Deeper In You (The Phoenix Series Book 2)

by David S. Scott

  The sound of the door opening wrenched me from my thoughts. I stepped off the treadmill and stood in the center of the room, arms crossed. Faith stared at me from the door, looking dumbfounded, as if she hadn’t expected I would be awaiting her return.

  She drew closer, moving slowly, cautiously.

  “How was lunch?” My voice was cold, harsher than I’d intended it to be.

  “Interesting.” Faith whispered, clearly nervous.

  “And what did Amara want?”

  “She just asked me some questions. About me, about you. Your family. Us.”

  “My family?” My mouth went dry. I knew it was stupid, knew Amara had already heard all of my so-called secrets, but my knee-jerk reaction still slammed into me just the same.

  “Yes, but I told her you didn’t like to talk about your family and had always shot me down when I asked.”

  Relief flooded through me. “What was all this about?”

  “I don’t know. She said she wanted an interview when I talked to her on the phone this morning, but she didn’t take any notes. She was friendly and professional. She told me she knew she’d made some big mistakes in the past and that she knew you and Lily had paid for them. It almost seemed like just chatting with a girlfriend.”

  “‘Big mistakes’ is an understatement. Amara is not your friend. I’m not even sure she understands the meaning of the word. She risked her friend’s life over a promotion.”

  “She regrets that. Look, I know how to handle reporters, okay? Besides, she seemed nice.”

  “Nice? Amara is a lot of things, but nice isn’t one of them. She can’t be trusted. She’s dirty and underhanded and I can’t fucking believe you went behind my back that way!”

  “She didn’t seem like she was fishing for a negative story. I don’t know, Xander. She was nice!”

  “Sure. Nice… and going to plaster my picture all over her shit rag tabloid. It doesn’t matter what you told her, it doesn’t matter what you gave her, it doesn’t matter what she asked. All that matters to her is selling her story and making me uncomfortable. I’d sworn to sue if they even thought about writing anything about me again without verifying every single word was one hundred percent true, and you’ve offered her information on a silver platter. You were her pawn. And did you even stop to think about me? About how this would affect me? Jesus, Faith, I can’t believe you’d be so stupid.”

  She glared at me, flames flickering in her eyes. All regret vanished from her tone and stance. All that was left was fury. “Stupid? That’s what you think of me? Fuck you, Xander!”

  I scowled and stepped closer to her. She turned away, so I grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look at me. “God damn it, Faith. No. I don’t think you’re stupid. Just the opposite. But I do think you should have used that head of yours before sneaking out of here behind my back and spilling your guts to a fucking reporter. Especially that one.”

  “You don’t know that she’ll write anything bad! She told me she’s wanted to do an interview with you since the first time she met you. But do you really think I went there just to give her a scoop? I got your damned phone number, Xander.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Yeah, Lily’s number. I got it for you. What I don’t understand is why you’re so overbearing. You think you always have to be the one calling the shots. I’m not a damsel in distress. I don’t need your protection. I didn’t need it at the game store with Mark. I didn’t need it with Jacob. And I certainly didn’t need your protection to handle Amara. I can handle myself around reporters and anyone else. Why can’t you just trust me?” She slapped the flat of her hand into my sweaty chest, making a loud sound as if to enunciate her point.

  “Fuck…” It was all I could do to whisper the single word before we were on each other. My hand tangled in her hair and I pulled her head back, forcing her mouth up to meet mine. She gasped, and I took advantage of that fact to thrust my tongue into her mouth. All the fight went out of me, tamed by the woman I loved.

  She pulled away, breathing hard. “I’m not sorry I went. I am sorry that I hurt you.”

  I sat on the floor, tugging her down to join me. “I do trust you, Faith. I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, except for Sam. Maybe.”

  “You have a funny way of showing it.”

  “Look. I’m sorry, too. This relationship stuff is new for me. I don’t think you’re a damsel in distress. I think you are an intelligent, capable woman. That said, it pisses me off that you went behind my back. We have to learn to be a team.”

  “I want that, too.” She leaned back against my chest, reaching up to stroke my ear. “Are you going to call her?”

  “Who?”

  “Your ex.”

  “As soon as I figure out what to say.”

  “You didn’t hesitate yesterday.”

  “Yesterday, I was crazy pissed and probably would have said something stupid. Today, still pissed, but more rational.”

  “I still think you should have called the cops. She’s stalking you. She followed you to the theater, too.”

  I paused. “How did you know that?”

  “Amara mentioned it. Wait, you knew?”

  “An article I saw online had a picture of us. I saw her in the background, but I hadn’t seen her there that night. What else did Amara say?”

  “Nothing much. She just told me I should be careful because you use women and throw them away.” Faith looked away. I said nothing, watching her impassively. “She said Lily saw you ordering food at the theater and just the sight upset her so much she stayed in bed for two days.”

  “I didn’t use Lily, and I certainly didn’t throw her away. She left me… wait. Did you say she saw me ordering food?”

  “Yes. Before the fire, I guess. Why?”

