by Tobin, Val
Injury
by
Val Tobin
Copyright © 2015 Val Tobin
All Rights Reserved
Published by Val Tobin at Amazon KDP
ISBN 978-0-9920933-7-2
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Sample Chapter: The Experiencers
About the Author
Other books by Val Tobin
Connect with Val Tobin
Acknowledgements
Editing by Kelly Hartigan (XterraWeb) editing.xterraweb.com. Thank you, Kelly.
Thanks to Patti Roberts of Paradox (paradoxbooktrailerproductions.blogspot.com.au/) for the amazing cover.
Dedicated to Bob, Jenn, Mark, Chanelle, Savannah, Jack, and, of course, Robert “Cope” Copeland
Thanks also to Andrea Holmes, Val Cseh, Michelle Legere, Kathy Rinaldo, Heather Tobin, Kelly-Marie Murtha, Angel Morgan, John Erwin, Judy Flinn, Alis Kennedy, the OPP officer, and Sergeant Kelly Bachoo, York Regional Police.
Chapter 1
Eyes closed, sheet covering her face, Daniella Grayson groped for the phone and dragged the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”
“This is Tobey Ames from TNN, Miss Grayson. Do you have any comment on last night’s arrest of your mother?”
Were she not so hung over, Dani would’ve bolted up. Instead, she drew her legs to her chest, assuming the fetal position. “No comment.” The hand that held the phone dropped to the bed. Thumb probing for the “End” button, she found it and disconnected the call.
The phone rang again as she contemplated whom to call first. This time, she let it go to voice-mail. The machine in the living room clicked on after the third ring. The message and beep played, and John Madden, her manager, came on, sounding intense. “Dani. Are you screening? Pick up. I’ve been getting calls about your mother … ”
Dani sat this time, resting her aching head on bent knees, and answered. “What’s going on, John? Tobey Ames just called, asking about my mother’s arrest.”
“I don’t know the details yet. They’re accusing your mother of killing your father twenty years ago. You would have been what, then? Five?”
Silence. Dani tried to understand what John was telling her. “My father left us when I was five.” Dani’s mouth went dry, and her hands and feet grew cold. “Lilli was a bitch from hell.” Nausea threatened and her spine prickled as she processed the awful news. Could it be possible? Oh, God. “She’s capable of it. If they’ve arrested her for killing Daddy, she probably did it.” An edge of hysteria had crept into her voice.
“Listen,” John said. “Don’t answer the phone or open the door until I get there. I’ll call the lawyer on my way over, and we’ll figure this thing out. There must be a mistake.”
Dani said goodbye to John and hung up the phone. She shivered as she slipped out from under the covers and got out of bed. A glance at the clock on her nightstand showed seven-twenty in the morning. No wonder she felt like shit—she’d just gotten into bed at four-thirty, helped up to her apartment once again by her trusty chauffeur, what’s his name? She always had trouble remembering. Oh, yeah, Cope.
Good looking as hell, but too young for Dani’s tastes, and her employee, so she barely gave him a second glance. But he was kind and helpful and made sure she got home safely no matter how drunk she was.
Dani grabbed her bathrobe and snuggled her naked body into the warm terry cloth. As she slid her feet into a pair of slippers, the phone rang again. She returned to her nightstand and disconnected the phone. It continued to ring in the living room until the machine kicked in.
She listened for the caller’s voice.
“Hello, Miss Grayson. It’s Mark Rutherford of ASN. John Madden suggested you give me an exclusive interview. I’d love to hear your side of the story. Please call me back at ... ”
Dani shook her head in disgust while Rutherford recited his phone number. She pulled the plug on the living room phone as well. Anyone she’d want to talk to could call her cell.
She sank onto the couch, switched on the TV, and clicked over to the news channel. An eternity seemed to pass before the stories cycled to the one about her mother. Finally, the newscaster returned to the headline news.
A somber Toby Ames faced the camera, eyes filled with compassion. “Ms. Lillian Capshaw, mother of Oscar-nominated actress Daniella Grayson, was arrested last night in her apartment in Toronto on charges of first degree murder in the death of her husband Paul Grayson. Grayson’s skeletal remains were discovered yesterday morning in a capped well at a Sharon, Ontario residence once rented by the family. Ms. Capshaw was taken into custody late last night.”
Dani’s childhood home flashed on the screen behind the reporter. Plywood covered the windows, and two police cars sat in the driveway. Video footage of Dani appeared on the screen next, showing her exiting a limousine.
The newscaster continued in voiceover. “Miss Grayson, seen here arriving at the premiere of her movie, the Academy Award-winning best picture Injury, lives in Los Angeles and has not commented on last night’s events. We will update you as the story progresses.”
Dani flicked to a channel that focused more on entertainment news. After a few minutes, her photo appeared behind the news anchor, and he gave the same spiel as Ames had though without the premiere clip.
