by A. V. Geiger
MET @MrsEricThorn • 1d
Not to be overdramatic but if Eric doesn’t leak us something from the #pistolvideo, I may commit a felony #justkidding #notreally #ericthornobsessed
She’d illustrated it with one of her disturbing Photoshop edits. Eric vaguely recognized the image from an underwear campaign he did a couple years back—shirtless, with the waistband of his tighty-whities peeking out from his low-rider jeans. But MET had embellished it slightly. She’d added a giant target, tattooed on his back.
Eric shuddered. He swept his finger upward, and the tweets whizzed by in a blur, like the spinning dial of a slot machine. They came to a stop at random, and he drew in his breath between his teeth.
MET @MrsEricThorn • 3/03/17
Awwwww, what’s the matter baby??? Don’t you love us anymore? #WeLoveYouEric
pic.twitter.com/r59Edy2k
He’d seen that tweet before.
Eric’s thumb made contact with the picture, but he already knew what he would see: a candid shot, going over choreography with his backup dancers…with two hastily sketched trails of tears running down his cheeks.
He’d been in his dressing room at the YouTube Awards, face-to-face with Tessa. Eric closed his eyes as he pictured it. Maury had shut the door and locked it…seconds after Katrina hurried out. She’d been altering his pants. Jutting pins within millimeters of his crotch.
Could she have lurked outside in the corridor? Eavesdropped on their whole conversation?
She’d only been gone a moment before Maury had interrupted Eric and held up this tweet.
“There’s already a meme circulating.”
Eric’s face darkened. Katrina must’ve heard them talking. She must’ve composed that tweet herself, right under their noses. Did she think it was funny, seeing him squirm? The sheer betrayal made his hands shake. Eric dropped the phone, and the metal case clanged against the tabletop.
The detective looked up.
“What’s going on?” Eric demanded, raking his fingers through his hair. He needed information. Now. “Did they find the right car this time? Did they find Tessa?”
“Not yet. They’re still searching.”
Eric’s chest tightened as he tried to read the policeman’s face. It wasn’t good. He could tell that much.
Detective Stevens hit a button and replaced the phone receiver in its cradle. “Eric, can we resume our interview? There are a few more details I need you to go over.”
“What?” Eric asked. “What else?”
“You told me that Tessa used to take a medication for anxiety.”
“What about it?”
“Eric, I need you to remember the name of the medication. For the record. It’s important.”
Eric tipped his head back and looked up at the ceiling, trying to picture the little orange bottle. He’d noticed it this morning when he was brushing his teeth. Tessa must have left it in his medicine cabinet. He’d taken that as a good sign. A sign that she wasn’t leaving him. A sign that she was coming back…
“Eric?” the detective prompted.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I think it might have started with an A.”
“Ativan?”
“Maybe.” Eric nodded. “I think so. That sounds right.”
The detective jotted a note. “Did you ever see any other prescription medication in Tessa Hart’s possession other than Ativan?”
• • •
With her heart thudding, Tessa turned. She saw Clint, clad in a matching set of gloves and surgical booties, with his arms folded at his chest. His hulking frame filled the bathroom door behind her.
Tessa shook the tension out of her arms. She’d forgotten about the bodyguard downstairs. See? No reason to be scared. If Clint was here, it had to be all right. Eric trusted Clint with his life… And Eric didn’t bestow his trust easily.
The bodyguard looked past her to the figure at the sink. “Picking up some cross talk on the police scanner.”
“And?”
“They’re searching the area. Sounds like they’re focused on another vehicle over on Mulholland at the moment.”
“Good. You pulled into the carport?”
“Done. It’s out of sight.”
Tessa’s eyes narrowed slightly as she struggled to make sense of their conversation. A vehicle? Why were the police looking for a vehicle?
“You ready for me in here yet?” Clint took a step forward into the bathroom, cracking his knuckles inside his surgical gloves. Tessa inched sideways, suddenly claustrophobic. All the air had gone out of the room as Clint filled up the space.
“Almost ready. Give me another minute.”
