by G. K. Parks
I was on to something. I knew it. I just couldn’t figure out what it was. I picked up the schedule Dinah handed me our first night on set. The reason I recognized the costume on the dummy was because it had been the slinky nightie she wore to shoot her first scene. Only someone watching her film would know to take that costume, but more than one had been taken since Dinah and Gemma had to get refitted. Something didn’t make sense.
Actually, none of it made sense.
Ten
“Well?” Cross asked expectantly, his focus never leaving his desk.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m not paying you not to know.” His eyes flicked to mine, misplaced anger burning in them. “Do you know anything?”
“The director, head writer, stunt coordinator, and actor with top billing all left moments before security discovered the posed dummy. And at least two dozen PAs were on set around the same time, including Jett Trevino and Elodie Smith, Lance and Dinah’s PAs. We should talk to them. They might know something. Honestly, I’m surprised everyone cleared out so quickly after shooting concluded.”
“We can’t question them directly. The studio wants this kept quiet.” Cross shook his head. “They left after wrapping in order to go back to their hotels and sleep before starting back at seven.” He folded his hands and leaned back in his chair. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
I blew out a breath. “Dinah’s afraid this movie will prove she isn’t much of an actress. She doesn’t want to get pigeonholed into playing the mom. She and Lance had some kind of steamy affair a few months back.”
“I saw the sex tape.”
“Of course, you did.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”
“He wants her back. I don’t know if that’s about ego or publicity. His people and the studio are backing the idea of taking their relationship public, but as far as I can tell, it’s over. He’s a dog, and she’s moved on.”
He clicked something on his computer. “She hasn’t been sighted with anyone since. Do you have a name for her new suitor?”
“She was vague. All I know is it’s someone from her modeling days. She suggested it was a designer, and from my research, it might be Christian Nykle. But that’s purely speculation on my part.”
“Like the metal?” Cross asked.
“No.” I spelled the name for him, my mind already circling back to the flowers that had been left in her trailer. “Honestly, I don’t know why we’re doing this.” I dropped into the chair, and he stopped writing. “More than likely, whoever sent the flowers to her trailer is the same person responsible for tonight’s threat. We need to identify the sender.”
Cross slid several pages to my side of the desk. “That is an inventory of the gifts fans have sent to the studio for Dinah since they announced she was cast in the film. I’m already having a list of the senders compiled. More than likely, one of them also sent the flowers to her trailer, if,” he paused for effect, “it wasn’t someone on set.”
“I thought the production was supposed to be top-secret.”
Cross rolled his eyes, an irritated growl escaping his pursed lips. “Nothing is secret. It’s why you’re under contract not to divulge anything about the actors, script, or filming to anyone. They are doing what they can to keep most of it from leaking ahead of time. That being said, this is a film. The point is to create a buzz. They want the fans salivating at the notion. They want to tease. Keeping things secret is the best way to raise speculation and work them into a frenzy.” He looked through my notes. “We need to be certain this isn’t an internal problem before we expand our investigation.”
I checked the time, wondering when the security team would phone. “Did any unauthorized personnel breach the lot?”
“Security found some damage to the fence in the rear right quadrant.” He picked up his phone from the edge of his desk and flipped through the images before holding it out to me. A few of the links near the bottom had been cut, but the gap was not large enough for a human to enter or exit. It was just big enough to bend the very bottom of the fence inward to retrieve an item. “It’s insubstantial.”
“So no one breached the set?”
“We can’t be certain, but it’s unlikely. If someone did, we haven’t figured out how.”
When he looked up, I knew we had the same thought. The only people who could shed light on this matter were Dinah Allen’s security team. If she was dealing with an ongoing threat, they needed to know about tonight.
His eyes raked over my body. “Miss Allen’s team will be here in an hour and a half.”
“I know.”
He let out a scoff. “You cannot meet with them dressed like that. Get changed. Just make sure you’re back in time. Do not be tardy.”
I stood, confused by his priorities. “Lucien,” I began, “you can’t be serious.”
He leaned toward me. “Aren’t I? This is on me. My firm has a reputation, and tonight, someone proved we can’t live up to expectations. The least we can do right now is dress the part. We don’t need our incompetence to show in our choice of attire or my choice of investigators.”
I glared at him. “I told you there was a problem.”
He rubbed his temples. “You did. I failed to listen, choosing instead to listen to the shit for brains security team. That is one mistake I will not make again. Now go.” His jaw clenched, and I took a step back. Now wasn’t the time to argue.
“Right away, boss.”
Driving back to the apartment I shared with Martin rather than my place would save roughly thirty minutes. If I was late to the meeting, Cross would have my head on a platter. Curiously, I wondered what would become of the security guard. I’d never seen my boss this far out of his depth. Granted, I’d only been working for him for less than two months, so I didn’t know what Lucien in crisis mode looked like, but if today was any indication, it wasn’t a good thing. I couldn’t risk having that fury turned on me.
“Miss Parker,” the doorman eyed me curiously, “is everything okay?”
