The Farther I Fall

by Lisa Nicholas

  Lucas reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “That’s sweet, but—”

  “She can’t leave the tour,” Cathy said. “We need her here. You’re so much nicer when you’re with her—um, I mean.”

  “I know I’m a jerk, Cathy, it’s all right.”

  Craig leaned back and tossed his empty cup into the trash. “The only thing any of us can do right now is our jobs. It sucks, but that’s show biz. Lucas, Gwen’s right about one thing—you need to stay with one of us. Now that she’s away for now, there’s no telling what this woman will try next.” He looked at his watch. “We should be headed to the train station soon. Meet in the hotel lobby in twenty minutes. You’re with me, Lucas.” Chairs scraped across wood floors as they stood to go.

  Lucas forced a smile. “No offense, but my last bodyguard was much cuter.”

  Craig thumped him on the shoulder. “And you used to say I was too cute to be straight. Fickle bastard.”

  ***

  Gwen had seen jail cells before in the UK, mostly from bailing out mates and squad mates who’d got too rowdy, or had thrown a few punches. She’d never seen one from the inside, though, and definitely not for such an extended period of time. According to the clock on the wall outside her cell, Gwen had been in jail for nearly eight hours. She shared her tiny cubicle with two other women, both of whom were sleeping the sleep of the recently drunk or recently high.

  The jailhouse smell wasn’t great, but it was still better than a desert camp full of grunts who were bathing out of coffee cans every few days. The mattress was thin and lumpy, but she’d still slept on worse. It was ironic that serving in the desert might have in some way prepared her for the discomforts and inconveniences of living in a jail cell.

  That included the boredom. Pacing had got old after an hour. Now she amused herself by alternating between eavesdropping on other inmates and pacing, trying to do one or the other for at least ten minutes at a time.

  Getting a few minutes to talk to Sam was a welcome break, although it wasn’t reassuring.

  “Gwennie, oh my God.” Sam hadn’t called her Gwennie in probably twenty years. It was almost enough to make her smile. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Gwen said, conscious of the seconds of her allotted phone time ticking away. “They’re saying my arraignment isn’t until Monday, so I’m stuck here over the weekend until they can set bail.”

  “Shit,” Sam said. “I’ve got a lawyer coming your way; she’s supposed to be very good. Maybe we can get it moved up.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Gwen—I’ve asked Craig to fill in for you; we can’t cancel any more tour dates.” Gwen could hear the sister and the vice president at war in her sister’s voice. “I know you didn’t do it,” she said. “But we’ll have to at least suspend you until it all gets cleared up. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right, I get it.” She couldn’t blame Sam. Her job—her entire career—was probably at stake over this. The smart move would have been to fire Gwen outright. It only increased the weight of failure on Gwen’s back. She’d failed Lucas, and now she was failing Sam too.

  “I’ve called the consulate. They said the police already notified them.” Sam had fallen into sister mode. “The lawyer’s supposed to be one of the best criminal lawyers in San Francisco. She should be coming to see you later today. We’ll get this straightened out, I promise, Gwennie.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  “Is there anything else I can do?”

  Gwen took a deep breath. “Make sure we have some security for Lucas. With me out of the picture, this woman just got a lot more dangerous. Please, Sam. Keep him safe. Talk to Lee; he’s arranging something.”

  “I promise I’ll do everything I can. You stay safe too.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  Back in her cell, the time went by even slower. Gwen watched the clock as it ticked closer and closer to Lucas’s departure time. Once Sam told her the next shows would go on as planned, she’d known that he wouldn’t be able to come see her before he and the rest of the crew had to go to San Jose. It didn’t make her heart ache any less as the time for him to leave her behind came and went.

  The ache was twofold. There was the childish feeling of injustice that the others were leaving without her, leaving her behind to sit in a jail cell. If they’d tried to stay behind, she would have kicked them all in the pants and sent them on, because they all still had a job to do, especially Lucas. Still, it was hard to keep from feeling abandoned.

