by Davis Bunn
“Can you talk work.” Sarah humphed. “You ate three helpings of my brisket and you pretended to like my horseradish.”
“I didn’t pretend anything.”
“You can talk about anything you want, Danny. We want you to consider this your second home. Don’t we, Richard.”
“Friends,” he said. “Regardless of what happens with Megan.”
“Of course we want you two to work things out. But even if you don’t, you’re our new neighbor, and we like you for who you are.” Sarah covered his hand with hers. “So talk work.”
Danny told them about JR’s phone call.
When he was done, Richard asked, “How long have you carried this by yourself, son?”
The man’s final word almost cost Danny his control. “A week.”
“You need to tell Megan,” Sarah said.
He was about to object, say how their relationship was defined by the current project and nothing more. How he had not spoken with her directly since their conversation in the front drive. How . . .
Richard adjusted the plastic pipe connected to his nose. “Some burdens just can’t be carried alone.”
Sarah let the silence hold for a moment, then asked, “Has the thief called back?”
“Four or five times a day. I gave JR his own ringtone so I know to cut it off. ‘Ride of the Valkyries.’”
Sarah shook her head. “Tell Megan, Danny. Tell her tonight.”
“I thought, you know . . . I’d finish the film and then handle JR.”
“You don’t handle anything,” Richard replied. “You distance yourself.”
“Danny, I’m going to speak to you like you’re my own son,” Sarah said. “You’re being an idiot. And I mean that in the most motherly fashion. A complete nincompoop.”
“You’re falling back on what worked before,” Richard said. “This is different.”
“You’ve spent your entire life carrying things alone. If you needed help, JR was there. You trusted him. He landed you in jail. Now he’s back. And you want to handle the situation? Alone?” Sarah huffed softly. “Please.”
Richard asked, “What do you want from this?”
Danny nodded slowly. It was the question that had plagued his nights. The answer was, he had no idea.
Danny returned to the hotel after midnight. He parked by the fence and started toward his cabin. Midway down the path, however, he stopped. The night was utterly silent, the air still. The lake’s surface reflected a moon only a fraction off full. The surrounding hills shone pewter. Danny could hear Sarah’s parting words as clearly as if she stood beside him.
You can’t do this alone. The need for partnership is now.
Danny took the path leading up the hill. He turned on his phone’s light, then decided he didn’t need it after all. The moonlight was that strong. Four times he stopped and picked up pebbles as he hiked the empty path. Each time he named the stone. The first was for JR, the second for all the wrong people inserted into his early years, the third for all the wrong moves he had made with other ladies. The fourth . . . Danny was not certain why he felt it was important to carry one more rock. Future mistakes, perhaps.
The grave shone like an imperfect crown set upon a rocky skull. Danny stood at the perimeter for a while. It felt good just to be there, alone with all his regrets, and hope that it might actually be possible to turn away from the past. The old candle wax glistened in the light, rimming the grave with a history of ancient tears. He felt close to all those who had stood here before him and wished them well. One by one he tossed his stones, listening to them click and bounce before coming to rest with all the others.
46
AFTER THE MEETING, Megan saw Rand off to Solvang. She had to remain in LA in order to be ready if Harvey Chambers wanted to deliver his decision in person.
Megan turned off Wilshire and headed toward her condo, wishing she was driving to Solvang so she could sit down face-to-face with Danny. Talk with him heart to heart.
She ached to hold him.
She stopped by a favorite Korean restaurant on Melrose and ordered takeout, then called Robin, who had not yet managed to speak with Sol Feinnes about the hotel’s ownership. Megan asked her to call back whenever she knew something, no matter the hour.
At her condo, Megan unpacked her solitary meal and watched the news for a while, but the words washed over her and left her untouched. She cleaned up her meal, took a long bath, then went to bed. She felt tired in her bones, like she often had in the middle of a long trial. Weary in a way that no single night’s sleep could remove. She lay there for a time, wishing her condo was not such a lonely place. Her last thought before sleep was of Danny.
The phone woke her a little after midnight. Megan glanced at the screen, saw it was her parents’ number, and in that one instant felt her heart rate go from languid to redline. She touched the connection and demanded, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, except I’ve probably woken you up.” Her mother sounded breathless. “I wanted to wait and call tomorrow. But your father insisted.”
The words jangled around the electric pulse in her brain. “Mom, you’re not making sense. Dad is okay?”
“I just said that.” Her voice shifted. “I told you we should have waited, Richard. We woke her up.”
Megan heard her father’s hoarse response. “She’ll want to be woken up when she hears.”
Megan demanded, “Hears what?”
“Danny just left.”
Whatever came next, Megan needed to be on her feet to hear it. She turned on the light and rose from her bed, taking her time now. “Danny was with you?”
“He came for a late dinner. We talked for hours.”
“About what?”
“Honey, that man is so in love with you it brought tears to my eyes.”
“Mom, we don’t, we never . . .”
“Danny is trying his hardest to work through all the lifetime reasons to be alone. Your father and I just wanted you to know that there’s hope.”
Megan squeezed the space over her heart, trying to make sure it didn’t break free of its cage and go flying off. “Should I call him?”
