Sexy in the City
Page 135
“My life depends on it.”
Below, Detective Smitty stood on the sandy beach conferring with police and Coast Guard personnel while Brian’s attorney stood nearby. He knew this was his only opportunity to clear his name. If not for Stacey and her hypnotherapist he wouldn’t have had this chance. He also knew Smitty was expecting to find a body. And if tragedy had befallen Angelique, Brian would be the accused. The lighthouse held either the key to the end of his life or to a new beginning.
A uniformed police officer came to escort him down to the beach and waiting boat. Brian turned to Stacey and crossed his fingers. She smiled and gave a thumbs up.
• • •
Out in the bay at the mouth of the ocean, the lighthouse towered on an isolated rocky island. Constructed in the 1800s, it had been out of operation for at least twenty years. Brian peered out from the boat at the cylindrical masonry form and stone base looming ahead. As the boat skimmed toward it, he wondered how he could have been foolish enough to think a person could survive during a severe storm. Even in the calm of this day, the boat fought hard against the strong ocean currents.
He kept his eyes peeled on the weather-beaten tower growing larger and more intimidating as they approached. He surveyed the glass beacon capping the tower, surrounded by a deck and railing. This was where the light-keeper tended to the flashing beacon, a guiding light of safety, security, and peace.
A movement at the railing caused his heart to thump. He held up his scarred hands to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare in an attempt to catch a clearer view. On the circular deck, a figure was leaning on the rail. As the boat drew nearer to the rocky shore, he could see the figure more clearly.
“It’s her,” he screamed, jumping up in the boat, waving his arms. “It’s Angelique!”
The figure disappeared. Brian felt a tugging at his waist. He was pulled back down in his seat by a burly policeman.
“Didn’t you see her?” Brian asked the other men.
“No.” They shook their heads.
He was certain of what he had seen. An hallucination never appeared so real. He looked back up at the rail. Nothing.
The boat docked at the cracked concrete pier. The entire structure was in an advanced state of disrepair and neglect. The wind and water had weathered the rocks, giving the old lighthouse a texture like sandpaper. The paint was peeling, the wood trim rotting.
Before all the lines were secured, Brian leaped out of the boat. Defying police orders, he ran toward the wooden entrance door to the lighthouse. He had to see if the figure was real. He had to see if Angelique was alive.
“Follow him,” Smitty ordered, his voice booming from the docked boat.
A mad scramble and foot chase ensued.
Brian and the policemen froze in their tracks as the wooden door creaked open from within. He stood near the door, shivering with the hope that his prayers had been answered.
A frail figure clad in a baggy jogging suit, a mass of brown and silver hair hanging down to her shoulders, a face drawn and pale, emerged into the sunlight. As her eyes met Brian’s, she let out a shattering scream.
“You’re alive!” Angelique leaped into his startled yet welcoming arms. “I hoped. I prayed,” she said repeatedly.
He embraced her so tightly, he could feel the sharp bones protruding from her shoulders and back. Lowering his head, he buried his face in her hair, in her warmth, in her scent. Overflowing with emotion, he sobbed.
“I had to stay alive for you, Brian. I knew you’d come for me if you survived the explosion.” She smiled, lifting the boar’s tooth dangling from her neck. “Besides,
I’ve been rubbing this for good luck.”
“So much has happened,” he said, lifting his head and peering down into her hollow eyes.
“But we made it.”
“Barely.” He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. “Look at you. You look like a famine victim. And me? I’m all scars.”
“But we’re alive.”
“Thank God.” He looked up at the clear blue sky. He had never been much of a practicing Christian, but finding Angelique alive to him was nothing short of a miracle.
“Well, Brian,” Milton Cohen said, stepping over to the couple with a smile. “You’re a free man.”
“Not so fast,” Smitty interrupted, joining them. “The law is not convinced. The Davidsons are Angelique’s legal guardians, as competency has been an issue. Your client is still being charged with kidnapping. This case isn’t over, Mr. Cohen.”
Chapter 17
After Angelique’s rescue, paramedics rushed her to the hospital while Brian was escorted to police headquarters.
He paced the cement floor in the sparse cubicle cell like a caged tiger at the zoo. He even felt like an animal on display as the guards and detectives walked by, observing him with snickers and whispered comments. One thing was made perfectly clear: Permission to be released was to be denied until they thoroughly questioned Angelique. As he counted down the hours, minutes, and seconds, he began to gain a deeper understanding of Angelique’s frustration at being held against her will by the Davidsons and her hours spent in isolation at the lighthouse.
He also had time to think. The entire incident could have passed for fiction had he not lived it firsthand. Experiencing the reawakening of Angelique into the beauty of the world, gaining her trust, holding her at the lighthouse was very real. He had never missed anyone, wanted anyone as much as he did her.
Her screams of protest still rang in his ears as the detectives handcuffed him. The image of her biting and kicking as the police drew her away was imbedded in his mind. He could still see her eyes, pleading as she was whisked away in an ambulance. This was not the “happy ending” he had envisioned for her, for them. He had been giving a lot of thought to his future and couldn’t imagine it without her.
