rose back up and picked my way along the outcropping, getting farther and farther away from the sandy shore behind the neighborhood. As I did, it was as if I slipped out of myself and into the shade of a young girl. The mean girl’s words filled my head. I felt the betrayal, not just by her classmate but by her family, her entire existence. Her life was a lie.
At some point I sat down on the stones. Moisture wicked through my pants. I shivered, but even that didn’t break the spell. I watched the gentle lapping of the water, and something jumped a few yards out, sending a ripple of pale light across the surface. At the sound, an icy finger ran up my back. I turned quickly, expecting to find someone behind me, close, watching. My eyes strained to fight the darkness. Nothing moved. Nothing made a sound. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was out there.
“Hello,” I called out softly.
I swear I heard the shuffle of a foot. I tried to get up, too quickly, and slipped again. My shoe sank into a small tidal pool.
“Shit,” I hissed, stumbling to find more solid footing. “Who’s out there?”
There was no answer. I remained frozen. I could walk any street of New York at three in the morning and not feel even a fraction of the threat I did in that moment. With nothing near me but space, I felt exposed, naked. Yet I could feel her out there—Miracle Jones. Despite the Halo Killer’s threat, or because of it, I knew I’d find her. And uncover the mysterious tie between the famous Miracle Baby and the infamous Halo Killer.
CHAPTER
3
THE TRAIN RUMBLED north, leaving Newark, New Jersey, the last stop before Penn Station. I stared out the window at the empty darkness, processing everything that had happened. Jasper’s warning and Ginny’s voice seemed to dance inside my skull, pulsing down the veins of my neck, tightening the muscles in my arms and legs. One calf suddenly cramped. With a grunt, I thrust that leg out into the aisle, pulling my toes back as best I could.
The pain subsided and I repositioned my body. As I sat there, staring out at the night, I placed my palm on the window. It felt cold and real under my touch. In a way, it grounded me. I focused all of my attention on taking in a breath. Feeling my diaphragm expand and contract.
Before I realized it, I was under the city, pulling into Penn Station. I must have slept, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. It was as if time had jerked forward with the suddenness of a startle. I blinked, over and over again, trying to refocus my sense of place.
With a rattle, the train stopped. I remained seated, watching everyone depart into the tunnel. A conductor leaned over and spoke to me.
“You need to detrain, my friend.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
When I rose, I felt light-headed. I had to reach out and use the seat tops like ski polls to keep my balance. I followed the masses out and up the escalator.
“Theo!”
The sound of my name, the surprise of it, woke me up a bit. My head whipped around and I saw, of all people, Zora standing above me, waiting.
“Hey,” I said with a heavy wave of my hand.
At the top, I stepped out of the crowd and joined her. She looked so—I don’t know—awake. At least to me.
“How’d you know I would be here?” I asked.
Her eyebrow rose. “You texted me the train number. Remember?”
“No,” I said. “I mean, sure I do. It’s good to see you.”
“What did you want to talk about?” she asked, appearing only a little impatient.
I had no idea. I definitely didn’t recall reaching out to her.
“Let’s start walking,” I said. “I need to get back to my apartment so I can sleep.”
“Okay,” she said. “It’s on my way.”
Together we rose out of Penn Station and headed north on Ninth Avenue. I told her about my meetings with Martino and Jasper. She got excited when I showed her the video I’d retrieved from Jasper’s house.
“You broke in?” she asked, after watching it.
“Not really. He sent me there. Called me on my way back from Martino’s. Had me running up and down that little state.” I laughed. “Oh, shit, I almost forgot. I talked to this other woman. Ginny Harris.”
“Who’s she?” Zora asked.
We turned left on Thirty-Seventh. I could almost feel how comfy it would be to climb into bed and sleep for days.
“She’s Miracle Jones’ neighbor,” I said. “She gave me some great background on her.”
“And why would we need that? I thought we were doing a film on the Halo Killer.”
“We are,” I said. “But she’s a part of it. I’m sure.”
“Maybe,” Zora said, but I caught the change in her tone.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You promised not to hide things from me.”
“You mean my trying to find Miracle? I … should have called you. Sorry, I was running on adrenaline.”
Zora continued to walk slowly away from me.
“Come on. I need to get home too,” she said.
Something was off. I really didn’t know what it was that I had picked up. Hesitancy, maybe. Distance. Distraction. I wasn’t sure, but my storyteller instinct had fired. And I needed to know.
“I’m not moving until you accept my apology.”
“Jesus, Theo, it’s cool.”
“Nope. Something is definitely up.”
“I was just thinking.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“Fine.” She threw her hands up. “But only if we keep walking.”
“Excellent,” I said, hurrying to catch back up with her.
She shook her head. “I was just thinking how crazy these investigations get. I was a private detective first. I trained with this old guy in Queens. It was wild stuff. But always the same, you know. Mostly like my dad, really. I found myself in some seedy places. Surrounded by bad people. I was still in high school, although my boss had no idea. I would skip so much he thought I’d already finished. I was too young, but I just needed to get away from my house. My parents. Especially my father.