  Worse than that, though, was the feeling that Lucas was alone. He wasn’t, of course. He had plenty of people around him. But he also had his demons, and now there was no buffer between him and temptation. It was unbearable to think that someone was out there actively seeking to hurt him while Gwen was locked up and unable to protect him. She couldn’t trust anyone to look out for Lucas the way she had. The best she could hope for was that Sam would send in a pro.

  Gwen moved herself out of the sight line of the clock face and pulled herself up to sprawl atop the thin, lumpy mattress of her bunk and stare at the ceiling.

  ***

  The hotel in San Jose was in a dingy part of town. There were signs everywhere that the housing bubble had burst with particularly devastating effect in the neighborhood—boarded-up buildings, vacant lots, half-finished housing developments. As the train was passing through to the station, it occurred to Lucas that if he wanted to, this would probably be a very easy place to find a dealer. Oh god, he wanted to. Just to tune everything out for an hour or two. The temptation swelled with an ache, coinciding with the ache that was already there.

  Lucas checked in with the others and stayed with the group on the way up to their rooms.

  He let Craig unlock the room door and then followed him in. “All right?” Craig asked.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  Craig started giving the room a thorough inspection; it was nothing like Gwen, the way she’d moved through Maggie’s room that night in Detroit. Craig was clumsy, uncertain in comparison. “You’re being quiet, is all,” Craig said.

  “Enjoy it while it lasts.” In truth, his stomach was in knots and he hadn’t slept at all the night before. It wasn’t a feeling he was familiar with. As much as he tried to tell himself that Gwen had been in much tougher places than a city jail, it didn’t kill the guilt that she was locked up and it was his fault.

  “She’ll be all right,” Craig said, finishing his sweep of the room. “She’s tougher than either of us is.”

  Lucas smiled faintly. “Put together, probably.”

  “Probably.”

  Craig’s phone rang. “Davies.” Pause. “Oh hey, Sam. Yeah. He’s right here with me. Want me to put you on speaker?” He paused, then pushed a button and put his phone down on the dresser. “You’re on.”

  “I wanted you both to know that I talked to Gwen this morning.” Sam’s voice came through the speaker with a tinny quality. “She’s doing okay. She should be able to get out on bail by Monday at the latest.”

  “Damn it, that’s two days from now,” Lucas said.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” Sam said. “I’m sending a lawyer over, and we’ll do everything we can to get her out sooner. More than anything, she’s worried about Lucas and this stalker. I’m arranging for some additional security for you. It should be in place by after the show tonight.”

  “I don’t need any—”

  “I promised her I would, Lucas,” Sam interrupted. “It’s the only thing she’s asked for.”

  Lucas slumped his shoulders. Ridiculous as it was, if Gwen wanted it, he’d try to give in with good grace. “All right. If you talk to her again, tell her she wins.”

  “I will.”

  “And tell her—” he stopped, suddenly self-conscious about Craig listening. “Never mind. She’ll know.”

  All three were quiet, then Sam said, “Craig, I’ll be in touch if I hear anything else. We’ll try to get Gwen back to take over
for you as soon as we can.”

  After the call ended, Lucas said, “Well, that didn’t sound like they’re planning to fire her, at least.”

  Craig pocketed his phone and shrugged. “Sam’s her sister. She’ll stand up for her. If the money doesn’t turn up though …”

  Lucas scrubbed his fingers over his scalp, ruffling his hair. “I know.”

  “Just don’t get your hopes up,” Craig said. He squeezed Lucas’s shoulder. “Come on. We were due at the club half an hour ago. Let’s get over there before someone decides the amps need rearranging again.”

  ***

  “Gwen Tennison.”

  Gwen leapt off her bunk and went to the cell door. The guard cuffed her through the door, then opened it and let her out. “This way. You’ve got a visitor.”

