by Lisa Daniels
To his relief, she seemed to accept his words and sat back bobbing her head.
“Of course,” she agreed. “I am always willing to listen. It’s an occupational hazard.”
For a brief second, Luke got the feeling that she was assessing him, but he forced the idea out of his mind.
“I don’t know if you are aware of Andrew Blaise’s history,” he told her.
“As a matter of fact, Detective Rivers, I was just learning about him. Our conversation last night piqued my interest so I thought I might get a jump start on what I was facing.”
So she didn’t completely dismiss me, he thought and suddenly he felt very foolish. He shouldn’t have bothered coming to her house after all, but he admitted he was glad he had.
“You understand that he was arrested after the commission of an armed robbery which resulted in the death of a security guard and a police officer,” Luke said slowly.
“I do. I see that he was apprehended the day after the robbery and convicted on circumstantial evidence.”
Luke stared at her for a long moment, her words sinking in slowly.
“You think that he’s innocent?” he barked incredulously.
Dr. Margolis’ steely blue eyes widened in shock. “Of course not!” she replied as if he were an idiot. “He was tried and convicted in a court of law. Anyway, my job is not believing in his guilt or innocence. Why are you so defensive, Detective Rivers?”
Luke felt his back stiffen and he clenched his fists into knuckles under the table and out of her view.
“I just want to be clear,” he replied from between clenched teeth. “Andrew Blaise is a dangerous man. His partner killed mine.”
“Oh,” Dr. Margolis replied softly. “I am very sorry. I didn’t realize that Sam Curry was your partner.”
“He was off duty when he was shot. Wrong place, wrong time,” Luke muttered. “Sam never really did know when to stand down. That time it got him killed, unfortunately.”
Maria did not speak, but she continued to search his face with intelligent eyes.
“I would like nothing more than to find the man who killed Sam,” Luke finally said. “It has consumed me for fourteen years.”
“I imagine it has,” she answered. “But Detective, I fail to understand what this has to do with me. I have dealt with my fair share of hardened criminals, unfortunately. Andrew Blaise is really no more of a threat to me than anyone else.”
This time, Luke regarded her as if she were daft.
“I am asking for your help, Dr. Margolis,” he replied, his forehead lifting. “I need any information leading me to Blaise’s accomplice.”
“Oh!” Maria laughed shortly. “Well, then, I am afraid you wasted a trip for nothing. I already explained to you that whatever Blaise tells me will fall under privilege. I can’t—”
“You can if you believe he is a danger to someone else,” Luke told her firmly. “It is your duty to warn the police if you believe that one of your patients is capable of harming someone else.”
Luke watched as her lovely face twisted into a mask of annoyance.
“Telling you privileged information about a crime that occurred almost fifteen years ago and protecting someone from harm are two very different things, Detective Rivers, but I am sure you already know that. You are just hoping I will agree to bend my ethics a bit to help you.”
“What if his accomplice is in trouble?” Rivers insisted, sensing he was losing another battle. “Wouldn’t you be required by law to inform the proper authorities?”
The tension hanging above the covered patio was so thick, Luke suddenly found the doctor’s face to be hazy.
“No,” she said flatly, rising to her feet. “I will not sacrifice my ethics on this matter. You will have to find another way, Detective.”
Luke felt a familiar jolt of anger course through him, but he remembered what he had promised himself as he lumbered to his feet. If she had not dismissed him last time, she might reconsider this time also.
She just needs some time to think. I’ll call her again in a day or two.
“I understand, Doctor. Thank you for you time.”
He turned to leave, but to his surprise, she reached out to touch his arm. Luke moved his face toward her and saw a surprising amount of compassion in her face.
“Detective, I truly am sorry about your partner. If you ever need someone to talk to about that—or anything else—please give me a call.”
Luke gave her a tight smile and nodded.
“I will keep that in mind,” he told her with a lightness he was shocked he could muster.
She is a hot bitch, all right, but she’s still a bitch. If she won’t help me, I will have to find another way.
Chapter Three
First on the Set
The limo stopped outside a charming, three-story structure, but Andrew was reluctant to exit the vehicle.
After all, how often did he get the opportunity to ride around in such luxury?
“We’re here, Andrew,” Ty Comer said, gesturing unnecessarily at the house.
“I can see that,” he retorted. “I’m not finished my drink.”
He reached for his goblet of champagne and Ty scowled slightly.
“You’re not supposed to be drinking,” he reminded Andrew. “The rules of your parole still apply, you know.”
Why do I feel like I’m going to end up killing this son of a bitch before filming is completed?
The offer to appear on the reality TV show had been shocking and, frankly, unnerving to Andrew Blaise, who had been biding his time in prison with the acrid taste of vengeance in his mouth.
It had been Ty himself who had approached Andrew.
“You’re being offered early parole,” the TV executive told him. “With conditions, of course.”
Andrew’s curiosity had gotten the best of him and he waited for Ty to explain the concept of the show, but the more the obnoxious, skinny man spoke, the less the con was interested.
