The River Valley Series

by Tess Thompson

  “How’d you get Tiffany to go with you?”

  “I just got out of my car and approached her slow so she didn’t get spooked. I asked her if she was all right and she said yes but that her car wouldn’t unlock. She was slurring her words and her eyes were all unfocused. I held out my hand and asked if she wanted me to try. She gave me the keys and I slipped them in my pocket. I don’t know why I did that, actually. It was a weird thing to do but again I was just trying to keep her from driving. I asked her if I could give her a lift and she turned her face toward me and then upwards towards the sky. The rain was coming down even harder and it was almost poetic the way she held her face up like that and let the rain wash over her face. Then she said something that scared the hell out of me.” He closed his eyes, as if trying to remember it exactly. “She said, ‘I was going to get in my car and drive out of town as fast as I could until I found the river and then I was going to drive into it with the windows open and let the river fill it and me until we both just drifted away.’” Ben stopped talking and looked over at Bella. “It was the saddest thing I’ve ever heard anyone say.”

  Goosebumps ran up and down Bella’s arms. She shivered, thinking of poor Tiffany. The world had eaten her alive from the inside out until there was nothing left but a shell of her sad, sunken soul.

  “Then she said something about how she couldn’t drive and if she was stopped they’d throw her into jail this time instead of just rehab,” continued Ben, turning toward Peter once again. “I knew then I had to get her around people, maybe get some food in her and so I took her by the arm and helped her into my car and drove to Riversong.”

  Ben went on to tell Peter about taking Tiffany to the lodge and how she’d gotten sick almost immediately. “I stayed until it seemed safe to leave her and put her into bed, still fully clothed, by the way.”

  “Was Tiffany coherent at this point?”

  “Yeah, she’d sobered up by this time, a little anyway. She thanked me and then curled into the fetal position and appeared to pass out cold. I left my card on the bedside table and told her to call me if she needed anything.”

  “And what time did you leave?” asked Peter.

  “I believe it was around 11:55. I remember looking at my watch as I closed the door, hoping Bella wasn’t going to be mad it had taken so long.”

  “Did you see anyone else in the hallway or elevator on your way out?”

  Ben sat up straighter in the chair. “No one asked me that today. So I didn’t think of it until just now. There was a man who got out of the elevator as I was walking in. And you know what? The elevator was coming down, which means he had come from a floor above.”

  “Can you describe him?” asked Peter.

  “About my age, I would say. Maybe a little older. Salt and pepper hair. Medium build. Totally unremarkable. Dressed in sweats and a T-shirt. He was typing into his phone so his head was down, making it hard for me to really see his face.”

  Salt and pepper hair and typing on his phone? It had to be Graham.

  Ben slumped in his chair, resting the side of his face in his hand. Bella looked over at Peter, who was staring out the window, perhaps thinking through everything Ben had told him. “Peter, can we let Ben go to bed now? This has been a long day for him.”

  “What? Yes, of course. I’ll let you know tomorrow if I have any further questions,” said Peter.

  Bella and Ben walked hand in hand across the driveway to the guest quarters without speaking. Once upstairs in the bedroom, Ben sank onto the bed and took off his shoes, leaning over as if it hurt to do so. Then he collapsed onto the bed and put an arm over his eyes. “I keep expecting to wake up from this nightmare but it keeps going.”

  She sat on the side of the bed, stroking his forearm until he took it from his face and looked at her. “It’s going to be all right,” she said. “Peter Ball’s the best there is. Regardless if the local cops try and pin this on you, he’ll get to the truth.”

  He rolled to his side; she leaned her back against the headboard and gathered his head onto her lap. “Do you think Drake or Annie think I could’ve done this?” he asked, sounding like a frightened child.

  She stroked his hair. “No way. They know you.”

  He looked up at her. “I don’t know what to do about work.”

  “Just keep on doing what you normally do. No one’s accused you of anything yet.”

  “If I get arrested, I’ll lose my job. That scares me almost more than anything. I never realized until now how it’s been everything, all I have, my complete identity.”

