The Broken Trail: A Chilling Serial Killer Thriller (Harriet Harper Thriller Book 3)

by Dominika Best

  “I had absolutely no memory of how that happened. It had to be pretty rough sex because I was in so much pain and the bleeding wouldn’t stop. When I went to my gynecologist, she told me I had a ton of vaginal tearing. She asked me to chill on the rough sex. I was so embarrassed.”

  “You assumed it was him, though?” Harri asked, keeping her voice gentle.

  “Yes,” Lydia said. “I’d had that drink with him in his trailer. Alone. Then I wake up at his compound with no memory of anything that happened. I'm in pain and bleeding down there. Then he just gives me the part of a lifetime in a Bryan Mortimer film. I was nineteen and had no idea what the hell was happening. I’d heard of method acting and the lengths some actors went to get into character. I was just totally confused.”

  “And how long ago was this,” Harri asked.

  “About twelve years ago,” she said.

  “And when did you file the complaint with HR?” Harri asked.

  “A year later. So that would have been 2007.”

  “Why HR?”

  “That’s where I made my biggest mistake and became a perpetrator. I finished that film and it did great at the box office. My agent called me about another Bryan Mortimer film. One I didn’t have to audition for. Bryan thought I was perfect for the part.”

  A tear formed in the corner of Lydia’s eye and she blinked it away. She gulped down her glass of lemonade as Harri stayed silent, waiting for her to compose herself. It took some moments for her to speak again.

  “In my mind, I had officially made it. I didn’t have to audition? That was hitting the big time. Then I received a call from his producer, Michael Tisland. Bryan wanted to personally invite me and my friends, Lola and Anna, to a party he was having that night. He urged me to go. For my career.”

  Harri stopped writing and looked up. Lydia took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. Lydia avoided making eye contact.

  “Looking back, I knew what he was telling me. If I wanted the part, I needed to show up with my two best girlfriends. I didn’t even question how he knew we were all friends. I talked myself into going with them. I wanted that part. I wanted this all to be in some way normal.”

  “So, you three went to the party?”

  “Yes, and Bryan was a perfect gentleman. He introduced us to some important people. Lola and Anna hadn’t gotten any big credits yet and were so thankful that I’d included them,” Lydia said, choking out the last part.

  “At some point in the night, I lost track of the both of them. I searched through his massive estate and couldn’t find either of them. Lots of industry people were there and I convinced myself they must have met some guys and went off to party with them. I convinced myself that my experience with Bryan was only a one-off weird method acting thing,” she said.

  “Did you find them?”

  “No.” Lydia closed her eyes and shook her head. She opened them again and pursed her lips. “I went home. I didn’t really sleep that night. Kept calling Lola’s cell phone. Anna didn’t have one. Neither of them picked up. I finally saw Lola two days later.

  “And she was okay?” Harri asked.

  “She didn’t want to let me into her apartment. She had a black eye. I got her to let me in and she told me she’d been drugged and assaulted by two men at the party. We still had no idea where Anna was.”

  “Did you find Anna?”

  “She turned up a week later. Wouldn’t talk to me or Lola. She went back home to Florida, like two days later.”

  “Did you go to the police?” Harri asked.

  “What would I have gone to them with?” Lydia asked. “Anna was gone. Lola wouldn’t go with me. I had no idea what had really happened. That’s when my husband explained the only way to get leverage over Bryan Mortimer would be through the studio. They had a financial stake and could be held liable for his actions, so they were the gateway to stopping whatever it was he was doing.”

  “Why didn’t your husband think the police would be able to do anything?”

  Lydia sighed. “Because they didn’t do a damn thing when he went to them about what his first boss was doing. All they did was tell his boss he had a rat on his ship.”

  Harri nodded. Money had spoken and Lydia’s husband had been burned. Understandably, he wanted to protect her.

