“There was one at the gate,” I said. “But it’s not working at the moment. My Dad said he’d get it fixed a while ago, but I think he forgot.”
“Well, you need to remind him to get right on that,” one of them said. “We’re going to have another look around outside, and then we’ll check the road again. We did notice some fresh oil stains outside your property when we pulled up. If the intruder parked there before sneaking in, then it could have been his car leaking oil.”
“Oh. Okay. Will that help?”
“It might. We’ll let you know. For now, I think you’re okay. Whoever was here seems to have left. Just keep all the doors locked and call us again if you suspect they’ve returned.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I was too freaked out to sleep after that, and Dad and Julia came home an hour later to find me lying in the lounge room watching a movie.
“Princess, why are you up so late?” Dad asked.
I filled him in on what had happened, and his forehead creased into a frown.
“Oh, dammit to hell. I really should’ve had that camera replaced. It keeps slipping my mind. I’ll have Penelope make some calls tomorrow when she arrives.”
“Are you all right, hon?” Julia asked, squeezing my shoulder.
“Uh-huh. Just a bit freaked out.”
“Sleep in one of the spare rooms tonight,” Dad said. “You can take the one across from Patrick’s room. Tomorrow, we should think about moving your stuff in from the guesthouse. I think it’s probably safer for you in here than out there.”
“Okay.”
Somehow the thought of being so close to Patrick’s room made me feel a lot safer, even though he wasn’t here. I trudged upstairs to the spare room and fell into bed, exhausted from the busy day and night. When sleep finally claimed me, my last thought was of how I wished I could be across the hall, safe in Patrick’s arms when he returned.
It was too bad I couldn’t be.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LUCY
“You sure you’re okay to go out?”
Patrick looked at me in the mirror as he smoothed down the dark fabric of his suit jacket, and I smiled. “Hell yes. I need to get out and about after last night.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he said, eyes filled with concern.
“Not your fault. You had to do that interview. Besides, nothing happened. It was probably just some random prowler looking for a place to break into, and he left when he realized he couldn’t get into the house without tripping the alarms.”
“Hmm, I dunno. Didn’t you say you thought you heard someone sneaking around in the yard a few weeks ago too?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know if that was the same person. I only heard weird sounds that time, so it could have been an animal.”
He turned away from the mirror. “I’m just worried that it’s somehow linked to those weird messages I’ve been getting.”
“Have you gotten any more lately?” I asked.
“Not in a week or so. The last one she sent me sounded kinda threatening, but yeah…nothing since then.”
“Maybe we should talk to the police about it tomorrow just in case.”
“Yeah, good call. But for tonight, let’s just try to have fun.”
Claire had invited us to a fashion industry party, and I’d deemed it appropriate for Patrick to be seen at without doing anything negative to his newfound family-friendly hero reputation. It was a formal event hosted in a hotel ballroom, so everyone would be well-dressed and hopefully well-mannered. It certainly wouldn’t be the hedonistic club sort of party that Patrick had grown used to in his earlier days.
He was wearing a perfectly-tailored black suit which made him look more like a billionaire business magnate than a former bad boy actor, and I was wearing a long black and white gown I’d picked up at a boutique sale a while ago. I’d always wanted a chance to wear a long gown, so I’d bought it, and I was excited to finally have an appropriate event to wear it to.
It was a cold night outside, so I wore a black jacket over the top of my dress, and Patrick did the same. We arrived at the hotel half an hour later, and Claire met us in the lobby.
“Hey, guys! Coat check is over there,” she said, pointing across the room. “I need to put my coat in too.”
We checked our jackets and then followed Claire into the party. The ballroom had been set up in an elegant black and white theme, and Claire grinned as she looked me up and down.
“You totally match the room!” she said. “Where’d you get that dress? I love it.”
“At that boutique we went to over in Malibu a while ago. Remember?”
She frowned as she thought it over. “Oh, right, I remember now. Anyway, I just have to go and say hi to a bunch of people. You guys have a glass of champagne and mingle. I’ll be back soon!”
She kissed me on the cheek before disappearing in a flurry of silk and chiffon, and Patrick smirked as he surveyed the crowd of beautiful fashionistas and industry workers.
“This is definitely not my usual scene,” he said.
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Oh, please. This place is wall-to-wall models. If this isn’t your usual scene, then I think I’m in Opposite World.”
He leaned in close. “You’re way hotter than any of these chicks, models or not.”
“Patrick,” I said, pushing him away with a giggle. “We can’t be too close tonight. We’re in public! And there’s about a billion photographers here.”
He sighed. “I know, I know. Anyway, let’s grab a drink.”
We said hi to a few people we recognized and then took up a spot at a table near the edge of the room, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a familiar famous face. Ugh. It was the Estonian model who’d stolen Claire’s boyfriend a couple of months ago. I recognized her from when Claire had agonized and obsessed over the situation for a couple of weeks, constantly sending me photos of her and asking what the other girl had that she didn’t. Nothing, that’s what. Claire’s ex was a douche, and Miss Estonia was a bitch who thought she was God’s gift to men.