“The longer I did it, the closer I got to bad stuff. Eventually, I gave pills a try. I shouldn’t have, but I thought I was unstoppable. Like every other kid my age. Pills turned to shots, if you know what I mean. And I ended up spending more time chasing hits than I did running down dirty old men cheating on their wives.”
My mouth hung open for a second. “Are you talking about heroin?”
She nodded, but gave me a look like I shouldn’t have said it out loud.
“Yeah. I lost that job. And my parents kicked me out. I hit the streets, hard. Got bad, fast. Then … she found me.”
“Who?”
“No one you know. But she was like you. A filmmaker. She was doing a story on the opioid epidemic. She ended up talking to these guys I hung around with sometimes. When she saw me, with my hair, and my height—”
“And your beauty,” I said without thinking.
“God, Theo. I didn’t mean that. I just mean I looked like the perfect character for her story. She started interviewing me. But … I guess … it went off script. We got personal, you know. She started caring about me. And I started caring about her. The closer we got, the more I wanted to help her too. I started bringing people around. Finding new angles for her. She just kept telling me how good I was at it.
“She got me my first job in the business. And … she got me clean. Everything … just kind of happened after that.” She laughed. “Not that you asked or anything. Wow, what is it about you? I never tell anyone this kind of shit.”
I stared into her eyes. “You loved her, didn’t you?”
Zora stiffened. “What?”
“That woman. You fell in love wi—”
“Enough,” Zora snapped. “I have to go.”
At the corner, she turned south, away from me. I called after her.
“Zora, I’m sorry. I didn’t …”
But she wouldn’t slow down. She just left me there. With a shake of my head, I turned toward my apartment. I really needed to sleep. Maybe grab something to eat first. I’d fix things with her in the—
My phone rang. I yanked it out of my pocket, expecting it to be Zora, but it wasn’t. It was my agent, Stephanie. I checked the time before answering it. When I noticed how late it was, I grunted.
“Hey, it’s Steph,” she said.
“Hey.” I tried to sound upbeat. “How are you?”
“Good. Are you in the city?”
“Just got back.”
I hadn’t spoken to her since the day I left Los Angeles. And she knew I was behind in repaying Pepper. That wasn’t what had me nervous, though. The truth was that I hadn’t told her about the new project. I should have, and I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t. Somehow I could already tell she knew, though.
“Huh,” she said. “Well, I thought we should touch base. I wanted to see what you were up to.”
“Me?” I asked.
I felt like a fool. Or a cheater. Maybe both.
“Yeah. Look, I ran into Kent Barre tonight.”
I closed my eyes. “You did? Are you in the city?”
“Yup.”
I swallowed. “I was going to call you.”
“No worries, Theo. Let’s catch up. Can you get a drink at the Ace?”
“Right now? Oh, geez, Steph. I haven’t slept in like three days. Maybe I should—”
“I totally understand,” she interrupted. “Get some sleep. But hit the pause button on your project until we can—”
“What?” I shouted.
“Just until we talk,” she said.
“I’m heading to the Ace right now,” I snapped. “Don’t leave!”
* * *
By the time I reached the front entrance of the Ace Hotel, it was after midnight. I had never been there before, and the place reminded me of an art deco university library. Given the late hour, I had to slip past a surprising number of people bunched around a large table that ran across the entire space. A full coffee shop took up the far corner. I scanned the crowd, but Stephanie wasn’t anywhere in sight. As I moved toward the barista, intending to order an Earl Grey and maybe a muffin if they looked good, my phone went off. It was a text from her.
At the bar.
Stuffing the phone back into my front pocket, I moved across the room behind the long metal table and up the stairs to the restaurant. I found her immediately. Then I noted the Scotch on the rocks in front of her. Stephanie turned and smiled at me.
“Hey there.”
I took a seat, my eyes moving off of hers quicker than I’d meant.
“What do you want to drink?” she asked.
“I’m …”
I paused. Aside from a couple of granola bars I’d bought at the train station in Wilmington, I hadn’t really eaten in more than a day. I could barely keep my eyes open. But I knew I needed to have something. The thought of stomaching a bourbon, or even a beer at that point, felt like too much. But I did it anyway. She ordered the drink and turned back to me.
“Is this about the money I still owe Pepper? I’m getting it together.”
“Not that,” she said. “I hear you’re working on something new.”
“Yeah. I meant to drop you a note; I just …”
“The Halo Killer?”
I nodded, knowing Kent had told her. My drink arrived, and I took a large swallow of bourbon, more than I intended.
“You should have talked to me,” she said. “There were other people looking at that story. Important people.”
My eyes widened. “Kent told me that no one …”
“I’m not sure you understood him.” She took a breath. “There was a producer big on it. About to fund a young director. But they got cold feet when they heard you landed Zora.”
“Good,” I said, with the last of my bravado.
“Not good. Cassandra was the filmmaker,” Stephanie answered.
