by B. J Daniels
His trailer had been like Grand Central Station this morning, starting with Nancy carrying gossip about the stars of the movie, then Nevada with complaints about everything from his accommodations to his role, then Brooke demanding more money since she was now an assistant stunt coordinator.
He felt as if he were on a sinking ship, no life raft and no way to call for help.
After the morning he’d had, he was in no mood to hear Chantal’s complaints and demands. He feared he might wring her pretty little neck. If she valued her life, she’d take the hint and leave him alone.
He quickened his step. With luck he would reach his trailer before the rain started and without Chantal. He needed a drink to steady him. He feared the people around him had begun to smell fear coming off him in waves.
“Erik.” Chantal’s sharp tone cut through his thoughts as the first drops of icy rain splattered down.
He opened his trailer door and stopped under the awning, thinking maybe he could make this quick and painless. One thing he was determined not to do was invite her in.
“You and I need to talk.” Her gaze bored into him, harder than the drops of rain pelting down on the awning overhead.
“Later, I have to—”
“Now, unless you want to talk about your personal problems out here where everyone can hear,” she said, then lowered her voice. “Problems like Keyes Hasting?”
He met her gaze, his blood turning to slush. “Why don’t we step inside?”
* * *
THE WIND WHIPPED Faith’s hair into her face as the storm moved in. The crowd scattered, everyone rushing to their cars or trailers as the rain fell hard as hailstones.
“Are you staying here again tonight?” her older sister asked as they ducked under Faith’s trailer awning.
“We’ll be shooting early in the morning if the weather clears up.”
Eve hugged her again, running a hand over her blond hair just as she had done when they were children. “Be careful.”
She started to say she was always careful. But look what had happened this morning. “I will.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” Eve promised.
“That isn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it is.” With that, her sister turned and hurried through the rain to her pickup.
Faith wondered where Jud was and swatted that thought away like a pesky fly. She wanted to talk to him about the accident earlier and the nagging feeling she had that it hadn’t been the first on the set.
“Faith?”
She turned to see Nancy Davis coming toward her with the next day’s call sheets.
“There are a few changes that affect you,” Nancy said.
Faith took the sheet. “Nancy, I heard you were the one who found Brooke after she was bitten by the rattlesnake. They say she would have died, if you and Jud hadn’t acted quickly to get her to the hospital.”
“Everyone should work more and talk less,” Nancy snapped.
“I only mentioned it because it seemed so odd that she was bitten by a rattlesnake in her trailer. How in the world did the snake get in there?”
“I have no idea,” Nancy said. “I have more important things to worry about.” With that she turned on her heel and left.
Odd, Faith thought. No odder than Nancy herself, though.
“You okay?” asked a very male voice coming toward her.
She turned to find Jud Corbett grinning at her.
“I heard you muttering to yourself. Is there a problem with the call sheet?”
She shook her head. “How well do you know Nancy Davis?”
“I don’t know her. Why? Did one of your movie magazines say I dated her?” His grin broadened.
“You disappoint me. I thought you’ve dated everyone in Hollywood. Seriously, I’m curious about her.” Faith told him what Nancy had just said.
Jud shrugged. “Appears she doesn’t like being a hero. Why all these questions?”
“I saw your expression earlier when you asked me if I saw where the rock came from that spooked the wagon team. You think someone did it on purpose.”
He held up his hands. “I never said that.”
“Not in so many words. But you have to admit, Brooke getting bit by a rattlesnake in her trailer couldn’t have been an accident. Snakes can’t climb steps or open doors.”
Jud hesitated. “Okay, that was suspicious. I think someone did it as a prank.”
“A sick, dangerous prank.”
“Few people die from snakebites. Brooke just happened to experience complications from the antidote.”
“You’re not fooling me for a minute, you know,” she said. “You’re scared someone is behind these accidents.”
“Or maybe I wanted you to believe the accidents were deliberate so I’d have an excuse to protect you and spend every waking moment with you.”
“Nice try.”
“I’m serious, at least about wanting to protect you, and I can see now that spending time with you is the only way to keep you out of trouble. I have to go to the ranch tonight. Come with me.” He held up his hands in surrender. “It’s just dinner with my family. No ulterior motives.” He grinned. “Breakfast isn’t in the package.”
She couldn’t help but smile. The man was incredibly charming, and she hadn’t been looking forward to being cooped up in her trailer.
“I have a stop to make in town first. I could meet you after that, say at Packy’s?”
“Great,” Jud said and grinned. “I hope you like Mexican food.”
* * *
CHANTAL WAS ALL business as she stepped past the director into his trailer.
Zander glanced back through the pouring rain toward catering. A few people had taken cover under the huge canopy that sheltered the outdoor eating area. Some were looking in his direction. Even if they didn’t hear what Chantal had said to him, he knew they were speculating on what was going. It wasn’t like they didn’t know about most of his personal problems.
