by Jillian Dodd
So she lets him go.
As soon as Vincent leaves the police station, he allows himself to anger. Keeping it simmering below the surface was a true test of his abilities. Fury takes hold of him. He knows it’s risky, but it’s time to let the whore, Abby, know the truth.
He drives to his grandmother’s house and sneaks back to the shed, getting what he needs.
He has no problem entering the gated community. The guards know he visits the old man and may even believe him to be his son. He tells them he hasn’t heard from him in a few days and wants to just quickly check on him, which he does. The man is fast asleep. Vincent borrows a dark windbreaker from the front hall along with a fishing hat. He shoves the envelope and gun he brought with him in his pocket. He walks the beach behind Abby’s beach home and observes the commotion going on inside. Sees the security guards at the door.
He fingers the gun, considering just walking in there and taking Lacy, shooting anyone who gets in his way. But that was not part of his plan. And he knows planning is key. Meticulous, perfect planning makes for the best movies. He must continue on his path, not allowing obstacles to push him off course.
Lacy is his destiny.
And he is nothing if not patient.
He retreats from the home, finds her surfer friend’s house empty, disables the alarm, and goes into his bedroom, where he finds the swimsuit Lacy was wearing on the beach when he took the video. He pulls it to his nose, taking in the scent of her, then stuffs it in his pocket and leaves the envelope.
On the way out of the home, he enables the alarm then opens the door, causing a screeching wail to pierce the air.
WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!!
Someone’s house alarm is loudly shrilling.
Brooklyn’s phone buzzes.
He looks down at it, like he’s forgotten what it is. He blinks, then answers. “No, I didn’t accidentally set off the alarm. Yes, send the police right away!”
James and the two detectives look at each other, agree on something with their eyes, draw their weapons, and go tearing out the back door.
“Well, this has certainly been an exciting night,” Deron jokes. He’s trying to use his great sense of humor to keep us all calm.
It just doesn’t seem to be working.
Fifteen nerve-racking minutes later, the alarm wailing the entire time, James calls Brooklyn.
Brooklyn gives him the alarm code, and the night is silent again.
Brooklyn sets down his phone. “The house is clear. From what they can tell, it wasn’t robbed, but they want me to go see if anything is missing.”
Garrett picks up his walkie-talkie and says, “I need a two-man team to the back door.” He leads Brooklyn out the door, where armed security men are waiting to escort Brooklyn safely to his house.
We wait in tense silence.
While we wait, Garrett gets a call.
He listens, ends the call, and reports, “They did find a van outside the exit door he was taking you to. The keys were in it. It was stolen from a rental agency and the plates don’t match the van. Because it’s a rental, there are a million fingerprints in it. There’s nothing that’s going to make this stick.” He turns to Mom, who is standing at the bar in the kitchen picking the crust off a mini sandwich. “I think maybe you better sit down, Abby.”
“Why?” Mom says quietly.
“They found some things in the van that are quite disturbing and although we can’t prove he was trying to kidnap Keatyn, we know for sure that he was.”
“What was in the van, Garrett?” Tommy asks slowly. I get the feeling he doesn’t really want to know the answer.
“Duct tape, zip ties, syringes preloaded with a drug we’ve yet to identify.”
I start crying again, so Damian tightens his arms around me.
“It’ll be okay, Keats. You’re okay. You’re safe,” he mutters softly into my ear. When Damian talks, he practically sings. It’s very soothing.
I lean my head against his, but tears are still rolling down my face.
But I’m not crying because of what was in the van.
I’m crying because I know I have to tell them.
Tell them all how stupid I am.
Tell them that I was the one who invited him to the party.
Brooklyn, the detectives, and James walk through the back door about twenty minutes later.
Brooklyn looks freaked out.
James walks straight to Garrett and speaks to him in hushed tones.
Brooklyn swallows hard and looks at me. “Keatyn, your bikini. You didn’t grab it, did you? Remember, you left it on my floor?”
Mom says, “Why was your bikini on Brook’s floor?”
“Because it was wet,” I say. What I don’t say is that he stripped it off me, had sex with me, and then told me it was chilling.
Mom snaps at me. “How many times have I told you not to leave your wet bikinis on the floor?”
Tommy grabs Mom’s hand. “I don't think that's really the issue here.”
“I didn’t grab it.”
Brooklyn says, “I didn’t think so. I thought I remembered seeing it when I was getting ready for the party.”
James whispers something to Tommy.
“What’s going on? What’s with all the secrets?” I ask. “So he took my bikini. What else did he take?”
“He didn’t take anything else,” Garrett says a little too quickly.
“Fine. What did he leave?”
James sighs. “There was a manila envelope addressed to Abby.”
“Let me see it. Is it another letter?”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Garrett says quietly. “We, uh, need to fingerprint and analyze it first.” Then he turns to Mom and Tommy. “Let’s go in the other room.”
There’s something he doesn’t want to say in front of me.
Something bad.
That’s why Brooklyn looks so freaked out.
I wipe my eyes, sit up straight, and find a little bit of strength. “Whatever you want to tell them in private, you need to tell me about it too. You can’t protect me from him.”
