Under the Stars

by Tia Louise

  “Still up for ring shopping?” I ask.

  “Hmm, I am if you are.” She reaches up and pets my arm. “You didn’t sleep much last night.”

  “I’m sorry if I kept you awake.” I walk around to sit beside her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what we need to do. I want to go there today—this morning—and see if anything’s left.”

  Her eyes are round as she watches me. “I’ll go with you.”

  “What about…” I look down at Jilly, who studies me with bright eyes. Reaching down, I slip my finger into her strong little grip. “She doesn’t need to be there.”

  “I’m sure Evie or Roland will be glad to keep an eye on her for us. She’ll probably sleep the whole time we’re gone anyway.”

  A door opens, and the man in question emerges from his bedroom wearing loose sweatpants and a tee. “What will she sleep through?”

  “Mark wants to go to the old theater and see if we can find evidence.”

  “That sounds dangerous… and possibly illegal?” Roland doesn’t even stop on his way to the kitchen.

  “So will you watch Jilly while we’re gone?” she calls from the couch.

  I shake my head. “He’s right. You stay here. If I get caught, I can at least show my badge.”

  “No.” Her blue eyes flash, and she grips my arm tightly. “Let me go with you.”

  “Lara—”

  “I want to go. I want to see it.” She pauses for breath. “I haven’t been able to do it before, but now that you’re here… Take me with you, Mark. I have to close that door.”

  My lips tighten, and I let out a frustrated breath. “I don’t like putting you in harm’s way.”

  “I’ll be with you.” She smiles, and she’s so earnest, I cave.

  “Get dressed. We need to go now before too many people are walking around.”

  The early morning light barely penetrates the looming walls of the burned out building. Soot and ash cover the floors, and the red velvet curtains are black and torn. Lara’s hand is tight on my arm as we step over rotten boards and fallen red bricks.

  “I thought I’d be glad it’s gone.” Her body is close to my side, behind me as we pick our way through the empty hall. “I never expected to be sad.”

  Looking up, I see the balcony rails broken-out like missing teeth. The windows are dark holes, and the seats in the house are torn metal husks.

  “It’s eerie,” I agree. “I remember it being lit up, every seat sold out, and all of you glittering on that stage.”

  We take the short stairway up to the stage floor. Lara looks up, and I follow her gaze to the catwalk so far above our heads.

  “It’s still there,” she says.

  Black steel rods are broken and dangling, but the thin strip of wood and the assortment of canned lights and pulleys hang from the ceiling.

  “The place where it all began,” I say, remembering Terrence’s words about showing my character. “Although, I’d already spotted you way before that night.”

  “The first time you saved my life.” She lifts my hand and spreads her palm over mine. “Not the last.”

  “We need to go down, below the stage.”

  She takes a deep breath and nods. Our hands unite, and I guide her through the broken steel doors. Large dents and stripped paint make me think a battering ram must’ve been used to break through these in the fire. We go down the short flight of metal stairs to the trap room below the wooden stage. Doors are broken off and burned, leaving holes like Swiss cheese in the stage floor above.

  “Did they ever say what caused it?” She’s still whispering. “We were in France when it happened, and I didn’t want to know anything then.”

  “Faulty wiring,” I say, shining the flashlight on the door to the hidden suite of rooms. “But the fire department couldn’t rule out arson.”

  The closer we get, I see a crack in the door. Behind it is pitch black. Lara’s hand tightens on my bicep, and she pulls back. Stopping, I turn and see her eyes are huge. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly.

  “Can you do this?” I ask, taking both her hands.

  “I think so.” She isn’t whispering anymore, but her voice is very small. “It’s strange how the memories make it feel so scary.”

  “No one’s here but you and me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  She nods, and I push the door open. Adrenaline spikes in my veins, and while I meant every word I said to her, I’m also feeling the cold breath of memories sneaking up on us. The last time I was in this place, I found Lara on her knees. A silk mask was in her hand, and she was confused. She’d been drugged, and she thought I was Guy.

  Then his thugs found me. They seemed to appear out of nowhere, and I fought…

  “I’ve always wanted to find the other entrance. The one they dragged me out. I want to know where it leads.”

  “I was only here once. I came in the way we entered.”

  Sweeping my flashlight along the floor, the carpets and the wallpaper don’t seem burned. I can see the sprinkler system went off—water stains are on the walls and warped paper is scattered around—but it appears the fire never made it this deep into the structure. I lead us past the room where Lara had been, and instead I go to the very first room I visited in this place.

  Pushing the door open, I see the bed against the wall. When my light hits the sheets, Lara pulls my arm back suddenly.

  “Oh, God!” she hisses.

  The pillow and top portion of the mattress are stained black. They appear to have been drenched in whatever it was… I know what it was.

  “Blood,” I say, going toward it.

  Lara’s hand slips off my arm, and she stays at the door.

  I shine my light all over the mattress, the sheets, then up the wall to the ceiling overhead. When Gavin brought me here the first time, I noticed the little domes for surveillance. I didn’t think he’d keep recordings of the horrors occurring here.

  My light lands on a small round disc that looks like a smoke detector. In the center is a tiny black dome. Panasonic is stamped on the outside.

