by Jamie DeBree
The scent assaulted him first, followed by a gigantic bouquet of flowers that obscured the person nearly underneath them.
"Hello? Anyone there? A little help would be good, before I drop these..." The female voice was shrill and whiny, but he automatically reached out to grasp the large basket from her.
"Oh thank you," she said on a long sigh, clearly winded. The sickly sweet stench was cloying and Eddie put the flowers on the dressing table as fast as possible, then reached for the card. "Hey," the delivery woman said, smacking his hand lightly for good measure. "Those are for Ms. Saunders. And you aren't her. You're..." her eyes got big as she looked at him more closely. "Oh wow. You're Eddie Pierce. Wait until I tell--"
"No one," he said sternly, knowing it wouldn't do any good. "You'll tell no one, or I'll have you fired."
Her lips twisted up in a sly grin. "Of course, Mr. Pierce. My lips are sealed." She drew her fingers over her lips, then turned on her heel and flounced away. He shook his head as he watched her go, then reached for the card in the flowers again.
As soon as the door closed, Holly came out from behind the screen. "Do you think she'll keep quiet?" She came up beside him, and peered around his arm as he removed the small square of cardstock from the envelope. He fought a sudden bout of dizziness, confused at what might have caused it. If he could just find out who sent the flowers...
"Nope. In about thirty seconds, the whole studio will know I'm in your room. And that's not going to go over well considering what you just said on National TV. But we have two larger problems at the moment." He handed her the card and staggered to the couch, collapsing on it just before he would have fallen. He settled back against the cushions, focusing on each breath.
She looked over at him and frowned, holding up the card. "He really expects me to just wait for him to come get me? God, this guy is delusional."
Eddie nodded, closing his eyes. "That's problem number two."
"What's problem number one then?" He heard her step closer, felt her staring down at him. "Eddie, what's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Stay away from the flowers," he said, the words feeling thick on his tongue as he sunk down onto his side. "There's something...so tired...can't breath..."
She said something, but he couldn't make out the words, and it didn't really matter. Sleep beckoned and he gave in to the urge, drifting off into peaceful oblivion.
* * *
Holly knelt down beside the couch, shaking Eddie's shoulder. "Oh no. Oh God. Wake up, dammit!" She dialed 911 on her cell phone, but remembered just in time that there was a medical team on staff, and they would be closer. She ran over to the phone hanging on the wall above her dressing table and pushed zero, pacing back and forth while she waited for an answer. When a voice finally came over the line, she nearly cried with relief.
"I need help right away," she said, unable to take her eyes off Eddie's still form. "There's a guy...uh...a friend of mine collapsed after he smelled some flowers someone sent to me. You have to hurry. He's breathing, but it doesn't sound like he's getting enough air..."
The paramedic promised they'd be there in five minutes and she hung up, going back to Eddie's side. She stroked his forehead, not knowing what else to do while she waited. If he hadn't been there, she'd be the one passed out, and who knows what could have happened? Guilt tugged at her conscience, not only because Eddie had gotten caught up in this mess, but also for the things she'd said on stage. She should have answered the phone when he'd called, let him explain. Maybe somehow they could have...
A firm knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she ran to open it, relief pulsing through her veins. But it wasn't a paramedic on the other side, and she gasped when the man in dark blue coveralls holding a gun grinned knowingly up at her.
"We meet at last, Ms. Saunders," he said, peering around the door to where Eddie was on the couch. "I see your friend is sleeping - don't worry about him, he'll be fine in an hour or so. A little hung-over, maybe. Certainly no need for paramedics, though you were smart to call right away, of course. I’ve taken the liberty of not passing on your message. You, on the other hand, need to come with me. We have some unfinished business to take care of."
Holly glanced at the door, assessing the situation to see if there were any other options. Was it thick enough to stop a bullet? Or maybe if she grabbed the poisoned bouquet and tossed them in his face? He was short and not very big, and for half a second she wondered if she could tackle him. That's probably what Shelby, the heroine in her current novel would do. The thought nearly made her smile.
