Secrets Collide
( Bluegrass Brothers - 5 )
Kathleen Brooks
The mysterious Cy Davies is coming home. He’s not coming alone either. Having rescued Gemma Perry, a sassy investigative reporter for a gossip magazine, he takes her to the one place he knows he can keep her safe. Keeneston.
Gemma Perry was having a bad week. Now she was in a small town where gossip was a currency. She should fit right in, except for the fact that she unwillingly holds the secret to bring down an internationally wanted man who is sparing no expense to keep those secrets safe.
Secrets Collide
Kathleen Brooks
Acknowledgment
Many thanks to the hilarious Robyn Peterman (Pick up Fashionably Dead to see what I mean!) for her insight and to my Krew for their support.
And thank you to Chris, Lauren, Milo, Marcia, Craig, Pat, Mike, and Doe for all their love and hard work. And for not looking at me funny when I start talking to my characters.
CHAPTER ONE
Gemma Perry gagged as she mistakenly breathed in through her nose. Her muscles were cramping and the smell coming from the dumpster in the small back alley she was hiding in was strong enough to knock out a water buffalo. How did she get herself into this mess? Gemma found herself asking that question a lot recently. Unfortunately, she knew the answer all too well: She hadn’t been serious like her older sister, Gia.
Nope, she had been bitten with the party bug instead. When Gia made her appearance into the world a full ninety seconds before Gemma, she looked around at the doctor and nurses and decided she had a world to make better. When Gemma came out, she looked around the room and went straight for a drink at the bar. Their time at the University of California at Los Angeles School of Journalism was very much the same.
Her identical twin sister ate only organic food, went running every morning, and never ever used sugar or drank caffeine. Gia had never once stayed out past curfew, gone to a frat party, or called in sick to work. As a result, at the age of thirty, her sister had the body of an eighteen-year-old and a very impressive job as an investigative reporter for International Press. On the other hand, Gemma, with her more sultry curves, was sitting behind a dumpster in her size ten jeans with a very sugary coffee concoction waiting to get a picture of Hollywood heartthrob Tatum Evans and his married-not-to-him costar, Ginger Coach.
Gemma had finished school on the party program and gotten the perfect job at Inside Peek magazine while Gia went to Africa to cover an outbreak of a virus in the jungle. They were night and day, but they loved each other and spoke almost daily. The only time Gemma didn’t talk to her sister was when Gia was investigating a big story and didn’t have access to a phone or the privacy to talk.
Lately Gemma had been taking stock of her life and felt it was time for a change. She used to tease her sister about being so serious, but Gemma was starting to realize life was more than hiding behind dumpsters. While being an investigative journalist for Hollywood’s hottest gossip rag was perfect when she was twenty-one, she felt she had finally outgrown it.
Her job was to hang out at the hot clubs and talk and listen to everyone there. She hit the jackpot when she could work her way into the VIP rooms to hear the industry gossip and investigate it. When she was younger, it was exciting and she was flirty enough to pull it off. But as the years passed, the job was just making her feel old. Hollywood fought age as if it were a disease and Gemma was tired of trying to be an ageless, no wrinkles, size zero knockout in order to flirt her way into the VIP section of that week’s hot new club. She was especially tired of hiding in bathrooms and behind dumpsters.
Two weeks ago, she had tried to talk to Gia about a more serious job, but Gia was distracted by a story she was investigating. Gia had only made encouraging noises like hmm and uh-huh. With no guidance from her sister, Gemma decided to try Gia’s way of life and to see how it felt. As a result, her quads where killing her from running, she was suffering from caffeine withdrawal, and there was a very high probability of her hijacking a donut truck.
Gemma took another deep breath through her mouth and gave her large canvas bag a rub. Fred, her small white Maltese, nuzzled her hand in response from the safety of his travel bag. At least her dog was spared the stench of the dumpster. She would give it a couple more minutes and then try to bribe one of the waiters at the restaurant to sneak her in to catch a glimpse of Tatum and Ginger.
One of her informants had called and told her the hunky playboy actor was with his squeaky clean, never-in-the-tabloids costar eating at Oak Hill, the newest, swankiest restaurant in Los Angeles. She’d make a fortune on this photo and storyline if she got it. Her story would be on the front page of Inside Peek and she’d get a huge bonus—enough to let her quit and find a better job.
Gemma froze as she heard the back door open slowly. She waited until she heard heels clicking on the pavement before she leaned around the dumpster. Bingo! Tatum and Ginger were locked in a passionate kiss as a black SUV with dark tinted windows approached. She hid her excitement as she snapped pictures of Tatum squeezing Ginger’s perfect butt and opening the door of her SUV for her. She switched her camera to video and kept as still as her quivering leg muscles allowed her to.
“Thank you, Tatum. I had a wonderful evening. Edward just doesn’t do anything for me anymore,” Ginger pouted. Her overly injected lower lip was sticking out in a cute pout as she threw her much, much older director-husband under the bus.
“That should be illegal. Meet me at my place in two hours and I’ll show you what a man should be doing for a woman with your body.” Gemma tried not to gag as she recorded the illicit affair. Ginger giggled and Tatum slapped her ass as she climbed into her chauffeured car.