“I’d be on camera twenty-four hours a day?” he snapped. “I may as well be in prison still.”
“You can come and go from the house during work hours,” Ty insisted. “And obviously not everything will go on the air.”
“That would still have to be a hard no,” Andrew replied, rising to signal the guard. “Three months of that and then what? Back on regular parole?”
“Only for a year,” Ty said quickly, his face paling as he realized that Andrew was leaving. “You’ll be compensated for your efforts!”
Andrew eyed him. “How much compensation?”
“Fifty grand for the three months. It’s enough to set you up in your own apartment until you can find steady employment. General Studios will help you find a job afterward, too. This isn’t just a show, Andrew. It’s about helping cons get on their feet.”
Andrew scoffed loudly. He didn’t believe for a minute that the concept was anything more than a money grab.
“Sure it is,” he growled. “Fifty grand is nothing.”
“It’s more than you’ll have when you get out in two years,” Ty cajoled him.
That’s what you think.
Andrew studied the eager face of the executive, the wheels in his head turning.
“Why me?” he asked, slowly reclaiming his seat.
“We are only looking for non-violent offenders for the pilot project,” Ty explained. “But ones who have colorful stories behind their crimes.”
To keep the masses interested, of course. So Joe Schmo can leer at us from his obese ass on a couch in Arkansas, feeling better about himself because he’s not a con.
Indignation shot through Andrew.
“I’m not a goddamned circus monkey, thanks.”
“No,” Ty murmured, leaning closer. “You’re something else entirely.”
Andrew’s back tensed, Ty’s meaning undeniable.
“You will be among likeminded individuals in the house,” Ty pressed on. “How long has it been since you’ve been p
art of a weyr?”
Instantly, Andrew’s head whipped up and he looked around for witnesses. His bones began to ache as a shift threatened his body.
Indeed, how long has it been?
The notion of shifting and freeing himself not only from prison but his own body was almost too much to bear.
“Your weyr has moved on, Andrew, but you can regroup with these men and women.”
His eyes bugged. “Women?” he demanded. “There will be chicks there, too?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention?” Ty asked innocently and the deal was sealed.
But as Andrew sat looking at the stuccoed house before him, sipping on the sweet bubbly, he wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake.
There are so many things that could go wrong. What if this is a set-up by the mortals to out us? What if someone accidentally exposes their true nature on camera? We’ll all be endangered.
“You really can’t be drinking,” Ty grumbled again. “You know if you’re caught doing that in the house, you’ll be eliminated.”
Andrew sneered at him.
“And I thought you were all about helping the ex-cons,” he cooed sarcastically. “What kind of message would that send if you kick us out instead of helping us face our issues?”
Ty grimaced. “I’m glad you brought up the issue of mental health,” he said suddenly, and intuitively, Andrew felt his body tense.
“Did I bring up the issue of mental health?”
“You have a weekly appointment with a psychotherapist. It’s one of the conditions of your parole.”
Andrew gaped at him. “I didn’t agree to that shit!” he roared. “I’m not talking to a shrink!”
“It’s a formality and all the residents are doing it.”
How many more times am I going to fall for this “all the residents are doing it” BS?
“And if I refuse?”
Ty sighed heavily. “You already know the answer to that. Let’s go.”
The house master grabbed the drink out of Andrew’s hand and nudged him out of the car. Andrew had no choice but to oblige and a minute later, he was standing on the sidewalk in the blazing Arizona sun.
“Go on in. You’re the first on set,” Ty informed him. “Everyone else will be here this week. Consider yourself lucky. You’ll have down time when no one else does.”
Andrew didn’t believe for a minute that he wasn’t being recorded from the second his foot touched the sidewalk.
“Great,” he mumbled sarcastically. “Can’t wait to wander through these halls alone.”
“You won’t be alone very long,” Ty replied quickly. “And you have a full entertainment system at your disposal. Come on, I’ll show you around.”
Without waiting for his response, Ty brushed past and headed up toward the front door.
The hobbit-style wooden door reminded Andrew of the one from the sitcom “Three’s Company” in the seventies.
La plus ca change, la plus c’est la meme chose, he thought, rolling his eyes. He had been alive long enough to see the world change over and over, only to become the same thing in the end.
To Andrew’s mind, creativity was dead. There was nothing left but recycled ideas and reality TV.
And here you are, perpetrating the hype. Shame on you.
But Andrew didn’t feel shame. He was far too evolved for such pathetic behavior.
This house was just a means to an end for him.
“This is the living room,” Ty offered when they walked through the front door. He gestured at the overstuffed leather sofas and loveseat in a sunken room that took up half the main floor. Three gaming recliners faced a sixty-four-inch mounted screen and out of the corner of his eye, he saw two gaming systems and a cable box on the entertainment unit.
Andrew snorted aloud.
“What?” Ty asked, whipping his head around. “You don’t like it?”
“You expect people to believe that this is what a halfway house looks like? You’re going to see a spike in crime rates after this show airs. People are going to want to go to prison, thinking when they get out, they get unlimited Netflix.”