"Don't even think about it, Saunders." The man motioned with his gun for her to step out into the hallway. "I really won't hesitate to shoot you if that's what it takes. And they're filming some action scene right outside, so no one's going to blink if they hear gunshots."
As if on cue, two loud pops rang out, followed by two more. Holly looked back at Eddie, then reluctantly moved into the hall, leaving the door slightly ajar.
"Where are we going?" she asked as he took her arm, pushing her forward in front of him as the barrel of the gun pressed into her spine. "Why are you doing this?"
Chapter 5
Her kidnapper pushed her forward, waiting until after a group of suits had passed to answer. "Why am I doing this?" He chuckled, an unpleasant sound as they turned the corner toward the back door of the studio. "Because you have no respect for the natural order of things. And someone has to help you learn it. Might as well be me."
Holly frowned, trying to keep her head still even as she looked everywhere for a path of escape. Unfortunately the area was dark, and the only things visible were outlines of metal stair pieces and technical equipment. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied, earning another poke in the back with the gun. "The natural order of things? You mean you're kidnapping me because I have a leather purse?"
"You really are just that stupid, aren't you. I'm trying to help you. It will all be clear soon."
They stopped in front of an emergency exit door, and he reached past her to push it open. The alarms she braced for never came on, so someone must have disabled them earlier. Squinting in the bright afternoon sun, she stepped out onto the hot asphalt and waited for her eyes to adjust.
"This way," the man said, pulling her arm ahead and to the left. Holly had no choice but to follow blindly, relieved when they finally stood in the shade of a small tree. "Get in."
She eyed the beige sedan as he held the door to the back seat open, then looked frantically around the parking lot. There wasn't anyone around, so calling for help didn't seem like a good plan, but she knew that once she got in the car, her chances of escape narrowed to nearly nothing.
An engine gunned behind her, and she swiveled to see a bright red sports car coming her way, determination sending her adrenaline soaring as her muscles tensed. Only one thought remained as she darted out in front of the oncoming vehicle.
I'm going to die.
Time seemed to slow down as everything happened at once. The car slowed, but didn't stop, and she instinctively jumped as the low hood approached. Just before landing sideways on the hot metal, a loud pop preceded an intense burning sensation in her left thigh, but the impact with the car insured that her entire body shared an equal amount of pain. As the car came to a halt, she kept going forward, powerless to keep from sliding off to crumple in a heap on the black top.
Dazed, she sat there trying to catch her breath even has her leg throbbed and the opposite shoulder felt like it was on fire. Her only hope now was the driver.
A door slammed, and heavy footsteps approached. Big black biker boots appeared on the ground beside her, and she forced herself to look up. The sun was in her eyes, so all she could see was a tall, dark shadow looming eerily above.
"Help me," she said, hope rising as he leaned down and slid one hand under her knees, and the other behind her back. Hoisting her up, he turned so he was blocking the sun, allowing her to see his face for the first time.
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Oh shit.
"It's about time you showed up," Holly's kidnapper said as the doorman from The Afterglow carried her to the passenger side of his car. "I thought I was going to have to deliver her directly. Would have cost you more money."
The doorman finished putting her in the car and gave her a towel to press against her leg. "I had a lunch date," he said, wiping his bloody hands on his jeans. Holly tried not to think about the blood she was losing as the car door swung shut against her thigh. Reaching through the open window, the doorman pushed the lock shut.
"Stay there."
She nodded. It wasn't like she had a choice. The kidnapper's shot had gone straight through, and even if her leg could bear the weight, she doubted she'd get very far before the loss of blood took its toll.
The doorman walked to the other side of the car, speaking in low tones to the kidnapper. Holly strained to hear what they were saying, but the pain made it hard to focus. The doorman gave her kidnapper a white envelope, and then finally joined her in the car.