“Almost ready for what?” Tessa asked. “What’s going on?” Her voice sounded small, and she wrapped her arms around herself. The room had started reeling side to side. She could feel her legs go numb, and she prayed she wouldn’t fall as her thoughts careened around her in helpless disarray.
Evidence… The police… The police were coming to search this house… Eric’s house…
Tessa tasted blood inside her mouth. She must have bit her tongue, but she didn’t feel the pain—only a stabbing sensation beneath her rib cage as the realization hit her.
Eric.
Eric hadn’t sent her that DM. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here?
Tessa swayed slightly as a sick feeling washed through her. She looked down at the bathroom’s cold, hard marble floor. She needed her meds. Now. Before she blacked out and cracked her skull open.
“Is that my bottle?” Tessa reached toward the figure at the medicine cabinet. “Are those my pills?”
“These?”
A gloved hand materialized in the center of her field of vision. It held an orange prescription pill bottle. Tessa took it, turning it between her fingers to read the label.
Rx# 4109568
HART, TESSA
TAKE 1–2 TABLET(S) BY MOUTH AS NECESSARY
ATIVAN
Dr. Regan, Laura L.
Relief coursed through her. Tessa twisted the cap and slipped two pills beneath her tongue, waiting for them to dissolve. Strange, she thought. They tasted different somehow…
But then again, she hadn’t taken a dose in weeks. Her bare index finger grazed against the rubber of the gloves as she handed the bottle back.
• • •
“Eric, this is important. I need you to think back. Did you ever see Tessa with a drug called phenobarbital?”
Eric stared. The detective spoke resolutely, in spite of the tense situation. How could he be so calm? And why did he keep asking about Tessa’s medication of all things? Ativan…phenobarbital…
Who cared?
“How should I know?” Eric snapped. “Honestly, what difference does it make? She’s out there! She’s in trouble! Stop talking about her meds and go find her!”
Detective Stevens raised his palm. “I understand your frustration. Our officers are chasing down multiple leads.”
“What leads? Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Tell me what you know about Tessa and her therapist, Dr. Regan.”
Eric’s fingers twitched. He lowered his hands to his chair and wedged them beneath his thighs, fighting the urge to reach out and shake the detective by his shirt collar.
“Eric? To your knowledge, have they been in communication recently?”
“No. Not since Tessa left Texas.”
“And you yourself never had any contact with Dr. Regan before you found her in the hotel room?”
Eric shook his head. “I only heard about her from Tessa.”
Detective Stevens raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t meet Dr. Regan when you were in Midland last December?”
“That’s what I just said!”
Eric couldn’t sit still any longer. The chair legs screeched against the floor as he pushed himself away from the table. He stood and resumed pacing back and forth across the room. He barely registered the detective’s next question, addressed to his turned
back.
“Who else was with you last December in Midland, Texas? Katrina Cortez?”
• • •
Tessa could already feel the medicine taking effect, like a blanket wrapping itself around her shoulders. Warm and safe.
Something was different though. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The blanket felt…heavier somehow…
Tessa sighed. She needed to lie down. Her meds always made her sleepy, but it didn’t usually hit her quite this fast.
“Wait a minute,” she said slowly. “Can I see that again?”
The pills rattled inside the orange plastic cylinder shoved in her direction. Tessa’s mouth scrunched to the side as she gripped the little bottle between her fingers. She felt like she was moving in slow motion, but at least her thoughts had slowed their chaotic swirling.
She could focus.
She could see.
She could think.
Her eyes fell once again to the medication label, but something was off. She’d misread it in her panic. There was a word for that, she thought. Priming. Her brain had filled in the drug name she expected to find on a pill bottle—not the one she saw clearly now, spelled out in bold black lettering.
Rx# 4109569
HART, TESSA
TAKE 1–2 TABLET(S) BY MOUTH AS NECESSARY
PHENOBARBITAL
Dr. Regan, Laura L.
Tessa’s mouth gaped open. Her knees wobbled, threatening to give way. She met eyes once more with the face in the mirror, laughing as he stripped the pill bottle from her hand.
