The Farther I Fall

by Lisa Nicholas

  “Yeah, not him.”

  “What I’m trying to get through to you is that now is not a good time to get high,” she said.

  “Just tell me one more time, Gwen: Is there anything else you’re not telling me?”

  “This is not about me right now,” she said. Every instinct she had said to take the vial and flush its contents, but she couldn’t. He had to be the one, not her. “Me not telling you something you didn’t need to know is not the same thing as you carting around a vial of cocaine. Did you stop to think about what would happen if you got searched? Do you think anybody would believe you when you said you weren’t using it? Did you think about how many of us might lose their jobs—including me?”

  “No.” He sank down on the edge of the bed. Her mobile rang. Craig, probably—they were running late, but to hell with the schedule.

  “No, I’m sure you didn’t.” She handed him back the vial. “I’ve got to finish packing, and so do you. You do with that whatever you think you need to.” She wanted to do more. She wanted to rant and rave and threaten and give ultimatums—but none of that would help. Either he’d throw it away or he wouldn’t. The hardest thing she did was to turn away and go back to packing her things.

  ***

  The flight into San Francisco was two hours late, denting an already tight schedule. From the minute they stepped off the plane, Gwen started making calls, trying to get back on schedule. There was no time to go to the hotel, so they headed straight for the theater, sending their luggage on to the rooms with Sally. Lucas had been all but hovering at Gwen’s side all day, like a kicked dog. She knew this dance. He’d fucked up, he knew he had, and he wanted to get back on her good side. It would be all apologies until the next time. She tried not to let it show to anybody else that she was ready to kill him.

  The theater was one of the largest they’d played yet, the auditorium vast, the Art Deco interior badly in need of restoration. Lucas flung himself into one of the theater seats while Gwen, Craig, and Cathy went to work. With Sally at the hotel, the merch setup fell to Gwen. Lucas followed her to the lobby. Her eyes were already stinging with fatigue, and by the end of the night she knew she’d be just this side of falling over thanks to too many sleepless nights of worry.

  “Lucas, go take a nap or something. We’ll be fine.” Gwen hauled boxes onto the table and started opening them. “When Sally gets back she can run you back over to the hotel.” He’d be alone, but at least he’d be behind a locked door.

  “I can help here.” He frowned when Gwen laughed at him.

  “No, you can’t. Come on, you need the energy for tonight.” He looked as drawn as she felt. “At least one of us should be alert.”

  “Fine.” He went back into the theater, and she bit back a grimace at how much he’d sounded like a cranky toddler.

  Hours later, after the show, Gwen stood in her now-customary place behind Lucas as he signed autographs and posed for photos. It was a grabby crowd. So far she’d stepped in to pry two teen girls off Lucas, plus one boy who’d managed to grab him by the shoulders and kiss him. It was getting old, fast.

  Finally the crowd thinned, and Gwen and Lucas left the lobby. “Oh, hang on,” she said. She ducked into the manager’s office. “Jeff! Hey, how did we do tonight?”

  Jeff, a tall, bear-like man, looked at her oddly. “Huh?”

  “The receipts?”

  “One of your people picked them up already,” he said. “Did well, though!”

  Gwen frowned. Had she asked Craig to take care of it? She rubbed at her forehead, trying to remember. She had in Seattle, but not in Portland … Shit. “Er, great. Thanks.” They shook hands, and she went back with Lucas to the green room.

  When they got there, she went over and thumped Craig on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking care of the money for me. I forgot I asked.”

  “You didn’t.” Craig handed her a beer.

  “Oh. Well definitely thanks then,” she said, and clinked her bottle to his. The look on his face made her pause. “What?”

  “Gwen, I didn’t pick anything up.”

  “But I just saw Jeff, and he said—” She turned to the rest of the room. Lucas had been with her, and couldn’t have been bothered to go to the office at any rate. Sally was over on the love seat with Cathy, and Gwen hurried over to them. She crouched and kept her voice low. “Sally, you didn’t pick up the take tonight, did you?”