"I need," she started, her dry throat making it hard to swallow. "I need a doctor. And some water." Her head started to spin as she laid it back against the headrest and closed her eyes. "Please."
The engine started, the low rumble of Italian luxury purring through the whole car. If she felt better, she might even enjoy the ride in a hot rod. As it was, she'd be lucky to stay conscious.
"There's a private doctor in residence where we're going," the doorman said as the car began to move. "You should rest. Sleep if you'd like."
Holly needed to stay awake. She needed to remember street signs, names and numbers, just in case there was an opportunity to get free. Later. When it didn't hurt just to breathe.
Forcing her eyes open, she looked at the man beside her. He was good looking in a brainless body-builder sort of way. "Do you do this a lot?" she asked, only realizing after the words were out how much they sounded like a cheesy pick-up line. "Kidnap women, I mean."
He stared straight ahead, giving no indication that he'd heard her. He wanted to play that game, did he?
"So how much does a woman go for these days? I'm assuming you have some sort of mark-up on the other end, right? Or is this one of those rings that kidnap women and sell them into sexual slavery?" Still no answer. She shrugged, sitting back in the seat. "On the bright side, this is going to make a great book someday. Kidnapping, a relationship doomed from the start, big bucks changing hands, the heroine shot trying to escape..." She thought he glanced her way, but the movement was so fleeting she couldn't be sure.
"You won't write about this."
The threat behind the words sent a shiver down her spine, but she refused to react with fear. "I wouldn't be surprised if it gets made into a movie. You live here - you should know how Hollywood producers eat this sort of thing up. A book like that could make my career. So I guess I should be thanking you."
The doorman pulled the car into a long, wide driveway that circled in front of a classic mansion with tall white columns gracing the front porch. He cut the engine right in front of the steps, and got out, opening her door just a few seconds later. His large hand closed tight around her upper arm and he dragged her out of the car, forcing her to grab his shoulder as her leg gave out underneath. She stumbled beside him as he half-dragged, half carried her up the stairs and propped her up beside the door as he knocked three quick times in succession. As the locks turned from inside the house, he leaned closer, an ugly sneer on his face.
"You won't be alive long enough to write about this, Ms. Saunders."
The heavy door opened and a tall, skinny man with an angular face looked them both over before stepping back and motioning for them to enter. The doorman grabbed Holly around the waist and pulled her along, though she hardly noticed due to the overwhelming dizziness and nausea that got worse by the second. Once inside, she made out just enough detail to get the impression of wealth and fine things before a fuzzy veil settled over her eyes and she felt herself slip to the floor. Above her, voices carried on in hushed tones as she quickly faded into unconsciousness.
The next time she woke, it was dark. The hard mattress underneath her wasn't her own, and neither was the ridiculous excuse for a pillow. She moved restlessly, sending a streak of fire up her leg and pain so acute she could barely breathe. She gasped, going over the day's events in her mind.
Eddie. Moisture gathered in her eyes as she remembered leaving him sprawled on the floor, her kidnapper assuring her he'd be okay in a couple of hours. But was he? She wiped a tear away, wishing she knew. Hoping someone had come along and found him.
A door at the foot of the bed opened, allowing a wash of dim orange light to spill onto the floor from the hall. The tall man - a butler, she presumed - who had let them in earlier came to the side of her bed, a glass of water in one hand and a small paper cup in the other.
"It's time for your medication, Miss," he said, holding the paper cup out to her. "Antibiotics and a pain pill for your leg."
She took the little cup and peered inside. "There are three pills here. What's the third one?" The butler turned on the lamp at her side for more light.
"Just something to help you sleep," he said, his voice soft and monotonous. She considered the pills as he put the glass in her other hand.
"I'll skip that one," she said, holding the pills up for him to take. "Just show me the antibiotic and pain killer. That's plenty."
He shook his head, refusing to take them back. "Sorry, miss. I have orders for you to take them all."