Ty didn’t respond but Andrew could see he was wearing on the man’s last nerve already.
Good. Now the feeling is mutual, he thought smugly.
“Kitchen.”
Andrew rolled his eyes, wondering if Ty just liked listening to himself speak. Obviously that was the kitchen and state-of-the-art to boot.
There was a triple oven built into the wall and two full fridges. Andrew ambled past the lengthy island to pull one open.
To his chagrin, it was filled with organic products and vegetables.
“Please tell me you didn’t put a bunch of dr—” He stopped abruptly, reminding himself that he was more than likely being taped. “That you didn’t put a bunch of men in here without any meat.”
“You won’t starve, Andrew. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Ty was annoyed but Andrew didn’t care. He followed the wiry dragon toward the second floor and in spite of his resolve to hate everything, he admitted the room was nice.
Certainly beats the hell out a prison cell. And it’s all mine.
“I’ll leave you to get settled. I have some errands to run today, but if you need anything, Jamie will be around to assist you.”
Andrew had questions but he decided to wait before asking them.
I’ll get my bearings around this place first. I’ll have to figure out just how closely I’m being watched before making my move.
“You good?” Ty asked and Andrew realized he was still standing there.
“I guess I am,” Andrew replied. “Have fun running errands, Mom.”
Ty snorted and spun away, leaving Andrew alone in his room.
As soon as he was sure he was alone, Andrew hurried to the window and pretended to look outside. He’d already noticed the cameras in the corner of his room.
When he stood with his back to the lens, he lifted the window carefully. They moved without incident and he exhaled.
Coming and going wouldn’t be a problem after all, but even as he thought it, Andrew knew he was in a much better position than anyone else in the house already.
I need to find Davis, he thought grimly. Before he figures out I’m out and tries to make a run for it.
Slowly, Andrew dropped the window back in place and looked around the room, his mind conjuring a list.
Call Alex. Find Davis. Claim what’s mine once and for all.
And he had to accomplish all this while being recorded.
A soft grin formed on Andrew’s face.
Piece of cake, he thought and almost skipped out the door to his bedroom as he went to explore the rest of the house.
Chapter Four
Introductions
Maria had been both dreading and anticipating the upcoming Friday with an almost nauseating anxiety.
The encounter with Luke Rivers had left her in a conflicted state and it had followed her through the week, affecting her Scottsdale practice. On Thursday, she had called her secretary and had her reschedule her appointments so she was able to take the day and regroup. The following day would be her first trip to the halfway house and she had no idea what to expect.
At first, she had thought she was going to be fine with being on TV, but as the days passed, she suddenly found herself questioning why she’d agreed to such an obnoxious concept.
Is nothing sacred? How much did they pay the ex-cons for this? Are they being exploited? Am I being complicit in exploiting them?
The more she thought about it, the more she doubted what she was doing, and on Thursday night, she was on edge.
She finally got a chance to soak in the hot tub when the sun went down, trying to alleviate the knots in her neck and shoulders. Maria had spent most of the day reading up on Andrew Blaise, Googling the bank robbery and pouring over his previous convictions.
She had then looked into his childhood, but information on the subject was suspic
iously lacking.
She learned that he had been arrested dozens of times for minor crimes before heading to the pen for the robbery.
I will meet the man in the flesh tomorrow, she thought, trying to clear her mind. There is no use thinking about him anymore. You have learned everything you can until you meet him face to face.
That didn’t help her sleep in the least.
~ ~ ~
As she drove to the halfway house in Phoenix that Friday morning, she found herself drumming her fingers nervously against the steering wheel.
She was wondering why she was having such an internal conflict about Andrew Blaise.
What Rivers asked of you is a blatant violation of your oath. Your job is to help Blaise with his rehabilitation into society so he does not reoffend.
Maria wondered why, then, she hoped the convicted felon would admit to wanting to hurt his previous associate.
Her GPS directed her to a house off West Van Buren and Maria grunted when she saw the scene before her.
Although she’d never been on a movie set before, it was exactly what she had imagined in her mind’s eye. Trucks, trailers, and rental vans spilled along the street. People milled about doing absolutely nothing but smoking cigarettes and looking at their phones.
What the hell am I even doing here? He should have come to my office. I shouldn’t be catering to him.
She wondered if she was already falling victim to the role of the media at play.
I just have to remember why I’m here. Cameras and lights aside, I have a real job to do with a real convict.
She parked her Audi and made her way up the sidewalk toward the house.
It was ten times nicer than any halfway house she’d ever seen, but she had been half-expecting as much. From the outside, it was too white, the stucco fresh and contrasting against a clay roof.
“Whoa, lady,” a hipster howled when she stepped on the first stone step. “You can’t just walk in there. We’re shooting.”
“I’m Maria Margolis. I have a three o’clock appointment with Andrew Blaise.”
The young man instantly looked contrite and he glanced down at the tablet in his hand.
