“Uh, yeah. Hold on, one sec.”
Lucas hung up the phone and slammed it down at the foot of the bed.
“I’ll call you back, Holly. Thanks for keeping tabs on everyone for me.”
“Sure thing. Have fun!”
Lucas dragged a hand over the back of his neck.
Frowning, I ended my call with Holly and put my phone on the nightstand. “What’s up?”
Wordless, he sank down into a chair, only sitting for a moment before he popped back up to his feet. His eyes were unfocused, staring off into space. Tremors of anxiety washed over me. I’d never seen him like this before. He was the epitome of calm, cool, and collected, even in the middle of a crisis.
“Lucas? Are you all right?” I asked, my voice wavering.
I took an unsure step toward him. “Who was that on the phone?”
He looked up, finally meeting my gaze. “Sam. It was Sam.”
“Did something happen on set? Another false alarm?”
It didn’t fit his level of freaked out, but it was the only thing I could think of.
I remembered back to the threats hurled at him the afternoon before. If there had been another alarm, did that mean he’d been fired? Lucas’s job was his whole world. If he lost it, I really wasn’t sure what he would do.
Lucas swallowed hard and I braced myself.
“They, uh, this morning, they found Bart Christiansen dead this morning, on the set.”
I drew in a sharp breath. “Wh—What?”
He shook his head. “I know. I mean, we just saw him last night.”
“What happened to him?”
Lucas looked down at his bare feet for a long moment before meeting my eyes. “He was murdered. Sam says the police are there. They want me to come down and talk to them right away.”
“What? Why? You weren’t even there,” I said, answering my question a moment later. “Oh. Right. I guess you’ll have to turn over the tapes and stuff.” I moved to collect my phone and purse. “Gosh, how awful! Did he have a family?”
Lucas stayed rooted in place. “Scar, the detectives heard about the argument I had with Bart yesterday. I think—” He paused and drew in a shaky breath. “I think I’m a suspect.”
Chapter 6
A sea of people clogged the sidewalk in front of the mansion. People held their phones up above the crowd, recording the comings and goings of the first responders. Things had moved quickly. A yellow police line was strung around the home’s perimeter, guarded by a uniformed officer. Those gathered on the other side of the tape spoke in hushed tones, clearly making sure no one could hear their morbid exchanges.
“Does anyone know what happened?” someone asked, nudging past Lucas and me to join the throng of onlookers.
“Someone’s dead,” a tall man answered, lifting his smartphone over the heads of those positioned in front of them to snap a picture. “I’ll bet it’s one of the Carters,” he added.
A gasp ricocheted through the group.
“That’s what happens when you get tangled up with gangs and drugs!” a woman said, her tone thoroughly scandalized.
I looked at Lucas and he clenched his jaw. I’d never gotten the feeling he cared much for the Carters personally, but they were his clients and as a professional, it had to bother him, hearing their names dragged through the mud.
He jerked his head and I followed him to the officer standing as gatekeeper. “I’m Lucas Greene,” he told the man without preamble. He lifted his set badge that he usually wore clipped to his belt. “I’m head of security. The detectives wanted to speak with me.”
The officer raised his radio and exchanged a few works with someone at the other end. “All right,” he said, lowering the radio once he’d gotten clearance. He lifted the tape and Lucas ducked underneath. This sent another flurry of whispered speculation through the crowd. I scurried to follow after Lucas but the officer put up a hand.
“She’s with me,” Lucas said, wrapping an arm around my waist to usher me forward.
The officer looked about to argue, but then nudged his chin. “All right, hurry up then.” He dropped the tape back into place and shot a stern look at the crowd. “Detective Delgado will be out to speak with you in a moment. Wait over on the driveway.”
Lucas nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Sometime between leaving the hotel room and arriving on the set, Lucas’s nerves had settled. Or, at least, he’d managed to keep them out of sight. If I hadn’t seen him so rattled back at the hotel, I’d have no way of knowing how worried he was following that phone call.
Of course, he had nothing to worry about. It was ludicrous to think he’d had anything to do with a murder. A public argument was hardly proper evidence. I had no doubt that we’d clear up the whole thing within a few minutes of speaking with the detective in charge of the investigation.
Lucas and I stood off to one side, our hands locked together, as we waited. The crowd of rubberneckers grew with every passing minute. “I can’t believe there are so many people coming to watch this,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s kind of disturbing, the way they’re all frothing at the mouth for a bit of gossip. I mean, someone died here.”
“It’s part of the business,” Lucas replied. “Gossip is what fuels most reality TV. The Carters are on millions of TV screens across the country every week. So, naturally, people want to know more about them and when there isn’t anything juicy, the tabloids just make something up to sell their papers.”
I nodded. To fans of the show, the Carters were just as exciting as some A-list celebrity and they wanted to know every nitty-gritty detail of their lives.
“Who do you think … uh … did it?” I asked, keeping my voice hushed. “Killed him, I mean.”