The footage then switched to a taped interview with Gregory Henderson, caught leaving a restaurant with a date. Dani swallowed past a lump in her throat and hugged herself, terrified of what Henderson might say.
Always an attention hog, Henderson leaned toward the female reporter and into the microphone. “No, I haven’t talked to Dani. She’s not speaking to me these days.”
Dani noted the slight slur in his speech. Henderson’s arm rested around the shoulders of a gorgeous blonde, who looked delighted to be with him, getting her fifteen minutes of fame.
“Did you meet Lilli Capshaw when you were dating Miss Grayson?”
“No ma’am.” Henderson swayed and steadied himself by leaning on his date. “Dani kept me all to herself.” He looked into the camera. “Call me, sweetheart. I’m here for you, baby.”
The date lost her look of delight.
After a few more inane questions from the reporter and more slurred responses from Henderson, the interview wrapped up.
What an ass. Dani switched off the television, recalling the premiere. She’d stepped out of the limousine and had smiled for the cameras while voices of people she didn’t know had cried out for her to look their way.
She hooked her arm through Greg Henderson’s and hop
ed her four-inch heels wouldn’t catch on the red carpet. “Greg,” she whispered, “don’t let go of my arm.”
He smiled at her. “Relax, baby. I’ve got you covered.”
Dani loved tall men. At five-foot-ten, she usually looked most men in the eyes—looked down on them, let’s be honest—especially in four-inch heels. Henderson was the perfect height for her, and their chemistry on screen and high-profile romance off screen had helped make Injury the hit of the season.
She tried to get in front of the cameras as much as possible and had worked hard at looking particularly stunning for that premiere. Her body-hugging gown had shown off her slender figure. She’d let her long, dark hair hang loose in a wild and carefree way that took hours with a curling iron to achieve.
Maybe my father is watching this, she’d thought, as she always did when she put herself on display in public. It’s why she put herself on display in public.
Daddy’s never seen me. All those times, I thought he’d see me and feel sorry he left us, and he wasn’t even alive.
The doorbell rang. John.
She unfurled from the couch and waited for him to enter. When the door didn’t open, she walked over, reached for the deadbolt, and then remembered John’s warning to not open the door. She checked the peephole. Nothing there. If that was John, he wouldn’t be hiding. She waited. The doorbell rang again, but whoever was there took pains not to be seen.
Dani left the door, went to her room, and opened her closet. There’ll be a media feeding frenzy. What am I going to wear?
Did it matter? Yes, she supposed it did, but it felt strange to know that her father wasn’t out there somewhere perhaps noticing her and thinking about contacting her.
At eighteen, she’d tried to find him, to ask him why he’d turned his back on her. She could understand that he’d want to escape controlling, abusive, obsessive Lilli. Dani herself had moved out of her mother’s home at sixteen. But Dani was a child when her dad had disappeared, and she’d taken the rejection and ensuing lack of contact personally.
The knocking on the door penetrated her thoughts. How’d that asshole get into the building? Multiple fists pounded the door, she realized. More than one asshole was out there in the hall stalking her. Then she heard voices arguing, demanding. She hopped back into bed, pulled the covers under her chin, and waited.
A key rattling in the door told her John had arrived. Dani sighed and slid out of bed. Peering out of her bedroom, she waited for him to step inside. John, handsome, rugged, older. But assertive, protective, kind. She itched to touch him.
Would he sleep with her now she was over twenty-one? It’d been five years since she’d tested those waters. When she’d first hired him to be her manager, she’d thrown herself at him.
She’d almost fired him when he’d rejected her, then had decided she didn’t give a shit after all. One by one, she’d seduced his associates, until she’d gotten it out of her system. The older men had been eager to accept the offer of her young body.
When John had complained, like he had any right to say anything about whom she fucked, she’d told him to butt out. He’d almost quit on her then, and she’d had to beg and plead and promise the moon to keep him as her manager. Fear of him abandoning her reined in her reckless, wanton behavior, and she’d battled to keep him in her life.
They’d had a holy alliance since then, focusing on her career, which shot through the stratosphere. She’d kept her attraction to him locked away, taking it out only in the darkest of nights when she took comfort from and pleasured herself on thoughts of him.
But now that ache for him was back, fierce, hot. Dani slid a hand down her robe and loosened the knot on the belt at her waist. The robe parted slightly, exposing her body in a thin, vertical line of curves and shadows. Her nipples hardened, and she parted her lips.
She tilted her head to the side and watched John struggle to shut the door as hands holding microphones jammed themselves into the opening, and voices shouted her name. John pushed against the door, and a man cried out in pain. The arms disappeared, and the door slammed shut.
“Don’t worry, Dani. I’ve alerted security. They’ll be gone soon,” John said, his back to her.
The normality of seeing him there shook her back to reality, and she closed the robe. When he turned to her, she faced him head on. “John.” Her voice caught in her throat, and his name came out low and throaty, but it was grief, not lust that did it. “What happened to my father?”