He swore under his breath as he stepped into the trailer after his leading lady and slammed the door. Chantal had removed the lightweight jean jacket she’d been wearing. Rain droplets darkened the jacket where she’d hung it over the back of one of his chairs.
The woman herself was at his bar in the small kitchen making herself a drink.
“Scotch, straight up,” he ordered. “Since you’re pouring,” he added when she turned, cocking a brow at his tone.
Zander slouched into the recliner, wondering what Chantal wanted and what she planned to offer in return. He’d been waiting for her to throw herself at him. Chantal Lee had warmed the couches of every director she’d worked with, her exploits as legendary as the remunerations she’d wriggled out of them.
Sex was the last thing on his mind as she handed him his drink and curled up on his couch. She ran a finger around the rim of her crystal tumbler and studied him openly.
“Why don’t you cut to the chase,” Zander said irritably. He’d never taken Chantal for a woman with brains as well as beauty, but as he met her gaze he wondered if he’d been wrong about that.
“I heard something that has me concerned,” she said, still watching him with her laser-intense gaze.
Nothing he loved more than being forced to squash some stupid rumor on the set. “Whatever it is, it isn’t true.”
“Really?” One perfect brow arched upward. Chantal was like a giant cat curled up on his couch. She looked friendly enough, but he knew she could be purring one moment and scratching out his eyes the next.
“Then you didn’t give me the leading role in this film because someone is blackmailing you?”
Zander choked on his Scotch.
* * *
“FAITH.” SHERIFF CARTER JACKSON rose from behind his desk as his sister-in-law stepped into his office. Outside,
lightning splintered the dark sky followed by booms of thunder that rattled the windows as rain fell in a torrent. “I heard about the excitement out on the set. You all right?”
She nodded, shook the rain from her and took the chair he offered across from him. She wasn’t surprised he’d heard about the wagon incident. Probably from Eve.
“The accident is one of the reasons I’m here,” Faith said. Now, though, she was having second thoughts. Spying on the people she was working with didn’t seem like a good idea. Especially if there was even a chance her accident had been anything but.
Carter was waiting.
“I was wondering if you could do some checking for me? Unofficially?”
“What kind of checking?”
“I’m curious about the people I’m working with.” She knew the scuttlebutt from movie magazines. What she needed was the behind-the-scenes kind of information that only a law enforcement person could provide.
Reaching in her pocket, she drew out the list of names she’d jotted down before coming in. Erik Zander, Chantal Lee, Nevada Wells, Brooke Keith, Jud Corbett.
She handed him the list.
His eyebrows shot up on the first name. “Erik Zander? He was involved in the death of a woman who drowned in a hot tub during a party at his Malibu residence.”
“He was never arrested, right?” Faith asked.
“Not enough evidence,” Carter said. “Not the same as being innocent, though.”
Every tabloid in the country had picked up the story. What she found interesting was that the others on her list had been at that party, including Jud Corbett.
Carter scanned down the sheet and lifted his gaze back to her again. “Jud Corbett?”
Faith wished now she hadn’t added his name to the list. “Those are the main people I work with. There is one more I forgot to add, Nancy Davis. From what I can gather, this is her first assistant director job.”
“What is it exactly that you’re looking for?” the sheriff asked, leaning back in his chair to study her.
“Accidents happen on movie sets all the time,” she said quickly. “I think that’s all this is. But it doesn’t hurt to check out the primary people involved in the film, right?”
Carter sighed. “You sound like a cop. Okay. You’ll let me know if there are any more accidents out there, right?”
“Of course,” she said, feeling only a little guilty for coming here. She didn’t want to betray Jud. Nor did she want anything to keep her from the stunt work on this film.
But she was no fool. Jud was holding something back. If there was a problem on the set, she wanted to know about the people she was working with.
Silently she prayed that the wagon incident would be the last. But a nagging feeling told her she wouldn’t have come to the sheriff if she believed that.
* * *
ERIK ZANDER WIPED his mouth and said, “Blackmail? That’s absurd.” He downed the rest of his drink, his heart hammering wildly in his chest.
“So you weren’t blackmailed into making this movie?”
“Hell, no. Where would you get such an outrageous idea?” he demanded.
She glanced down at the glass in her hand. He noticed she hadn’t touched her drink while his was empty and he already needed another one.
He thought about asking her to get it for him, but his stomach was churning and he didn’t trust himself to speak. Not that he expected she’d do it anyway.
When was he going to learn that there were no secrets in Hollywood? What a laughingstock he would be if this got out. The thought was so absurd, he snorted, making Chantal’s head jerk up.
“What’s so funny?” She looked irritated, as if he’d been making fun at her expense.
He shook his head. “Nothing.” Here, just seconds ago, he’d been worried about being the laughingstock of Hollywood when Hasting had evidence that would make a jury send him to the electric chair. Did California have an electric chair, or would it be lethal injection? Hell, Hasting was probably going to kill him when this film was over and save the state the expense.
Was it any wonder Zander had totally lost his perspective?