Finally the alley was empty and Gemma stood up and stretched her cramped body. Fred poked his little black nose out of the bag and then quickly disappeared again. “Don’t worry, we’re getting out of here right now.” Gemma picked up the bag and hiked it over her shoulder. She needed to get to the office and start researching Tatum and Ginger’s love lives.
“One last time, one last time . . .” Gemma repeated as she headed for her parked car. Most of her stories had been celebrity sightings, or inside scoops about which actors were getting parts, getting fired, or heading to rehab. And she hated every word of it. She once submitted a feel-good piece about a Hollywood hottie spending his weekend visiting sick children and watched as her editor tossed the piece into the trash. She had a pile of those stories on her computer but had been told not to bother emailing them to the editor.
Gemma reached her car and placed Fred into his tiny seat belt on the passenger seat of her silver Mazda Miata convertible. She placed her camera gear on the floor by Fred and was about to start the car when a pain like no other gripped her heart. Fear raced through her and Gemma gasped as she fought wave after wave of panic.
She blindly reached for her phone and hit speed dial. Something was wrong with Gia. She didn’t know what, but she knew with certainty Gia was in trouble. She had only felt something like this once before when Gia had broken her leg while investigating a story in Iraq almost eight years ago. But the feeling Gemma had then was nothing like what she was experiencing now.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she listened to the phone ring. “Pick up, Gia. Please pick up,” Gemma begged her sister. Gia was here in town—there was no reason for her not to pick up the phone. Gemma hung up and dialed again as she gasped for breath. The feeling of dread smothered her. It enveloped her so much that the outside world disappeared and all she heard was Gia’s voicemail picking up. Something was terribly wrong. She didn’t know how to explain it; it was just a feeling she knew with certainty.
Gemma pulled int
o traffic without even looking as she headed for Gia’s apartment. Traffic at ten at night was light for L.A. so she was able to speed down highway 101. She didn’t hear horns blowing or see middle fingers being raised as she wove in and out of the lanes. Instead, she felt a numbness that scared her more than the pain did.
She hit the exit ramp at ninety miles per hour as she flew toward Gia’s apartment. Eight minutes later, she skidded into the underground parking complex and headed straight for Gia’s parking space. Her eyes took in all the cars as she slowed to a stop and stared at the empty space. Her heart started beating faster and harder as the panic almost overtook her.
“Hi. This is Gia. I’m not here right now, but I’d love to talk to you. Leave a message,” her sister’s happy voice rang out as her voicemail picked up again.
“Gia. Call me, please call me. Are you okay? I just need to know you’re okay,” Gemma cried into the phone. Despair replaced panic as she raced out of the parking garage and back down the 101 to get to Gia’s downtown office.
Thirty-five minutes later, Gemma’s tennis shoes hit the ground running as she sprinted toward the large glass building. She pushed open the front door and rushed toward the guard sitting behind the information desk in the large lobby. Marble stairs went to one side of the lobby and a shiny bank of silver elevators stood looming behind the information desk.
“Sorry, the offices are closed for the night, ma’am,” the guard announced as he stood up. Gemma was sure he was taking in her brunette hair roughly pulled back into a sloppy ponytail and her black peasant top that smelled like garbage with slight confusion since she looked almost identical to her sister.
“I’m looking for my sister. She has to be here. Her name is Gia Perry. Please, can you tell me if she’s here?” Gemma begged.
The guard must've seen the panic in her eyes as he softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Gia left almost two hours ago.”
“How do you know? She couldn’t have. She’s not answering her phone and she’s not at home. She has to be here.”
“She always says good night to me. She’s one of the last people to leave and that’s when I come on shift for the night. She told me to have a good night and tell my wife congratulations on our kid’s high school graduation. Look,” the guard paused, “why don’t you go to her apartment? I'm sure she just went to run errands after work.”
Gemma nodded. She couldn’t speak but offered him a wobbly smile. She turned back to the front of the building preparing to leave when she remembered the parking garage. “Can I check the parking garage for her car? It would just make me feel better.”
The guard looked around, unsure of how to handle her request. “Please. I just have a feeling something happened to her and she always answers the phone. Please,” Gemma pleaded. She knew she looked crazy, but she had to know.
“Okay. I’ll pull up her parking space number. Let me lock the doors and we’ll go down.”
“Thank you,” Gemma sighed. She didn’t know what to expect. Maybe an empty spot and Gia’s abandoned cell phone. That would explain why her sister hadn’t answered the phone.
The guard locked the doors and he and Gemma headed to the bank of elevators in silence. He pushed a button and they descended into the garage as instrumental music played in the background. The metallic doors opened and she stepped out into the dark garage.
“It’s this way,” he said as he started counting off the parking spaces.
“Oh no!” Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked at her sister’s black Lexus sedan parked in Gia’s reserved spot. “Where is my sister?”
An hour later, Gemma sat crying at the well-worn desk of Detective Peter Greene. “There has to be something you can do.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Perry, but your sister has only been out of touch for four hours and there’s no evidence she’s even missing. How do you know she didn’t just go home with a coworker for a one-nighter?” the young and overworked detective asked as gently as he could.