  “God no, why would I do that?” Sally said. “Not my job.”

  Gwen’s pulse started beating in her temples. “Cathy?” Cathy shook her head.

  She fought to keep from running to the office. “Hey again.” She managed a smile. “So … I’ve just checked with my lot, and none of them came by. You’re sure someone was here?”

  Jeff frowned. “Let me check the receipt book …” He flipped it open. “See, right here—” His finger paused on the entry. “Gwen Tennison signed for it. Wait, that’s you, isn’t it?”

  She wondered just how sleep deprived she was. Not only was it her name, it was her signature. “But I didn’t—” She pointed at the initials at the bottom. “Who is E.J.?”

  “Edgar Jackson, he’s the owner. He was covering for me earlier.”

  “Is he still here?” She forced her voice to remain even, calm.

  “Probably in the bar.” Jeff was starting to look worried. “Listen, are you sure you didn’t—I mean—” The look Gwen leveled at him stopped him mid-sentence. “Right.”

  “I’ll check the bar.”

  Lucas was in the lobby waiting for her. “Gwen, what’s wrong?”

  She tightened her mouth. “The money’s gone.”

  “What?”

  “Tonight’s take. It’s gone. Whoever did it did a damn good job signing my name too.” She crossed the lobby to the bar, where she found a small, weaselly man smoking a cigarette and flirting with the bartender, who was in the middle of shutting down for the night. Gwen smiled. “Mr. Jackson?” He turned, irritated. She extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Gwen Tennison, the tour manager. I don’t believe we’ve met yet.”

  Jackson’s face tightened, then fell. “Tennison. But you’re not—”

  “No,” she said. “I’m not.”

  “Fuck.”

  “What did she look like, the woman who said she was me?”

  Jackson actually looked nervous. “She, uh, I don’t know, she had ID with your name. I wasn’t really paying that much attention. I thought I’d seen her around all night with your crew, so I just assumed …”

  “Thanks,” Gwen said.

  “We can stop payment on the check for the door take,” Jackson said. “I can issue another one. The bar though …”

  “Cash,” Gwen said.

  Jackson nodded. “About five thousand, if I remember.”

  She rubbed the bridge of her nose against the incipient headache. “And you don’t remember what the woman looked like. You just handed her five thousand dollars, and you can’t give me so much as her hair color?”

  “Blond. Like yours,” he said. “Cut short. She sounded a lot like you.”

  Something cold wrapped around her heart. “She sounded British?”

  Jackson nodded.

  “I—I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll be in the office,” Jackson said to Gwen’s back as she left the bar. Lucas trailed in her wake.

  She pulled Craig out of the green room. “Craig, how screwed are we?”

  “What? What’s going on?”

  “The money’s missing. Someone signed for it with my name and the dolt of an owner handed it over to her.” She ran her hand over her hair. “How screwed are we with this?”

  Craig sucked in air through his teeth. “How much are we talking?”

  She could feel Lucas hovering behind her, could feel his hand at the small of her back. “Jackson says he’ll reissue the check for the door. I’m assuming Sally still has the merch money. So we’re looking at the bar take. Five thousand in cash.”

  “Christ,�
� Craig said. “We’ve gotta find it.”

  “That bad?”

  “… I don’t know if they could fire you fast enough.”

  ***

  “Gwen! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow. Aren’t you supposed to be asleep right now?”

  Gwen and Lucas were in their hotel room, waiting for the police to arrive. Lucas was packing for the next tour stop, and Gwen couldn’t stop pacing.

  “We, ah, had another incident tonight.” She had thought this conversation out completely, starting with how she’d convince Sam not to sack her on the spot.

  “Oh God. Is everyone all right?”

  “We’re fine,” Gwen said. “We’re all fine. It wasn’t like that.”

  “What happened?”

  “Sam … There’s been a miscommunication.” Gwen licked her lips and glanced at Lucas, who had stopped packing and was watching her steadily.

  “Gwen, you’re freaking me out. Just tell me.”