She spotted Patrick and began to slink towards us, and my stomach plummeted as I took in her outfit. She was wearing a plunging, barely-there tight white dress, and I suddenly felt chubby and dowdy in comparison.
“Patrick Archer, yes?” she purred, sidling up to Patrick and fluttering her eyelashes. “I love your shows. I’d love to talk with you about them somewhere more private…”
She obviously thought her Eastern European accent and doe eyes made her charming and completely irresistible, but she got a nasty surprise when Patrick simply affected a bored expression and gave her a polite smile.
“Thanks. Always nice to hear positive feedback from fans,” he said, raising his glass to her and then turning his head away.
She wasn’t giving up that fast. She leaned in and murmured in his ear, but I was close enough to hear what she was saying.
“I’m not wearing any panties,” she said before cocking an eyebrow and waiting for his reaction.
Holy crap. This girl was only seventeen? She looked and sounded like a twenty-seven year old seductress. Patrick looked uncomfortable and jerked away from her.
“Sorry, but I’m actually here with someone,” he said, flashing me a helpless look. Judging by the expression in his eyes, he wanted to tell her to fuck off, but he had to put on a nice front while he was in public.
She looked over and shot me a filthy look before affecting a simpering smile at Patrick again. “But this is just your sister, yes?”
Over her shoulder, I could see Claire making a beeline for us. She’d obviously spotted the Estonian girl talking to us, and judging by the look on her face, she’d had enough of dealing with her crap.
I caught her eye and smiled, and she grinned back at me before ‘accidentally’ tripping and spilling a glass of red wine all over the Estonian girl’s white dress.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said. “Maybe stuff like this wouldn’t happen if you didn�
��t run around trying to steal other people’s men.”
I suppressed a giggle. It was bitchy, but after the pain this girl had caused Claire, I couldn’t say it was entirely undeserved. She scowled and stormed away, and Claire joined us at the table.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I was probably a little mean.”
“I don’t blame you,” I said. “I wonder if your ex-boyfriend knows she’s trying to cheat on him with guys at parties. Or did they break up already?”
She shrugged. “Who knows? He’s not my problem anymore.”
“Well, thanks for getting rid of her,” Patrick said. “I thought I was going to have to break out the pepper spray.”
“Oh, I would’ve loved to see that,” Claire replied, raising her glass. “Cheers, guys. Thanks for coming tonight.”
We chatted for a while, and then a commotion broke out towards the entrance of the ballroom. I craned my neck to see what was going on, and I saw several police officers heading over to us with a dog. What in the hell…?
They speedily approached us, and Claire and I exchanged confused glances as they held up Patrick’s jacket from the coat room.
“Is this yours, Mr. Archer?” one of them asked, his eyes narrowed.
Patrick looked bewildered. “Yes. Why?”
“We received an anonymous tip that you were bringing illegal substances in here tonight. We brought in a sniffer dog, and well…look what we found in your jacket pocket.”
The officer pulled out a clear plastic Ziploc bag, which contained several light purple and red pills. Patrick looked like a deer caught in the headlights all of a sudden, and he held a hand up.
“Those aren’t mine. I don’t even know what the hell that is.”
“Oh, really? I think you kids these days are calling it molly. Mr. Archer, you’re going to have to come with us.”
This was bullshit. There was no way the drugs belonged to Patrick. I spent enough time with him to know that for sure, and while he used to have a reputation for excessive drinking and partying, I knew he had never gotten into hard drugs. Suddenly I remembered that Patrick’s creepy stalker had sent him a vaguely threatening message a while ago, saying ‘you’ll see…’ when he asked if she was threatening him. I was willing to bet a million dollars that she had followed us in here tonight and planted the drugs in his jacket as her insane act of revenge for him blocking her. Whoever she was, she really was batshit crazy.
Goose bumps prickled on my skin as I realized she would have had to be right near the three of us when we all checked our coats. Otherwise she wouldn’t have known which jacket to pick. Crap, she’d been right next to us, and we’d never even suspected.
Patrick shot me a helpless glance, and I jumped to my feet as the police officers tried to drag him away. It was now or never.
“Wait!” I said. “The pills are mine!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PATRICK
What the fuck? What the hell was Lucy doing? They definitely weren’t my drugs, but I knew they weren’t hers either.
“They’re mine,” Lucy repeated. “I put them in his pocket because the pockets on my coat weren’t big enough.”
Claire gasped, and the officers regarded Lucy with suspicion. “They’re yours?”
“Yes,” she said. “Patrick had no idea I put them in there. It’s not his fault.”
I stared at her, eyes wide. “Lucy, you don’t have to do this,” I muttered.
“Yes, I do,” she replied in a low voice so that no one else could hear. “You’ve saved my ass twice before, so now it’s my turn. I know you didn’t do this, and if those photographers get a picture of you walking out of here in cuffs, you can say goodbye to your gig on Six Angels.”
“Miss?” the officer said, still looking unsure. I wasn’t surprised. Lucy didn’t look like a pill-popping party-addict type of girl. “You’re definitely admitting that these are yours?”