She frowned. "Orders from who? Why am I here? I need to talk to the person in charge. I'm sure there's been a mistake..."
"I'll leave the water on your nightstand. When you're in enough pain, I'm sure you'll change your mind." He walked out with a brisk step and pulled the door shut behind him.
Holly waited until he was gone, then dumped the pills onto the table and started looking carefully at each of them for any unique markings. The long one was probably the antibiotic, so she swallowed that with a little water. The other two were nearly indistinguishable - both small, round and white.
Her leg hurt, but she really needed her wits about her so she opted to wait on the other two pills. So much had already happened that she wanted to be alert for whatever came next. Looking around the room, she spied a bookshelf, and an open door she really hoped led to a bathroom. Perfect.
Throwing back the covers, she swung her legs slowly off the edge of the bed, wincing at the movement. Putting her good foot down first, she managed to stand up, and she held onto the heavy antique-look furniture as she slowly dragged her bad leg to the door. Relieving herself, she went to the bookshelves, feeling a fine layer of sweat develop over her skin as she hobbled. Her leg ached, but she almost forgot about that as she realized that all the books were the same, right to left, up and down. Shivering, she made her way back to the bed and lay there panting from the effort as she tried to wrap her mind around what the books might mean for her. She closed her eyes, but all she could see was that ominous book cover repeated over and over and over in her mind.
How to Commit the Perfect Murder.
* * *
Eddie woke up to someone pounding on the inside his head. Or was that the door? He pushed himself up off the floor, groaning at the pain and decided it was both. Disoriented, he stumbled to open the door and leaned against the jamb as he tried to focus his vision. A bulb went off in his face, making the distortion worse and he held a hand up to shade his eyes.
"What do you want?" he asked, the words slurring from his thick-feeling tongue. There was something nagging at him, something he was supposed to be doing. Blinking several times, he squinted at the badge on the woman's chest. Big black P-R-E-S-S letters spelled out just how much trouble he was in for opening the damn door, and he stifled the urge to slam it in her face.
"Eddie Pierce - sources told us we would find you here. Is Holly Saunders in there with you? Is that why no one's been able to find her since the
show?" She raised her eyebrows and held a recording device of some sort in front of his face.
Holly. Just her name was enough to bring everything rushing back into focus. Shaking his head, he forced his shoulders back and fixed his eyes on a spot over the woman's shoulder. Unfortunately, that happened to be where the cameraman was, and another bright flash went off in his face.
"She's not here," he said, careful to speak slowly and enunciate as normally as he could. "I'm not sure how you got in, since I'm pretty sure press isn't allowed back here, but I'm calling security, so you might want to leave." One step back, and he closed and locked the door, somehow restraining himself from slamming the heavy metal in her face. Turning to lean against it, he slowly surveyed the room even though he instinctively knew that Holly must be gone, or she would have been beside him when she woke up. Maybe she went to get help. He grasped at the thought as he reached for the phone, hoping against hope that security would know where she was. The alternative was too painful to think about.
He pressed zero and asked for security, waiting for what seemed like hours before a man came on the line.
"This is Eddie Pierce, in Holly Saunders' dressing room. Did she--"
"How did you get in Mr. Pierce? We have explicit orders that you're not allowed back there." the man on the other end asked.
Eddie frowned, rubbing his forehead. "It doesn't matter. I'm here, and Holly's gone, and I was hoping you know where she is. There was this flower delivery guy--"
"Sir, stay there. We're on our way."
The line went dead, and Eddie hung up the phone with a sigh. He walked to the couch and sat down to let his head clear, but only for a moment. He had to find Holly. If she wasn't with security..."
He went to the door and turned the knob, only to remember the press contingent outside. Cursing under his breath, he looked through the peephole, but the reporter was still there, her back to him as she spoke to the camera. He'd have to wait for security to clear them out or he'd be stuck here for hours.