  “Someone stole the money from tonight’s show.” She took a deep breath and plunged on before Sam could respond. “The merch money is fine. And the theater owner says he’ll reissue the check for the bulk of it, but … our part of the bar take is gone. The police are on their way. We’ve got a few ideas of our own too. We’ll get it back. We just need … time.”

  There was silence for a long moment—long enough that Gwen fought the urge to squirm.

  “Christ,” Sam said. “How bad? How much did we lose?”

  “… Just over five thousand dollars.”

  Sam whistled. “Ah, Gwen. I can’t cover that up.”

  “I know. I’d never ask you to.”

  “We’ve sacked tour managers for less,” she said.

  “I know. I’ve heard.”

  Sam was quiet again. “I’m going to ask you this, and I want you to think before you answer.”

  Gwen frowned. “Okay …”

  “I know you’ve been keeping Lucas on a pretty close watch. How close—well, we’ve heard a few rumors seeping out. Which is fine, honestly. I’m not surprised if they’re true. You’re my sister and I love you. But I have to ask: is there any chance he’s slipping? I mean, he let us cut his per diem to next to nothing, he froze his accounts; he’s deliberately short on cash this trip. Is there any chance, any at all, that he’s desperate enough to—”

  “What? No! No, of course not.” Gwen refused to look at Lucas, instead chewing her bottom lip. “No, there are witnesses.”

  Sam sighed. “How much time do you need?”

  “A day or two?” Gwen said.

  “I can give you twenty-four hours, then I have to tell my boss. I’m sorry, Gwen, but if it’s not back by then …”

  “I know. I’m sorry. I hope none of this comes back to bite you.” And that was the hell of it, really: this didn’t just affect Gwen. Who knew what it might do to Sam’s career?

  “Me too,” Sam said. “Call me tomorrow. Let me know what’s going on.” She rang off, leaving Gwen looking at her phone.

  “She thinks I took it, doesn’t she?” Lucas was folding a pair of jeans for his suitcase.

  “What? No.”

  “That’s the same thing you just said to her,” Lucas said, one corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re a horrible liar.”

  “Well, you didn’t take it. I know that much, unless you’ve got someone else who looks like me working for you.” A small cynical part of her brain wondered if he could—an eager-to-please groupie, a dealer looking for some easy money. She’d have said he wasn’t away from her long enough to manage it, but that was before finding the vial that morning.

  “I don’t blame her for not trusting me,” he said. He was smiling, but there was an edge to it. “She knew me then, Gwen.”

  And I know you now. I think. “Hey.” Gwen tossed her mobile onto the bed and went to him, putting her arms around his waist. “I’ll ask just the once: was it you?” Lucas was tense at first, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around Gwen in return.

  “No.” They were quiet, breathing together. “I threw out the vial. I’m sorry, Gwen, I—”

  “Shh. We’ll talk about it later.” He probably had, in a fit of guilt. It was the sort of thing Sam would have done. It didn’t make things all better, but made them good enough for now.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Believing me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead in a gesture so uncharacteristic that Gwen frowned. “I love you,” Lucas said.

  “You all right?”

  He chuckled. “I believe the usual response is ‘I love you too.’”

  “Lucas.”

  He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “This is just—what the hell is this anyway?”

  “It could be her,” she said. “By taking the money, she can cast suspicion on all of us—”

  “You and I, mostly.”

  “—if she wants, or she can make sure I get fired and sent back to Britain.”

  “So we find her and get the money back.”

  “If it was her. I don’t know if it will be that easy,” she said.

  “We need to figure out what her endgame is,” Lucas said.

  “You know what her endgame is, Lucas. It’s you.”

  ***

  Gwen was well and truly tired of being questioned by American police. They were unfailingly polite, of course, and efficient, but she couldn’t miss where their interest lay. She was the very first person they spoke to once they asked everyone to come down to the police station. She was grateful she’d had the presence of mind to tuck the Sig away into one of the equipment cases before they’d arrived on the scene. Legal or no, it would have been a pain to try and explain it.