“Keatyn . . . ” Garrett says.
But I stand up and interrupt him. “Don’t patronize me. All this expensive security didn’t do us any good. I could’ve been tied up in the back of a van tonight. And if that had happened, I suspect this little party would’ve been a whole lot different.”
Mom clutches her stomach like she’s going to throw up.
Tommy takes a gulp of the scotch sitting in front of him. “Just tell us all, Garrett. What’s in the envelope?”
The detective motions for us to join him. He puts on a pair of latex gloves while he walks over to the big kitchen island. He pulls a baggie out of his coat pocket, pulls the envelope out of the baggie, and begins to open it.
I get up off the couch. My knees are shaking, but Damian grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen.
Everyone’s eyes are on the envelope. You’d think it held the answer to who won the next Academy Award.
He turns the envelope upside down. Out drops a flash drive and a note.
My Dearest Abby-
I told you I’d moved on. Bet you never thought it would be with your beautiful daughter.
Tell her I’m sorry tonight didn’t work out for us, but not to worry.
We’re still going to make a movie together, and it will be perfection.
And in case you need further convincing, whore, check out the flash drive.
I’m everywhere.
I shudder and feel faint.
Damian is holding me up.
Garrett sets up a laptop on the counter, and they slide the flash drive in.
A slide show pops up.
Photos of me pass by.
Me on the beach the first day I met Vincent. I’m in the skimpy French bikini, smiling and tossing sand at Brooklyn.
Me at the Undertow wearing the I-didn’t-try-I-just-look-this-amazing outfit.
A grainy nighttime shot of me, Brooklyn, and Damian in the hot tub on the deck.
Me and Cush at the Santa Monica pier. I’m carrying the big stuffed seal he won for me by shooting baskets.
Me and B walking hand in hand down the beach.
Me standing on a deck in the beautiful white gown I wore to Monte Carlo night. The night he told me we could walk down those steps and no one would even know we were gone.
Me lying on the chaise at the hotel pool when I got back from Europe.
Me doing a cartwheel in the ocean on my birthday. When he recorded me. I can still feel how tightly he gripped my wrist. How strong he was.
Me drinking a beer and eating shrimp today at Buddy’s.
Then there’s a video. It’s the one Vincent took when he told me to do my own version of Mom’s famous poster. I pranced out, threw water at him, and blew him a kiss.
I feel sick again.
“Oh my God,” Mom says. “Keatyn, this video. How did he get this?”
I breakdown and start bawling. Tommy puts his hand on my shoulder. I turn around, throw myself into his chest, and sob. My body heaves, and I feel borderline hysterical.
I don’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened to me if he had gotten me out that door. I grab ahold of my locket and say a thank you prayer.
Tommy whispers to me soothingly as he holds me. “Shh, baby, it’ll be okay. We’re not gonna let this guy win.”
He runs his hand across my hair.
My sobs slow down a bit.
“I . . . know . . . the . . . stalker,” I say in between sobs.
“You what?! What do you mean?” Tommy says.
“I . . . mean . . . I . . . invited . . . him . . . to the party.”
Everyone looks at me with confused, shocked faces.
Garrett is the first to recover. He grabs my shoulder and guides me back over to the couch, gestures for me to sit, and then sits on the coffee table directly in front of me. “I think you need to explain. If you knew who your mother’s stalker was, why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because I didn’t figure it out until he tried to kidnap me.”
“Tell us the whole thing. Walk me through what happened at the club before James got involved.”
I take a deep breath.
“I was standing on the edge of the dance floor talking to Brooklyn when there was a commotion. A guy who was dressed like one of your security guys—dark suit, sunglasses —picked me up off the ground and told me he had to get me somewhere safe. I immediately panicked and assumed that meant it wasn’t safe and that something bad must’ve happened. I was afraid the stalker had got to Mom, so I told him no. That I needed to find her. That’s when he said, The whore is fine, and when I realized he was the stalker and not a security guy. I tried screaming, but the music was too loud and no one could hear me. And everyone was gathering near the commotion. Then I saw part of his tattoo and realized that not only was he the stalker, but that I knew him.”
“Ohmigawd, Keatyn,” Mom says.
I look at her. “I tried to plead with him, but he just laughed. He thought it was funny that Mom never suspected that he was moving on to her own daughter. I tried to get away. Tried to make my body limp and heavier. I struggled. He was just so strong.”
I stop and run my hand across my face then back through my hair. “Like, really strong, and I couldn’t get away. I knew I wasn’t going to get away. I knew what he wanted. I knew he was going to kidnap me, and there was nothing I could do about it. The door kept getting closer, and I was freaking out, full-on panicking. Then this voice started talking to me. It calmed me down.”
“A voice?” Mom asks.
My eyes fill with fresh tears. I nod and bite my lip. “A voice that sounded like Daddy. He told me I couldn’t let him get me out the door and reminded me of a stupid self defense move I learned in P.E. So I did it. I smashed my heel into his foot just as he was getting ready to open the door. And it worked. He loosened his grip on me, I broke free, and ran.” I let out at big breath of air. I’m exhausted. “You guys know the rest.”
