Joke and Dagger

by Christy Barritt

  As I pulled on my seatbelt, I wondered what it would be like just to have a regular life with Jackson. To have a regular schedule where we were together day in and day out. To be able to see my fiancé every day.

  Instead, I was out of town for weeks at a time. Even when I was in town, Jackson worked his crazy shifts. It depended on his caseload, but policing wasn’t a 9-to-5 job type of thing.

  Jackson pulled away from their house and started down the dark road.

  Would I ever be happy just settling down and having a normal life? Maybe. I wasn’t sure. I wanted to say yes. But there was another part of me that knew I loved acting and Hollywood and that it was where I was meant to be.

  The question was, could I have it both ways? Could I have a normal life with Jackson and live as a Hollywood actress? That was the dilemma I’d been struggling with ever since we’d been engaged.

  “I guess you want to get back to your house?” Jackson’s voice cut through the silence.

  My thoughts raced. I knew I should say yes. I knew he expected me to say yes. But there was one other place I wanted to go.

  “Actually, can we make one stop?”

  He looked at me, a wrinkle forming between his eyes. “Is this about the murder?”

  I couldn’t lie to him—even if I wanted to. “Well, maybe. It’s hard to say. It’s just this feeling I have in my gut. I want to see if anything pans out.”

  “You want to investigate, in other words.” He raised his eyebrows, a knowing look in his eyes.

  “Yes, I suppose I do. But when I say investigate, I don’t mean to actually investigate. I mean, I just want to gather information.”

  Didn’t that sound much better than saying it the other way? That was what I told myself. I mean, I wouldn’t be confronting anybody or anything. I just wanted to collect facts. That wasn’t a bad thing, right?

  “You told Cassidy that you didn’t know anything,” Jackson reminded me. “Is there something you’re not saying?”

  “I don’t know anything. But Mindy, who is my makeup artist, told me that Alistair might be seeing someone in the cast.”

  Jackson shot me a quick glance before looking back at the road. “You didn’t think that was relevant enough to tell Cassidy?”

  “I wasn’t sure, but I don’t want to start rumors. I mean, there are lots and lots of rumors out there. Believe me—I’m usually in the middle of those rumors, me and my ‘diva self.’” I still felt bitter about that article about me. “I just thought maybe we could swing by Alistair’s place and see if he’s there alone. I don’t want to go inside. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I just want to watch. Could you just give me like an hour to do that?”

  “It’s an hour that you want to spend watching from my truck, correct? And only from my truck?”

  “Yes, that’s correct. That’s all I want to do. Watch and observe. Stay in the shadows. Out of trouble.”

  He let out a breath and ran a hand over his face.

  I thought for sure he was going to say no and head back to my place.

  Instead, he said in a teasingly reluctant voice, “That would mean I get to spend an hour in the truck alone with you?”

  That was one way to look at it. My heart lifted. “Yes, exactly. We get to spend alone time together . . . while doing surveillance.”

  Was there anything more romantic?

  Jackson glanced at me again. “And you’re probably not going to be able to stop thinking about this until you actually do it, correct?”

  He could read me like a book. “Unfortunately, yes.”

  He lightly hit the brakes and peered at the road ahead. “Okay, then. Where is this Alistair guy staying?”

  “I just happened to overhear his address earlier.”

  “Just happened?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Of course. I would never eavesdrop or anything.”

  He chuckled. “No, never.”

  We pulled up to Alistair’s oceanfront mega mansion. He’d told me I was the only one staying in a big house fit for a star. He apparently considered himself a star also, because his house may have even been bigger than mine.

  Though it was dark, I could make out some details. The place appeared to be a lovely two-story structure located at the edge of the water, with massive dunes behind it.

  Jackson, being the consummate professional that he was, had turned his lights off as we approached the house. He pulled over on the side of the road, cut the engine, and now we stared at the place.

  The lights were on up on the second floor, and the curtains appeared to be open. I hoped that meant we’d be able to see something inside. But the fact remained that there was only one car outside the house.

  Jackson and I sat back, ready to settle in for the next hour of watching. He had already been through the drill with me. I knew that doing a stakeout wasn’t nearly as exciting as it seemed on TV.

  They were tedious. They were boring. They required holding your bladder for hours on end—much like wearing a body suit. There was nothing glamourous about it.

  But if there was anybody that I wanted to do this with, it was Jackson.

  “So . . .” Jackson leaned back, a swath of moonlight illuminating his profile. “Is it always like that on set?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That Alistair guy seems like a real jerk. It took every part of my self-control not to jump out of my seat and give him a piece of my mind when he started talking down to you.”

  Hooray for chivalry. I, for one, loved it.

  “Well, Alistair can be a jerk. Not everybody is like that. One of my friends—Starla McKnight—was on the set once, and she just cried and cried and cried because the director kept talking down to her. It was awful. She couldn’t wait for that movie to be done.”

  “Why didn’t she just drop out?”

