“We rotate making the schedule,” he says, closing the folder. “You did this week’s. Next week is mine.”
It takes everything inside me not to openly snarl at him, but I manage, barely. “You can’t make me like him.”
“You don’t even know him. Get to.”
“Or what?”
“I’ll handcuff the two of you together and you can beat the ever-living shit out of each other,” he snaps.
I flash a cold smile. “Fine by me.”
Bash’s gaze sharpens. “Then it’s a good thing I make the schedule half the year.”
“Goddamnit!” Crushing the paper, I pivot and walk out.
Chapter Nine
Cass
I’m thankful Calder doesn’t look my way as he walks out of Sebastian’s office. By the annoyed expression on his face, now wouldn’t be a good time for him to learn the book left outside our house was from Celeste. But just like Talia always says, “A good investigator never jumps to conclusions. Check all the facts, then let your gut kick in for the rest.” So, fact checking first.
Once I learn as much as I can about Celeste’s health status, then I can decide what to do next. The hard part will be asking Talia for the information without revealing too much. Calder and I are the only ones who know that Celeste is still very much alive, and so long as Talia never learns the truth, she won’t have to lie about it if asked under oath. I hate keeping this secret, but I must in order to protect everyone else from the backlash if the truth ever came out.
My heart jerks when Calder unexpectedly turns around, so I quickly step into Talia’s office and pull the door nearly closed as he heads for Elijah’s cubicle.
“Um, heya, Cass. Why are you sneaking around?” Talia calls from her desk.
Shutting the door, I give an apologetic half-smile. “Sorry, I was practicing getting out of the line of sight quickly.”
Talia stands and re-tucks her silk blouse into her dove gray linen skirt, then comes around her desk. “So why are you still whispering?” she asks in a low voice.
“Oh, uh…” I exhale a nervous laugh and speak in a normal tone. “Still in stealth mode?” I say, irritated that my voice hitches.
“Okay, girlie.” Talia snorts. “Spill it. Who are you trying to avoid?”
“I’m not trying to avoid Calder,” I say quickly.
Her eyebrow arches. “I asked who you were trying to avoid. I never said Calder.”
When I frown at her, she folds her arms. “Okay, fine,” I say on a sigh. “I just want to get some information first before I share it with him.”
“Does this have anything to do with yesterday’s appointment that you didn’t want Calder to attend?” As I gape, her green gaze turns serious. “Yeah, I noticed.”
Talia doesn’t miss a thing. “Actually, Calder showed up later, but the space didn’t work out anyway.” I grimace, accepting her softly spoken “oh no” with a nod. The last thing I want to do is blatantly lie to my best friend, so I skirt the truth about dodging Calder with a valid question.
“For a week or so now I’ve wondered if someone might be following me, or if it was just my imagination. I’m used to doing surveillance on specific locations or people in set places, so I have no point of reference when it comes to keeping up with a person. Before I mention this to Calder, I thought you could give me some pointers on how to spot a person who might be tailing me.”
Talia picks up a print out and hands it to me. “I take it you haven’t seen this.” When my gaze drops to an article and picture from our local paper, she says, “Welcome to the family, Cass. Consider yourself lucky that you went this long before the media hounds plastered your picture all over town. They’ve probably been on you for a while just to get that shot.”
“But they just discovered we were engaged yesterday…” I trail off and stare at the unhappy look on my face reflected between my open fingers, but it’s the headline above the photo of Calder and me in the car that makes me grit my teeth. “Trouble in Paradise for Calder Blake and His Fiancée?” I toss the piece of paper onto her desk. “Ugh, really? Anything to sell a story, huh?”
She gives a sympathetic look. “I totally get it, so let’s go over a few pointers to make you feel comfortable. It’s important that you know them for safety reasons anyway. Have a seat.”
I sit in a chair at the small round table in the corner of her office.
