Exposure Season 1 e-1

by Tonya Muir

  She’s standing a few feet from me, trembling with anger. "I need a shower," she mutters.

  "I think it’s occupied."

  "All the better." She turns quickly on her heel and disappears.

  I throw myself down on the couch and finish my coffee in a huge gulp. "That went well," I tell the empty room.

  * * *

  This morning could have gone better, I realize as I lean my back against the passenger seat of the van. Jimmy is in the back, as usual, messing with equipment and muttering to himself, doing his best to avoid us at all costs. Harper is on her fourth cup of coffee already. She’s not speaking to me.

  I hadn’t meant to be vulnerable. I hadn’t meant to tell her what was bothering me. It just came out. Part of me wanted her to understand because I really am attracted to her. Not just her looks, that much is obvious. But because she’s educated and compassionate, she lives her life with carefree abandon, and has this sense of loyalty that I admire. I bet she’s good in bed, too, I admit to myself. I know it’s not her fault about our encounter. I’m a lousy drunk.

  The shower was nice. Susan is a wonderful woman and I’m thrilled to have found her. I can still feel her hands on my body and in my hair. She kissed me goodbye at the elevator and whispered promises of more opportunities to come. I feel pretty good about that relationship. If only I could fix this one.

  "I’m sorry I blew up this morning." I say, surprising us both. Jimmy looks up from his tinkering but then goes back to it wordlessly.

  "Whatever," Harper responds shortly as she jerks the van’s steering wheel and slams on the brakes. I hear Jimmy fall onto the floor in the back.

  "Christ, Harper," he glares at her. "Didja wake up on the wrong side of bed this morning?"

  "We’re here," she answers, ignoring Jimmy.

  "I see," I nod slowly. We’re parked outside the hotel where the shelter’s manager is staying. I feel a little tingle in my belly at the thought of the interview. I always love that feeling: the thrill of a mystery and hoping to get to the bottom of it. Today would be a perfect day if it weren’t for the black cloud hovering next to me behind the wheel.

  I know I’m to blame for that, though, so I try hard not to react with my usual moodiness. I decide to be neutral and get the job done. Why is it I feel I have to protect myself by hurting her? My parents taught me well, I realize with a sinking feeling.

  * * *

  The woman contrasts with Kelsey nicely. She’s in her early fifties, tall and willowy. Still, she has the appearance of a strong woman who has survived her share of disappointments. She greets us with a gentle smile as she rubs at her eyes. "Sorry, long night," she explains and yawns, showing us into the hotel room.

  Kelsey is talking with her casually as Jims and I set up. She’s trying to make the woman comfortable with her voice and mannerisms and is idly discussing the string of murders.

  "Rumor is they all look alike," the woman says, shaking her head.

  "I think they were all blonde. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. We’re in California, after all," she laughs. "Most of the women who aren’t blonde here find the color in a bottle."

  I hide my smirk at that statement. Kelsey is no bottle-blonde. I know that for a fact. I shake my head, trying to clear that image from my brain. I’m not gonna be looking at that view again anytime soon.

  The woman agrees with Kelsey. "Still. It’s frightening to know how unsafe women are in this city. I see it every day, as I am sure you do as well."

  Kelsey uses this sentiment to segue into the topic of our interview. "Which is why your work is so important, Ms. Graham. Your home offered women a safe place to recover from tragic events in their lives."

  She nods solemnly and folds her hands in thought. "It’s horrible to lose that place. It was so much a part of my life and so important to the hundreds of women who have found shelter there over the years."

  I catch Kelsey’s eyes and tell her in my look to back off a little. I want this on tape and we’re not quite ready. Jims finishes setting up the lights while I check the camera, and give him instructions to help soften the lightening.

  She understands and touches Shirley Graham on the leg. "Let me get my mike and we’ll see if we’re ready yet."

  I give Jims a nod for him to rig up our interviewee.