“You don’t look so good, kiddo. Maybe you should rest.”
He pointed through the doorway toward Eric’s big four-poster bed. Before Tessa could utter a sound, she felt Clint’s arm go around her shoulders and his heavy palm clamp over her mouth.
THE INTERROGATION
(FRAGMENT 10)
May 1, 2017, 3:24 p.m.
Case #75932.394.1
OFFICIAL TRANSCRIPTION OF POLICE INTERVIEW
—START PAGE 7—
INVESTIGATOR: Who else was with you last December in Midland, Texas? Katrina Cortez?
THORN: No, only Maury and I went to Midland. Everyone else went straight to the next tour stop in Santa Fe.
INVESTIGATOR: Maury Gilroy?
THORN: Sure. He’s my manager. He goes everywhere I go. I can’t even take a crap without Maury knowing about it.
INVESTIGATOR: But he didn’t know your whereabouts during your time in Mexico. Correct?
THORN: No, but he tracked me down.
INVESTIGATOR: How much access does Mr. Gilroy have to your private hotel rooms?
THORN: I mean, we don’t share bunk beds or anything. It’s not like that.
INVESTIGATOR: Does he have copies of your hotel key cards?
THORN: My bodyguard keeps those. But I guess Maury’s walked in on me before when I overslept…
INVESTIGATOR: Your bodyguard let him into the room?
THORN: I suppose… Wait. Your phone is blinking.
INVESTIGATOR: Hold on.
THORN: Please concentrate on finding her.
INVESTIGATOR: I see. Can you repeat that, please? Copy that. Which border point? Tijuana?
THORN: What? What are they saying?
INVESTIGATOR: Just a moment, Eric. Sorry, Nancy, come again?
THORN: What’s going on? [pause] What? Tell me!
INVESTIGATOR: As I said, we have officers following up on multiple leads.
THORN: Who’s in Tijuana? Katrina?
INVESTIGATOR: Officers successfully located Ms. Cortez at her residence in Oakwood. They’re questioning her now.
THORN: So she’s not with Tessa? But… No! That means it’s Blair!
INVESTIGATOR: Try to stay calm. I know it’s hard. One of our choppers spotted a different black Escalade proceeding toward the Mexican border at high speed. We’re having the car stopped and searched by immigration. We should get word in a few minutes if it’s the vehicle we’re looking for.
THORN: Blair’s taking her to Mexico?
INVESTIGATOR: Eric, what can you tell me about Tessa’s relationship with Mr. Gilroy?
THORN: With Maury? Why?
INVESTIGATOR: It’s important. I need you to bear with me.
THORN: I mean, Maury is her boss. They butt heads sometimes. Like, this one time she was supposed to tweet something, and she added the wrong emoji. Maury flipped out.
INVESTIGATOR: Because of an emoji?
THORN: Yeah, and then MET spread it before Tessa had time to delete it. I just had that tweet on my phone. Here. This one.
INVESTIGATOR: You and Tessa were together when this was tweeted?
THORN: Right. We were talking. I was hugging her. So there’s no way she could be MET. See! She didn’t even have her phone when this was tweeted. Maury took it.
INVESTIGATOR: Maury was with you as well?
THORN: Right. Tessa and I were talking, and Maury was in the room. He was doing something on his… [pause]
INVESTIGATOR: Go on, Eric.
THORN: No.
INVESTIGATOR: Finish your thought. What was Maury doing?
THORN: He was doing something on his phone. And then he interrupted us, and showed us this brand-new tweet from MET.
INVESTIGATOR: You didn’t see what he was doing on his phone?
THORN: Oh my God. I’m such an idiot.
INVESTIGATOR: Eric?
THORN: That whole time… He did it right in front of my face. How could I not see it?
INVESTIGATOR: How could you not see what, Eric?
THORN: MET! MET’s been fangirling over me since my YouTuber days. Before I had a record deal. Before Clint. Before Katrina. Before everyone on my crew…except for him.