“When it comes to the paparazzi, sunglasses are your friend, so are hats, hoodies, or anything that camouflages your normal look,” she begins as she sits down across from me. “You’ve seen what I do to avoid them, so you’re going to have to start using those methods. As for knowing if you’re being followed, first off, you’ve always got your camera on you, so use it. Pretend to be snapping photos, but put your camera on burst mode and scattershot the whole area around you.”
I nod. “Ah, that’s a good idea.”
She taps my phone that I’d set on the table. “Use this the same way. Flip it to your rear-facing camera and turn on record video, then hold your phone up to your ear and pretend to talk. As you walk around, turn like any normal person would while talking, except you’ll be capturing the whole area around you.”
I can’t believe I didn’t think to do that. I sit forward, completely rapt. “Ha, that’s great. Using those techniques, I can prove I was being followed after the fact by reviewing images, but how can I confirm I’m being followed while it’s happening?”
“Ah, okay…so in-the-moment stuff.” Talia lifts her hand and starts ticking off more pointers. “If you’ve seen the same person more than once in completely different areas, be on alert and in contact with us. Then start paying attention to things like: If the same person leaves the restaurant at the same time you do, or you see them flipping the pages of a book or magazine faster or slower than a normal person should, or they’re stretching too long while out running. If anything sets off warning bells, move into a crowded area. Whether you’re in a car or walking, stay where there are people. One way to confirm your suspicions is to take four different turns. If the person takes the same turns, they are more than likely following you. In a car, you could also turn on your blinker but then go straight. If they do the same, you’ve confirmed the tail.”
“How do I keep an eye on them if they’re following me? It’s not like I have eyes in the back of my head. And while it might be fun to spin in circles while walking down the street, I’d probably be arrested for public intoxication.”
“You always paint the funniest pictures, Cass,” Talia says, laughing. “Seriously though…to observe someone following you, use the space around you, such as windows and mirrored reflections, like back windows or mirrors on parked cars. Or, you could act like you forgot something and turn completely around. You’ll be able to see their face, and if they will eventually turn too. Be aware that sometimes, the person might follow you side-by-side, such as across the street. In cases like that, use your periphery to see if the person’s matching your speed. When you slow down, speed up, or stop, do they do the same?
“If you’re driving, try to memorize the vehicle’s license plate if you can see it, but at the very least take note of the make/model of their car. If you’re walking, look for distinguishing factors: height, build, hair color, eye color, and anyting that stands out, like tattoos or the way they walk. Do they have a limp? The more detail we have, it might help us rule out paparazzi. If it turns out to be one of the paparazzi, then Sebastian and Calder can reiterate the rules of ethics and behavior with them on BLACK Security’s terms.”
“All good things to know, Talia. Thank you.”
Her brow furrows slightly as she leans over to clasp my hand. “Tell me what the person looked like…the one you think has been following you. That’ll help us whittle down the list of those who work for the paparazzi. Then we can have you take a look at photos. I’m sure Calder would love to pay him a personal visit.”
“That’s just it. I never saw his face. I jus
t caught a quick glimpse of a man as he disappeared down an aisle at the library. I can’t even tell you if he was heavy set or thin. I do know his hair was short and dark brown. He was about six feet, I guess?” I shrug and shake my head. “Honestly, I only saw him the one time, so he could’ve just been there at the same time I was.”
“But you mentioned that you’ve felt followed for a couple weeks.”
“Now that you said the paparazzi could’ve been trailing me for a while, who knows how long that’s been going on. Those guys yesterday did just seem to pop up out of nowhere. Being shadowed by news hounds is probably what I felt, but I’m going to keep everything you’ve said in mind and pay more attention so I can avoid being surprised by them again. Sorry if I worried you by asking.”
“Are you kidding me? Always ask, Cass. It’s better to share any worries you have so we can make sure we’ve got your back too.”