  Kelsey comes to face me, her back to our subject. "Sorry, she warmed to the subject faster than I expected," she whispers.

  "No harm done," I assure her and find myself settling the mike on her collar and dropping the wire down her shirt. I freeze and meet her eyes, realizing I have just taken a great liberty given our tenuous relationship.

  She smiles slightly and reaches out to pat my side.

  So I continue with the work, reaching up her shirt to find the dangling cord and trying hard not to notice the smoothness of her skin or smell her perfume. It’s a difficult task standing this close to her. Susan is lucky. I never should have laughed, I knew how insecure she was. I just thought the entire thing was so ironic. Actually, I didn’t think. Fuck. I hope some day we reach a point where we can talk this out without the need to throw insults at each other.

  Kelsey settles into her seat beside the manager, smoothing her skirt and fluffing her bangs. We do a quick sound check on both of their mikes and light up. Kelsey looks at me for approval and I nod. "Let’s go."

  * * *

  I turn to the woman trying to be sympathetic and professional at the same time. It’s a hard mix to achieve, but somehow I’ve managed to do a pretty good job of getting it right over the years. "Miss Graham, I know it’s been a long night and I’d like to thank you for giving us this interview this morning."

  "I wish I could say it was my pleasure. I’d much rather be getting good press for the shelter."

  Oh, she’s done this before.

  I nod as I continue. "I understand completely. Would you like to tell us what happened last night?"

  "To be honest, I’m not sure. I received a call a little after ten last night that the shelter was on fire and the women staying there had been evacuated."

  "I thought you were the resident manager." I glance down at my notes to confirm this fact. "Weren’t you on the property last night?"

  She shifts a bit and sighs. "I was having dinner with my sister and her husband."

  "Did you know at the time of the call that there had been several injuries from smoke inhalation?"

  "No. I didn’t know that until I got there." She fidgets a bit more and drops her head to stare at her hands.

  "There were three women hospitalized, correct?"

  "Yes, unfortunately, that’s right."

  "Have you had any indication from the fire department about the cause of the fire yet?" I don’t want to clue her in that it might be arson if she hasn’t heard.

  "No, not yet."

  "What do you think the problem was?"

  "It could have been any number of thing really… We’ve had problems with the electrical wiring in the past, and our appliances are gas, so …" She shrugs, at a loss.

  I notice a silent cue from Harper. "Hold that thought for a sec. I’m sorry."

  Getting to my feet I wonder what could be so important that Harper has called me to her. I cross the room and incline my head, trying so hard to ignore whatever the hell kind of cologne that is she has on. Damn, it smells good. Wonder if it would mix that well with Susan’s body chemistry.

  She reads the text message on her pager to me. "One of the women from the shelter died a few minutes ago." She pauses and sighs in my ear a little. That feels slightly familiar. Focus Kels, focus. "Apparently, she was asthmatic. The smoke inhalation killed her."

  "Oh shit." I murmur as I look up to her. She nods and I turn to the manager.

  I take a deep breath and reclaim my seat. "Miss Graham, I’m afraid I have some bad news. One of the victims of the fire died."

  Her eyes go wide and she looks at me as she shakes her head just a bit. "No, that can’t be."

 
; I reach out and take her hand. "I’m afraid so."

  I look up to Harper who gives me a bittersweet smile. Okay, she’s still got a nice smile. She knows this is hard on all of us and offers her support silently. She is a damn good partner.

  "That…that wasn’t suppose to happen."

  Suddenly, Harper and I make eye contact again and we’re both thinking the same thing.

  Oh shit!

  * * *

  I smile as I hand a copy of our tapes to the arson investigator standing in front of me in my office. Unexpected confessions are always nice. And they make great ratings, as well.

  "Thank you, Ms. Kingsley." He shakes my hand. "You did a great job with this. We’ve suspected the owner of that property for some time, as other properties of his have met the same fate. We just never could pin arson on him before, never found someone working with him willing to talk."

  "Until now." I smirk as I take my seat.