She nodded. “Uh-huh. They’re mine. A friend gave them to me.”
“Well, you’re going to have to come with us,” the officer said, grabbing her arm. “We’re taking you in on possession.”
She looked back at me as they pulled her away, and I called out after her. “Don’t worry! I’ll sort this out!”
Fuck, I couldn’t believe she was doing this. I’d done a few good things for her recently, but I’d never expected her to return the favor in any major way. I’d totally fucking owed her after what I did to her in school, and I couldn’t understand why she’d throw herself under the bus like this…all for me. I mean, I would’ve done the same for her, but I never expected her to do something like this for me.
She was unbelievable.
I turned to Claire, whose face had turned white. “What should we do?” she said. “We both know they weren’t hers.”
“I know. I’ll call her Dad. He’ll be able to help sort this out.”
Her eyes suddenly narrowed with suspicion. “Why is she taking the rap for you?” she asked, hands on her hips.
I sighed. “Because she thinks she owes me after what I’ve done for her lately, and she knows the drugs aren’t mine.”
Claire’s face softened. “Oh. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed. I think you’re right; you should call her Dad. God, he’s gonna be so pissed.”
I gritted my teeth. “Yeah, I know. Wanna come with me? We can head down to the station and meet her Dad there.”
“Of course. This party blows anyway.”
I called Ron from the car, and as I predicted, he totally blew up. “She what? Where are they taking her? Fuck!”
I’d literally never heard Ron swear before, and my heart raced as I followed the police cruiser to the nearest station. Claire turned to me as I drove.
“If they aren’t your drugs, then whose are they?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Someone tried to set me up.”
“Who would do that?”
“Again, I don’t know. I’ve had this crazy chick stalking me for a while, just sending me weird messages. The other week she kinda threatened me when I told her to fuck off, and I think she followed us here tonight and planted the pills in my pocket. I also think it’s her who’s been sneaking around our yard at night, trying to get in the house.”
“Shit. How do you know it’s a girl?” she asked.
“I don’t know for sure, but she’s sent me pictures of lingerie and other girly shit. I just have no fucking clue why any chick would be so hell-bent on screwing with me. I know I have a lot of crazy fans, but this is some next level shit.”
Claire frowned in thought and then spoke up again. “Wait a minute. What if it’s actually a guy? He could easily have been sending you pictures of girly things to throw you off and make you think it’s a girl. That way you’d never suspect who it really is.”
I mulled it over. Shit, she was right. This whole time I’d been looking at every chick I knew and wondering if it was them, but it could very well have been a man sending me the snaps. I’d pissed off a lot of guys in my time, so it wouldn’t surprise me if one of them was doing all this just to fuck with me.
“We’ll worry about that later,” I finally replied. “Right now we need to sort this shit out for Lucy.”
We got to the station before Ron did, and a detective approached me when he saw me standing in the lobby several minutes later.
“Mr. Archer, I’m glad you’re here. We were about to go and track you down. We’d like to have a word with you.”
“Okay.”
He gave me a long look before replying. “We’ve just been talking to your stepsister, and it’s very clear to us that she’s lying. She doesn’t know the first thing about drugs. That much is obvious. Which begs the question, who is she protecting?”
“Look, she’s trying to protect me,” I said. “But it’s not what you think.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, hauling me into an interview room. I didn’t even bother struggling against him. “You’re both in a lot of tro
uble.”
He sat down across from me with another detective and pulled out a recording device and a notepad. “Please state your name for the record.”
“Patrick Archer.”
“Patrick, how did you come into possession of these narcotics?”
“I didn’t,” I said with an exasperated sigh. “You’ve gotta listen to me; I’m being set up.”
He and his partner rolled their eyes.
“Do you have any idea how many two-bit actors we pull in here on possession charges who try to claim that exact same story?”
I let the ‘two-bit actor’ comment slide and held my hands up. “I know it sounds like some clichéd bullshit. But I’m serious. Someone has been sending me weird messages and possibly trying to break into my house for a few weeks now. She or he even sent me a vague threat the other week. I think this is their idea of carrying through with that threat.”
One of the detectives leaned forward. “Can you prove any of this?”
“Yes. Look up the records or whatever it is you have. My stepsister called the police last night when someone tried to break in. I’m pretty sure it’s the same person who’s been messaging me.”
He nodded and spoke to the other detective in hushed tones, and she got up and left the room. We sat in silence until she returned, and she confirmed my story.
“He’s not lying. We sent out a car last night to check up on the house. They didn’t find anything other than some oil stains near the driveway from whomever had tried to get in.”
“Well, that still doesn’t prove anything about the drugs,” the male detective said.
“They’re not mine! You can test my blood, piss or hair. All you’ll find is that I’ve never taken anything!” I replied.
A moment later, Ron came bursting into the room with a man I assumed was his lawyer. “Patrick, don’t you dare say another word,” he said, his face like thunder. “Detectives, I’d like to have a word with you and my attorney outside, please.”
I was left sitting in the interview room for half an hour, and Ron finally returned.
“Let’s go,” he hissed, his face stony.
“What, they’re letting me go?”
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