“I just need a quick wardrobe change.” I winked at him. “Can you make sure my car doesn’t get towed? I’ll only be a few minutes.” I left it on the street near a hydrant. More than likely, it’d get ticketed before it would get towed, but it just depended on how seriously the city wanted to take fire safety.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thanks.”
When I entered our apartment, I didn’t notice anything amiss, but I wasn’t exactly paying attention. I’d like to believe if a thief and assassin were lurking in the shadows I would have noticed, but since they weren’t, there really was no way to tell. I quietly entered the bedroom, hoping not to disturb Martin. It was a little after 5:30. He would be getting up in a few minutes anyway, or so I thought.
I just opened the closet halfway when I realized the glaringly obvious discrepancy in our bedroom. He was gone. The bed was made. Our missing pillows were back in place.
“What the hell?” I reached over and flipped on the overhead light as if that would make him materialize, but it didn’t. Abandoning my mission, I went into the bathroom. Also empty. “Martin?” I called. He didn’t respond. I even checked the balcony, but he wasn’t there.
I was halfway through dialing his number when I found the note stuck on the fridge. Went home. Needed notes on a presentation. I have a long few days ahead. I’ll stay at my place tonight so I don’t disturb you. Hope your crisis at work is handled. If you need anything, call.
My mouth felt cottony, and I tried to swallow the lump in my throat. Cursing, I stomped back into the bedroom. I changed into a Cross approved outfit, found a duffel, and threw the rest of my belongings into the bag. Was I irrational? Probably. Was I pissed? Definitely. Did I have time to deal with this? Absolutely not.
Tossing my copy of the apartment key on the counter, I gave the place one last look. “I knew this was a bad idea.” I slammed the door and waited for the elevator. When it opened in the lobb
y, I approached the doorman. “Did you notice what time Mr. Martin left?”
He bit his lip. “It was a few minutes after you did.”
“I bet it was,” I snarled. He stepped back, and I tried to force my face into a less hostile expression. “Keep up the good work.” It was the best I could muster as I went out the door and back to my car. By the time I got into the car, I had already dialed Martin’s number.
He answered on the second ring, not a hint of sleep in his voice. “Sweetheart?”
I shoved the key in the ignition. “You seriously left our apartment in the middle of the night?”
“You left first.”
“Are we in kindergarten? I didn’t want to leave. I had to go to work. I wasn’t literally lying in wait for you to disappear so I could sneak off.”
“Is that what you think I did? Alex, what is going on?” Martin asked, his voice had a slight edge. “You’ve been acting off ever since you came home last night. Talk to me. Did I do something?”
I cut into traffic, hearing an angry horn blare. Like any good driver who made a mistake, I flipped the annoyed motorist the bird. “I don’t know. Did you?”
Martin was getting agitated. “Stop playing games. Why are you mad at me?”
Reining in my thoughts before they could spill out of my mouth, I exhaled. “I’m not mad. I’m just tired. I don’t know what’s going on with you.”
“Did you get my note?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that should have cleared it up.”
Maybe he’d been at a strip club the other night. A lap dance or two would have explained the perfume, makeup, and his friskiness. “You’re keeping something from me.”
“Alex,” from his tone I knew it was true, “you’re being paranoid. Is this because you aren’t ready for us to move in together again? I said we were taking it slow, and then I sprung the all in thing on you and turned our weekend place into an everyday place. I’m sorry.”
“Why do you keep apologizing?”
He sniffed, slightly indignant. “Fine. I’ll stop.”
“I thought we weren’t keeping things from each other anymore. You said we needed to rebuild trust.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Why did you leave in the middle of the night?”
“I needed notes for a meeting. If you come over right now, I can prove it to you. I’m home. You can ping my phone. No one’s here. Do you want to look through my security footage to verify it? I don’t care. I’ll get copies of my office footage for you too. Whatever it takes to put your mind at ease.”
It scared me that he thought he needed an alibi. Innocent people didn’t worry about such things. “That won’t be necessary.”
“What do you want me to say?” Apparently, he didn’t realize I just conceded, so he still felt the need to defend himself. “What I’m working on doesn’t concern you. It has nothing to do with us. It’s something for me. It’s something that I need to do. You of all people should understand that.” How was I supposed to know if he thought an orgy was something he thought he needed to do? “Alexis, please, let this go. When it’s over, I’ll tell you everything, but I’m in the process of procuring some sensitive items. Business deals and all. I can’t discuss it. Not even with you.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Sweetheart,” he begged, and my heart broke.
“It’s fine. We’re fine. I’m sorry I called and bothered you.” I pulled into the garage and parked in my assigned spot.
“Don’t be upset.”
“I’m fine,” I growled. “I have to go.”
“Wait.”
“Martin, I can’t do this now. I’m already back at the office. I only went home to change. Cross is on the warpath. The studio might have been compromised.” I clenched my jaw. “My focus needs to be on this, and yours has to be on your top-secret project. It’s okay. We’re okay. This is what we do, right?”
