by Vivi Anna
Standing, he surveyed the room again. There had to be something else. Something more. His gaze moved over the wall unit. On it were art pieces, a high-tech stereo unit and a long row of books. Gabriel walked over to them and scanned the titles.
He was of the mind that what a person read told a lot about them.
Rory had volumes of Shelley and Stoker. They were like history books to Otherworlders and not fiction, and he also had works of Shakespeare and Marlowe. And it looked like a lot of books of poetry. There was Dante and Chaucer, Lord Byron, and of course, Keats.
Gabriel slid out Keats and flipped through it. He was familiar with some of his work. He wondered if this was where Rory had gotten his material for his letters. He remembered something from the last letter. It had been a poem, he was sure of it. And there had been something familiar about it. Something about scandal. And fame, maybe?
He flipped to the table of contents and skimmed down the list of poems. His gaze stopped on one—“On Fame.” Gabriel turned to the stated page. And there between the pages were many cutout letters. Some of them fluttered to the ground like colorful confetti.
He read the poem. It was long, but his gaze zoned in on one part. It was the same as the poem in Elise’s letter. Gotcha, you bastard.
“Gabe,” Sophie shouted from one of the rooms. “You’ll want to see this.”
Taking the book with him, Gabriel went down the hall and into the main bedroom. Sophie was standing in front of a wide-screen TV mounted on the wall and a mahogany cabinet underneath it, with a remote in her hand. She gestured to the screen when he went to stand beside her.
On the screen was Elise, larger than life in one of her movies. It was one of her first films in which she played a battered woman. It was also the first film that she’d received many prestigious accolades for, the one that started her rise to stardom.
“This was already in the DVD player.” Sophie paused the movie. “And if you look down there, there’re all her movies, listed alphabetically and no other films. This guy is totally obsessed.”
He glanced down at the lined-up DVDs then back up to the screen. He frowned. “Hey, play that again.”
Sophie pressed a button and the scene played out. He recognized the movie. He’d seen it himself a couple of times. But there was something extra familiar about it.
“Wait. Pause it.”
She did right at a moment where Elise is beaten into submission in the living room of her apartment. Blood seeped from her nose and dripped onto the tile floor beneath her.
“I’ve seen this room somewhere.”
“Like, in person?” Sophie asked.
He nodded.
“Recently?”
He nodded again. He dug out his cell phone and placed a call. “Reginald? This is Inspector Bellmonte.”
“Yes, yes, Inspector, what can I do for you? How is Elise faring? Can we get back to filming soon, do you think?”
“I need to know about the soundstages at the studio.”
“Yes, what do you want to know?”
“Do you keep all the sets from movies?” Gabriel asked.
“Oh, no, that would be impossible. Do you know how many movies have been made here? Thousands. We don’t have that kind of room.”
“Do you still have sets from any of Elise’s films?”
“Maybe. I don’t know actually. Why do you ask?”
“Are there soundstages that are used for storage?”
“There’s a prop warehouse on site. It would probably have some older sets and memorabilia from the sets. Hardly anyone ever goes in it, though. It’s pretty old. I think they’ll be tearing it down soon.”
“What building number is it, do you know?”
“I don’t, sorry.”
“Thanks, Reginald.” He flipped the phone closed.
Sophie regarded him. “What’s on your mind?”
“It’s probably a long shot, but I saw this exact set the day we got the call to the studio. I went into the wrong building.”
“You think he has her there?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s probably a long shot. Just seeing this movie in his player and seeing the exact set only days before.” He shook his head. “I’m grasping at straws.”
Sophie patted him on the shoulder. “What you need is some sleep. When was the last time you took a few hours?”
He shook his head. The last time he’d slept was with Elise in her bed back at the cottage over fifteen hours ago. “I’m okay. I can go a few more.”
“Gabe, I got this. I can sift through the rest of this stuff no problem. You don’t need to be here.”
He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I’ve got nowhere else to go, Sophie. I need to be here, doing something, or I’ll go insane. It’s taking all I have just to keep it together right now.”
She nodded and put her arms around him. “I know. I’ve been there, not knowing. It’s hard to cope.”