“Speaking of asking…I’m hoping you can help.” I pause and take a breath. “When I had lunch with Beth yesterday she looked really tired. I know she took on the role of running the Carver family business with her father but, I’m worried she might be more than just run down.”
“Oh no…how can I help?”
“Remember how we were going to have Celeste’s blood tested for her general health after we determined who her baby’s father was?”
Talia’s eyes light up. “Oh yeah…that’s right. Everything kind of went crazy after we confirmed Phillip was the baby’s father. Of course, getting you out of that false arrest took precedent, then stuff started piling up against Phillip once we proved he shot Calder and linked him to the illegal MMA fights. Since they couldn’t get him on what he did to Celeste as a teen for lack of evidence, I’m glad that bastard got jail time for her murder.”
I fully agree with her sentiment, but to cover my unease with her last comment, I push on. “Did the lab ever give you a report on Celeste’s health?”
“I think so.” She stands and walks to her desk, then pulls up the case files database on her laptop. “Ah, here it is. I’ll print it out.”
Handing the paper to me, she tilts her head. “How does this help you feel better about Beth?”
“I’m hoping it’ll tell me if Celeste had any of her mother’s issues. Her mom died from Lupus complications and my understanding is that Lupus can be hereditary.” I stare at the paper, feeling completely lost with all the acronyms and medical jargon with results containing upper and lower ranges. There’s a low WBC indicated, and a high erythrocyte (RBC) sedimentation rate listed among other indicators, which may as well be in a foreign language. I don’t see any mention of Lupus, but for all I know, it takes more than a blood test to determine that kind of diagnosis.
“Can you make heads or tails of this report?” I ask, flipping the paper around so she can read it.
She shakes her head. “No, but Ben might be able to provide more insight. When you ask him, just tell him that you’re going over an old case file for me and need him to help interpret the lab results. It’s probably best to keep Celeste’s name out of it. Since his family was close to hers, it might upset him if he knows it’s her blood work he’s looking at.”
I nod my agreement, glad that the lab had registered the blood work analysis under the generic name Patient #1. At least then I won’t have to blank out Celeste’s name when I ask Ben to explain the results to me. One less lie I’ll have to tell. I really hate all this subterfuge, especially because this time around I’m not telling a bunch of half-truths to Celeste’s friends and family, but to my own. My intentions might be honorable, but this truly sucks.
“Thanks, Talia,” I say, standing. “I’m off to ask for Ben’s expert opinion before heading to lunch with Beth.”
“You’re welcome, but you’ll have to wait until he gets here after his shift is over at the hospital.”
“Oh.” I sigh. “Do you know when that’ll be?”
“He’s not coming in until after four. He said he had a meeting afterward.”
Ugh, I’d really hoped to know for sure before I went over to Beth’s house. “Okay, I’ll leave him a note.”
After I write a note asking for Ben to help me interpret the lab results, I leave it on top of the report on his desk. Breathing a small sigh of relief that Calder’s in a closed-door meeting, I head off to steal a small fortune from the Carvers.
Beth answers the door with red eyes and I instantly walk in and wrap my arms around her. “I’m so sorry,” I say quietly, hugging her close. Their main house manager, Beatrice, is standing near Beth’s father’s office with a worried expression, but I silently wave her away her while patting Beth’s back so she knows I’ve got this.
Sniffling, Beth tries her best to smile as she clasps my hand and tugs me into the foyer. “I’m such a terrible host. Come on. Our lunch is all set up.”
I follow her into the dining room and the delicious smell of Vicci’s lasagna makes my stomach growl, but as hungry as I am, I wait for Beth to sit first, then take my seat next to her.
“This smells so good,” I say, inhaling deeply. When I pick up my fork, but see that she hasn’t touched hers and instead is staring at me sadly, I pause. “Is everything okay?”
Beth props her chin in her hand and smiles. “Please eat. Everything is fine. I hope you don’t mind if I seem to be staring more than usual, but…it’s been so long since Celeste sat here and ate with me, that I’m having a nostalgic moment.”