“Oh, shit,” I whispered.
I’m not going to use her last name, although everyone knows it. Cassandra’s father is an icon in Hollywood. In one choppy motion, I finished my drink, then put my head down on the bar. “Are you kidding?”
“No,” I heard her say. “And she knows you jumped her. And now Kent’s hearing stuff. And he’s not the only one. It seems Zora has too.”
“What do you mean? I just saw her tonight.”
“When I saw Kent today, he told me she’s nervous about the chatter. She might be out.”
“That’s just not—”
“It’s worse than that.”
My head shot up. “How? How can it be worse?”
“Kent heard another rumor. It’s not good. Really not good.”
Every ounce of energy leaked out of my body. “What?”
“Seems Cassandra is out for funding on a new project.”
“Okay …?”
Stephanie actually looked sad. “Kent said she wants to do a film about Joseph Bender … and you.”
CHAPTER
4
“I GOT TO GO ,” I moaned.
Standing, I lurched toward the stairs. Steph followed.
“You okay?” she asked.
I nodded, but my head spun. I moved ahead of her into the lobby. I felt dozens of faces turn, eyes boring into me. I put a hand up, waving Stephanie off. As I did, my stomach cramped, causing my eyes to water. Through a glassy blur, I searched for the restrooms. When I saw the sign for the elevators, I hurried in that direction.
“Theo?” she called out behind me.
“I’ll call you,” I managed to answer.
From there, I lost track of her. Despite the continued feeling of being watched, everyone around me disappeared, as if they’d slipped behind a rising curtain. All I could see was that sign.
“Excuse me,” someone said.
Maybe I’d bumped them. I have no idea. Luckily, the bathrooms were back there. I broke into a sprint, hitting the door hard as I stormed into the men’s room. The stall was open. Sliding to my knees, I was sick, horribly. Sweat stung my eyes and rolled down my sides, under my clothes. I moaned, then heard the bathroom door swing open and close again.
When it was done, I couldn’t get up off the cold tile. With effort, I swung a heavy hand up and managed to flush the toilet. Then I rolled to the side, my shoulder resting against the shining metal divider.
“She won’t do it,” I muttered.
I wanted to cry. Or scream. But I had the energy for neither. Instead, my eyes still watering, all I could think about was Bender. And his sister.
* * *
After the instant success of The Basement, I was supposed to be living the dream. It had been released to shocking fanfare. Everyone was talking about it, in the business and across the country. In the blink of an eye, I went from obscurity to fame. My dream had come true.
On top of that, I had what I thought at the time was an amazing start for my next project. I was waist-deep in the story of Joseph Bender, a man accused of a murder I believed he hadn’t committed.
One second I was on top of the world. The next, I sat across from my film’s producer, calmly watching her view dailies from the past week. I felt excited, untouchable. Until she stopped the reel.
“You can’t use any of this,” she said.
Pepper was a friend of Kent and his father. She’d been producing films for only about five years before that day. But she’d outbid everyone else for the chance to support my film.
“Excuse me?” I asked, shocked.
Pepper leaned forward, the Italian leather of her desk chair making the softest, smoothest hiss. Though a blush rose on her cheeks, her eyes pierced mine.
“Maybe I’m missing something.” She tented her hands. “Maybe, over the last six months, you’ve amassed hours of film, mountains of proof. But … I hear that’s not really the case.”
If that meeting had taken place prior to The Basement, I would have been appropriately nervous at that point. More importantly, I wouldn’t have kept my financier in the dark for so long. I certainly would have given her thoughts and opinions the proper consideration. Instead, my hackles lifted.
“You hear, huh? And who might you be hearing from?”
Pepper took a deep breath. She was younger than me. But her tone hid any hint of that fact.
“Theo,” she said softly. “It’s a small town. I thought you’d know that by now. Look, you have some cachet. This isn’t a disaster. In fact, I understand you have the foundation of another winner. But this stuff with his sister. What she’s saying about the police. It’s great. But I don’t think there is even a touch of truth to it. Did you vet her at all?”
“Are you serious?” I snapped. “Geri is amazing. Better, she’s right. The cops basically tortured Bender. They held him for almost two days in a shitty little interview room. Pumped him full of sugar and nicotine to keep him awake. Pressed him, mercilessly, until he finally said what they wanted.”
“I’ve seen the police video. That’s not really how it looks.”
“They put that out!”
“Don’t raise your voice,” she said.
“I didn’t—”
“You did. I’m not your sister. Or your girlfriend. And I’m certainly not Geri Bender.”
When she said that, the first hint of doubt tickled the back of my throat. The hubris of my fame, however, immediately coated it. I leaned forward.
“Is this about what she does? How she looks? I’d expect better of you, Pepper. That’s pretty catty.”
I shouldn’t have said that. When it came out later that I had called Pepper Thompson catty, it didn’t look good at all. In the moment, I truly believed it. But that faith lasted no longer than a second. With a sharp smirk on her face, Pepper slid her iPad across the desk.