  "Until now." He agrees, tucking the tapes into his briefcase. "Ms. Graham gave us a full confession. The owner of the property is in deep financial trouble. He’s been having his properties torched for the insurance money. He had made her promises of a new facility for her shelter, a better place for the women to stay. Her job was to get everyone out. Unfortunately for them, the torch he hired screwed up and lit the place a day early."

  "So she wasn’t there and someone died."

  "Right. Now they’re facing all kinds of charges. The shelter is gone and one woman is dead."

  "What a waste." I sigh as I take a sip of chocolate milk. Too much fucking coffee today has my stomach in knots.

  "Yes, it is. Well, thank you again." He offers while moving to my office door. "We appreciate your help in this matter."

  "No problem, we appreciate the inside track on information." I wave as he leaves my office.

  I lean back in my chair, sipping my milk. Glancing over to Kels’ office, I can see she’s on the phone, smiling and laughing. Making a date with my clone, I’ll bet.

  Jesus, Kels, that’s so pathetic.

 

  Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:

 

  My hand is shaking a bit as I retrieve the card from the box. I know what it’s gonna say before I even read it. This has gone too far. I look around trying to figure out who might have put it there as I pull the card from the box. "We belong together. Can’t you see that?"

 

  "What other gifts have you received? Anything else like this?"

  "No." She stands up and stretches her arms above her head. I try hard not to focus on how that accentuates her assets. "Flowers. Stuffed animals. Box of chocolates."

 

  "No," she responds quickly, rising from her chair. "No, Harper, it’s not that." She runs her hand through her hair and I know she’s trying to get the courage to tell me something. "It’s just ... if this person is following me, I don’t want him to see me talking to the cops. Your friend’s been on TV with those murders and I don’t want my admirer to think I ratted on him."

 

  Episode Fourteen: Every Breath You Take

  There’s something about it being November and seventy degrees. I knew deep down there was a reason that I loved living in L.A. This is it. Being able to walk down Rodeo Drive in short sleeves and a skirt has its advantages. Since I met Susan, I am taking full advantage of everything.

  Oh boy, am I.

  From waking up with her arms around me in the mornings to the three-hour lunch we took today, it’s really nice to have someone who is semi-regular in my life. I glance down at my watch as I make my way to LaPerla.

  Shopping has never really been big on my list of things to do, but occasionally when the mood strikes me, I like to get out and spend a little of my hard-earned money. Okay, I admit it, occasionally I like to get out and spend a lot of my hard-earned money.

  Glancing around the shop, I realize I had almost forgotten what it felt like to be attractive to someone. Now, I remember and I love every minute of it.

  Three hundred dollars for a nightgown that I’m going to be on for all of an hour? Oh yeah, I’m losing it, but what the hell? It looks good and I know I’ll feel good in it. I’ll feel even better out of it.

  As I make my way back to the Mercedes (Rodeo Drive being the only place I feel comfortable leaving my baby parked on the street with the top down), something in the window of Bernini Sport catches my eye.

  A long sleeve black silk shirt that would look great on Harper.

  I do, after all, owe her a shirt for the library thing. Hell, I owe her two shirts. I do remember biting off the buttons, not that I’ll never admit that little fact to her.

  And Christmas is coming soon.

  I sigh as I enter the shop.

  Okay, one black silk shirt, one blue silk shirt and one copper silk shirt later, I don’t feel guilty anymore. She’s gonna look great in the copper one. What in the hell am I thinking? Get a fucking grip, Kels.

  I rearrange my packages and make my way to the car. Placing them in the trunk, I go around to drop my purse in the passenger’s seat when I find the black foil florist box.

  My hand is shaking a bit as I retrieve the card from the box. I know what it’s gonna say before I even read it. This has gone too far. I look around trying to figure out who might have put it there as I pull the card from the box. "We belong together. Can’t you see that?"

  Oh Christ! I wasn’t expecting that.