She was not mentally incompetent. He could attest to that. Just more of the Davidsons’ lies to try to keep and control her. Legal guardians! More like prison guards than guardians. He hoped psychiatrists would unveil the ruse. If not, how could he living knowing that Angelique was captive to the Davidsons’ greed.
He grabbed at the thick iron bars, wanting to tear them out so he could get to her side. Angelique was too vulnerable, too innocent, to be interrogated by detectives who seemed more intent on drawing blood than gaining truth. Where was she? What were they doing to her? Where were the Davidsons? Was she safe or had they returned her to her private hell? Not knowing was driving him crazy.
He slunk down to the cold floor, putting his back against the bars holding him captive. He cradled his head in his hands. This was surreal. He had spent most of his life escaping danger and avoiding personal relationships. Sam and Stacey were the only persons privy to his life and he kept them at arm’s length.
His life was less complicated without commitment and he had experienced less pain. Angelique changed everything. With her he bared his soul. He became vulnerable and here he was in a jail cell because of it. By helping her understand what it was to be human, he became more human himself.
Instead of feeling anger he felt regret. He had let his wimpy childhood and teen rebellion set the course for his life. He was always running away, yet he could never truly escape. At the remote beach house with Angelique he had nowhere to run. He had to confront all of his feelings. He had to share with another person, opening up a heart and soul that had been frozen shut for years. Angelique had not only thawed his heart, but had filled it with joy and wonder. She gave his soul purpose. Somehow, someway he was going to be reunited with her. He was going to rebuild the cottage and one day they were going to share it again. Those memories would become a new reality. He swore it.
• • •
Angelique was awakened from her dreams by detectives barging into her room with notebooks and tape recorders. Over the nurse’s protest, they flashed their badges and proceeded to her bedside. She tried to sit up, but exhaustion made her too weak to rise. She could
barely raise her hand, an intravenous drip attached like an umbilical cord limiting movement.
“Please go away,” she urged in a semi-whisper.
“Your doctor says you’re well enough to answer questions and that’s good enough for me,” Detective Smitty said, standing a little too tall and self-assured. He motioned to a colleague to click on a tape recorder and continued, “Okay, let’s hear the whole story. We want to know how you were kidnapped.”
“I was not kidnapped. I planned my own escape and left of my own free will.”
“With Brian Andrews?” He leaned in a little too close for comfort.
“I asked Brian to assist me and he did. He helped me escape from two money-hungry, selfish vultures,” she answered, seething.
The detective’s steely gaze burned through her. He scoffed. “The Davidsons may not have been ideal parents, but they do appear to be concerned about your welfare and safety. They were worried sick over your disappearance. They are also your legal guardians and are looking out for your best interests.”
“Ha. They are about as compassionate as Hitler. They only worried about losing their money tree,” she said, catching her breath.
“Okay. I heard the Davidsons’ side of the story. It’s about time I heard yours.” He stood opening his small spiral notebook and positioning his ballpoint.
“As soon as you release Brian, you can read all about me in Our World magazine.”
“The reporter won’t be released until I’m assured of his intentions in aiding in your disappearance.”
“Isn’t this the United States? Don’t I have the right to remain silent and to seek counsel?”
“You do have the right to a competency hearing.”
Chapter 18
The most recent issue of Our World magazine featured a color photograph of Angelique on its glossy cover. Unlike her other photographs, a lively grin brightened her face and ignited her flaming blue eyes. A shaggy bob of platinum hair framed her oval face and delicate features. The makeup was subtle and flattering, coral lipstick enhancing her lush lips. For the first time she was shown wearing something other than flowing white. The light blue suit was tailored to her slim frame, a hint of lacy blouse visible at the neckline. She was chic, feminine, and remarkably alive. Human and competent.
As soon as the issue hit the newsstands, the magazine was devoured by a hungry public. For the first time in its history, Our World sold out within hours and a second print run made. The magazine’s web site shut down from too many hits. Brian Andrew’s exclusive interview with Angelique was as much of a news story as his subject. He was thrust into the spotlight. Journalistic honors poured in. Rumor had it he was to be honored by the Columbia School of Journalism and nominated for a coveted Pulitzer Prize.
The poignant story about Angelique’s imprisoned life caused a public and media frenzy. Voices filled with empathy and outrage were heard throughout the world as the secrets of Angelique’s life were revealed in stark black and white. Much of their wrath was directed at Edwina and Morris Davidson. The Davidsons were so despised and threatened that they disappeared into a self-imposed exile.
Demands for press interviews and personal appearances increased for Angelique. Though she knew facing her public was inevitable, she remained hesitant. Telling her story on paper was one thing. Standing alone in the spotlight before an audience of thousands was different because she had her music. Answering questions before a camera, she had only herself and her words. She had never spoken in public before. She wondered if her words would be as accepted as her song.
Brain, released from prison, advised her that if she really wanted to create a new life, she had to appeal to the public. She had to create a new image and expand her reputations. After the Our World story, a television appearance would be the most important move in her career and in her life, a new life devoid of the Davidsons.