“Give it at least until tomorrow. That’s what we think. See if he’ll make the first step. If not, then yes. Tell him we spoke. You need to hear about JR.”
Megan heard her father protest in the background. “Wait. John Rexford contacted Danny?”
“Yes, but that’s not . . . All right, Richard. I heard you the first time. Megan, if he hasn’t phoned you by lunch, call and say I insisted you needed to hear about JR. That’s all, Richard, I’m not saying a single thing more.”
Megan wished them a good night and stared down at her feet. She felt so weightless she needed to be certain she still managed to remain bound to the earth.
47
THE CALL WOKE DANNY from his first decent sleep in over a week. He fumbled the phone off the side table, dropped it on the floor, then bumped his head reaching for it. He checked the readout, saw it was not JR again, and answered with, “Ow. What.”
“Is this Daniel Byrd?”
“Depends.”
“This is Chief Wright of the Solvang Police. Are you Daniel Byrd?”
Danny swiveled his feet to the floor. “Speaking.”
“We have taken Alex Cross into custody. He asked that we use his one phone call to alert you.”
Danny was already up and fumbling for his clothes before the chief stopped talking. “What has he done?”
The chief had a rough-and-tumble voice and a sense of humor to match. “Your boy was arrested for wedging his fancy car between a park bench and a fire hydrant. What he ingested before that point is anybody’s guess. From the state he’s in, I’d say your boy has enough in his system to fell a rhino.”
On a couple of shoots in which Danny had been involved, visits to the local police station had been almost commonplace. This time, Danny had to say, “Sorry, I don’t know where you’re located.”
&nb
sp; “Which is one reason why I’m happy to make this call,” Chief Wright said. “You know the old Solvang Hotel on Main?”
“Sure.”
“Take that left. Station is two blocks down on your right. Park in the gated lot.”
The pre-dawn light filtered grey and feeble off to the east. As he started for his car, an idea struck. Danny stood thinking at the point where the gravel forecourt met the path leading to his cabin. The longer he studied the concept, the more he liked it. Finally he turned and started toward the hotel.
He climbed the stairs and knocked on four doors, one after the other. First Greg, then Annie, Rick, and finally the soundman. When he faced all four sleep-tousled faces, he related what he had heard. Even before he started on his idea, Rick and the soundman were already back inside their rooms. While he and Greg and Annie discussed possibilities, the main door leading to Jennie’s suite opened and Evelyn asked what was going on. Midway through his explanation, Evelyn interrupted to say that Jennie most definitely needed to hear this for herself.
That was the moment Danny decided that his idea might actually work.
He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial. When Emma’s mother answered, Danny gave her the bare bones. Even so, Robin was clearly wide awake by the time he finished.
She said, “You want to shoot it.”
“If Alex is in as bad a shape as the chief said, it might wake him up.”
“Kevin Wright is a good man and an excellent police officer,” Robin said. “Did you tell him about your idea?”
“Not yet.”
“Let me call him.”
“Thanks, Robin. Could you also find out if Alex has been formally charged?”
“If Kevin didn’t mention it, my guess is he’s hoping to make this go away quietly.”
“Bringing a film crew into his station couldn’t be anybody’s idea of quiet.”
“You know what I mean.” Robin thought a moment. “Do you want Emma there?”
“It could be a total waste of time.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Then yes. If Emma could come, there’s a chance, a very small one, that we could get something we could use.”
From behind Evelyn, Jennie asked, “You want me too?”
“The time-wasting issue goes double for you,” Danny replied.
“Won’t be the first. By a long shot.”
Greg said, “No makeup.”
“Oh, please. Like this is my first time on location.”
Annie smiled. “Yeah, Greg. Get real.”
Robin said, “I’ll wake Emma, then call Kevin.”
Danny thanked her and cut the connection. “We leave in ten minutes.”
Annie said, “Go make yourself useful, why don’t you. Put on a pot of coffee.”
48
CHIEF KEVIN WRIGHT was a large man in his late forties who held himself with a hunter’s stillness. He made no move as three vehicles pulled into his fenced lot and parked. Robin stood on the station’s third step, which brought her almost in line with the chief’s head. She rested a hand on his arm. Emma stood just inside the station’s entrance, watching the new arrivals over her mother’s shoulder.
Danny took a moment to inspect Alex’s ride. The Maserati was missing its front right headlight. The bumper was crumpled downward, as though the car frowned over its owner’s behavior. A deep gash ran down the fender and passenger door.
Kevin’s voice matched his build, deep and resonant. “I’ve been standing here making a mental list of all the regs we’re about to break.”
“You’re a good man,” Robin said. “And you’re doing this for the right reasons.”
Kevin shook Danny’s hand, nodded in response to his thanks, then inspected each of the others as Danny introduced them. If he was impressed by Jennie French’s appearance, he did not show it. “Robin tells me the guy inside isn’t holding up his corner of the tent.”
Greg replied, “So far, Alex is present in body only.”
“He reads his lines like he’s never seen them before,” Annie agreed. “I wonder sometimes if he even knows where he’s at or what he’s acting in.”
“Unlike Emma and Jennie, who are doing stellar work,” Greg added.
