by Janie Crouch
“Okay.”
Shane glanced over his shoulder where Chloe was leaned up against one of the trees, eyes closed. The whirlwind he knew was not one to lay huddled against anything. “And paramedics.”
“No,” she whispered. “I’m okay. I just need a minute. I don’t have any injuries, I promise.”
She didn’t look injured, but she sure as hell didn’t seem okay, either.
“No paramedics needed. But get the team out here ASAP.”
“Got it, boss.”
Shane kept guard, alert and watchful, impervious to the rain except to wish he had a way to better shelter Chloe for the next few minutes until the rest of the security team arrived.
Within three minutes the first of the guards was out there. Within ten, the whole area was surrounded. By then it was clear the shooter had left, making his getaway while Shane stayed with Chloe.
Shane didn’t regret the choice.
He filled the team in on what had happened, and provided info on where the shot had come from and general vicinity of where Shane thought the bullet had probably hit. They spread out and began to look around, trying to destroy as little evidence as possible. Difficult in the dark and rain.
When he turned back to Chloe she was still lying against the tree. This definitely wasn’t right. “Chloe, I need you to tell me what’s really wrong.”
“I-I just used all my energy running out here from my trailer. I’m tired.” Her voice was weak. He put his fingers against her neck to take her pulse. Thready. Not the way it should be just from a sprint.
“I think you’re in shock.”
“I’m just tired.” She looked away as she said it. God damn it, she was still hiding stuff from him. Of course, the whole question of why she was out here to begin with and how she’d known there was danger still had to be answered.
Would be.
Kassler came rushing over to them. “Thomas found a shell casing,” he said. “From where it fell, the shooter had a pretty clear view of where you said you were standing. It’s a miracle you’re not dead right now.”
“Chloe did something.” He turned to her. “What did you do to distract him? Cause him to miss?”
She shrugged. “I tackled him.”
Shane’s curse was low and vile. “Let me make sure I understand. There was a guy with a rifle and you decided to just tackle him? Why didn’t you warn me instead?”
She shrugged again. “You were too far away. It wasn’t like I had time to sit down and make a pro and con list. I was just trying to stop the guy from killing you.”
Her smartass comment made him feel a little better about her condition. “Did you get a look at him?”
“No. He was wearing a mask.”
That just furthered Shane’s theory that the stalker was part of the cast or crew. “Kassler, we need a list of anyone who chose to stay local during the break. Anyone. And this area is officially a crime scene. Attempted murder. The sheriff needs to process it as such.”
Shane turned to Chloe. “Unless you plan on trying to talk him into filing this as an accident also.”
He felt a little bad about harassing her when she looked so weak sitting against the tree. He felt less so when she stuck her middle finger up at him.
But she still didn’t open her eyes.
He turned back to Kassler, “I’m taking her home. To my house in town. If you need me, call me there. Tell the sheriff we’ll give a statement tomorrow. That Chloe needs to rest tonight. Try to have everyone be as careful as possible.” Most of the evidence would’ve already been destroyed by nature or the team, but maybe not all.
Kassler began directing the other team members. Shane returned to where Chloe still sat against the tree. It was time, way beyond it, for her to tell him exactly what was going on. He crouched down beside her, and gently tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes remained closed.
“You ready to go? We need to get you out of this rain. There’s nothing more either of us can do now.”
“Okay. I just need a few more minutes to rest. I guess I’m more out of shape than I thought. The running…you know?”
“You guess that, huh?” It was such bullshit. “You know what I guess? I guess there’s something wrong with you that you’ve been hiding from me and damn near everyone for weeks, and probably a lot longer. I guess that you couldn’t get up and walk back to your trailer right now even if your life depended on it. How am I doing so far?”
She opened her eyes long enough to turn a death glare at him before shutting them again.
“Give me the evil eye all you want. It doesn’t change the fact that you don’t have the strength to walk out of here. And it has nothing to do with physical injuries.”
“I should’ve fought harder to have you fired at the very beginning,” she muttered.
He chuckled. She was frustrated with her own body’s limitations and angry at him for noticing. People noticed a lot of things about Chloe, but her limitations weren’t one of them. “Too late to get me fired now, shortstop.”
He reached an arm under her knees and another around her back. Before she could find the words to protest – and he knew she would – he had her up in his arms and was walking back towards the trailers.
“Westman, put me down,” she hissed.
“It’s either me or we call a paramedic and wait for a stretcher. Because I’m damn well not letting you lay out there for hours in the rain until you get enough strength to walk back to the trailers. I know you’re used to bossing or charming everyone into giving you your own way, but not this time.”
“Whatever. It’s your hernia.”
“You are no heavier than the last time I carried you.”
Those whiskey eyes glared at him again. Damned if it wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. “When have you ever carried me?”
