“Joey Darling is taking on a different kind of role,” I read. “She’s still playing the spy she’s often typecast for. But this time she is playing an aging spook who has secluded herself on an isolated island.”
I paused and sucked in a deep breath before continuing.
“Joey Darling has shown her acting chops with this new role. She hasn’t shied away from doing the hard things and from taking on difficult roles. In fact, her talent shines in this new movie.” I looked up at Sarah. “How would someone know this?”
“I know I keep saying this, but I have no idea. I suppose anyone here on the set could have sent this information.”
“If they did, Alistair is not going to be happy.”
“No, he is not. This movie is so toxic . . .”
Yes, it was.
I glanced at the byline.
Marcus Whiting. I’d never heard of the man before.
I looked out the window and saw Jackson approaching my trailer. I lowered the magazine to my side and opened the door to let him in.
I held my breath as I waited to hear what he had discovered about Eva. Based on his stormy expression, it wasn’t good news.
“Well?” I asked, waiting.
“Eva is gone,” Jackson said. “We searched her room at the inn. Her personal belongings are still there, but she’s not there. She’s nowhere to be seen.”
The bad feeling in my gut continued to grow. What was going on here? And when would it end?
I didn’t know. But I had to tell Jackson about the photo on my phone. And then I needed to share that information with Cassidy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
An hour later, we still hadn’t begun to film again. Jackson and Cassidy had given Alistair the update, and, as expected, he wasn’t happy. I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be filming any more today now that Eva was missing.
The fact that she was nowhere to be seen had me worried. This was what had been written and inserted into the script. Vanished . . . then dead. I had been worried that something like this would happen. I prayed she was still alive and unharmed.
A cold shiver went down my spine.
I knew my timing was bad, but, despite that, I cleared my throat and held up the magazine. Alistair, Jackson, and Cassidy were all near as I did so.
Right now, we were all gathered outside my trailer. It was midday, and the sun had decided to heat up everything around us. The sand seemed to absorb the warmth and act as a heater.
My suit didn’t make anything better—it acted as an insulator and trapped all the heat.
“I know this may or may not be connected with everything that’s been happening,” I started. “But this issue of the National Instigator came out this morning, and, not only is my picture on the cover, but there is an article about this movie. Does anyone know anything about this?”
Alistair’s eyes widened, and he snatched the magazine from me. His eyes bulged as he flipped through the pages. “How in the world did this get out? Who would’ve done this? We must have a traitor on this set.”
“So you think that somebody here on location sold this information to the tabloid?” Cassidy’s hands went to her hips and her gaze narrowed.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Alistair said. “Otherwise, how would this have leaked? We obviously have a spy on our hands.”
“I realize you already know this.” Jackson stepped forward to address Alistair. “But somehow the script has also gotten out, so if that’s possible, then it’s also possible that other information has been leaked. But I agree that it does appear that you have somebody on the inside here.”
“I hate to believe that anybody I trust, that anybody here in my circle, would be responsible for this.” Alistair shook his head, his expression stormy.
“We’re going to need to talk to everybody here.” Cassidy’s voice left no room for argument. Gone was the sweet woman I’d had dinner with, and in her place was a hardcore professional. “It’s not a crime that this information has been published, but we need to figure out how all these pieces are connected. We also need to know the last time each of you saw Eva.”
Alistair’s eyes widened, and he fanned his face. “You think that something may have happened to her? Something other than her disappearing?”
“I think we need to assume the worst-case scenario right now,” Cassidy said. “Especially when considering everything else that has happened here on the set.”
Alistair scowled and muttered a few things under his breath. He turned away from us, muttered a few more things, and then finally composed himself enough to say, “This movie is never going to finish filming, is it?”
“Of course it is,” I said.
Alistair scowled again, still looking put off.
“Listen,” Jackson said. “How about if I help? I’ll call the National Instigator and see if I can find out who this Marcus Whiting person is who supposedly wrote the article.”
“That sounds good,” Cassidy said. “Let’s meet back together later and share what we learn.”
I just hoped that later wasn’t too late.
After lunch, Jackson and I were in my trailer, each doing our own thing. He was waiting for a call back from the magazine, and I was studying my upcoming scenes. As I reviewed the ending of the film, my spine stiffened.
“What is it?” Jackson glanced over at me from the kitchen table where he sat.
I shook my head, hoping that the conclusions I drew were incorrect. But I’d be foolish if I didn’t mention my suspicions here.
“I know this is probably nothing,” I started, looking up from my spot on the couch. “But in the original script . . . at the end of the film . . . I die.”
Jackson glanced at me. “But that’s not new. Still, you think . . .”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what to think. This killer seems to hint about what’s to come through the revisions he sends out. But knowing I have a death scene at the end still bothers me. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”
He abandoned his spot at the table and came over to sit by me. He draped his arm around the back of the couch, wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t like this, Joey. What if you just call it quits? I know you said you signed a contract, but don’t people get out of contracts all the time?”