“You know, if you really had been blackmailed into doing this picture, into giving me this role, then I have to wonder who else you were forced to hire.” Chantal’s gaze locked with his and he felt his stomach roil.
His head whirled. He held out his empty glass, hoping she’d take the hint.
She didn’t. “That’s the reason you gave Nevada the role, isn’t it? Why else would you throw the two of us together in a film so soon after our breakup?”
Zander opened his mouth to tell her that he knew they weren’t really broken up, but nothing came out. He drew back his glass, which suddenly felt too heavy to hold.
“Which brings up the big question, doesn’t it?” Chantal continued. “What could a blackmailer have on you that you’d let yourself be put in such a tenuous, not to mention dangerous, position?”
Zander leaned over to set his glass down on the coffee table. It slipped from his fingers and thudded onto the surface. Suddenly he didn’t feel so good.
“Zander?” Chantal sounded far away.
He was having trouble catching his breath. His gaze shot to the table where he’d dropped his empty glass. It was gone. Chantal was standing over him, holding his empty glass and her own full one. No lipstick on the rim. She still hadn’t taken a drink.
He opened his mouth, but only a rasping sound came out, each breath a struggle. He tried to get to his feet as he watched Chantal walk over to the sink, pour her drink down the drain and turn on the faucet to rinse her glass.
No! his mind screamed as she put her glass aside and rinsed out his, refilling it with water.
“Here, drink this,” she said frowning as she came back over to him. Was that genuine concern in her voice? If so, then she was a better actor than he thought.
She’d poisoned him and he’d just sat here and watched her get rid of the evidence. Or had it been Hasting who’d put the poison in the Scotch this morning and Chantal had just stupidly destroyed the evidence, not realizing what she was doing?
He shoved the glass of water away and tried again to stand. He had to keep her from getting rid of the bottle of Scotch, the only proof left.
The room swam. He struggled to his feet, doubling over as he fought to catch his breath.
“Erik? You bastard, don’t you dare have a heart attack and die before I get what I want.”
He pitched forward, sprawling face-first on the floor. From far away he heard Chantal screaming. Down the hall, he caught sight of the doll he’d found on his bed last night. It was lying on the floor where he’d tossed it, those dark sightless eyes staring at him.
The doll appeared to be smiling.
Chapter Seven
“A panic attack?” Chantal stormed around her trailer, too angry to sit. “That’s all Erik had? He scared me half to death. I thought he was having a heart attack.”
“Apparently you scared him, as well,” Nevada said from the couch. He’d come from the hospital emergency room where Zander had been rushed by helicopter earlier. “He thought you’d poisoned him.”
She swung around. “What?”
Nevada nodded, smiling. “The moment Erik regained consciousness he had his girl Friday Nancy rush back out here to his trailer to retrieve the glass and bottle of Scotch that you used to pour his drink.”
“And?”
“The Scotch bottle had mysteriously disappeared, along with both glasses the two of you had drunk from.”
She stared at him. “I thought you said it was a panic attack?”
“It was. The hospital ran a blood test on him, and there was no poison in his bloodstream.” Nevada shook his head.
“Then why would anyone get rid of the Scotch and glasses?”
> He shrugged. “It’s crazy since obviously the Scotch didn’t affect you.”
“I never got a chance to drink mine,” she said.
“How fortunate,” Nevada said.
“You think I put something in his Scotch?” she demanded incredulous. “That’s why you declined a drink when I offered you one a minute ago.”
“A man can’t be too careful around a woman like you.”
She grabbed a nearby couch pillow and threw it at him. He ducked and grinned. She reminded herself that she needed him to believe she gave a crap about him. “If you weren’t so handsome...”
He ate that up. Usually. But not now. “Maybe there was something in the Scotch that normal blood test screening wouldn’t find,” he suggested, eyeing her. “Without evidence there is no way to prove his Scotch was doctored.”
“You seem to know a lot about blood screening,” she commented. “If his Scotch was ‘doctored’ then it happened before I got to his trailer. His door wasn’t locked.”
“Doesn’t matter. The doctors say it was a panic attack and Zander overreacted. So you’re off the hook.”
“I was never on the hook.” He was starting to irritate her.
“Erik might disagree with that, my love,” Nevada said. “Unless you can produce the Scotch and glasses, I’m afraid you’ll always appear guilty of something.”
“You find that amusing?”
“No, I find that frightening,” he said. “And exciting. I always knew you were a dangerous woman. Now I know just how dangerous.”
“Someone took the bottle and glasses to incriminate me,” she said.
“Or save you,” he added. “Calm down. You’re in the clear. Erik had a panic attack. And come on, he has reason to panic, the way this movie is going. I just saw Keyes Hasting talking to Nancy. What is he doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s got money in this film,” she said, not happy to hear that Nancy had been talking to Hasting. She hated not knowing what was going on.
“Erik wouldn’t take money from Hasting,” Nevada said. “Not unless—”
“He was desperate? Zander’s career is riding on this film.”