  “So, I went to HR, thinking I could do something while not going public. I wanted to be an actor. I was still wrapped up in the dream. I had a big part written for me. The guilt of what I’d done to Lola and Anna sent me spiraling into a deep depression. Remember I was only twenty then. It’s not an excuse. I should have known. I chose my career and served up my friends to be raped.” She let out a guttural, bitter laugh. “Joke was on me though.”

  “HR didn’t do anything about it?” Harri asked.

  “HR at the studio turned out to be neither human, nor resourceful. It’s there to protect the company, not the employees.”

  “Who did you speak to in HR?”

  “A man named William Valance.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “He was my only contact before everything exploded. I had a lawyer question me, my motives. He accused me of fabricating a story to get back at Bryan. It had come out that the part was pulled from me and given to another actor. The studio chalked my story up to sour grapes over being passed over for a role. I never went to the police when it happened. By that time, nearly a year had passed since the incident. It was hearsay. He said/she said. You get the picture.”

  “Do you remember the lawyer’s name?”

  “No.”

  “Did you go to the police then?” Harri asked.

  “No,” Lydia smiled ruefully. “By then I was self-medicating to deal with my depression. The guilt and the shame and feelings of defeat had pushed me over the edge in a dark place of worthlessness. I wanted to kill myself over what happened to Lola and Anna. My agent dropped me. Every day a new rumor of mental illness was making the rounds,” Lydia said as she wiped away a forming tear with the back of her hand.

  “I'm so sorry,” Harri said.

  “I couldn’t reconcile what I’d done to my friends. Or to myself. And for what? A part in a film. I had destroyed two lives, just to get more lines. The PTSD of it all reared its head, too. My biggest acting role was given to me in payment for my silence about being held prisoner and raped. What kind of person did that make me?”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I made a choice about Lola and Anna,” Lydia said. “My husband stood up for me. He lost his job as a production accountant too, for trying to speak out. I don’t know why he kept choosing me, but he did. We got married and decided to just leave the industry entirely. Then their leverage over us evaporated. The best decision we ever made.”

  “And then?”

  “And then,” Lydia finally smiled a real smile. “I cleaned up and went into therapy. We bought this place and made a new life. It was all about recovery and reconciling with my past. Until I met Roxanne.”

  “Tell me about that.” Harri said.

  “I was at a party, a benefit for climate change and overheard two actresses speaking about Bryan Mortimer. One of the them was Roxanne Miles.”

  “You exchanged stories?” Harri asked.

  “Yes, and I found out his hobby had grown into a full-blown organization helping him facilitate all kinds of assaults. All over town at different parties with a whole crew of men getting off on young girls. I've talked to at least ten actresses in the last five years that were assaulted at one of these parties, but they're afraid to come forward because of what happened to me. I voluntarily left the business and I had my own money and my husband who believed me and supported me in every way. Mortimer and his people tried to destroy me with their lies and manipulations, but I was able to walk away. None of these other girls had the options I had. Every day I’m so thankful I had the strength and the money to just walk away. And for my husband.”

  “What about the #metoo movement?” Harri asked.

&nb
sp; “One man is one thing, detective,” Lydia said. “A group of enormously powerful men? What young girl can defend herself against them? I’m used as an example of what happens when a woman speaks out. Not to mention they weaponise shame. The girls I spoke to also brought their friends to parties. The shame is key to keeping it under wraps. It’s the secret ingredient. They manipulate these girls into becoming both victims and perpetrators, like I was. It’s an extreme form of cognitive dissonance. Our brains can’t handle the implications of those actions. Especially when the girls get some kind of reward as payment for their betrayal.”

  “Did you ever meet a Georgie Shipwell?” Harri asked.

  “No.”

  “She’s the daughter of Glenn Shipwell.”

  “The western actor from the seventies?”

  “Yes, that one.”

  “No, our paths never crossed. Why?” Lydia asked.

  “She’s apparently Bryan Mortimer’s right-hand woman. Roxanne mentioned she’d groomed her. I’m having an incredibly hard time finding her. She’s not in the DMV database. Can’t find her online. She has no record.”