And she did know. Over a year ago, she’d spent weeks not sure if Kellen was going to live or die when he was in Japan undergoing medical treatments. Gabriel remembered how edgy and uncertain she’d been. Much like he felt right now.
She hugged him tight and then let him go. “Follow your hunch. I’ll call you when I’m done here.”
He showed her the book on Keats. “I’ll bag and tag this and put it in my kit.”
“Okay. I’m sure we won’t be more than another hour, then we’ll head back to the lab and try to put this all together. It’s here somewhere, Gabe. The clue is in the evidence. It always is.”
He nodded to her and took the book back into the living room. He closed his kit and set it by Sophie’s. Without another word to anyone, he left the house and got into his vehicle.
He’d take a drive over to the studio. To check. Anything to get his mind off the horrible thoughts that raced there. Thoughts that he was going to be too late. Too late to save her, and too late to tell her that he couldn’t go on without her. That he wished he could be with her every hour of every day. That a moment didn’t go by when he wasn’t thinking about her.
She was his everything.
And he feared he’d already lost her.
Chapter 31
“I will never love you, Rory, no matter what you do.” Elise’s hands were shaking as he got closer to her. She still felt nauseous. If he touched her, she might just lose it.
He smiled. “I’m sorry you feel that way, my love. But I think you’ll change your mind soon enough.” He set the flowers down on the table.
She tried to kick him with her legs. But he was too fast and avoided every swing of her foot. Besides that, she could barely move her legs.
Chuckling to himself, Rory reached down and grasped her by the ankles and dragged her across the floor toward the sofa.
He was so strong she couldn’t fight him. If she still wasn’t feeling the effects of the drug he’d given her, she would give him a run for his money, but as it was she couldn’t muster enough strength to do anything but hang on as he whipped her around the room.
When he had her near the sofa, he released her feet. That was his first mistake; his second was thinking she was going to go along with whatever he had planned. She was no meek little mouse. She was a wolf, through and through, despite her recessive vampiric genes.
As he bent over to grab her around the arms, she lifted her head quickly. He probably wasn’t expecting her to smash the top of her head into his face. She knew she’d connected. Could feel the spray of blood where she’d broken his nose.
“Damn it!” he yelled. He raised his hand and slapped her across the face. It was hard and fast and she tasted the familiar metallic tang of blood in her mouth.
“I won’t make this easy on you, Rory. I will fight you all the way.”
He wiped at his bloody nose and licked the rest off his top lip. Then he studied her on the floor, a trail of crimson on her chin from her split lip. “I never expected anything less from you, Elise.”
She thought maybe she’d won a little victory but it turned out to be short-lived when he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth. She didn’t have to inhale the air to know it was soaked with whatever chemical he’d dosed her with before.
“You brought this on yourself, remember that.”
She tried to pull away from him. She scratched and punched and thrashed, but he was too quick and too strong, and the cloth was covering her mouth and nose within seconds of him making the move.
She tried to hold her breath, but as her vision started to blur, from the chemical or lack of air she couldn’t decide, she took in a ragged gulp and took it all in. Her head started to swim. It wouldn’t be long before she lost consciousness. She tried to fight it. She didn’t want to go under. It was a complete loss of control. And she hated losing control.
She hoped that when she woke Rory hadn’t taken more than just her control from her. She could handle anything but that.
Chapter 32
Gabriel drove down to the studio. He got a call from the lab on the way. The tox report had come back on the driver who supposedly hung himself. There had been small traces of ketamine in his system. Because of that, his death was changed to a homicide instead of a suicide.
Rory Langford had a lot to pay for.
Gabriel hoped he was the one who collected on that payment.
He flashed his badge to the guard at the gate. He recognized him from his earlier visits. Chuck the security guard.
“What can I do for you this late, Inspector?”
Gabriel glanced at his watch. It was around two in the morning. Probably not a normal hour for people to be on the lot.
“What building is the prop warehouse?”
“Building twelve, sir.” He handed a clipboard to Gabriel. Everyone who came through the gates had to sign in. As he signed, he surveyed the names before his. He didn’t see Rory’s name there. There were actually only four other names on the list.
He handed the clipboard back. “Not too busy here.”
“No, sir. Hardly anyone comes this late. Sometimes the gaffers or grips will come to fix equipment, but most of the filming goes on during the day.”