Emma blushed.
“Alex Cross is a highly gifted pro,” Jennie said. “Some of his earlier work was incredible.”
Kevin asked, “So you’re hoping this might just wake the boy up?”
“We want to try,” Danny said. “This wouldn’t be a single still photograph of Alex having a bad hair day. This footage could wreck his career.”
“Not that we’d ever release it,” Annie said. “Right, guys?”
Kevin studied them each in turn. “So how do you want this to go down?”
Alex’s role as Annie had written it was ambivalent. He tried to stay sober. He wanted to do the right thing. Or rather, he claimed that was his desire. But when it came time to turn from his former ways, his excuses rang hollow. He mouthed them. Nobody on the set believed him because he was not putting anything into the lines. Even so, Alex suited the role they had designed, and the result was some very powerful scenes. But only because Annie had written the guy as he was. The character was a film version of Alex living on the edge.
Growing up, Danny had known a lot of guys who wanted to do good, and failed. But giving up on the rage or the hurt or the drug of choice was too big a step. They could be just as addicted to anger as they were to their high. It had come to define them.
Danny thought this was the case with Alex. He had tried to reach for the next rung on the Hollywood ladder. He had wanted to become a writer-director as well as a star. A few had accomplished this—Orson Welles, Clint Eastwood—but most failed. Alex could not handle the failure. He fell apart. And now he was stuck in a drug-induced idleness.
The station’s front room served as both the reception area and a bull pen. Seven desks were arrayed behind the counter, only one of which was occupied. When they entered, a middle-aged deputy with a pie-shaped face, a solid paunch, and a widening bald spot looked up from his computer and said, “Jennie French. As I live and breathe.”
Danny asked, “Is this where I post bail?”
Kevin replied, “We’re a small town, Mr. Byrd.”
“Danny.”
He nodded. “We do what we can to make newcomers feel welcome. Especially when they’re doing right by the locals and trying to make a home for themselves. If we can make this mess vanish, it’d be fine by me.”
“Thanks, Chief. That means a lot.”
Kevin gestured to his deputy. “Ken Crowder here is my second in command. Ken, you checked on our guest?”
“Ten minutes ago. He’s awake enough to be holding his head and groaning.”
“All the other cells are empty, which is the main reason I’m even considering what you have in mind,” Kevin said. “Ken, you okay showing these folks down to the tank?”
The deputy rose from his chair. “My wife is just going to die.”
Kevin took a step back and said to Danny, “It’s all yours.”
Greg stepped forward. “Jennie.”
“Here.”
“Your first mark is there in front of the deputy. Rick, you follow her.”
Jennie asked, “What about Emma?”
Greg looked uncertainly at Robin. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
“We’re fine. Right, honey?”
“Mom never lets me stay out this late,” Emma replied. “I’m breaking all the rules.”
“Don’t get any ideas,” Robin said.
“Okay, Emma, you step up alongside Jennie and follow her moves.” Greg motioned to the soundman. “Wire them all up.”
While the soundman fitted them with mikes and battery packs, Greg and Rick followed the chief back into the cells. When they returned, Greg’s eyes sparked and Rick was grinning.
“Ready?” Greg asked.
The soundman said, “Sound check.”
&n
bsp; Jennie turned to Emma. “Pay attention and follow my lead.”
“You sound like my mom.”
The soundman said, “We’re in the green.”
“Okay, let’s do this,” Greg said.
49
THEY SHOT JENNIE’S ENTRY TWICE. The first time, Rick stood over by the doors leading into the rear cells. Jennie’s face was set hard as concrete. She marched in, moving so fast she dragged Emma and kept her off balance. Danny knew that was her way of wiping away the girl’s smirk. Jennie rushed up to the counter and demanded to know where he was, not even naming him. Just like a local might do, since her brother-in-law was well known for going off the rails.
The second time, the cameraman waited just inside the door and followed Jennie and Emma. Greg disliked the deputy’s nervousness and the way it edged his words with a false formality. So between takes he told Ken to stay quiet and move like he had weights sewn into his uniform. The result was solid.
The deputy buzzed them into the bull pen, then hesitated on cue before opening the rear door. He asked Jennie, “You sure you want her with us?”
Emma replied, “I want to be here.”
Jennie gave a weary shrug. “She’s seen him like this before.”
The deputy keyed the electronic lock and pulled open the steel door. The smell billowed out and was evident on both women’s faces. Jennie had to pull on Emma’s hand to get her moving. Perfect.
The deputy entered the rear hallway first, followed by Jennie and Emma. Rick sidled over to the left, his back against the cell bars, shooting with a shoulder-mounted camera. He used a single light attached to the rig, like a journalist team doing a quick on-site interview. It flattened the vista, erasing all depth of vision and etching the people in starkly unattractive lines. The soundman trailed behind Rick and held a boom above their heads. This external mike was crucial for balancing any ambient sounds.
Rick framed their progress with the cell bars as background. Emma kept holding back slightly, her eyes round as she studied the empty cells. Jennie appeared both impatient and angry as she kept tugging Emma forward. Her gestures said it all. You wanted to see, now see.