  “Are you sure you didn’t sign for the money and then forget?” That was the older of the two, a tough-looking middle-aged woman with pale brown skin and eyes.

  “I’m sure,” Gwen said. “Jackson told you it wasn’t me.”

  “Mistakes happen. I’m sure if the money were to reappear, there’d be no questions asked.”

  “Believe me, I would be thrilled if it did,” she said. “Look, we’ve told you who probably has the money. We’ve had an issue for the entire tour with a stalker following Mr. Wheeler. That has to be who it is.”

  “We’ve seen the notes,” the detective said. “Mr. Wheeler let us make copies. The two of you seem close.”

  Gwen fought to keep from rolling her eyes. She just had to think of this as a grilling from a superior officer, keep her cool, and get out of here. “He’s my boyfriend.” She couldn’t say it without a skip in her heartbeat.

  “He’s got an interesting history. Several arrests, a few stints in rehab …”

  “Yes, I’m aware,” Gwen said.

  “Five thousand dollars … that’d buy an awful lot of cocaine.” The detective was watching her closely. “Maybe the two of you planned a little party?”

  Gwen smiled through gritted teeth. “I don’t use drugs. You’re welcome to test me. I’m sure Mr. Wheeler would say the same.”

  “Oh, we will.”

  There was a knock at the door. The detective stepped out to talk to whoever it was, and Gwen waited. God, she was so tired, she was ready to crawl into bed next to Lucas and sleep.

  When the detective returned, she looked smug. “We found the bank bag.”

  Gwen sat up. “And the money?”

  “No, but you knew that. The bag was in yours and Mr. Wheeler’s hotel room. We’re checking it for prints, but I already know what we’ll find.”

  “But I didn’t sign for the money, you know I didn’t!”

  The door opened and two uniformed officers came in. “Ms. Tennison, I need you to stand up please.”

  When she did, the uniformed officers came over and started handcuffing her.

  “Gwen Tennison, you’re under arrest for embezzlement and grand theft—”

  “What?”

  “—you have the right to remain silent. Anything you
say can and will be used against you in a court of law …”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The five of them were gathered around the tiny table in the coffee shop next to the hotel, everyone clutching paper cups of caffeinated liquid of some variety. Lucas slumped in his chair, exhausted to the point that his muscles were trembling. Watching Gwen being led past him in handcuffs had been a nightmare. Her back had been straight, her head held high.

  “Craig, call Sam,” she’d said. “Tell her to call the British Consulate.” Then she’d looked at Lucas and given him a smile. “We’ll sort this. In the meantime, don’t go anywhere alone.”

  He rubbed his forehead and swallowed more coffee. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so useless. God help him, he was regretting that he’d thrown out the coke after Gwen found it. His phone was heavy in his pocket with the knowledge that one phone call was all it would take to replace it.

  “What are we going to do?” Cathy leaned against Craig as she spoke, and he slipped an arm around her. “We can’t leave her here.”

  “We have to,” said Sally, looking grim.

  “But she didn’t do it!”

  “The police said they found the bank bag with her fingerprints on it,” Craig said. “That’s enough for them to hold her.”

  “I don’t understand,” Lucas said. “The owner told them Gwen wasn’t the one who signed for it.”

  Craig sighed. “I know. They think that she, or you, or both, had an accomplice. We’re lucky they didn’t arrest you too.” He gave Lucas an apologetic look. “I talked to Sam first thing this morning. She’s going to do what she can to take care of Gwen, but we have to go on with the tour.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Cathy said. “Why would the stalker do something like this? I mean, wouldn’t she want to keep on Lucas’s good side?”

  “She thinks she’s doing me a favor,” Lucas said. “As far as she’s concerned, Gwen’s a liability, and she’s just set me free.” It was ironic, considering that Gwen made him feel not only free, but himself again.

  “There has to be something we can do,” said Cathy, sitting up. “Can’t we—I don’t know—take up a collection for bail money? Something? I have a little bit saved, I could—”