  “Famous people live in a different world than you and I. It sounds like her name is her stage name and not her real name. She might have chosen it to match more closely to her father’s name for the access it would grant. You need to know her real name to find all the information you’re looking for,” Lydia explained.

  Harri put her pen down. “Is Hollywood completely based in fiction?”

  “Yes,” Lydia said.

  The two women sat in the sunny warmth of the beautiful, cottage-white kitchen and rested in their thoughts. After several moments Harri turned to Lydia.

  “Thank you for telling me your story,” Harri said. “I know it must have been difficult.”

  Lydia shook her head. “It’s not difficult. It’s healing to tell it. And it’s necessary. People need to know. I told you not for myself, but for all the other victims out there. For Lola and Anna.”

  Would any of these girls be willing to talk?”

  “I’ve called six of them and they agreed to speak with you.” Lydia turned and grabbed a purse at her feet and pulled out a sheet of paper with the information.

  “All the stories are similar,” Lydia remarked. “I’ve also listed their addresses. I’m hoping you’ll move quickly on this?”

  “You have been the first woman to give us his name,” Harri nodded. “No one else would name who’d assaulted them.”

  “They can’t do anything to me anymore,” Lydia said. “I have funding. I have lawyers. And I have friends. The girls I’ve spoken to don’t have that.”

  “Thank you for your bravery,” Harri said. “Do you have a security team?”

  “Oh yes, detective.” Lydia smiled. “Like I said, they can’t do anything to me anymore.”

  “Well, tell them to be vigilant. When this comes out, I’m afraid Bryan Mortimer might come for you.”

  “Honestly, detective, I wish he would. I’ve been fantasizing about that for years. If that disgusting piece of shit comes anywhere near me, I’ll kill him,” Lydia stated flatly.

  And Harri believed her.

  31

  Day 4 – Evening

  “We have a name,” said Harri.

  She’d called Tom the moment she got back into her car. She pulled out of Lydia’s driveway and drove to an overlook nearby. She parked the car and watched the sun go down over the LA Basin. It was magical. She needed the calmness right now.

  “Stop shouting,” Tom said. “I can hear you. Anyone we’ve come across in the investigation so far?”

  “You will not believe who it is,” Harri said.

  “Public figure?” asked Tom.

  “Affirmative,” Harri said with a smile, enjoying the game.

  “Producer?”

  “No.”

  “Studio Head?”

  “Keep guessing.”

  “Actor?”

  “No.”

  “Aw, shit. I don’t know. Just tell me.”

  “Bryan Mortimer.”

  “No.”

  “Yes!” Harri shouted.

  “Oh, this is gonna be a media circus,” Tom said. “Three rings. With elephants. Your witness specifically said he sexually assaulted her?”

  “Not exactly,” Harri said. “He held her prisoner, though. And she was raped in captivity. This happened about twelve years ago on her second movie. He was the director. She also said he drugged her, so she didn’t remember much of it.”

  “Did she report it to the police?” Tom asked. “I can dig up the original.”

  “She reported it to HR at the studio where the film was being shot. Unfortunately, it was almost a year later after she discovered some of her actor friends had been assaulted at one of his parties. The studio quashed the allegation and blackballed her. She never went to the police.”

  “The girls bring their friends to be abused?” Tom asked.

  Harri wasn’t sure if it was incredulity or disgust she heard in his voice. Probably both, she thought as she was the sun dip below the horizon and the sky turn purple. Harri sighed. Her nerves were shot from the conversations she’d had with Roxanne and Lydia and her harrowing encounter with the black sports car. Still needed to report the accident, she thought.

  “That’s how this has been kept silent for all these years,” Harri said. “They traffic in shame.”

  “This is a tangle, Harri.” Tom said. “One of the world’s most famous directors drugging and raping underage actresses, a studio that knew about it and did nothing. This implicates so many people. The net’s getting pretty big.”