  “It’s not quite as easy as it might seem. Sure, sometimes you hear rumors about how awful some people are to work with. But then the opportunity comes along or the right script and . . . I don’t know.” I shrugged. “Maybe common sense goes out the window. I don’t really know. Maybe you just want to believe the best in people, and you believe the people who were telling the stories are just exaggerating. I don’t know why we do the things we do sometimes.”

  “As happy as I am to see you, I can’t wait for you to be finished filming. I know it’s only the second day, but I’m already not loving this.”

  “The truth is, I’m not loving this movie,” I admitted. “But the contract is signed.”

  “I know you said that movies like this one could help your career,” Jackson said. “But the script is just so strange. Then again, I don’t know the business like you do.”

  “Believe me, I’m questioning this decision. I should’ve said no, and I should’ve taken these two weeks to go to Nags Head and spend time with you.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it. The spicy scent of his cologne made me want to lean closer and stay there.

  “It’s okay, Joey.”

  I barely heard him. “I’m sorry I didn’t. I guess the opportunity was dangling in front of me, and it seemed too good to pass up. But, the truth is, you’re too good to pass up. I appreciate the fact that you were willing to compromise and come out here instead.”

  He swiped a hair behind my ear and gazed at me. “You know I’m your biggest fan. I want to support you however I can.”

  “How is it really going, Jackson?” My voice turned serious. “How are you doing with the long-distance thing? I know we’ve talked about it. I know we chat on the phone all the time. But I really want to know how you’re feeling. This lifestyle . . . it’s not easy.”

  His lips pressed together. “I’m not going to lie. It’s hard. It’s hard when my friends have people to go home to or out to dinner with, and I’m there by myself. But I’m a big boy. I can handle this. You’re worth the wait.”

  But what if this period in our lives wasn’t just a period? What would happen if this schedule was long-term? I kept
those questions to myself.

  Maybe I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know. I wasn’t sure. I only knew I didn’t have it all figured out yet.

  As the thoughts weighed heavily on my mind, I continued to watch Alistair’s house. I straightened when I saw movement there. It was Alistair.

  I grabbed Jackson’s binoculars for a better look. I spotted him through the upstairs window. I was guessing he might be in the kitchen, based on what looked like cabinets in the background. And, again, this was all conjecture, but it almost looked like he was at the sink, maybe washing dishes.

  That was when I saw somebody else come up behind him and wrap her long arms around his waist. He turned around, and the two kissed.

  I squinted, trying to see the woman’s features. But I couldn’t even get a good glimpse at the woman’s hair color. Was that Eva? She was the only person who made sense. Maybe Mindy had been correct.

  Was this the information that I had been looking for? Did it mean anything? I didn’t know.

  But someone had motive, means, and opportunity for murder. I just needed to figure out who.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “What if Alistair brought somebody with him? Did you ever think about that?” Jackson leaned back in the truck, seeming unbothered by our extended stay in his vehicle as we staked out Alistair’s place. This was all in a day’s work for him.

  “I mean, I suppose that is a possibility.” I tried to lean back and look equally as comfortable. Unfortunately, I already had the urge to stretch my legs, grab an overpriced cup of coffee, and maybe look into renting a Porta Potty. “Or it could be somebody suspicious.”

  Jackson rubbed his chin and shook his head. “Just because Alistair might be seeing someone doesn’t really implicate him in a murder.”

  “I realize that,” I said. “But it might speak to his character.”

  Jackson glanced at me, his eyebrows raised. “I think you already know what his character is. You’ve made it clear you don’t think highly of him.”

  I frowned, realizing he had a great point. “That’s true. Like I said, I’m just in the investigating and gathering information stage. I’m a hunter and a gatherer.” I said the words dramatically, like I was narrating a documentary on Native Americans or something.

  Jackson gave me one of his no-nonsense looks that I’d become accustomed to. “People did those things in the past as a matter of survival.”

  “I am trying to survive.” I shrugged, realizing the stark truth of my words.

  Jackson frowned at me, that familiar worry filling his gaze. My words had struck a nerve, hadn’t they? I was in danger . . . again.

  “Unless you want to stick around here tonight to figure out exactly who this is, I say you let me take you back to your place.” Jackson straightened and reached for his key in the ignition.

  I glanced at the window again. Alistair and the mystery woman had disappeared from sight. Her face had been obscured, and I couldn’t confirm who it was. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that it had to be Eva.

  The measures people would go to in order to get what they wanted never ceased to astound me.

  But Jackson was right. This didn’t really prove anything about our investigation. Despite that, Alistair remained in my mind as a suspect.

  Jackson pulled away, headed back to my place.

  As he did, headlights appeared behind us.

  Headlights?

  I straightened, keeping watch to see if this was a coincidence or more.

  As the vehicle came right up on our tail, I knew it wasn’t.

  I glanced over at Jackson and saw his jaw tighten. He and I were on the same wavelength.

  That vehicle was bad news.

  I gripped the armrest and glanced back. The headlights were so bright I couldn’t make out anything about the vehicle. I’d thought it was a car earlier, but now I was thinking it was a truck, based on the height alone.