I sucked on my bottom lip a moment, mulling over his words. “Not without a lawsuit.”
“I hate to say it, but I’d almost take a lawsuit over all of this.” He let out a long breath and shook his head. “Whoever wrote the article appears to be a big fan of yours.”
At his words, my blood felt a little colder. I had a super-stalker fan club that liked to follow my every move. They even had a secret group set up online so they could discuss where I was and what I was doing. It was disturbing.
Many of the people involved were mostly innocent. But all it took was one person who was a little bit off-balance, and my life would be turned upside down again.
Just then Jackson’s phone rang. He put it to his ear.
“Yes, yes, this is Detective Jackson Sullivan,” Jackson said. “We are investigating some crimes centering around the production of this movie, and we need to know who took these pictures and wrote that article.”
I couldn’t hear what was being said on the other end of the line, but I really wanted to know. I waited several minutes. It sounded like Jackson was put on hold, and then someone else answered, and then somebody else put him on hold.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, Jackson started talking and explaining the situation again.
As the person on the other end of the line began to talk, Jackson picked up a paper and pencil and began jotting a few things down. I tried to glance over his shoulder to see what he was writing, but his script looked more like chicken scratch.
Finally, he ended the call, and he looked at me. “You’ll never believe this.”
“What? What is it?”
He held up his phone. “This Marcus Whiting
. . . this is what he looks like.”
I sucked in a breath. Marcus Whiting looked just like Bucky Belching.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“So, you’re telling me that Bucky Belching, a man who was here for a pirate cosplay event, was also a member of the paparazzi?” Cassidy said, looking back and forth between Jackson and me. She’d come to my trailer so we could share the news with her. “And you’re saying that he somehow got on set, took pictures of you, and wrote up this article for the National Instigator?”
I nodded, still processing everything myself. “That’s how it appears.”
I had only a few minutes to talk to her before filming would resume. Alistair had said that, despite everything that happened, the show must go on.
“I talked to the editor-in-chief myself,” Jackson said. “She confirmed that Bucky Belching was the person she bought these photos and article from—only he went by a different name, obviously.”
“But none of you ever saw him on set?” Cassidy asked.
“He could have been with the mob of pirates who accidentally wandered onto the set the first day of filming.” I held up the magazine. “If you look at the angle of these photos, it almost appears they were taken from the distance. I am wondering if he was hiding out in a patch of woods with some type of telephoto lens and that’s how he got these shots.”
Cassidy pressed her lips together, a focused, intense look in her gaze. “I am surprised that nobody would have noticed him there.”
“The woods are pretty thick over there.” Jackson nodded out the window, toward the patch of trees Bucky had emerged from that night he approached Jackson and me. “He could have been hiding out over there and taking these.”
Cassidy nodded slowly, a hint of doubt in her gaze. “I agree—and it is the same basic area where we found the pirate map. But how would he have known that you were doing a good job unless he was close enough to hear?”
Something about what I’d heard earlier kept probing me. But what was it?
That’s how he got these shots . . .
I straightened, realizing exactly what it was. “That argument that Lou overheard Bucky having? What if he was talking about doing a shoot—a photo shoot?”
“Keep going.” Cassidy’s eyes widened as she processed what I said. “You could be on to something.”
“This all makes sense now,” Jackson said. “This Bucky guy wasn’t a hitman. He was a member of the paparazzi. He wasn’t an amateur photographer chasing sunsets, like Lou said. That was just a cover.”
“I think you could be right,” Cassidy said.
Jackson rubbed his jaw, his eyes still glazed with thought. “Did you find his camera, by chance?”
“No, like I said earlier, I suspect the killer disposed of his things in the ocean.”
“What are the chances they’ll wash ashore?” I asked.
“Unlikely. But we’re keeping our eyes open.” Cassidy shifted. “Let’s think this through. “If our theory is correct, why did Bucky approach you two with that supposed death threat? How would that fit?”
I leaned back, trying to think it through. The nice thing about being creative was that ideas came naturally to me. Plus, I’d been around enough reporters to know how they think. Why would he make up that threat? It was clearly a message someone had left him about getting some photos.
“The media . . . they can be vultures. My guess is that this Bucky guy used that supposed threat as an excuse to find out more information on me. He was trying to be sneaky by playing on my compulsion to help people.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” Cassidy frowned, squinting as if deep in thought. “I can’t even imagine living the kind of life you do, where everyone thinks they deserve a piece of you.”
“It has its challenges.” That could be an understatement. “What I’m also wondering is if taking these photos got Bucky killed? Is that why he was at the lighthouse the night that he died—trying to snoop and get some dirt on me or this film?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Cassidy said. “I’ll take this information and talk to more of the pirates here on the island. Maybe one of them knows something else.”