  Ben closed his eyes. She felt him relax as she continued to stroke his hair and face. After a few minutes his breathing became steady. She shifted him onto a pillow and placed the extra blanket on the end of the bed over him. She stood, watching him sleep. How was it they were so happy for a brief few hours and now this?

  Life, that’s what, she thought. Hard most of the time with small moments of bliss. She shook her head, as if to dispel the gloomy thoughts. A drink. She needed a drink. She left Ben sleeping and headed to the main house.

  A few minutes later, Bella stood with Peter Ball on the deck of Drake’s house, sipping vodka on the rocks. He held a beer bottle in his hands, peeling at the label. The rain had ceased and the clouds parted to reveal a partial moon and scattered stars. It was cold, and their breath made clouds in the night air. Bella shivered despite her heavy jacket. She’d lived in California too long.

  “After dinner on a night like this, I miss smoking,” said Bella, shaking her glass so the ice clattered.

  “You smoked?” asked Peter.

  “Yeah. For like two minutes before I got too vain, worried about wrinkles and stopped. But every once in a while I want one.”

  They were quiet for a moment. Bella sipped her drink. Peter tipped back his beer. There was the rushing sound of a truck on the highway in the valley below. Something about the sound always made Bella feel lonesome. Perhaps it was the thought of the truck driver, alone, making his way to wherever with his company’s goods in the back. Was he sleepy? Lonesome for his family? Did he listen to music or talk radio?

  She glanced back up at the stars. They were the same for the truck driver as they were for her and thousands of others who might be gazing upon them at this very moment.

  “Bella, you sure Ben didn’t do this?”

  Her thoughts turned from the stars to Ben. “I am. Aren’t you?”

  “I’m not a betting man. I’m more of a fact guy. Comes with my job. But if I had to bet on anyone’s innocence, it’s Ben Fleck’s.”

  “How are you so sure?”

  “Gut, mostly. I’m a good judge of character. Can sniff out the truth usually. Plus it doesn’t add up. No motive. Unless he raped her and didn’t want her to talk.”

  A jolt went through her. The tips of her fingers tingled. “No way.”

  “Ben will have to go in tomorrow and give a DNA sample.”

  “Well, that’ll prove his innocence, right there.”

  He turned to her, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes.” They stood for a moment, watching the stars. “Peter, will you let me ride shotgun with you on this?”

  “What do you mean? Like help me investigate?”

  “Right.” She felt stupid suddenly. This was a real detective. He wouldn’t want her tagging along.

  “You think you have time?”

  “I can squeeze it in. I won’t say anything or get in your way. And I know my way around town. That would be a help to you.”

  “Why, Bella?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want to do this?’

  “Because I love him. It’s as simple as that.” As she said it, she knew it was true. She’d loved Benjamin Fleck from the first moment she’d spotted him in her brother’s living room.

  “Okay, then. We’ll start tomorrow. At Lefty’s. Always start with the bartender.”

  The door opened behind th
em and Cleo came out to the deck. “Hi, Bella,” she said softly, seeming almost shy. “What are you two doing out here?” she asked, sliding both arms around Peter’s waist from behind and resting her cheek against his back. “It’s freezing.”

  “It is,” said Peter. “Hey, I’m going to go inside and have some scotch with Drake.” He paused, nudging his wife slightly. “Go ahead, ask Bella the stuff you wanted to ask her.”

  Cleo pulled her jacket tighter. “Yeah, okay.”

  After Peter left, Bella turned to Cleo. “You nervous about tomorrow?”

  “I’m a wreck. It’s been so long. And being in the same room with Stefan and Genevieve tonight I realized how screwed I am—they’re pros and I haven’t really acted in ten years. Not to mention taking the place of poor Tiffany Archer. I want to turn around and go home.”

  “You’ll be fine. I’ll make you look perfect.”

  Cleo laughed. “Yeah, there’s that too. My God, Genevieve’s gorgeous. The camera doesn’t lie, does it?”