  My hands are really shaking now as I take the lid from the box. One dozen red roses. More precisely one dozen dead red roses, now nearly black in color.

  I don’t know whether to be scared or sick to my stomach as I put the lid back on the box and get in my car.

  I sit there for a moment taking deep breaths. I hold the steering wheel in both hands like the car will somehow protect me if I do. I glance over at the box as I turn the key in the ignition.

  My cell phone rings, nearly startling me out of my skin and I reach for my purse. Taking the phone, I flip it open and try to sound remotely normal.

  "Stanton."

  "Kels, it’s Harper," she tells me unnecessarily, as if I wouldn’t recognize her voice.

  "Yeah…." I manage to croak out as I look at the box again.

  "I need you to come back to the studio for about an hour."

  "Uh…okay…I’ll…I’ll be there in twenty minutes," I manage to stammer as I try to get my breathing under control.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah." I finally get some air into my lungs and lie to her. "I’m fine. I’ll see you in twenty minutes."

  * * *

  Making sure to put the top up and lock the Mercedes, I leave it in my regular parking spot in the garage, grateful now for the security camera that sweeps it every thirty seconds or so. I take the offensive black box, intent on getting rid of it as soon as possible.

  When the elevator opens, I head for it without really looking and run straight into a human wall. Giving a little yelp as I jump back, still not quite focused, I feel a hand close around each of my arms.

  "Kels, are you okay?"

  Suddenly I realize the wall is my partner and her hands are there to steady me from the backward tumble I was about to take.

  "Huh?" I blink at her trying to focus and recall her question.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I’m not sure anymore, Harper." I look up her. I need to trust someone and we trusted each other once.

  I offer her the black box.

  * * *

  I take the long box from her hands with a raised eyebrow. "Not from the kiddie doc, eh?" I ask sarcastically. I’m still not wild about this Susan chick. But something in the green eyes watching me tell me not to joke about this.

  "No. She’s not into black."

  I open the box, hearing the elevator doors slide closed behind me. Holy shit.

  "Or dead flowers," Kelsey continues. She’s trembling. "Read the card."

  I look around
the garage, not liking this setting. "Let’s get inside, okay?" I wrap an arm around her shoulder and punch the elevator button with the hand holding the box of shriveled roses. My protective instincts are coming out full force and I conveniently forget all of our cold-shouldered discussions of the last several weeks.

  Gail is hovering outside Kelsey’s office, demanding her boss’s attention, so I chase her away with an evil glare. Kelsey spent the elevator ride in silence, averting her gaze from the gift. Now, she ducks from under my arm and takes the seat behind her desk. I close the door behind us.

  "Read the card," she whispers again.

  The words I read give me a shiver of fear before I just get pissed off. "Is this the first one like this?" I snap.

  Kelsey refuses to meet my eyes. "Yes. The others have been kinda cutesy, admiring from afar things."

  "Do you have them all?" My voice is still harsh. I’m letting my emotions get the best of me and she’s taking the brunt of it.

  "No."

  "What?"

  "No. I threw the first ones away."

  I growl with frustration. "What the fuck were you thinking? It’s evidence."

  She takes a deep breath and finally looks up. "Please don’t yell at me," she whispers. "I didn’t tell anyone. I thought it was some harmless crush. I wasn’t interested in responding, there weren’t signatures or anything on the cards, so I threw them out. I didn’t want Susan to find them and think I was involved with someone else. Harper, I wouldn’t have come to you except ..." Her voice trails off.

  I shake my head, angry at my outburst. She’s ready to trust me again, let me help her with something that frightens her, and I bite her head off. "I’m sorry. I’m only worried about you," I say gently. "We need to contact the police."

  "Do you think so? Maybe it’s a prank. I don’t want to blow this out of proportion."

  I take the seat facing her desk, turning the chair to straddle it backwards and rest my elbows on the back. "Let me at least talk to some friends of mine on the force and get their feel for it. They may want to ask you some questions."