  Even though logic told her it had to be the lawyer that Sam was sending, Gwen couldn’t stop the little rush of hope that maybe Lucas had stayed behind long enough to make visiting hours. The guard opened the door to reveal a sharply dressed woman going through some paperwork. She stood as the door opened, and eyed Gwen’s handcuffs. The guard unfastened them. Only then did she offer a hand to Gwen. “Alesha Harrison. I’ll be representing you, Ms. Tennison.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Gwen said.

  Harrison waited until the guard left, then said, “Come sit down.” And then, once they’d sat: “The good news is, their case is largely circumstantial. The bad news, frankly: you’re a flight risk when it comes to setting bail. You’re a foreign national on leave from the military, with no fixed address. Our only real hope there is that your crime isn’t precisely the crime of the century, and your employer is still willing to vouch for your whereabouts. As they’re the alleged victim here, that will hold some weight with the judge.”

  Gwen let out her breath in a rush. “So I should be able to get out of here on Monday?”

  “Hopefully,” Harrison said. “Expect to have to surrender your passport, though. Tell me what happened the night the money disappeared, and tell me the truth. I can’t help you unless I know everything.”

  “Do you know about Lucas Wheeler’s stalker?” Gwen asked.

  “I want to hear everything from you,” Harrison said.

  Gwen took a deep breath and started to tell the whole story.

  “So we know who has the money,” Gwen concluded, “but we don’t know how to find her, or even who she is. And in the meantime, she’s after Lucas, and I’m stuck here and can’t do a bloody thing about it.”

  Harrison was impassive as she finished jotting things onto her notepad. “And you say you have documentation about the stalking.”

  “Lucas has all of the notes, and I can give you the case numbers of the police we’ve talked to along the tour.” Gwen rubbed at her forehead, suddenly exhausted beyond belief.

  “We’ll contact them.” For the first time during the interview, Harrison smiled. “I think we’ve got a decent case here, even if we can’t find this woman.”

  “I just want to make sure Lucas is safe,” Gwen said. “I don’t care about the rest right now.”

  Harrison patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when the time for your arraignment is set. We’ll get you out as soon as we can.”

  ***

  For an entire evening, Lucas was almost able to forget what was going on offstage. Once the lights went down and the spotlight came on, he was able to go out and do the job he was paid to do. If there was anything missing in his performance, the audience didn’t seem to notice, and for that he was grateful.

  Rumors had gone around about the tour’s missing manager already, so no one was surprised when the usual after-show party didn’t materialize. He felt tired enough that he thought he might be able to get some sleep, and he wanted to get back to his bed while that feeling still held on. He convinced one of the techs to go back to the hotel with him, although to be fair, it wasn’t difficult. Time spent being Lucas’s bodyguard was time he didn’t have to spend sweating over heavy equipment.

  Lucas let him check the suite, then wished him good night.

  When there was a knock on the door two minutes later, he rolled his eyes. “What did you forg—oh, hey Sally.”

  “I was on my way back to my room,” she said. “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  “Yeah, just tired,” he said.

  “Can I come in a minute?”

  He wasn’t really in the mood for company. The problem was, the idea of tracking down a dealer was developing more pull by the hour. Maybe talking to someone would do him some good. “Sure.” He swung the door wide and let her in.

  “Heard anything else from Gwen?” she asked, staying near him as he shut the door.

  “No, not since this afternoon.”

  “I’m so sorry, Lucas.” She touched his arm. “You deserve so much better than this.”

  He grinned at her wryly. “A lot of folks think I deserve a lot worse.”

  “It’s not true though.” Her fingers curled around his bicep and tugged him toward the couch. “Come sit down. You need to relax.”

  Sally had never showed much concern for his well-being before; did she feel sorry for him?

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” she said, once they’d sat.

  “Waiting?” He shifted away; she was sitting too close, and still holding his arm.

  “It should have been me,” Sally said. “After London.”