  Bella looked at her for a moment. “You know what I’ve noticed in the years I’ve been doing this job?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Women never think they’re beautiful. And trust me I’ve worked on the most beautiful women in the world by anyone’s standard and none of them think they’re half as lovely as they really are. And what’s even sadder is the rest of the world is comparing themselves to the women in my makeup chair. If they don’t think they’re beautiful there’s absolutely no hope for the rest of us.” She paused, cocking her head to the side, taking in Cleo Tanner. “You’re as lovely as Gennie, just different.”

  “Hollywood.” Cleo looked up at the sky, shaking her head. “I can’t even get my mind around that. Yesterday I’m teaching Montessori and looking forward to going home to Peter at the end of the day. Next thing I know I get a call from my agent that I need to get down here as fast as I can. And there’s this script waiting for me, like I’m a real actress or something and I have lines to learn and, well, I’m terrified.”

  Bella squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to talk to between takes. That’s what good makeup artists do. We’re like bartenders that way.”

  Cleo laughed. “Good to know.”

  “Who’s your agent?”

  “Camille Bradbury. Graham hooked me up with her.”

  Bella shivered. Camille Bradbury was a shark in a well-preserved, fifty-year-old, human form—a tiny body that lived on vodka and cigarettes. Behind the Botox that made her features unreadable and sleek, precisely-cut, bottle-blond hair was the soul of a great white shark that could rip a person apart and leave them bleeding on the urine-scented streets of Hollywood in the time it took to order a skinny latte from the nearest Starbuck’s barista/actress.

  Cleo stomped her feet and pulled her jacket tighter. “They always say you’re truly living if you’re doing something that scares you. I guess I’m about as alive as you can get.”

  Yes, me too, thought Bella.

  After Cleo went inside, Bella wandered to the edge of the deck. She sat on the steps looking up at the sky. The countless peppered stars glittered and sparkled and felt close. Might she gather them in her hands? Perhaps put them in a Mason jar to draw upon later for strength like children did with fireflies back east? On that summer night with Ben, standing near the rose garden, they’d held hands and gazed upward at the Milky Way. He’d pointed to the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, and Orion’s Belt. And she’d known then she’d never seen the sky. Not in Seattle where the clouds rarely moved aside and one only suspected the stars were there, hidden, waiting for a shift in the wind. Not in Los Angeles where the lights of the city and the pollution scarred an obscured sky. But here, they were close and tangible and splendid. She’d gasped from the beauty of it and moved closer to Ben, the scent of sun-drenched rose petals sweet, and leaned into him to welcome his kiss that changed her heart.

  And now, under this October sky holding these flecks and slivers of light, she sighed. A sense of peace that began in her changed heart soothed the hidden dark places where fear and worry dwelled, as if the stars had been conjured just for her by a nameless force. All will be well. Surely this was true, she thought, reaching up toward the sky with her fingertips. It gave one the idea of limitless possibilities, if the universe held such things as this.

  Inside the house, Drake and Annie were putting away the last of the dinner dishes. “I was thinking I should let Cleo and Peter have the guest quarters in the house. I’ll move out to the guesthouse with Ben,” said Bella.

  “Isn’t that a little soon?” Drake looked at her, his face concerned, although he was trying to hide it, which Bella found amusing.

  Bella shrugged, ready for a fight. “You need the space. And Peter’s doing us a favor by agreeing to look into this unofficially while Cleo’s working on Stone River.”

  To her surprise, Drake agreed. “You’re right. We’re lucky to have him investigating this when he has no jurisdiction here, especially given the obvious ineptitude of the local police. I’ll let Peter and Cleo know to bring in their things.”

  Bella packed her clothes and toiletry items quickly, feeling suddenly so exhausted she could barely think straight. In the guesthouse, she left her suitcase packed, setting it quietly by the bureau so as not to wake Ben. She brushed her teeth and washed her face and then, stripping down to nothing, slipped into bed. Ben shifted, murmuring something in his sleep. She moved close to him, pressing her cold backside against his front and wrapping his arm around her waist.