19
HIM
“Put her on the bed, Clint. Tie her wrists.”
Maury leaned against the windowsill in Eric’s master bedroom, with his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked down at his watch. “Don’t scream, or he’ll gag you.”
Tessa let out a muffled yelp as the bodyguard yanked her arms behind her back. She didn’t resist his movements, too stunned to put up a struggle. Clint used a plastic zip tie to secure her wrists to the bedpost.
He had one beefy hand pressed over her mouth, cutting off all oxygen. She needed to take a deep breath. The edges of her vision were clouding over again, in spite of the medication. Tessa sank back against the headboard and let her body go limp.
“Good girl,” Maury said.
Clint let go of her mouth, and Tessa gasped for air. For a moment, she closed her eyes, concentrating on her breathing.
Deep breaths. In and out. Eric one…Eric two…Eric… What came after two?
She couldn’t go back into panic mode. She needed to keep her senses intact. Tessa sucked in a lungful of air and held it. Her eyes reopened, but she didn’t speak. She looked from Maury to Clint and back again, searching frantically for answers.
Maury must have sensed her confusion. He stood up from the windowsill and gave an exaggerated shrug. “Someone has to take the fall, Tessa. A woman is dead. The police need to pin that on someone.”
Tessa blew out the air she’d been holding, along with a hoarse response. “I had nothing to do with it.”
Maury nodded. “True, but it’s either you or Eric. I’ve worked too long to let him go down over some trumped-up murder wrap.”
“But—” Tessa broke off. Her mind was spiraling again. Eric hadn’t really killed someone. Had he? “No!” she exclaimed. “Eric couldn’t. Maybe he was sleeping with Katrina, but he would never—”
“Katrina?” Maury gave her a funny look. His eyes flicked over to Clint.
“I don’t think she knows, boss.”
“The police didn’t tell her?”
Tessa blinked rapidly, struggling to keep up. “Katrina Cortez,” she said. “There was something going on between her and Eric.”
Maury tilted back his head and let out a peal of laughter. “Katrina Cortez from ward
robe?”
He looked at Clint. The bodyguard’s shoulders were shaking. “Got ourselves a real criminal mastermind here.”
“Tessa, dear.” Maury grinned broadly, baring his teeth. “Katrina Cortez is not sleeping with Eric. Trust me. She lives over by Venice Beach with her lovely wife and two kids.”
Wife?
“Wait. She’s… But…she isn’t dead?”
Maury snorted. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“The police said it was a woman!” Tessa protested. “Eric went to the hotel to meet a woman.”
“I think the cops were having a little fun with you, kid.” Clint snickered as Maury went on. “Let me spell it out. The woman Eric found in the hotel was a good friend of yours. You remember dear old Dr. Regan.”
Tessa froze. Had she heard that right? How would Maury even know about…
Maury took a step toward the bed. “I flew her out here. First class too. Out of my own pocket.” He turned to address Clint. “Never tell me I’m not generous. Generous to a fault, if you’re loyal to me. Isn’t that right, Clint?”
“More than generous.”
Clint smirked, and Maury turned his poisonous smile on Tessa’s face. “Thank you. Glad somebody around here appreciates it.”
Tessa gulped for air. The blackness at the edges of her vision had receded, but her mind still scrambled to make sense of Maury’s words. “But why…” she stammered. “Why would you fly Dr. Regan to LA?”
“To see you, obviously.”
“But—”
“Let’s just say Clint and I were concerned about the state of your mental health.”
Tessa shot a glance at the bodyguard. Clint had seen her succumb to a panic attack at the award show, but surely that wasn’t what Maury meant…
Clint winked at her playfully, and Tessa’s tongue went thick inside her mouth. She couldn’t seem to form the questions into a coherent sentence.
“But…but… Then why… How…”
Maury finished for her. “How did the good doctor wind up dead?”
Tessa nodded mutely, unable to summon a response. Her brain, so used to fight-or-flight mode, couldn’t control the racing thoughts now that she found herself in actual danger.