by Sarah Curtis
“Guess it was.” Nate got up, too. “Shall we conserve water and shower together?”
“I’m all for doing our part to save the environment.” She quirked her lips, pulling her nightie up over her head and tossing it on the floor before making her way to the bathroom.
It didn’t take Nate long to follow.
Nate handed a cup of coffee to the detective before skirting the coffee table to take a seat on the sofa. Victoria sat beside him, and he captured her hand when her butt hit the cushion.
“Thank you,” Smith said, taking a seat in the chair across from them. Sipping from the mug, he winced when the hot liquid hit his lips.
“You have news?” Victoria questioned, wanting to get the show on the road.
Smith nodded, leaning forward to set his mug on the coffee table. He sat back, pulling a notebook from an inside jacket pocket, flipping through the pages. “Do you know a Chrissy Summerset?” He looked up from his notebook. “She worked on your latest film.”
Victoria turned confused eyes to Nate. “Chrissy, the set assistant?”
A frown marred his brow, but he gave her a curt nod. “We know her,” Nate said before asking, “What does she have to do with this?”
“It seems she’s the one who’s been sending the packages.”
“What!” Victoria couldn’t hide her shock.
Smith nodded. “We found a fingerprint on the envelope enclosed with the last box. Because Starlight Studios has such high security from dealing with so many high-profile celebrities,” he acknowledged Nate with a look, “anyone wanting to work in their facility is required to be fingerprinted. Knowing the perp had access to your trailer and the soundstage, we ran the print against the studio’s database and got a hit. Chrissy Summerset.
“Now, just to be sure we really had the right person before we picked her up, we took another look at the surveillance tapes to see if we could spot her or her car, and sure enough, it was seen entering this community at eight forty-seven p.m. on Tuesday, August fourteenth.”
“The day the last package was delivered,” Victoria mused aloud.
“Precisely. We missed it on the first search because we’d assumed whoever was behind the packages wouldn’t have access to your home. Her license plate number was on security’s master list. Can you explain that, Mr. Reed?”
Victoria’s eyes shot to Nate. He had a scowl on his face and was shaking his head until he suddenly snapped his fingers, turning to her. “Remember when we hosted that cast party—when was that? About three months ago. The caterers needed access to set up early. We were in the middle of a shoot, so I sent Chrissy over to take care of it. I took back my key, but I never removed her name from the visitor’s list.”
Smith piped in. “You should consider getting your locks changed. She might have made a copy. And even though she’s in custody, I’m not sure how long we can hold her.”
“You’re letting her go?” Victoria asked more than a little worried.
“Unless we can link her to the accidents, we’ll have to. We’d like a confession, but if not, we’re waiting on a warrant to search her premises. I’m hoping to find a match for the shoe print we found. The email you received came from a dummy account on the studio’s server. The tech guys are trying to trace who sent it, but that takes time.”
Victoria had hoped Chrissy sending them the packages would be enough to hold her, but she guessed that wasn’t really a crime unless Chrissy acted on her threats. “Is there a chance she didn’t do it?”
“Not likely. It would be too much of a coincidence and coincidences don’t sit well with me.” He stood from his seat.
Victoria rose quickly. “So that’s it? It’s over?”
Smith tucked his notebook back in his pocket. “For now. I’ll let you know if that changes.”
“I’ll show you to the door,” Nate said, rounding the coffee table.
Victoria was lost in thought when Nate returned a few minutes later. He stopped in front of her, cradling her face, and tilting it to look at him. “You know, this doesn’t change anything, right?”
She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he took an impossible step closer, “by this time next week, you will be Mrs. Reed.” His lips found hers, not giving her a chance to argue.
As if she would.
A few hours later, Victoria stood in the closet, debating what to wear. It had to be businessy but at the same time, light enough for the hundred-and-five-degree weather. She selected a pair of white, linen slacks, pulling them off the hanger. Stepping into them and slipping them up her legs, she gave a dramatic sigh when she couldn’t close the button.
“Problem?”
She turned to find Nate in the open closet doorway. He leaned, shoulder against the jamb with his arms crossed over his chest, causing his muscles to flex and pull his t-shirt taut. Her eyes dipped lower, taking in the fit of his jeans, the worn denim ridding low on his hips and hugging his thighs. His feet were bare, crossed at the ankles, and she found even that sexy. She heard a throat clear and her eyes shot back to his face. He was smirking at her, the arrogant man.
Remembering her predicament, she muttered, “I can’t get my pants buttoned.”
Nate closed the distance between them and tilted her chin up. “You’re pouting.”
“I’m getting fat.” Her voice even sounded pouty.
“No, you’re growing our baby.”
She knew what he said was true, but this was the first time she hadn’t fit into any of her clothes. It was a little depressing. “I suppose I need to go shopping soon.”
Smiling, he kissed the tip of her nose. “We’ll go after lunch.” He searched through her side of the closet. “Meanwhile, you can wear this.” He pulled a gauze, pale-yellow sundress down.
She scrunched her nose. The dress was too casual but would fit because it didn’t have a waist. She supposed it would have to do.