“I don’t know. I mean, Bart wasn’t exactly the warm and fuzzy type. He rubbed people the wrong way all the time. But this—” He paused and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
We fell into silence, watching people come and go from the house. Everyone stopped at the front door to put on or take off protective shoe covers. Two people emerged from the house, notepads in hand, and an officer approached them on the porch. He raised a hand toward us and the pair started across the yard in our direction. Lucas straightened and dropped my hand.
The woman was tall and had the figure of a Pilates instructor. Her dark, wavy hair hung past her shoulders and though she didn’t appear to be wearing makeup, I decided her poreless skin was simply too perfect to be au natural. And if I was wrong, I wanted every detail of her skin care regime. The man was shorter than the woman by a couple of inches, but nearly twice as broad. He had a brooding manner about him, the kind of face I couldn’t picture cracking a smile.
The woman spoke first. “Mr. Greene?”
Lucas nodded and extended a hand. “Lucas Greene. Head of security. I heard you had some questions for me?”
“That’s right,” she nodded and released Lucas’s hand. “I’m Detective Delgado and this is my partner, Detective Monroe.”
The man inclined his head toward Lucas before shifting his hardened gaze toward me. “And you, ma’am?”
“I’m Scarlet Sanderson. I’m just a tourist.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Lucas added. “She’s in town for the week, visiting.”
The door of the house opened and an explosion of whispers burst up from the crowd gathered on the sidewalk. I glanced over my shoulder at them but they were all fixated on the front door. Turning back, I realized what had them riled up. The coroner was taking the body away.
My stomach sank like the anchor of a massive ship.
This was all real. A murder had occurred under the roof I’d been under less than twelve hours before, and we were really standing in front of a couple of detectives, trying to explain that we’d had nothing to do with it.
“We received a call early this morning from your associate, Sam Kent, stating that a member of the crew found a body early this morning. We’ve identified the body as Ba
rt Christiansen.” Detective Delgado paused, measuring Lucas’s response. “A full autopsy will be done, of course, but we’re confident in ruling his death a homicide and have opened a murder investigation.”
Lucas nodded. “Sam told me on the phone. I’m sorry to hear it and will, of course, help in any way I can to see this matter resolved.”
His voice was strange and clinical, almost faraway sounding.
“Glad to hear it,” Delgado replied. “Cooperation is all we are asking for at this point in the investigation.”
“Now, your associate turned over the security footage from the last twenty-four hours and gave his statement,” Detective Monroe continued. “A few others we’ve spoken to mentioned you had an altercation with the victim last night. Is that right?”
Lucas’s jaw flexed. “I’m not sure I’d call it an altercation, but yes, Bart and I had a heated conversation about some malfunctioning security equipment and my limited availability this week.”
“Uh huh. And how did this conversation end?” Monroe asked.
“I addressed his concerns in regards to the false alarms and made sure everything was up and running before leaving the set. I briefed Sam, who was taking the overnight shift, and told him to call me if any further problems came up.”
“And what time was the argument?” Monroe asked.
“We had an early dinner and then came here after, so maybe—” Lucas paused and reached for his phone. “Wait. I have a text from Sam when he asked me to come to the house. Let me just…”
He scanned through his phone for a moment while the detectives waited. “Here it is. Sam sent it at 7:52. We were on the streetcar. It couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes to get here.”
Detective Delgado looked briefly at me. “I was here,” I volunteered. “Lucas fixed everything he needed to and we left, together.”
“And what time was that?”
Lucas consulted his phone again. “I called for a ride at 8:47. You’ll see us leaving on the security footage. I have cameras set to show the front yard.” He pointed toward the ever-growing crowd. “We got into the car right over there.”
“We’ll check that. Can you give us the information on the ride share? That way we can speak with the driver.”
Lucas nodded and relayed the information, which Delgado jotted on her small moleskin notebook.
“And did either of you see the victim before you left?” Monroe asked as his partner finished her notes.
I glanced up at Lucas.
“No,” he replied. “Sam told me he was in one of the production trailers, making phone calls. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I left without saying goodbye.”
“We were at our hotel all night,” I blurted out. “I’m sure you can check with them, they probably have security cameras or something.”
Lucas placed a hand on my arm. “Is there anything else I can do for you, detectives?”
Delgado’s expression sharpened. “Can you explain why select cameras on the first floor were deactivated early this morning? Our tech team is only starting to review the footage from the last twenty-four hours, but it appears a handful of cameras were switched off in an attempt to conceal the murder.”
“Which cameras?” Lucas asked, his brow furrowed.
Delgado flipped through her notes. “The one on the front porch, the one over the side door, that leads into the kitchen, and the one over the front doors, showing the interior of the house, including the hallway that leads to the library, which is where the body was found.”
“The library?” I interjected.
Three sets of eyes swiveled toward me.
Gayle’s words came back to me in a rush, but I sure as heck wasn’t about to relay them to the detectives. My cheeks warmed and I raised a hand, swiping it dismissively through the air. “It’s just a shame, with all the books and stuff.”
Lucas’s frown deepened. The detectives exchanged a look.
Lucas cleared his throat. “I—I don’t know why they would have been turned off. Was there a sign of forced entry?”