  “London? I’m sorry, I’m not—” His memories of the night he overdosed were hazy at best. He remembered taking someone back to his hotel room along with an eight ball of coke. It hadn’t been a groupie, it had been—oh shit.

  “London,” she said. “You remember now, don’t you? You made love to me, and then I saved your life.”

  He’d known someone on his team had called the paramedics; he’d assumed they’d found him after. “Sally … that was shitty of me, I know that now, I’m sorry—”

  “I’m done waiting.” Her tone sharpened. “I know you like to keep your tour managers in line, but that’s done now.”

  “What do you want?” Lucas asked. They’d been so busy looking for someone outside the tour—nobody thought to check inside. Why would they?

  She tilted her head. “I only want what you want: for us to be together. We can now. There’s no one to get in our way.”

  “Did you—did you take the money?” Lucas swallowed against a dry mouth, hearing the click in his throat.

  “We can’t talk here. Too many people can listen here. I’m taking you somewhere safe, and we’re going to work this out.”

  Lucas fought the dread in the pit of his stomach at the thought of going anywhere with her. Where was the security Sam had arranged? They should have been here by now. “Can we just—”

  She stood and produced a small handgun from behind her back, cutting off his words. “Don’t make me hurt you.” Her voice took on a pleading note. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then why—why are you holding a gun on me?”

  “I need you to listen.” Her voice rose sharply on the last word. “You’ve been rotten to me, Lucas, fooling around with another woman, and now you’re going to come with me and you’re going to listen, and we’re going to talk this out.” The hand holding the gun had picked up a tremor.

  “Okay, okay.” He held up his hands. Stall. He needed to stall long enough for security to get here.

  “Now, Lucas. I need to get you somewhere where they can’t influence you anymore. Turn around and walk.” Sally gestured with the gun toward the door. “I’m putting the gun in my pocket,” she said, “but if you say anything or try to run, I’ll use it. On you and on anybody nearby.”

  Lucas walked toward the door.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Her second night in jail—the first full night—was a little better than the first. She was exhausted enough to fall asleep, despite the regular noises of guards’ footsteps, other inmates, keys rattling. She woke feeling grimy and in desperate nee
d of a shower. By now the ugly orange jumpsuit that had replaced her clothes had mostly stopped scratching, but the color was still bilious.

  She stood in line after breakfast to use the pay phone to call Lucas. After waiting twenty minutes, she got to the phone and dialed his number. It went to voice mail. It wasn’t impossible that he was still asleep at ten AM, so she tried again. Still nothing. Aware of the grumbling line behind her, she dialed Craig’s number.

  Once Craig had accepted the charge for the call, the operator let her know she had three minutes.

  “Morning, sunshine,” she said. “Looks like you’re going to need to go wake up Lucas, he’s not answering his phone.”

  “Gwen—” For a heartbeat or two that was all he said.

  “What?” she finally prompted.

  There was another long pause.

  Gwen’s heart started beating painfully in her chest as she imagined a hundred different scenarios, each worse than the one before. “Tell me.”

  “Our new security staff went to Lucas’s room last night after the show. He wasn’t there.”

  She took a deep breath, then another.

  “Gwen?”

  “I’m here. Signs of a struggle?”

  “No, and his jacket was missing, like he’d gone out for a walk, maybe.”

  “Sure,” Gwen said. Her hands were tingling unpleasantly. “Because after everyone telling him not to go anywhere alone, the first thing he’s going to do after a show is take a walking tour of San Jose at one in the morning.”

  “Gwen …”

  “Come on, you know what happened.”

  “I don’t, and neither do you,” Craig said. “He took everything with him, keys, wallet … Honestly, this isn’t the first time he’s gone missing on tour.”

  “You think he’s using again?”

  “No,” Craig said immediately, then amended it. “Not really. But we can’t rule it out entirely. I hate like hell to say it, but him vanishing after a show like this … it fits his old pattern.”

  “Have you called the police?”

  “Yeah, but you know as well as I do there’s nothing they can do yet.”