  I stood, holding out a hand to help Faith off the floor. “Come upstairs. I have to check something.”

  I jerked the bedside table drawer open, then grabbed my laptop out and powered it on. Pulling up the internet browser, I searched the theater’s name. Just as I had seen before, there was the article about the fire. I clicked on the picture where Lily was shown and enlarged it, then enlarged it some more.

  It was definitely her, standing at an angle to the camera, out on the loading dock. Again I wondered how I hadn’t seen her before. She wasn’t dressed for a night at a dinner theater. It looked like she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. It stood to reason that a reporter being called to the scene of a fire may not be in business attire, but it didn’t make sense that she would have seen me ahead of time. It also didn’t make sense that she wore a black shirt that said “ROA” on the back. The guy that brought me backstage the first time wore a black roadie t-shirt. This was obviously an identical one.

  But Lily wasn’t a roadie.

  Why was she there?

  I couldn’t see her right hand in the picture, but her left hand was empty. No note pad. No photographer with her. I enlarged the picture again.

  Her left hand was in shadow, or covered in dirt or soot. I couldn’t tell which because of the photo’s low resolution. Her jeans also had the same dark spots on them. The fire had been localized to the dressing room and the attic above it. There was no real reason for her to be covered in soot.

  “Holy shit, Lily. What did you do?” I grabbed my phone. “I need that phone number, Faith.”

  “What’s going on?”

  She handed me a slip of paper. I gestured to the screen as I punched in the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Lily?”

  Silence. I checked my phone to make sure she hadn’t hung up. The call timer ticked away. “Lily?”

  “Yes?” She sounded funny, as if she were crying. Or high. Or both.

  “Been a while.”

  “Yes.” She sniffled. That answered that; definitely crying. Faith frowned and looked like she wanted to say something. I held my finger to my lips.

  “Did you find what you were looking for her
e?” I began to pace.

  “I didn’t take anything,” she whispered. I had to be careful. I didn’t want her to hang up. Not yet.

  “I know. You still shouldn’t have come. I’ve changed the locks.”

  “Xander?”

  “What?”

  “I’m sorry about everything. I’m sorry we fought. I’m sorry I wrote that article. I’m sorry I didn’t accept your ring. I know that was wrong. I could tell it cost you a ton of money, and I was wrong to throw it back in your face. It was sweet of you to ask me, and I hope the jeweler was able to take it back.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Never mind all that. Why didn’t you come say hello at the theater?”

  “Where?”

  “At the theater last Friday. I heard you had gotten a job there.”

  Lily laughed, a hollow, manic sound. “I work at CaS. You know that. Remember? You found me there and made a horrible and embarrassing scene. I almost called security. But yeah, I work there, not at any theater. You heard wrong.”

  “Really? I thought I saw you.”

  “Just one of those faces.”

  “That must be it.” I thought back to the bar and the time I had said those exact words to her. She had pretended she didn’t recognize me, and I had stupidly fallen for her act. A white lie, maybe. But that was only the beginning. Soon she was hiding big things from me, one lie snowballing into another.

  “What would you say if I told you I had a picture of you there wearing a roadie shirt?”

  “What? Um, I’d say you must be mistaking me for someone else. I stayed home that night.”

  “Cut the shit, Lily. You were there. Why lie about it?”

  Lily sobbed into the phone. “I never worked there! Check the employment records. You won’t find me. I stayed home that night, Xander. I’ve stayed home a lot recently, and written from home.”

  I went back to the computer and examined the screen. No, I knew it was her. Opening another tab, I searched for the Celebrities and Sinners article about the fire. Got you now. “Who covered the fire from CaS?”

  She didn’t answer. I waited, letting the awkward silence build.

  “I–I did.”

  “I know. I’m looking at the article right now. Demon Barber brings Fire and Brimstone, by Lily A. Campbell. Your own byline. You must be very proud. Even if it is for a shit tabloid and has a shittier, misleading title. Good article, though. Very detailed. In fact… tell me, Lily. How did you manage to make this article sound so detailed if you weren’t there?”

  “I don’t–”

  “Don’t lie to me. You’re in the picture. That puts you there. And your pal Amara said you’d seen me before the fire even started. So do you want to start telling the truth? No more fucking lies, Lily. I know what you did. But I can’t understand why.”

  The sound of the sobbing abruptly stopped as the line went dead.

  “Do you remember the police detective’s name that visited us in the hospital?” I asked Faith as I started digging through my drawer looking for his card.

  “Bentley.”

  “That’s it.”

  “What’s it?”

  “I need his number. I know what happened.”

  “Tell me.” Faith pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to me.

  I dialed the number. “Hello, Detective Bentley? This is Xander Phoenix.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You were right about that one. She is one sick puppy,” Detective Bentley said.

  So much for date night. After I called the police and told them everything I knew, including my observations on the picture, they had sent someone out to bring Lily in for questioning. Now Faith and I sat here in the detective’s office.

  “I’d never had that impression before,” I said sadly.