“Fuck it. I’ll come home early tonight, and we’ll talk about it.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Alex,” he warned.
“No,” I said, forcing my voice to be calm, “you’re right. I have things that I have to handle, and you have things you have to handle. I understand what it’s like to have a personal mission. You are under no obligation to discuss it with me. And we both know I prefer not sharing things with you, so we’re even.
“Great,” he huffed.
“I have to go.”
“I can’t hang up this phone until I’m sure we’re okay.” He didn’t sound desperate or hurt. He sounded annoyed.
“I love you.” The words leaked out from somewhere deep inside. I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t think he deserved to hear them, but a part of me was terrified. Under no uncertain terms was I supposed to confront him on this. I had decided that less than twelve hours ago, and then I lost my ability to act reasonably. “Whatever you’re doing, just be careful.”
“I will.” He exhaled. “The same goes for you.”
Eleven
“We believe there is a credible threat,” Mario Scaratilli, Dinah Allen’s chief of security, declared. He held up a hard copy of one of the photographs Cross had taken. “That’s definitely part of her wardrobe. She verified it as soon as you texted the image.” He put the photo down on the table. “Have you determined how the breach occurred?”
Cross swallowed. “We aren’t positive there was a breach.”
“Interesting.” Scaratilli’s gaze swept over the folders on the table. “I see you’ve built a profile for Miss Allen.”
“Several. It is not yet clear if she is the target.”
“Isn’t that a bit of an overstep?”
Muffled static came from the speakerphone in the center of the table before one of the studio heads spoke. We were teleconferencing with the studio while Dinah’s team was present in the hopes of getting to the bottom of this as quickly as possible. “Broadway Films requested Cross Security handle this incident. In order to properly do that, we’ve given Mr. Cross clearance to quietly check into the talent and crew. Mr. Cross has promised to execute the utmost discretion in these matters. Haven’t you, Lucien?”
“Absolutely. Nothing I discover will be disclosed to anyone with the possible exception of the affected parties, unless such a time occurs in which law enforcement is required.” Lucien had the legalese down to a science.
“Have you informed the other actors of the danger?” Scaratilli asked. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair.
“No,” I said, drawing his attention away from my boss.
“Why not?”
“We wouldn’t want to cause a panic.” My eyebrow twitched slightly upward. “Have you addressed the previous threat Miss Allen received?”
His stony face slowly broke into a slight grin. “You’re the FBI agent she’s been raving about.”
“FBI?” the studio head squawked.
“Alexis Parker, the technical consultant,” Cross responded. His gaze came to rest on me, his eyes fixed in a warning; do not screw this up.
“That would be me,” I replied.
Scaratilli nodded. “You’re talking about the flowers. We have yet to track the sender. In Miss Allen’s haste, she discarded the only piece of evidence we might have used. Since then, we’ve had to make several inquiries to local florists, but so far, we haven’t determined where the bouquet originated, much less who sent it.”
“It seems like you could use our help,” Cross said, “and we certainly could use yours.”
“Lucien,” the studio head interrupted, hoping no one forgot about him since he wasn’t present in the conference room, “I don’t want a large-scale investigation being conducted while we’re trying to make a movie. I need to know the lot is safe, the talent and crew are safe, and that nothing like this is going to happen again.”
“We’ve upped security. The man who had been in charge of the detail no longer works here,” Cross said, and my eyes w
ent wide. He fired someone over what might have been an oversight or a stupid mistake. Shit. Cross took his reputation very seriously. “We’ve increased patrols, added additional surveillance equipment to monitor the perimeter, and have enacted more thorough checks for visitors. Like I told you earlier, our best chance of determining the seriousness of this,” he paused, frowning at being forced to use the word, “potential prank is to question the people on set, but since you are opposed to that request, we will find another way.”
“Thanks, Lucien. Let me know what you discover.” The sound of the dial tone replaced the staticky voice, and Cross hit the disconnect button.
“What do you want from us?” Scaratilli asked, his eyes never wavering from mine.
Cross cleared his throat. “We were hoping to share intel. Parker retrieved the note attached to the flowers. We’ve analyzed it for prints, but the ones recovered were inconsequential. You can have it back to continue your investigation if you provide us with the list.”
The list? I wasn’t sure what Cross was talking about, but Scaratilli did. The security chief glowered. “Are you trying to show us up?”
“Not in the least,” Lucien said.
Scaratilli rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Fine, but we’ll need everything you’ve compiled.” He gestured at the stack of profiles on the table. “Some stupid love note won’t hack it.”
Cross nodded. “I’ll have digital copies forwarded.”
Scaratilli’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “If this is anything but what it appears to be, we will take legal measures.”
“I would expect nothing less.” Cross stood.
The security chief gave me another glance. “Miss Allen is waiting at reception. She would like to speak to you.”
I stood and followed the human refrigerator out of the conference room and to the front desk. He didn’t speak on the way, and I had no desire to make small talk.