He swiped a finger down her nose. “You’re going to get permanent lines and look like a Klingon.”
“And whatever would you tell our child,” she added sarcastically.
“Precisely. Take those pants off,” he said, pulling the dress from its hanger.
She did as was told, and he slipped the dress over her head. Turning, she looked at herself in the full-length mirror. It wasn’t bad. Nothing fancy, but she didn’t look like a slob.
She saw Nate step up behind her in the mirror, his hands diving under the hem to rub along her torso. “I like this. Easy access.”
She squirmed when he hit a ticklish spot on her side. “Stop fooling around and get dressed, or we’re going to be late.”
He nipped her neck before releasing her, and she scurried into the bedroom.
He materialized a few minutes later dressed in a pair of long linen shorts that fit low on his hips and a casual yet trendy V-neck t-shirt. He wore canvas top-siders without socks. Even dressed down he looked exactly what he was. A movie star.
“You ready?” he asked, grabbing his phone from the dresser.
“Yep. Just need to throw on some shoes.”
She went back into the closet and selected a pair of white, wedge sandals with a three-inch heel, knowing they’d dress up her outfit.
They were in the car in a matter of minutes, the air-conditioner blowing hot air while the car still warmed up.
“I have that meeting tomorrow morning with Campbell to go over last details before they can air my commercial.”
Victoria nodded, she remembered him telling her.
“I shouldn’t be gone longer than a few hours.”
She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will.” He gave her hand a squeeze before putting the car in reverse and backing out of the garage.
As they cruised up Beverly with the air-conditioner finally blowing icy-cold air, Victoria could appreciate what a beautiful day it was. The sky was a lovely shade of pale blue with big cotton clouds floating pas
t, indicating there might be a nice breeze.
They stopped behind a row of several cars at a red light. A flash of neon green caught her attention, and she looked out her side window, laughing. “Wow, look at what that guy is—”
A loud boom reverberated through the car, and a sharp jolt jarred her as they were slammed from behind, cutting her words short.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Her arm flew out, her hand landing on the dash to brace against the sudden impact before she was whipped back against her seat.
“What the fuck!” she heard Nate shout, and her eyes flew to him. He appeared okay with his hands gripping the steering wheel, and his sight trained on the rearview mirror.
His eyes moved to her, seeming to travel over her all at once. Her face. Her lap. Her hands that clutched at the seat belt that crossed her chest. Even her legs. “Are you okay?”
She could only manage a nod. They hadn’t been hit hard. Just enough to jolt her around a bit, but she was still shaken.
The sound of squealing tires drew their attention, and Victoria watched the car that had hit them drive off.
“Fuck!” Nate shouted again, whipping the car into reverse before throwing it back into first and jumping into the next lane to take chase, barely missing the bumper of the car in front of them.
“What are you doing?” Victoria shouted over the roar of the engine as she grabbed the dash with one hand and the center console with the other. “It’s not worth chasing after them. Let the insurance handle it.” She knew he loved his car but speeding through Beverly Hills after a hit-and-run and possibly getting into another accident was ridiculous.
“There’s a pen in the glove box. Get ready to jot the license number down.”
She found the pen easily, but even after a thorough search, couldn’t find anything to write on. Not even an old receipt.
“We’re almost close enough,” Nate warned.
She saw his foot press down on the accelerator and frantically looked for a scrap of paper. Even the compartment in the center console was clean.
“Two X B J,” he started, and for lack of anything else, she pushed up the hem of her dress and started writing on her thigh. “Two, three, five.”
After reciting the plate numbers, Nate slowed and pulled into the next parking lot, bringing the car to a stop in a vacant corner.
“Why did you do that? Was it really worth risking our lives for a stupid accident?” She unlatched her seat belt, throwing it off herself in a rare fit of anger.
She looked over at Nate. He stared out the windshield, jaw tense with his hands still clutching the steering wheel.
After long seconds, as if getting himself under control, he turned to her. He grabbed her hand doing another thorough sweep of her from head-to-toe. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Her anger dissipated a fraction at his show of concern.
She repeated her question. “Why would you do all that,” she waved her hand at the windshield, “for a simple fender bender?”
“What if it wasn’t a simple accident? What if it was planned?”
“That’s crazy.”
“Is it? Like Smith said, there’s no such thing as coincidences.”
“This is LA. There’re hundreds of car accidents a day. Besides, the police have Chrissy in custody.”
“Maybe they have the wrong person, or maybe she’s been released. I wasn’t taking the chance of maybe letting the person who’s trying to hurt you get away.”
That shut her up. She didn’t have an argument for Nate’s logic.
He got out of the car, pulled his cell out, and stepped out of sight. After a few seconds, she opened her door and followed.
Nate paced behind the rear of the car, talking on the phone, and from his side of the conversation, it sounded as if he was talking to Smith. She looked down at the car and grimaced at the sight of the smashed bumper.
Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Nate stepped over to her, wrapping her in his arms. “He’s on his way. Are you sure you’re okay?”