  “That’s one.” I shine my light all around it.

  I need to find the receiver, the computer that monitored this device. Turning to the door, I see Lara is in the hall clutching the doorjamb. She’s peeking through the door, but she seems shaken.

  “Are you okay?” Holding out my hand, I wait for her to put hers in mine.

  “That’s where Roland put him after…” Her eyes are wide, haunted as she looks at the bloodstained bed. “So much blood. I never knew.”

  No longer waiting for her to put her hand in mine, I step forward and pull her body to my chest.

  “You did what you had to do.” She’s shivering, and I hug her tighter.

  “I don’t even remember doing it.”

  “Let’s go. I need to try and find the computer these cameras fed into. If they’re down here, it’s possible the hard drives weren’t damaged.”

  Her mouth drops open, and she seems to understand immediately what I’m thinking. “Would Gavin have been that careless?”

  “Probably not, but only one way to know.”

  We’re back in the hallway, and I open every door, sweeping my flashlight around the walls and furniture for any sign of a computer.

  “His office was off the lobby. Could it have been there?”

  “I hope not. The first floor had the most damage.” We double back, and I go into the open sitting room where I once observed trays of food and champagne glasses.

  An open doorway is beside the fireplace, and I see from the hinges a swinging door was formerly here. We charge through it and find ourselves at the base of another concrete stairway leading straight up. Light shines through the opening, and it appears to lead out to the street. Lara and I exchange a glance.

  “Hang on.” I leave her standing at the exit and run back to the room where Roland hid Guy, where I now realize the authorities recovered his body.

  Once again,
I scan my flashlight all around the walls and ceiling. I don’t see any holes in the roof. No fixtures have fallen. My brow furrows, and I recall the cause of death. It would have been impossible for cause of death to be what was described in that report. Not a single beam or heavy object is anywhere to be found.

  “Mark?” Lara calls into the room, but I have my phone out.

  Quickly, I take several photographs of the bed, the ceiling above it—all the details of the crime scene. I might not be able to reveal how it went down, but I can at least throw the report into question.

  “I’m here.” Returning my phone to my pocket, I carefully step through the main room to the exit beside the fireplace. “It seems strange a door leading out wouldn’t have a lock.”

  “That’s because we can’t get out this way.” Lara points to the door at the top of the stairs. It’s covered in black iron burglar bars. “It’s locked.”

  I trot up the stairs and pull on the black bars. They don’t budge, and I see the silver lock below the doorknob. The door leads to the other side of the parking lot behind the theater. A large brown dumpster shields this entrance from the street, and to the left is a red brick wall covered in English ivy.

  Turning, I walk down slowly. I don’t need my flashlight since the exterior door has been ripped off. Sunlight streams through the bars.

  Lara stands waiting for me at the base, and I take her hand. “No signs of an office or computers down here. If they were all housed upstairs, they’re likely all destroyed.”

  Our feet scuff through the dirt and debris coating the floor, and the sense of ghosts lurking in the shadows is diminished as we make our way out.

  “Aren’t computers usually backed up?” Lara seems stronger as well as we emerge from below the stage.

  “If he knew this was going to happen, I’m sure he copied everything he needed to cover his ass.”

  We’re standing at the top of the narrow hallway leading to the private dressing rooms where she lived for so long. Lara looks into the passage, and I stand beside her, waiting for her decision.

  “Do you need to go down there?” Blue eyes travel around my face.

  “I can make one quick sweep to be sure there isn’t a room I never noticed before.”

  Her chin drops, and she looks at her fingers. “I’ll wait for you outside, in the square.”

  Turning my arm, I inspect my watch. “I’ll be with you in ten minutes. Got your phone on?” She nods, and I touch her cheek. “Watch your step.”

  * * *

  Lara

  The square fills with tourists holding café au lait and beignets. The street artists, tarot card readers, and musicians are still setting up, and I dodge them on my way to the nearest iron bench to sit and put my head in my hands.

  Being back there, seeing it all broken, burned, and covered in ash… Looking down the passage to the dressing room where I lived, being in that room, all the emotions crashed down on me, and as much as I hated that place, as tormented as I’d been by fear all the years I was there, it hurt. It feels like a piece of my history isn’t just gone, it’s been violently destroyed.

  Memories of my mother were there.

  Molly grew up there.

  I met Mark there.

  “Are you okay?” Mark sits beside me on the bench, pulling me to him.

  I’m not sure I’ll ever get enough of his love, his strong arms protecting me.

  “I didn’t expect to react that way.” I rest my chin on his chest and look up at the cathedral spires stretching tall, slate gray in the misty blue sky.

  His hand is on my back, smoothing the anxiety, helping me let go of the past.

  “My uncle was the reason I moved here…”

  Pulling away, I meet his eyes. “Your uncle who died?”

  “Rick.” His lips press together a moment. “I was here less than five days when I found him shot to death.”

  “Oh, Mark!” I cup his cheek. “I’m so sorry… You didn’t tell me—”

  “I didn’t really know the guy. I didn’t even like him much. Still, I was pretty upset to find him dead like that.”