“Does the name Rory Langford mean anything to you?”
“No, I’m sorry, sir.”
“He’s a tall guy, short black hair, unusual gray eyes, dresses real sharp, vampire, drives a red Camaro.”
Chuck shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Could you check to see if he’s been by the studio in the last week?”
The guard’s gaze flitted left then right. He licked his lips. “I could get in trouble for this, sir.”
“I know you could and I’m sorry about that. But this is really important or else I wouldn’t ask. If anyone asks, you could say I grabbed all the reports from you and there was nothing you could do.” He smiled a little at that since the guard was huge and lycan. There was no wrestling control from this guy.
He returned the grin. “Yeah, okay.” He grabbed a binder from under the counter and flipped through it for the past seven days. He stopped on one page. He nodded. “Yeah, looks like he was by about five days ago at six thirty-three in the morning.”
That coincided with the date of Elise’s accident on set. It was another piece of the puzzle coming together. “Thanks, man. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”
Chuck licked his lips again, looking like he had something to say. “Well, I’d love to meet Elise Leroy and get her autograph.”
Gabriel wanted to yell right then and rip something apart. But instead he nodded, his lips tight. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”
“Thanks, Inspector.” He pressed a button and the gate swung open. Gabriel drove through.
He got to the lot, which was huge, but unfortunately, he couldn’t drive right to building twelve. He had to park near building ten.
He got out of his car and looked around. It was extremely easy to get confused here. Every building looked the same and if you didn’t know what number it was, you’d never find your way. There were no maps to guide you through the maze of white stucco warehouses.
As Gabriel started walking toward building twelve, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stirred. Stopping, he raised his head and took in a deep breath of air. Closing his eyes, he did it again. If Elise was close by he’d be able to scent her. But he didn’t. He caught nothing but the smell of motor oil, stale goodies, doughnuts probably and coffee.
The coffee smell was fresh. Someone had been by here recently with a steaming cup of coffee.
He started to move again, but the sense of danger and dread wouldn’t go away.
When he neared building twelve, he stopped again and listened for sound, any sound—a voice, footsteps, a scream. There was nothing but crickets.
He wrapped his hand around the door handle. It was locked. Using all the strength he had, Gabriel squeezed the handle in his hand. It snapped open within seconds, crushed by his fingers. Slowly, he pulled open the door, praying under his breath that it didn’t squeak.
It didn’t and he fully opened it and peered inside. It was dark inside, but he didn’t need the overhead lights to see. He had good night vision courtesy of both his lycan and vampire ancestors.
He stepped into the building, hesitated for a minute and listened, but he didn’t hear anything of importance. Looking one way then the other, he decided he’d go in a clockwise direction, searching every nook and cranny in the building. From his position at the door and the fact that there may have been an entrance on the other side, Gabriel crept to the left, intending to make it across the building in as little time as possible.
There was a path cut through the tall metal shelves of thousands upon thousands of props. He weaved his way around them, stopping every so often to listen. He heard nothing but his own labored breathing and his soft-soled shoes on the cement floor.
He was starting to think this had been a stupid idea, a desperate man grasping at desperate threads. He was wasting his time down here. He could be back at the lab helping analyze the real evidence. He could be out on the streets even, looking for anyone that had seen Rory in the past two days.
He was getting near the other side of the building, the place where they kept pieces of different sets. They were placed in an order, almost like puzzle pieces—a living room abutted a kitchen from a different era, old gas pumps sat up against the backdrop of space. He went through them piece by piece, but with every step his gut churned more and more.
What was he doing here? He was a huge fool to think Rory would take Elise here. There weren’t even any rooms, just set after set. Rory would want privacy. A place he could have Elise all to himself. He wouldn’t find that in a big old warehouse where anyone could come in.
He went through all the sets and was near the back door, the door he must’ve come in when he’d gotten lost the first time. Rubbing a hand over his face, he cursed himself again for wasting valuable time. He put his hand on the door handle, intending to open it and get the hell out of there. But something gave him pause.
He swung back around to the sets. There was something wrong. He surveyed the area, went back down a ways then came back to the door. Something was definitely wrong all right.