  “Well, she is. After what we found at her apartment, I don’t think she’ll be leaving us for quite some time.”

  “What was there?”

  “Mostly, things about you. Newspaper clippings detailing the fire and every article I think anyone has ever written about your career. Articles from magazines, so many pictures. She had a full obsession going on. There were also pictures of Ms. Richardson and some not-so-flattering caricatures. She kept a journal, too. Just what we found in there would be enough to convict.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Seems she blamed you for the loss of her career and the loss of her child, Mr. Phoenix. Care to elaborate on what happened?”

  “She told me she was pregnant. Biggest shock of my life. Almost lost my career over it. I proposed, she rejected me and had an abortion. Simple as that.”

  “That’s not her version.”

  “Well, that’s what happened.”

  “I’m just telling you so you know. She claims you left her alone, and that’s why she ended it. I think she was feeling resentful. Blamed you for everything.”

  I shook my head. “I did leave after she told me. I just needed time to think. Why would she have pictures of Faith?”

  “I think…” started Faith. “She was probably just mad at you for moving on first.”

  “That’s no reason to turn into a homicidal lunatic.”

  “I kind of feel bad for her. From what you told me, she lost her best friend, lost her boyfriend, quit her job, lost her baby, and lost her home… all within a few months.”

  “She killed her baby,” I corrected.

  “And maybe she regretted that. Just one more thing to be resentful for.”

  “I think Ms. Richardson is right,” Bentley said. “Smart woman you’ve got there.”

  “No,” I said. “I still don’t understand. If I’m such a horrible person, why wouldn’t she just come after me? Why hurt Faith? Why the theater? A woman she didn’t even know ended up dead.”

  “She attacked me…” Faith said, “because… because she knew that would hurt you more than going after you directly. Plus, if she was really obsessed with you, she was probably harboring hope she would get you back at some point.”

  “I don’t know…” I remembered the ring on her finger when I had confronted her at CaS. She had hidden it from me.

  I’m sorry I didn’t accept your ring…

  Oh my God… was that what she’d been looking for all that time? The engagement ring? Why?

  “Do you deny that it would hurt you more?”

  “No, but we had been together less than a day. How would she know?”

  Bentley cleared his throat. “She had lots of pictures of the two of you together, mostly taken at night. Outside a house and in a restaurant.”

  “She was following us?” I stared at him, becoming more shocked by the moment.

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “She would have had opportunity to see us together for weeks,” Faith said.

  “How did I never see her?”

  No one answered. I didn’t really expect them to.

  “Damn it. All that time, she was right under our noses, and I never noticed. Not once. This means she wrote that article when she did to try to scare you away, Faith. On the phone, she commented that she was sorry she’d rejected my ring. Now I wonder if that’s what she was after the entire time.” I slapped my palm on the desk. The level she had stooped to stunned me. I had once thought of Lily as being a sweet girl with manipulative friends who should have never been working at a tabloid. I was clearly wrong. She was cut from the same cloth as Amara. Her so-called best friend may have told Faith that she felt remorse over her crimes, but it didn’t change the fact that she still drugged Lily without hesitation. Amara could have killed Lily… and Lily did kill Claire. They both needed professional help.

  A cool hand rubbed at the back of my neck, Faith’s nails scratching my scalp. “It’s over, now. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “I wish I’d never met her. None of this would have happened.”

  “You don’t know that.” Faith squeezed the back of my neck one final time, then addressed Bentley. “Did you have any other questio
ns for us?”

  “No, but I’ll let you know if we think of any more. You’re free to go.”

  “What will happen to her now?” I asked.

  “That’s up to the courts to decide, Mr. Phoenix. A lot of the evidence regarding the fire is circumspect, but she does have a motive. We’ve reached out to the photographer who took the picture to get a copy of the original. I suspect that will help. We’re also going to check surveillance again from the surrounding buildings to look for her.”

  I nodded. It was all out of our hands. Whatever Lily’s fate held in store, I just hoped I never had to lay eyes on her again.

  We shook hands with Detective Bentley and left the station. The humid air hit us the moment we had stepped into the balmy Florida summer.

  “It’s a bit late for a movie, but would you like to go out for dinner?” I said.

  “Sure. What did you have in mind?”

  That’s a good question. The small ring box in my pocket pressed into my thigh when I opened her door. Inspiration struck.

  A smile tugged at my lips. “How about Mexican?”

  Epilogue

  Two years later…

  Power.

  Strength.

  Control.

  These were the attributes I valued, lived by. They had become my mantra.

  My body was an extension of my mind. If I could imagine it, I could do it. Nothing would stop me from reaching my goals.

  My arms and abdominals strained. My spine was held upright, with my legs parallel to the ground as if I were sitting… except I was nearly ten feet in the air, suspending my full weight from two rings hanging from the ceiling. I counted in silence, forcing my face to remain impassive. I refused to make a single sound.

  I extended my legs farther in front of me and lifted slowly into a handstand. I held that position for a few seconds, then lowered myself down into an Iron Cross. Only one thing left to do…