  “Lydia was nineteen at the time, so technically not underage,” Harri said.

  “Still. Most of his other victims were.”

  Harri needed to tell Tom about the black sports car. She worried he’d force her back to the office. She had to go talk to the women on the list Lydia gave her. What if they were already being intimidated not to speak with her?

  “I forgot to mention,” she said casually. “Someone tried to kill me on the way to Lydia’s.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line before Tom exploded. “What! What the hell are telling me, Harri?”

  “A black sports car tried to run me off the road. He hit my back bumper at a high speed, on a curve on Mulholland. I think he was trying to make me spin out and go over the edge.”

  “Are you all right?” Tom asked. “Can you drive?”

  “This car’s a tank. I barely saw any scratches on the bumper. And yes, I’m fine.”

  “Did you get the plate?”

  “No,” Harri said. “I didn’t get the make or model, either. It was black and low to the ground. A Porsche maybe?” Harri wasn’t great at identifying European sports cars. “It happened so fast and I was on a super curvy part of Mulholland.”

  “That entire road is dangerous. Sure it wasn’t just a joyrider?”

  “Positive. He hit me deliberately three times and sped off after I skidded into someone’s yard.”

  “You need to get checked out,” Tom said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Harri.” Tom warned.

  “I will get checked out, Tom.” She assured him. “First chance.”

  “Did she give you any other names?” Tom asked.

  “She gave me the names of six women who have similar stories. But Tom. If what Lydia says it’s true. There are hundreds of victims out there.”

  “I saw you put a protective detail on Roxanne Miles.” Tom asked.

  “After what happened with Stephen Ladner, I didn’t want to take any chances.”

  “I’ll be happy to tell Byrne we’ve definitely got information that makes this an RHD case,” Tom remarked dryly.

  “Are you still at Stephen Ladner’s?”

  “I finished up there, but CID is still on site. Grimley took the body and will get the autopsy in two days’ time. She couldn’t immediately rule out suicide, though. I had the crim
e techs try to create the pulley system used to hoist him up there. I can’t see any way he’d be able to do that himself,” Tom said.

  “You and I know he didn’t kill himself,” Harri said.

  “I agree. No way. What’s your move now?”

  “I’m going to start this list of victims. See if I can get more names. Lydia did give me the name of the man in HR she brought this to. William Valance.”

  “Call for backup if you need it. I’m worried they might come for you again. Have you seen your tail?”

  “No.”

  “We have to assume they know you’ve uncovered Lydia Marcos.”

  “She seems to think they destroyed her credibility,” Harri said. “She has a security team already, though. She’s a rich lady.”

  “My kind of gal,” Tom chortled.

  “Oh, no. Happily married to what sounds like a wonderful man.”

  “All right. I’m on my way to see Byrne. Wish me luck. Wish I had my kryptonite with me.”

  “Aww, shucks, Tom,” she said.

  “Good luck with that list,” Tom said, and they hung up.

  Harri watched the sky darken into an indigo blue. The lights below twinkled in the November night sky.

  She pulled the list of out her bag and scanned it to see if anyone jumped out at her. One of the addresses was in Los Feliz. She could get there in under an hour if the traffic gods were on her side. The rest of the addresses were deep in the valley. One was as far as Glendora. She’d be driving a lot to see them all.

  She took one last look at the city below her and started up the car. Taking a deep breath, she pulled out onto Mulholland and headed east.

  32

  Day 4 – Evening

  It was only a twenty-minute drive to Los Feliz. When she pulled up, she was surprised to see it was a gated estate. From the sounds of laughter and loud music, Jennifer Randall was having a party. The estate was perched among a thicket of trees with the driveway going up steeply so she couldn’t see what kind of house she going to. She had assumed all the girls on the list were former actresses. Jennifer must have come from money like Lydia or married well. She noticed the gate was locked and wondered how she could crash the party.