Delgado’s gaze remained fixed on me for a long moment before she pivoted back to Lucas and shook her head. “We’re just beginning to process the scene, but from first glance, no. It doesn’t appear to be a break-in. The attacker would have needed access to both the security system and a key to get into the house.”
“Which,” Monroe interjected, “we understand you have?”
Lucas stiffened. “I’m beginning to feel like I’m under investigation here, detectives. Do I need to call the studio’s legal team?”
The detective’s postures changed, almost in a synchronized manner, as a cold wall went up between them and us.
Lucas crossed his arms, creating his own line of defense. “If cameras were turned off, I don’t know about it. I’ll have to check my equipment to see what’s going on. Although, I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that’s not something I’ll be allowed to do.”
Delgado shook her head. “It’s a closed scene.”
“Right.” Irritation worked its way across Lucas’s face even as I could see him fight to keep it in check. “Well, be sure to take fingerprints from the security trailer. The main access and surveillance equipment is set up there. If someone got inside and turned off the cameras, that’s where you’ll find your lead because it wasn’t me.”
“Your associate mentioned a smart phone app?” Monroe asked, his tone tense. “It was our understanding that physical access to the trailer wouldn’t be necessary.”
Lucas dragged a hand over the back of his neck. “Yes and no. I use an encrypted app to track alarms. But I’m the only one who has access.”
Delgado made a note and then looked up at Lucas. “And are you able to control individual cameras from the app?”
“Theoretically, yes. But I didn’t—”
Delgado snapped her notebook closed. “That’s enough for now, Mr. Greene.”
“Make sure you stay in town,” Monroe added.
Lucas frowned. “I’m here until the studio tells me otherwise.”
“Very good.” Delgado said, smiling, though it wasn’t warm. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”
Chapter 7
“The whole thing is just so ridiculous! How could they possibly think you had anything to do with this?”
We’d been back in our hotel room for thirty minutes, but no matter how many times I paced the floor, I couldn’t shake the panicked anger that radiated off me with each step.
“They’ve got nothing but some paper-thin circumstantial evidence,” I railed, whipping back around to face Lucas. He sat at the foot of the bed, holding a cup of coffee from the hotel lobby with both hands. He watched me pace, but I don’t think he was really seeing me. He felt faraway, lost in his own thoughts. “Don’t you think? I mean, one argument and they leap to … to murder? It’s insane!”
I paused at the window and looked down at the street below. The view that had once been picturesque and exciting now overwhelmed me with a sense of danger. Were we being watched? Was Lucas under police surveillance? Another wave of anxiety tugged at me, threatening to pull me under. I wasn’t usually the type that panicked, but then again, I’d never dated someone who was tangled up in a murder investigation either.
“Scar, it’s going to be all right,” Lucas said quietly.
I glanced over my shoulder. “How do you know that?”
Lucas gave a half-smile. “Well, for starters, I didn’t kill the guy.”
I frowned. “You say that like innocent people never go to prison.”
Now it was Lucas’s turn to frown. “Come on, baby. You just said, everything they have right now is circumstantial. There’s not nearly enough for a jury to convict me. It’ll never even get that far.”
“What about the cameras?” I said, voicing the one part of the story that gave me pause. Not because I thought Lucas was capable of murder, but because of the possibility someone was setting him up. “Who else c
ould have turned them off?”
He leaned back and raked a hand over his short hair, cut with military precision. “Like I told the detectives, they’re going to have to check for prints or a sign that someone was in the security trailer. I mean, hell, for that matter, it could have been Sam turning the cameras off.”
My eyes widened. “You think Sam killed Bart?”
“No!” Lucas snapped.
I jolted.
“Sorry,” he said, softening his expression. “Can we just drop this for now? You’re only here for a week. I don’t want to waste our vacation together worried about this, okay?”
I nodded, but trying to push away all the dark thoughts swirling through my mind was like asking me to play a round of Whack-a-Mole with both hands tied behind my back.
Lucas pushed up from the bed and crossed to join me at the window. He wrapped his arms around me and lowered his lips to the top of my ear. “It’s going to sort itself out, Scar. I promise. I’m not going anywhere, all right?”
“Okay,” I mumbled against his chest. “Although—”
Lucas groaned.
“What?” I asked.
“We’re not getting involved in the investigation,” he replied.
I frowned. “Who says that was going to be my suggestion?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“All right, fine.” I said, crossing my arms.
He laughed. “I know you too well.”
“I’m just saying, we’ve done this twice now. We seem to have a knack for getting to the truth. And this time, it’s not to help someone else; the stakes couldn’t be any higher for getting to the bottom of this whole mess.”
Lucas placed his hands on my shoulders and held me still. “Scarlet, we’re not detectives or private investigators or anything even remotely qualified to poke around in something like this.”
“So, what about Rosie and Kimberly? We cracked both of those cases with very little help. Were those just flukes?”
“Yes!”
I threw my hands up in the air with a frustrated scoff. “I’m trying to help!”
When Good Ghosts Get the Blues Page 5