  “Hold on, Joey,” Jackson muttered, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

  I was going to hold on all right. I might even close my eyes and mutter some prayers.

  He charged down the road.

  “Shouldn’t you turn off onto a side street to lose them?” I asked.

  “Most of these side streets are dead ends,” he said.

  “So what are we going to do? Have a drag race down the highway?” That sounded like a terrible idea.

  “No, but I have another idea.”

  Jackson jerked his truck to the left, onto one of those very side streets.

  When I saw a house at the end, I repressed a shudder.

  What was he thinking?

  I glanced behind us again.

  The other vehicle was still there.

  It was a good thing I trusted Jackson. A really good thing.

  Because, right now, it looked like he was charging toward the house and going to crash into it.

  I decided maybe I should close my eyes.

  Suddenly, we jerked again. I felt a bump. A shift. And then we charged forward again.

  When I opened my eyes, we were on the beach, driving on the sand. “What . . . ?”

  “You can drive off-road here,” Jackson said. “But, unless you’re experienced, you’ll get stuck.”

  I veered my head around, glancing behind me again.

  The vehicle chasing us had stopped.

  I let out a breath.

  It appeared that we’d lost them.

  For now.

  But why had someone come after us? What sense did that even make?

  I had no idea. but this whole thing was becoming more twisted all the time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The next morning, I woke up at the crack of dawn feeling totally and completely exhausted. Thankfully, Washington George was going to film some scenes that didn’t require me this morning, so I didn’t have to be on set until nine. I snuggled back under the covers. The extra sleep would help me think more clearly.

  As I pulled my eyes open and slapped my alarm until it quieted, I glanced around.

  A stuffed animal stared at me—a llama wearing a T-shirt that read “No Drama.” My friend Phoebe had given it to me.

  I smiled.

  It fit my friend, and I think it was her quiet way of telling me to stay out of trouble.

  With a yawn, I stood. Instantly, my thoughts went to the script. Was there a new one this morning?

  I scrambled across the room and opened my computer. Quickly, I went to my emails and scanned them.

  Voilà! There it was. A revised script.

  I clicked on the link and scanned the new document, looking for any changes.

  I gasped when I realized what had been altered.

  In yesterday’s version, Tabitha—played by Eva—had disappeared. In this version of the script, she turned up dead at the end. I felt the color leave my face.

  Was I reading into things too much? This didn’t necessarily mean that somebody else in real life would die, right?

  I wanted to assure myself of that, but I couldn’t. Because I knew what reality most likely was.

  Somebody else was going to die.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be today.

  Maybe it wouldn’t even be tomorrow.

  But somebody was planning another murder.

  A sick feeling gurgled in my gut.

  I resisted the impulse to quickly throw my clothes on, rush downstairs, and wake up Jackson to tell him the news. He had stayed here last night to keep an eye on things. Besides, I had plenty of room here.

  Instead of being irrational and having a knee-jerk reaction, I showered and got dressed. Afterward, I calmly padded down the hall to the kitchen. As I glanced outside, I saw the gloomy day there. It seemed fitting for the altered script I’d just gotten.

  When I went to the counter, I saw that the coffee had already been started. My spirits lifted. Somebody knew how to speak my love language.

  No sooner had I taken a mug from the cabinet and started
pouring my cup did I hear somebody behind me. I didn’t even have to turn around. Instead, I felt arms wrap around my waist and lips nuzzle my neck.

  “Good morning,” Jackson murmured. “I thought I heard you get up. By the way, you smell really good.”

  My heart warmed at his words. I loved his closeness and his warmth and the words that he murmured in my ears.

  I turned around to face him, barely an inch between us. I stared into his eyes before planting a kiss on his lips. “How’d you sleep?”

  He shrugged. “You know, about as well as I usually do when I keep an ear open for trouble.”

  I grabbed my cup of coffee and handed it to him. “You should get the first cup.”

  “Thank you.” He took a sip and backed away.

  I grabbed a new mug and poured myself some hot coffee. Then we walked over to the patio doors that overlooked the ocean. “It looks nasty out there today, doesn’t it?”

  “It sure does,” Jackson said.

  “By the way, I got a new script this morning.” I said the words casually, in a no drama llama type of way.

  His eyes lit. “Did you?”

  “I did. And get this. In this version, someone mysteriously disappears, only to turn up dead at the end.”

  His eyebrows shot up even higher. “Is that right? You need to tell Cassidy.”

  “I know. I will. I thought I would wait until it was a little later. I mean, it’s not an emergency. Maybe.”

  “Hopefully, this is just an empty threat, and somebody is playing with us. But, given the fact one person has already died, I wouldn’t put it past anyone.”

  “I know. My thoughts are the same.”

  Just as I said that, my phone buzzed. I looked down and saw I had a text message from Alistair. My gaze scanned the words there.

  “Filming has been delayed again today,” I told Jackson. “Alistair said there’s nothing we can do in these kinds of weather conditions, but that we should study our script. He made it a point to say the original script, almost like he knows there could’ve been another new one.”