She reluctantly accepted his advice. He was, after all, the only person she could trust. She wasn’t even sure if she could trust herself. For the first time in her life, she was in control. The power and independence she had sought for so long was intimidating and frightening. There were so many professionals offering their management, financial, promotional skills. So many people wanted a piece of her and her fame. Fending them off had become a second career. The only personnel on her payroll were bodyguards, only this time they were protecting not hindering her. Requests for performances and special appearances were flooding in. She needed time to reassess her career and make plans. She needed time alone.
So as a favor to Brian she agreed to grant her first live television interview to Stacey Adams at WKNBC in New York City.
Stacey sat poised in her upholstered chair like a queen on a throne. She was at home in the studio, in complete control.
Angelique sat across from Stacey, fidgeting. She kept taking deep breaths in hope of calming her rattled nerves and pulsing heart. The heat from the overhead lights was incubating. She was clammy and prayed that she wouldn’t faint on camera. The countdown began. Following Stacey’s lead, Angelique straightened up at attention and focused on the camera. When the camera’s red light blinked on, Stacey addressed the camera in her bubbly anchorwoman style.
“Good evening, I’m Stacey Adams. Welcome to a WKNBC exclusive live interview. Tonight’s special guest is the renowned Angelique.”
“Since the age of fourteen she has mesmerized audiences around the world with her magical voice. The stage has been her public domain, her private life a mystery. Much of that mystique has been revealed in a recent issue of Our World magazine. That was on paper. Tonight, Angelique will be telling her story in person, in her own words.” She turned to face Angelique. “Thank you for agreeing to this interview. I appreciate your granting WKNBC an exclusive.”
“Thank you for the opportunity to finally speak about my career and my life,” she said.
After the first few questions, Angelique almost forgot about the camera. She warmed up to Stacey’s pointed questions because of the woman’s friendly demeanor and professional ease. They could have just as well been speaking in a coffee shop or in a living room, so she answered in an honest, articulate manner.
When they got to the deeply personal questions, it was quite another matter.
Discussing her childhood at the abbey and life with the Davidsons wasn’t easy. Opening up old wounds and baring her soul to an audience of strangers was like removing her clothes in public. The catch in her throat and the streaming tears were genuine.
Still Stacey continued, “You were aided in your escape from the Davidsons by Brian Andrews of Our World magazine. Since Brian . . . er, Mr. Andrews, played such an integral part in your escape and in the release of your story, we invited him to participate in tonight’s interview. I’d like to introduce Mr. Brian Andrews.”
Brian appeared from the footlights and sauntered on to the set. He hadn’t informed her of his participating in the interview. She stared, wide-eyed as he slunk his lean athletic frame in a chair next to hers. In his trademark khaki pants and safari jacket, the felt fedora tilted on his head, he was the confident adventurer. He removed the hat and set it on the coffee table in front of the chairs. He flashed a bright smile at Angelique, his eyes glistening. Angelique wasn’t amused. She suddenly felt set up and wondered if something was still going on between Brian and Stacey.
“Um . . . Mr. Andrews, Can you discuss your assignment and how you happened to aid in Angelique’s escape?” Stacey asked.
“Sure, I’d be glad to,” he began, winking at their host.
Brian turned to the camera and discussed his assignment, his research and travel, and his help in freeing Angelique. When asked about life at the cottage he avoided any hint of romance.
• • •
Brian turned to smile at Angelique. He wanted to lend his support. He longed to grab her hand, to glory in the warmth and gentleness of her touch. He wanted to assure her, to let her know he was there for her. That’s why he agreed to appea
r on the show. She looked ravishing. Since her freedom, Angelique had attained a sophisticated and polished aura. Her inner beauty had been matched by her outer beauty. Gone was the mysterious mythical creature in flowing white. In her place was a confident young woman of style and grace. He was awed by the transformation and proud to have played a part in it.
But soon Angelique would be embarking on a world tour and, after, a lengthy recording session. Her life would once more revolve around music and her fame. Sam had asked him to travel to the Moscow to do an exposé on life under President Putin. His life would be filled with adventure. Was the cottage just a fantasy brought on by uncertainty and fear, or was there more? Would he and Angelique become a couple, or was this the end?
“Is that right, Mr. Andrews?” Stacey asked.
“Huh?” He was startled out of his thoughts.
“Do you think the Davidsons had something to do with the explosion at the cottage?” Stacey repeated, arching her brows.
“I do know the authorities are still gathering evidence and are searching for the Davidsons and their associates.”
“Have you been totally cleared?” Stacey crossed her legs, her skirt hiking up. The move had no effect on him.
“I believe I have.”
Stacey addressed Angelique. “Are you pursuing litigation?”
“I have my attorneys pursuing a case against the Davidsons. They have, after all, embezzled my earnings.”
“Is that why you are going on another world tour?”
“I really miss my music and the public. This tour will be special because I will be in control and performing on my own terms.”
• • •
“We need to talk,” Brian told Angelique after the interview. The camera was off, the microphones removed and they had risen from their seats.
“You can use the green room,” Stacey added, standing nearby.
Brian smiled, “Thanks.”
Angelique’s gaze shifted from him to Stacey. She was curious to know what was going on. “Okay, I have a few minutes.”