“What are we going to do?” Tommy says flatly.
Garrett Smith stands up and takes control. He puts his hand out to the detective closest to him and says, “We appreciate everything you’ve done. We’ll take it from here.”
The detectives nod at him, mutter something about if they can do anything else to let them know, and are escorted out the door.
Tommy hands me his glass of scotch.
Garrett comes back and sits in front of me. “Tell me how you know him.”
I cover my face with my hand and shake my head no. “I can’t. You’ll be mad at me. But I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”
Tommy rubs my back. “None of us knew, baby. You’ve got to tell us. We aren’t going to be mad. We’re so glad you were smart enough to figure it out when you did.”
“But that’s just it. I’m not smart.” I look at my mom. “Mom, remember the hot older guy I had dinner with? Vincent Sharpe?”
“Yes?”
“It was him.”
“What do you mean?”
“The stalker, Thaddeus whatever. He either goes by Vincent Sharpe or was pretending to be him.”
Mom’s legs buckle. James grabs her elbow. “Oh my God, Keatyn. You had dinner with him.”
Garrett flips back through his notes and mutters, “Sharpe. Where did I see that name?”
I answer. “He said his grandmother was Viviane Sharpe.”
“Yes, that’s it. He wasn’t lying about that. So you know him? Went to dinner with him? Spent time with him?”
“Basically, yes.”
Everyone in the room starts to murmur and ask questions.
Garrett stands up and holds up his hands to get everyone to stop. “Look, I know you all have a million questions, but I’m going to ask them. We’ve got to piece this all together and figure out why he went from long-time fan to kidnapper. So, Abby, we know he’s been a fan of yours for years, but it was never a problem. When did things first escalate? Was it when you found the note in the backpack? When I was brought in?”
Mom thinks. “No, it didn’t seem like that big of a deal at the time, but before that, he broke into my trailer on set.”
“And he stole a family photo,” James says. “One of Keatyn and Abby on the beach in Hawaii.”
Garrett surmises, “So he sees a photo and instead of seeing Keatyn, he sees the Abby he first fell in love with in the photo. Young Abby.”
“That was the same day I met him. I remember, because you were in the living room with all those men in suits when I came back from shopping with Sander. It was the day we broke up.”
“Where did you meet him? When you were shopping?”
“No. On our beach.”
Mom audibly gasps. “He came to our house?”
Brooklyn says, “He was on the beach, down more toward my house. He told us he was buying a house up the beach and asked me to teach him to surf. He seemed cool, except for the way he was staring at Keatyn. I didn’t like it, but he quickly apologized for staring. He told us she looked just like Abby in A Day at the Lake, and how he had a big crush on her when he was fourteen. He said Keatyn brought back some memories.”
Garrett says, “Okay, do you remember when you saw him next?”
I nod. “Yeah, it was that same night. He was at Damian’s last gig. He kinda flirted with me. Told me he wanted to make a movie. I laughed and asked him if that line usually worked for him in the bar. I kinda blew him off, but he told me he was doing a remake of A Day at the Lake. I joked that I didn’t want to stand around in a bikini and scream. He told me it wouldn’t be like that. That I’d be a kick ass heroine and it’d be a blockbuster. He gave me his business card. Told me to call him. I didn’t. The script wasn’t even written. I’m not dumb.” I close my eyes tightly. “Well, I thought I wasn’t dumb.”
I take another slow sip of Tommy’s scotch and slowly open my ey
es. The burn of the scotch on my throat is a harsh reminder that this isn’t just a bad dream.
Garrett says, “So he fantasized about remaking Abby’s movie. Now he’s found an Abby look-a-like to play the role. Still, there has to be something in his life that happened. Something that made him snap.”
“His grandmother died,” I say. “He idolized her. She was an old film star, and he said she was a lady. He went on and on about how Grandmother—that’s what he called her, never Grandma, always Grandmother—respected Abby because she never took off her clothes in her movies; that hers were clean, like they were in the old days. He had a bad childhood, and it sounds like his mom was pretty slutty. She was married like six times. The last guy she married had money, but didn’t want kids, so she dumped him at his grandmother’s house. It was good for him though. It sounded like he kind of had low self-esteem, like maybe kids used to make fun of him. But his grandmother told him he could fake confidence. He said eventually he didn’t have to fake it anymore.”
“So the woman he idolizes dies. Okay,” Garrett says. “What else?”
“I helped him spread her ashes on our beach. He was very sad. I don’t think he was faking it. He sobbed on my shoulder. I hugged him and cried too. He was buying the beach house for her birthday. Apparently, she met the love of her life on this beach and was happiest there. She wanted Vincent to find true love. He told me she would have loved that he met me on their beach. The next day, he texted me and asked me to dinner. He wanted to thank me for being nice to him.”
“That’s the night Barbara called and said you were having dinner with a hot, older guy, right?” Mom says.
“Yeah. We drank wine on the patio first.”
Garrett says, “What happened that night?”
I think about it. “We talked all about the movie, but then not.”
“What do you mean?”
“Even though we talked about the movie, it was like . . .” I trail off, and finally whisper, “I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”