  “Bella, you feel so good in my bed,” he whispered in her ear.

  The spark of desire shot through her. But not tonight. Tonight Ben needed to sleep.

  “Where have you been?” he asked.

  “Looking at the stars.”

  “Ah. The stars and the scent of roses were there when I kissed you for the first time. Do you remember?”

  “Every detail.” She moved so she faced him, kissing his neck, taking in his scent. “Peter’s agreed to let me tag along this week to see if we can figure out who did this.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because.”

  “Because why?”

  “Because I believe in you. And I’m scared. And when I’m scared I try and take control.”

  She felt him smile against her head. “Bella, you’re a menace. You know that?”

  “I’ve heard this before. Mostly from my brother.”

  “A force of nature.”

  A force of nature. Her fire had been called worse. “Go to sleep,” she said. “You need to be strong tomorrow.”

  “But it’s hard to keep my hands off you.” His hand traveled up the back of her leg and over her hip.

  And then, like the inevitability of the stars’ return on any given night, they let themselves be lost in one another until their energy was exhausted and they fell into the dreamless sleep of lovers.

  Chapter 9

  Early the next morning, Bella was jolted awake by a text from Richard Greenwood’s assistant. “Cast and crew meeting on set at 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning. Mandatory.”

  She sat up, yawning. It was only six thirty. Ben was still asleep, breathing steadily. How nice it would be to stay in bed all day, especially since it was a Saturday. But duty calls, she thought. Her mother had often said that before she left them for the day. Duty calls. On those mornings, more frequent than the others when their mother stayed and made them pancakes, Drake had taken care of her, gotten her breakfast and made sure she was dressed, hair combed, and teeth cleaned and on the bus for school. She’d been a skinny child and it was always raining. The frequent wind would make its way up her pants legs so by the time she walked up the steps of the school bus her teeth chattered. But her mother had given her a red raincoat with a faux fur lining and red boots for Christmas the year she was in fourth grade. How proud she was of that coat and boots. And warm.

  She’d gotten her little niece Chloe a pair of pink boots a
nd a matching raincoat for Christmas. They were still stuffed in Bella’s closet, on the floor behind shoes she never wore. Chloe had died before Bella was able to give them to her. And then it came, the sadness, like it was fresh, pulling her into grief like an unexpected riptide. She wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her face in them, letting the tears come. Lean into the grief, her therapist Valerie advised. Let it take you. Don’t fight it because it will find its way back to you anyway.

  Ben stirred next to her, sitting up and reaching for her. “Bella, what is it?”

  She told him then of Chloe and her mother, how sometimes the loss felt like a new wound instead of scar tissue.

  “Well, all this with Tiffany’s bringing it up. Of course it makes all the loss just rush back into you.” He put out his arms. “May I hold you? Would that help at all?”

  “It would.” But the tears wouldn’t stop. She sobbed into his bare chest until he was damp. Finally, the tears ran out and she rose up on her elbow to look into his eyes. “Thank you for letting me cry.”

  “My mother always says it takes a real man to let a woman cry without trying to fix it.”

  “Your mother’s very wise.” She leaned down and kissed him. In the kiss she gave all the love she felt for him with her big and yearning heart, her tender underbelly. And he returned it in a long and searing kiss she wanted to never end. “Ben, I love you,” she said into his mouth. “I can’t help myself.”

  “Bella,” he breathed into her as he pulled her under him, looking into her eyes. “You make me feel like the person I want to be, like I was meant to be, like I want to be. Is this what love is, then?”

  “I think so.” She bit her bottom lip, because it quivered and the lump was in the back of her throat again, only this time it ached with longing and love and gratefulness for this man destined to love her.

  She hated to leave the bed but knew how important it was to be on time. She showered and dressed in jeans, a long wool sweater, and riding boots. Ben was in one of the easy chairs typing on his laptop. “Everything all right at work?” she asked.