  Frowning, I study his handsome face, trying to understand. “You were so young. You’d probably never seen a dead body before.”

  “I’d seen a dead body. But even when something in your life is ugly or you don’t care about it, if it’s part of your story, losing it hurts.”

  My chin drops, and I think about what he’s saying. I think about this part of him I never knew.

  “Did you ever find out who did it?”

  “No. I probably never will, but he was the catalyst.” I frown, but he smiles. “Without him, I’d never have met you.”

  Leaning forward, I wrap my arms around him. I do my best to give back to him the strength he’s always given to me.

  “I love you,” I say, kissing his cheek.

  His large hand cups my jaw. His thumb caresses my cheek, and he kisses the bridge of my nose. My heart expands, and I lift my chin to find his lips. Our mouths open briefly, and our tongues lightly touch. It always sends a shimmer of happiness laced with desire through my stomach.

  “Let’s go look at rings.” He reaches out, and I put my hand in his.

  Joyeaux Bijoux is just across the square, and the storefront, the display case, all of it provokes a wave of nostalgia. “The last time I was here…”

  “You were pawning your mother’s pen for shoes.”

  Blue eyes meet mine, and I don’t know what to say. “It was like a different life.”

  A different time.

  A different girl.

  “Let’s see if Gerard remembers us.”

  The little bell rings when we enter the store, and I hang back, looking in the assorted cases. I never shopped in this store. It was only a means to an end for me.

  “Good morning! Bonjour! May I help you find something today? A beautiful diamond for a beautiful lady, perhaps?”

  Mark gives me a wink. “I think that sounds perfect. We’re looking for an engagement ring. Something unique and beautiful, like my angel.”

  Shaking my head, I wrinkle my nose. Too far…

  “Ah, an angel, indeed! Does the miss, the mademoiselle, prefer gold, rose gold, or platinum?”

  Gerard looks at me expectantly, and I hesitate, waiting. Does he really not recognize me?

  “I… don’t have a preference,” I say, waiting for him to realize.

  “I’d like something I’ve never seen before.” Mark is playing it up. “Something that symbolizes our love—strong. One of a kind.”

  “Do you share a particular symbol? Are you open to suggestions?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  Reaching under the case, Gerard produces a narrow tray with several different rings arranged on it. My eye goes immediately to an unusual band. It’s shaped like a tree limb, curved with the stone caught in two of the tendrils like the moon moving through the branches at night. The stone is cloudy.

  “What is this?” I can’t resist touching it.

  “Ah, no.” Gerard frowns, shaking his head. “That is a moonstone. It is a nice piece, artistic, but not for an engagement ring.”

  “Moonstone?” Mark leans closer, studying the rose gold setting. “It’s dull.”

  “The luminescence comes from within.” He moves it side to side under the light, and I see the translucent blue sheen glowing from deep inside. “It’s an unusual stone, but not valuable like a diamond.”

  Mark straightens, frowning. “I’m getting you a diamond.”

  Returning to the cases, I study the engagement rings. Yellow, white, pink… Some are square surrounded by clusters of smaller gems, or princess cut, or ovals, or heart shapes. They’re all so brilliant, glittering and perfect—nothing like us.

  “Freddie gave me diamonds,” I say quietly. “They didn’t mean anything to me.”

  “It means something to me.” Mark’s voice is equally quiet. “I want to give you the best.”

  “But those
rings aren’t us.” Going back to the curved branches with the moon. “We fell in love outside the theater, away from the lights and the façade. We fell in love in the night, under the stars.”

  I slide the ring onto my third finger. It fits perfectly, and I can’t take my eyes off it. It’s like it was made for my hand, and when I tilt it side to side, the light emanates from deep inside, from the heart of the stone.

  Mark exhales beside me. “We’ll start with the moonstone.”

  Gerard’s shoulder’s droop, and a smile curls my lips. “If you insist. Right this way.” He holds out a hand toward the register. “We can finish over here.”

  “Hang on,” Mark says, coming back to where I stand. “Give me the ring.”

  My smile dims, and I slip it off, handing it to him.

  “Now, give me your hand.”

  My smile is back—I hold out my left hand, and he lifts the unusual ring. “It’s not a diamond—yet. But I love the way it makes you smile.”

  “I never wanted you to give me diamonds.”

  Those precious stones were part of my escape plan. They were a fantasy I made up to help Molly and me survive. I’ve already had them, and they left me empty and unhappy.

  “Will you be my wife?” he asks, holding the delicate piece at my third finger.

  “Yes. Yes, please.” Rising on my toes, I slide my fingers into the band.

  My hand continues around his neck. Our mouths meet, lips part, and our tongues curl together. Another sizzle of blissed-out sensuality moves through my stomach, and I know this is exactly right. I feel entirely different.

  I’m liberated, free.

  Holding out my hand, I admire the strength of our symbol, the promise of everlasting love. No matter what comes our way, we’re strong enough to face it together and keep growing like the tree, like these branches, our light shining from within.

  12

  Stars can’t shine without darkness.

  Mark

  Walking back to Roland’s, my jaw is tight. Tension is in my arms, but Lara is practically floating at my side. She keeps holding out her hand, tilting it side to side.