Chapter 2
John moved closer to Dani, and her heart leapt at the thought he might touch her.
His arms hung at his sides and stayed there. Heat from his body made her insides tingle. She stepped nearer and breathed in his scent. “Is it true?”
He stood kissing-close to her now. Dani gazed into his deep, brown eyes and smelled mint on his breath. Stubble roughened his chin and cheeks. John hadn’t shaved. He must have jumped out of bed and raced over to her without doing much more than getting dressed and brushing his teeth.
John placed a hand on each side of her face, sending electrical pulses down her body. Blood roared in her ears, and her heart pounded. His expression showed confusion, but his eyes betrayed his pain and sorrow. “It’s true. They found his remains on the property your family rented. There was enough evidence to charge Lilli with murder. Paul Grayson’s been dead twenty years.”
Dani’s head throbbed, pounding in time to her heartbeat. It couldn’t be true. “No.” Not knowing how else to take solace, she put her arms around John.
He pressed her head to his chest and stroked her hair. “Dani, I understand you’re overwhelmed. I’ll help you get through this. I love you, and I care about you.”
John had always been there for her, guiding her career, seeing her through the tough times and the good times. He’d picked up the pieces when her relationships with the men she carried on with fell apart, and he understood her better than anyone.
The times she was at her lowest, John had been there to support and encourage her. Even her own mother had told her she was useless and too fat and ugly to make it. John had dragged Dani back from the brink of anorexia, from the thoughts of suicide, from the pills and the coke—able to help her, because he was her trusted friend. Dani stopped crying and hugged him tight.
One of his arms folded around her back and his hand cupped the back of her head. “We’ll get through this, honey.”
“Okay. I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Dani looked up at him. “What did the lawyer say?”
“Nothing good. She did it.” He led her to the couch in the living room, and they sat.
“Lilli’s going away, isn’t she?”
“Yes. The trial will decide that, of course, but the lawyer said Lilli’s saying it was self-defense.”
Dani leaned against John, and he drew her in close, making her feel safe.
“Daddy didn’t leave me.” She said it out loud, practicing it, trying it on. Head pounding, Dani closed her eyes and slept.
***
When Dani opened her eyes again, she was lying on the couch, a blanket draped over her. Her head no longer throbbed. Golden light spilled in through the windows, making her squint. She sat up and searched for John. When she didn’t see him, she called out.
The door of her office opened, and he stepped out, cell phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, thanks. She’s up now. We’ll get back to you.”
Dani waited, brows arched, while John slipped his phone back into the case on his hip.
“Hungry?”
She didn’t reply, expecting him to understand she wanted to know what was going on.
Distracted, he headed toward the kitchen, scratching his head.
“John,” she called. “Don’t you have something to tell me?”
He paused. “Yeah. But you should eat first.”
“Fuck that. What is it?” Her voice filled with anxiety.
“Sorry. I don’t want you to get upset.” He frowned. “That was Jeanette.”
> Her agent. Probably a proposal, but something must be wrong, or John wouldn’t be so reluctant to discuss it.
John’s eyes narrowed. “The rep from Danger Play called.”
Dani’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of the studio that had funded Injury, and held her contract. She knew what John would say next and held her breath.
“They’re doing a sequel and want you back. Henderson, too. They’re offering you nine million and revenue share.” John strode to the couch and sat next to her. “The public’s been clamoring for it. The studio got the green light and wants to begin filming next month if you agree to the contract. I can tell them you won’t do it if Henderson comes back.”
Dani stared at her hands, which rested in her lap. “The picture would suffer. If I do this, Greg will have to be there. They’ll insist on it.” She kept her head down, avoiding his eyes. John still didn’t know the truth behind the breakup with Henderson, and she didn’t want to talk about it now.
“You don’t have to tell me what happened. But if you want me to agree to let you work with him again, you’ll have to give me something. You act like you despise him. How do you think you’ll convince anyone that your character loves him?”
“I’m the actress—let me worry about that. If it’s not working, we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Think it through. Call me tomorrow morning with your decision. If you’re up to it, Jeanette will get you the contract to sign.”
“Okay.” Probably better not to give them an answer now—she had more pressing things on her mind. Mouth dry, Dani licked her lips. She wanted a drink. The small bar next to the loveseat beckoned, and she went to it, gaze focused on the bottles standing at attention behind the glass door.
“What are you doing?” John’s tone was brusque.
Dani paused. She’d been about to make a martini, and she hadn’t had—what time was it, anyway? Dani checked the clock, which showed 6:03. She’d slept the day away? Again? “You’ve been here all day and let me sleep?”
“You needed it. No doubt, you were up all night. You haven’t eaten anything, and you’re reaching for a cocktail. I’m worried about your drinking. If I have to, I’ll send you back to rehab.”