“Any updates on Eva?” I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I kept fearing she’d end up dead just as Bucky had. However, I didn’t know why somebody would have targeted her. None of this made sense.
“We haven’t discovered anything else on Eva.” Cassidy took a step toward the door, looking like she was ready to get back to work. “Nobody appears to have seen her. We’ve checked the cameras on the ferries and down at the harbor. Nothing. But people just don’t disappear off the face of the earth. We’ll find out something. Just give us time.”
“I’m always available to help if you need me,” Jackson said.
I had to admit I was kind of impressed. I knew when Jackson came here, he was looking forward to having some time off, but, apparently, he couldn’t resist seeking out a bad guy or helping someone in distress either.
I could understand what that was like. There was a part of me that would much rather be helping to find the bad guy and searching for Eva than filming this movie. Once it got in your blood, it was hard to separate yourself.
Cassidy stood and gathered her things. “I’m going to go and continue to look. Jackson, I think you may best serve by staying here to keep an eye on Joey.”
Jackson didn’t argue. “I’m inclined to agree. Until we know what’s going on, we can’t let our guard down. We still don’t know who the intended target here is. The entire cast and crew? Is it the film? Until we have those answers, we all need to be careful.”
“I’ll keep you guys updated if I learn anything,” Cassidy said. “And please be careful. We don’t need anything else happening here on this island. I just want everyone to be safe.”
I could appreciate that sentiment.
As soon as Cassidy left, I turned to Jackson. “There’s never a dull moment, is there?”
He rubbed my arms and gazed into my eyes. “There’s never a dull moment with you, Joey Darling.”
There was something about the way he said those words that caused me to pause. “Does that make you have second thoughts? I mean, your job is already exciting. Maybe you want to come home to peace and quiet.”
The words left a sick feeling in my stomach. I’d always assumed that our schedules and lifestyles would eventually mesh. But what if it wasn’t the case? What if Jackson was beginning to realize the truth about life with an actress?
He pulled me into his embrace. “You know that’s not true, Joey. I just don’t understand why trouble always seems to follow you.”
“I don’t either. This time I’m totally innocent. I did not do anything to provoke these things to happen.”
“No, you didn’t. I just want to know that you’re going to be safe.” He kissed the top of my head and held me tighter.
I knew he cared about me and that he was worried. As he should be. It was obvious that whoever was behind these crimes was cold-hearted and escalating. There was still so much I didn’t understand.
Even though I had ruled out a couple suspects, that didn’t mean I had any new suspects to really take their place. That wasn’t comforting. I didn’t know who I should be keeping my eyes open for.
Finally, Jackson straightened and pulled back. As much as I would like to stay here in my trailer all day enjoying Jackson’s company, I knew that I had to do the job that I was being paid for.
I let out a long breath before saying, “I guess I should get out there.”
Jackson seemed to reluctantly let me go. “Yeah, I guess you should.”
With Jackson by my side, I wandered from my trailer to the set.
I glanced around and saw Mindy talking to Washington George. I saw Rick setting up his camera in the distance and muttering something to Brandon, probably discussing how to get the perfect angle and sound quality. The one person I didn’t see was Alistair.
I really felt like I
should talk to him so we could make sure we were on the same wavelength going forward. I had to film this scene and the death one. Then I was done.
“I’m going to see if Alistair is still in his trailer,” I told Jackson.
“I’ll go with you.”
He followed behind me as I walked across the sand, headed that way. At Alistair’s door, I knocked. There was no answer.
“Strange,” I said. “If he’s not in his trailer, where is he?”
“Maybe knock one more time in case he was in the bathroom,” Jackson said.
I did as he suggested. I knocked harder and louder. And as I did, the door popped open.
I glanced at Jackson. If he wasn’t with me, I wouldn’t think twice about pushing the door open and stepping inside. But since he was constantly warning me to stay out of other people’s business, I had a moment of pause.
Jackson gave me a little nod, followed by a raised finger telling me to wait. A thrill of delight went up my spine. He had just given me permission to go inside someone else’s trailer. I couldn’t tell you how happy that made me.
Jackson pulled out his gun and nudged himself in front of me.
That was when I realized what he was thinking—there could be trouble inside.
My gut tightened. What if Alistair was inside? What if he was hurt? Or worse. What if he was dead?
I could hardly stand the thought. Certainly, that wasn’t going to happen. Certainly, someone wasn’t going to take it that far. But, even as I tried to comfort myself with those reassurances, I knew that they very well could not be certain.
“Hello?” Jackson stepped farther into the space.
I froze and listened. But I heard nothing. There were no footfalls, no music, no murmuring voices. It was like no one was here.
If Alistair wasn’t here, then where would he be?
Cautiously, I stepped inside behind Jackson, and my gaze scanned the place. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There was still the jackalope, the lava lamp, the leopard-print pillows.
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