At least their argument was putting a little color back into her cheeks. “A couple weeks ago. You fell asleep on your desk, face on top of your stapler, so I carried you to the couch.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“That was because you had once again worked yourself into a near-coma state. But that’s not it, is it? Everybody thinks it’s work that keeps you exhausted, but there’s something else happening, isn’t there?”
She didn’t respond. Didn’t fight. That was almost scarier than anything that sharp little tongue could say. Instead, she just pressed her cheek closer to his shoulder. Not unlike what she’d done in her sleep when he carried her.
They traveled in silence. Shane walked all the way to the trailers and put her in his car.
He was taking her to his house and getting what he’d wanted from the first day he met her: the truth.
Chapter Thirteen
Her strength was returning. She could feel it. Concentrating on the shooter had completely depleted her physically, but it hadn’t damaged her the way Conversation Hearts blasting his sicko emotions into her mind did.
If Shane had just given her another hour she would’ve been able to walk back on her own. Of course, explaining to the rest of the security team why she was just sitting for an hour in the rain would’ve been difficult. So maybe she shouldn’t be too pissed at him.
Not to mention he’d carried her half a mile without even breaking a sweat. Sure she wasn’t a sumo wrestler, but a hundred pounds could get heavy. Evidently not for invincible ex-Special Forces soldiers.
She watched as Shane came back out of her trailer, laptop and notebook in one hand, her overnight bag in the other. Evidently she wouldn’t be back for a few days. He didn’t say anything as he put the items in the back seat, then went into the security trailer, returning quickly.
Twenty minutes later they were pulling up to a house on the outskirts of Black Mountain. Small with an adorable wraparound porch. The plot of land it sat on was large, no other houses were visible. She could barely make out a small barn behind it.
“You live here?”
“Grew up
here, me and my grandmother. But I haven’t really lived here since I left for college then the Army.”
Chloe was strong enough now to make it out of the car on her own. She’d be damned if he was going to carry her over the threshold like some bride just because she was a little shaky.
He was around to her side of the car before she’d taken a few steps. “Can you make it?”
She glared at him. “Careful there, Avalanche. I write for a show where we regularly sit around thinking of how we can kill people. You don’t want to get on my bad side.”
He gave her a lopsided grin that did things to her girly parts she didn’t even know could happen with just a look. “Get even further on your bad side, you mean.”
“Yeah, that too.”
He grabbed the stuff from the backseat and led her to the house, holding a hand out in case she needed help up the stairs. She didn’t take it, but that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the consideration behind the offer. Or that he wasn’t offended by her determination to make it on her own.
Shane didn’t feel threatened by much. Not a lot shook him. Certainly not a woman’s strength or independence.
He unlocked the door and ushered her inside and straight to a couch.
“I know you’re feeling better, but sit for a minute, okay? Let me warm up some soup. And I’ll make coffee.”
“You’re being nice.”
“Forcing you to eat out of a can isn’t nice, but it gets calories in you. I’ll have to really cook for you another time.”
“You cook?”
“I’ve spent the past six months living in Europe, mostly Italy. So, yeah, I know some things.”
“Not me. I don’t cook at all. Thank God for the caterers on set. My house in L.A. has an entire kitchen drawer dedicated to takeout menus.”
“Speaking of, weren’t you supposed to be in Los Angeles?”
She tilted her head, holding his gaze. “Weren’t you supposed to be in the Hamptons with Alexandra?”
“I was invited. Someone else assumed I’d be going before pushing me out the door to get rid of me.” He left her and walked into the kitchen. She could hear him making the soup.
She’d pushed him for this very reason. Because she didn’t want to be in a situation where she had to answer questions that had no believable explanations. To put him in a position where he’d have to call her either a liar or crazy.
Chloe now understood why her sister, Paige, had been so terrified to tell the man she loved that she had been drawing dead women in her sleep. That her brain was connected to the man who had attacked her.
Because it was easier to carry that weight yourself than to see someone you cared about look at you differently. The way Shane was surely going to if Chloe explained the voices in her head.
Chloe searched for ways out of this. Ways to explain…everything. How she’d known the shooter was out there. How she’d known to look for the scuba diver in trouble in the water before anyone else. Why her body had been shutting down for the past few weeks.
She couldn’t.
Shane continued clanking around in the kitchen. Maybe she could make a run for it before he got back.
No, he would just chase her. She had to tell him. Or at least try.
He walked in holding a tray with two bowls of soup and mugs of coffee. He set it down on the coffee table and handed her a bowl.
They ate in silence for most of the simple meal.
“Honestly, I thought you might try to run away while I was making the soup.”
She met his eyes. “Honestly, I thought about it. I know you’re full of questions. I don’t know that I have logical answers for all of them.”
Shane took their soup bowls and put them on the tray, then handed her the mug of coffee.
It was full of cream and sugar just the way she liked it. The knowledge that he knew exactly how she liked it gave her the courage to continue.