She held on to him tight, pressing her cheek to his chest. “I’m fine.”
“The baby okay? Do you think we need to go to the hospital?”
“I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m not experiencing any pains or anything.”
“Let me know right away. Even if it’s just a twinge.”
She squeezed him tighter and was thankful for the returned added pressure as his arms hugged her back. While the accident really wasn’t much to speak of, it had been scary at the time. “I will.”
His lips found the top of her head and stayed there, his warm breaths heating her scalp. She wasn’t sure how long they held each other, long enough for the police to arrive.
A uniformed police officer approached them. “Mr. Reed,” he said, tipping his head and pulling out a notepad. “I’m here to take down your account of the accident.”
Victoria saw Nate frown. “Where’s Smith?”
“He sent me, sir. That’s all I know.”
Nate’s jaw hardened, and his eyes blazed. Victoria placed a comforting hand on his arm and spoke softly, “Maybe he was busy or too far away. Don’t ream the middleman.” Her lips quirked, and she gave his arm a squeeze, hoping to jolly him out of his temper.
His chest inflated as he took a deep breath. Releasing it slowly, he gave her a small smile, letting her know he was back in control.
Victoria excused herself when the officer had Nate rehash the accident, and going to the car, she grabbed her phone to check the time.
She hadn’t realized it was so late. Half past one. She saw she missed a call from Byron and quickly called him.
“Where are you?”
Of course, that would be his first question and not concern over why they were late. “We were in a car accident. We’re not going to make it.”
She heard him excuse himself—presumably from the table—and a few panting breaths later, he said in a lower voice, “This meeting is important, Victoria.”
She was instantly pissed off. Damn him and his one-track mind. “It was a small fender bender. Scary, but we’re fine. Thanks for asking.”
Her sarcasm was hard to miss. He didn’t. She heard him sigh. “Obviously, I was concerned until you called.”
“Obviously.” Yes, her reply still dripped with sarcasm.
She heard him sigh again. “Listen, let’s start over. I’m glad you’re okay, but seeing as it was—in your words—a small fender bender, do you think you can still come now? I’m sure Gideon won’t mind waiting if I explain the situation to him.”
“I don’t know. The police just arrived so it might take a while.”
“The police were called for a mere fender bender?”
“Nate thought it was a good idea in light of what’s been happening lately even though the police already have a suspect in custody.”
“Wait. The police have someone in custody? How did I not know that? When did that happen? Who is it?”
She was startled by his rapid-fire line of questioning and was reluctant to give away too much information not knowing what Smith would consider confidential. She kicked herself for saying anything in the first place. “Um, I’m not sure. I think sometime this morning and some crazy fan.”
“But they didn’t tell you who?” His tone was a little weird, but she brushed it off as his insistence on needing to know everything.
Nate waved to her, and she said into the phone, “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later. Please give my excuses to Mr. Warren and tell him if he’d still like to meet, I’ll accommodate him, on his time schedule.”
“Now that the person has been caught, are you still leaving at the end of the week?”
“Everything’s happened so suddenly, I’m not sure what our plans are now.” For some reason, she held back informing him she and Nate still planned to leave. Them getting married was something she definitely didn’t want Mr. Big Mouth to know about.
“Please keep me
in the loop, Victoria. You know I need to know these things.”
“Bye, Byron.” She hung up before he could say anything else. That man could talk!
She joined Nate and the officer, Nate’s arm coming around her as soon as she drew near. “Sweetheart, you got the license plate number of the car?”
Her lips quirked sheepishly as she raised her skirt. She saw a trace of a smile and the slight shake of Nate’s head. “What? Your car is spotless. Not even one scrap of paper lying around.”
“Before I let you guys go, there is one question I’d like to ask you, Ms. Lee,” the officer said after jotting down the number. At her nod, he continued. “Did you get a look at the driver of the hit-and-run?”
“Everything happened so fast, I didn’t think to look.” She turned to Nate. “Did you see the person?”
Nate shook his head. “I tried right after it happened, but with the glare from the sun on the guy’s windshield, I couldn’t see anything.”
Victoria nodded, remembering him looking in the rearview mirror right after the crash.
The officer tucked his notebook back in his pocket. “Okay, someone will be in touch.” He gave them a small smile while tipping his head their direction before turning and walking away.
They went straight home, and Nate disappeared into his office. She’d made them some lunch and was just pulling the garlic bread out of the oven when he strolled into the kitchen.
“Something smells good,” he said, taking the hot tray from her and setting it on the counter.
“Well it’s not the Four Seasons, but I figured I couldn’t mess up spaghetti too badly.”
They sat at the table eating quietly after that, Nate lost in thought. The silence was killing her. She gave him until the middle of their meal to brood before saying anything. “I’m sorry about your car.” She reached over placing a hand atop his.
He flipped their hands, entwining their fingers. “It’s just a car, sweetheart. It will be good as new in a couple of weeks.”
After a few minutes, when he didn’t volunteer more, she tried again. “You don’t think it was an accident, do you.”
His chest swelled as he took a deep breath. He let it out slowly before he said, “No.”