I hold the fork tight and tamp down my guilt. “Stare all you want, Beth. Why don’t you tell me a story about your sister. I’ll be happy to listen.”
She smiles and sniffs back her tears. “You’re truly awesome to indulge me.” Picking up her fork, she stabs it into her salad. “Let’s see. What about the time Celeste got a pony but refused to let me ride it?”
I pause between bites and swallow. “Did she really do that?”
“Yep, sure did.” Her eyes light up as she snickers. “I’ve never laughed so hard when the pony tossed her on the ground and came running over to me.” Winking, she grins. “I may or may not have had an apple in my hand.”
I shake my head, offering a half smile. “Seems you learned to deal with your sister very well over the years.”
“That I did, Miss Cass,” she says, pointing her fork at me.
She tells more stories and I respond with laughter or righteous anger as needed while we eat. With each new tale, I can see the love and loyalty Beth had for her sister, even for those times she knew Celeste didn’t deserve it.
It’s like now that Beth knows the truth about her sister’s tragic past, she’s able to look past the things that annoyed her as the younger sibling always in the shadow of her sister, to only see the good in Celeste.
Once she’s exhausted all her stories, Beth sighs and says quietly, “I wish I could’ve told her that I forgive her for pushing me away.” Despite her suddenly somber comment, her cheeks have a rosy bloom they didn’t have before as she digs into her tiramisu.
While I eat my desert, I watch my friend, thankful the tears are gone. Maybe Beth could keep Celeste’s secret. It would mean so much to her to know she hasn’t lost both her mother and her sister. The more I think about it, the more I convince myself that telling Beth the truth about Celeste could solve so many problems. But I could only do so if I knew Beth would keep her sister’s secret. Then she could be the one to bring the money to Celeste directly. She’d have to ditch her bodyguard and make sure no one follows her, but she’s been adept at that for a while now. She’d have to understand that she’d never be able to reveal her sister is alive. Not even to her father.
The question is…could Beth forgive Celeste for this transgression?
I bite my lip, trying to decide how to broach the subject, when it hits me: I’ll ask her opinion on that recent story in the news about the teen who set up his own kidnapping in order to extort money from his workaholic parents. Only his plans were thwarted when the police discovered him trying to skip town w
ith the ransom money they’d provided for the kidnappers. Do you think his family should forgive him? How Beth responds to that question will hopefully help me decide if she can handle the truth.
I start to ask her thoughts on the story, when Beth puts her hand on her forehead. “I’m sorry, Cass. I suddenly don’t feel very well. Would you mind helping me upstairs?”
“Of course,” I say, quickly rising to come to her side. “Would you like me to call for Beatrice?
Beth shakes her head, her long, light-brown hair swaying as she folds her arm around my shoulders. “No, if you could just get me to my mother’s room, I’ll just lay down for a bit.”
“Your mother’s room?” I grab her phone from the table, then move with her into the hall.
Beth shivers as we start up the stairs. “Mom always had the softest bed.”
Once I help her into bed and pull the covers up over her, I touch her forehead, worry starting to creep in. I’m so glad I asked Ben to interpret those lab results. If it seems likely that Celeste was unwell, I’m going to push Beth to be tested. At least then she can get the medical help she needs early on instead of needlessly suffering. “You do feel a little warm. I hope you’re not coming down with something.”
“Ugh, just what I need. A summer cold. And I’ve got back-to-back meetings tomorrow.”
“Not if you’re feeling like this, you aren’t. If your father can’t make it back in time to take over for you, then have your administrative assistant reschedule.”
Her eyes widen. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I shrug. “That’s the great thing about being the boss. You call the shots.”
Exhaling a tired sigh, she holds her hand out. “Can you give me my phone?”
When I hand it to her, Beth shivers as she lifts the phone. “Ugh, yeah…I’m not going anywhere like this any time soon.”
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