“Have you ever heard of Occam’s razor?” she asked, clutching her cup and taking a sip of the brew.
“I’m not very familiar with the science behind it but it’s the concept that the simplest answer is usually correct, right?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“Yeah, well I’ve rarely found that to be true,” he said.
“Good. Because my entire life is in opposition to Occam’s razor.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “Just answer what you can, as best you can.”
“Where do you want to start?”
He studied her with those blue eyes for a long minute. She could feel him focusing. But where most people would be projecting whatever emotions they were feeling about this conversation – confusion, disgust, concern – all she could feel from him was coolness. Control.
“Let’s start with how you knew someone was going to be at the lake with a gun tonight.”
Well, that certainly brought them straight into the crux of the matter. As she looked into his eyes she wondered if this was the last moment he would be gazing at her without something negative tinging it.
“You know how most people joke about hearing voices in their head? Well, they are real for me. I’ve been able to hear other people’s thoughts my entire life.”
She had to give him credit. He listened.
Those blue eyes stayed focused on her as she told him, not everything, but enough to make anybody understand how weird her life was. No sarcastic comments, no judgments.
But questions. Definitely questions.
“The best way for me to explain it is that all the voices are like a river flowing through a narrow channel and I just flow along with it in my head.”
“Does it hurt? Bother you?”
Only when someone like Conversation Hearts blasted his emotions into her brain. But this talk was weird enough without bringing the truly Bizzaroville into it. “Not usually. It’s happened for as long as I can remember so most of the time I just ignore it, unless I want to try to use the voices for ideas for scenes or dialogue. Then it comes in pretty handy. Most of the time the stream moves along at a pretty brisk pace, but others it trickles to something less frantic. That’s always nice.”
“And sometimes it floods and roars through the channel.”
She nodded. “Yes, exactly. And that’s not so nice.”
“Is that what happened tonight? Why you were so exhausted? Because of so many in your head?”
He didn’t even stare at her like she was crazy as he asked.
“No, the opposite in fact. Almost by accident I heard a voice talking about the lake, evil, and finishing what it started. So I focused on it. That’s what exhausted me.”
“So picking out one voice is hard?”
“Yes. It’s like trying to stand still in the fast moving river. It’s always hard, exhausting. Sometimes it’s downright impossible. But tonight I knew the voice was talking about the set. And killing. And then…you. So I did what I could and thank goodness it was enough.”
He seemed to be processing it all. Studying her, but at least not looking at her like she was some sort of freak or liar. He took the final sip of his coffee before setting the cup on the table. She’d long since finished hers. And wished for something stronger.
“So, you seem pretty calm about all this,” she said. “Formulating an argument about why it can’t possibly be true?”
He raised an eyebrow, making his face with the five o’clock shadow look more boyish. Playful. But it couldn’t quite take away the aura of danger that lurked underneath. “Do I strike you as someone stupid enough to call you a liar?”
She couldn’t stop the smile that pulled at her lips. “Maybe not with that exact word. But I’m sure you could find a way to argue your point without actually saying it.”
“Is that what most people do when you tell them about this?”
She shrugged. “I don’t tell people anymore. Mostly I stopped when I was a kid once I figured out I couldn’t actually explain what was happening or prove it. But I tried a few year
s ago with a guy I thought might become important to me.”
“He didn’t believe you?”
“At that point I think he figured it was better to get out regardless. Either I was a liar, delusional, or would always be able to know what he was thinking. I guess none of those seemed liked good options, so he bailed. That was before the show became big. He contacted me a couple times after I became more well known, but I wasn’t interested in getting back together.”
“I’ll need to get his info from you. He might be someone we should look into.”
Amazing how Shane could compartmentalize. Here she was telling him what had to be some of the weirdest stuff ever, and he was still able to focus on what might be important to catch the stalker. “Okay. I do think Brandon is probably behind a lot of the rumors that got out to the gossip rags about me and my woo-wooness, but I don’t think he’d actually harm anyone.”
Shane nodded but she knew he’d still follow through on making sure Brandon was investigated.
“So you haven’t told anyone since him? Your creative team?”
“Nadine knows. But she and I don’t talk about it a whole lot. She kind of grew up with it like I did, so it’s always just been a part of our narrative.”
“And the others? Travis? Justin? Alexandra?”
“Alexandra? Hell, no. Although honestly, I don’t think she would care. She just wants us to create the best vehicle possible for her to shine from. If that involved sacrificing small goats in the full moon I don’t think she would mind.” Chloe shook her head. “The guys? No, I don’t talk about it, but honestly I think they’re both around because they heard rumors and were curious. But they do their jobs well, so I don’t care. I try to keep it to myself. It would make people nervous, at best. Or they’d want me to prove it.”
“Want you to do parlor tricks? ‘What number am I holding behind my back’ sort of thing?”