“My sister would never date a coworker. It’s against the rules and Gia doesn't break the rules. Please, can’t you just take a report?” The young detective pushed back his dark brown hair and glanced at the clock. Hanging her head in defeat, Gemma reached for her purse. It was almost eleven at night and clearly the detective just wanted to get home.
“Okay, give me her name again,” he said calmly as he pulled up a form on his computer.
“Gia Eleanor Perry. She’s thirty years old. Five-feet-seven and a hundred thirty-five pounds. She has short brown hair and green eyes just a shade lighter than mine. She's my identical twin and she was last seen leaving the International Press office downtown. Thank you. Thank you for believing me.” Gemma dried her tears and answered Detective Greene’s questions with a sense of relief. She didn’t know what else she could do for her sister, but at least she was doing something.
“What about your parents?”
“They passed away a few years ago. They didn’t think they would ever have kids, but surprise—my mom got pregnant when she was forty-six.”
“That’s all we need, Ms. Perry. I’m sending this out to my officers on the street and I’ll call you soon to give you an update,” Detective Greene said as he printed off a picture of Gia that she had just emailed him from her phone.
Gemma stood up and slung the big purse containing Fred over her shoulder. As if sensing something bad was going on, Fred had stayed silent in the bag for the past hour. Every now and then, Gemma would reach in to pet him and he would reassuringly lick her hand as if to comfort her. “Thank you, Detective Greene. Thank you so much.”
Gemma walked past the rows of empty dented metal desks and a few of the other on-duty detectives as she made her way through two swinging double doors and out into the small lobby on the third floor of the police station. She pulled out her phone and dialed her sister as she waited for the elevator. “Hi. This is Gia. I’m not here right now, but I’d love to talk to you. Leave a message.”
“I love you,” Gemma whispered into the phone as she stepped onto the elevator. The dirty doors closed as her feelings of hope disappeared.
Gemma stood outside the police station and stared at the cars driving by. She really didn’t know what to do or where to go. Should she go home and wait for the police to call? Should she go to Gia’s apartment and wait for her to come home? Deciding she couldn’t stand there forever, she started walking across the busy parking lot toward her car.
“Ms. Perry!” Gemma turned around and found Detective Greene running toward her. Oh, thank goodness! If they found her already, then Gia must've just been out. She was sure Gia would fuss at her for making such a big deal over a couple of hours, but she didn’t care if that meant her twin was safe and sound.
“You found her, didn’t you? I guess I did overreact.” Gemma gave a little grin and a shrug of her shoulders in embarrassment. “Where was she? How mad is she for having the whole police force out looking for her?” she asked with a shaky smile.
Detective Greene didn’t smile back and Gia then realized what she had known for the past couple hours . . . her sister was dead. Tears streamed down her face. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach as waves of nausea hit her over and over again. Detective Greene put an arm around her as she started to collapse. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but I need you to look at a picture.” Detective Greene held out his cell phone and showed Gemma the image on the screen. “Is this your sister?”
The tears dried instantly as a shocked Gemma stared at the image of her sister on Detective Greene’s phone. She looked as if she were sleeping, except for the fact she was lying on a patch of dirt and her face had no color to it. “Yes, that’s Gia,” was all Gemma was able to say until the twisting of her stomach was so much that she leaned over and threw up while Detective Greene kept a supportive hand on her back.
“What happened?” Gemma asked, wiping her mouth as Detective Greene helped her stand upright.
“We think she was mug
ged. Her purse is missing. She was found behind the parking garage at International Press. We’re looking at security cameras now. I’m on my way over there and I’ll come by in the morning to talk.” Detective Greene waited for Gemma to nod before he asked, “Can I have an officer take you home?”
“No, thank you. I’d rather be alone right now,” Gemma murmured as she stared slightly off into space. Her world seemed over; she didn’t even know what she was supposed to do next.
Detective Greene pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Call me anytime. Please take your time getting home. I really would feel better if you let one of my officers drive you home.”
Gemma looked up into his worried faced and gave him a weak smile. “I’ll be fine. Thank you so much, just please take care of my sister and find whoever did this.”
“I will,” Detective Greene promised. “And I’ll have a patrol car check in on you soon, okay?”
Gemma nodded and then walked to her car in a daze. She was conscious of Detective Greene being picked up by an unmarked car as he looked back at her one more time. She pulled Fred out of the bag and held him tight to her chest as she sat in the driver’s seat, letting the tears flow freely as her body was wracked with sobs.
CHAPTER TWO
Gemma pulled into her sister’s parking space at the apartment complex and stared at the cement wall. There was a crack running along some of the blocks and she followed it until it ended. Gemma debated leaving, but she didn’t know where else to go. Her home would seem so empty. She had needed to feel her sister again so she found herself driving to Gia’s apartment. But she stayed in her car, hesitant to go upstairs. The pain would be too much to bear.
Gemma knew she didn’t need to wait for Detective Greene to tell her when her sister died. She had known the second it had happened. She had felt it. She had lived it right here in her own car. Gemma had felt the pain, the fear, and finally the moment her sister could no longer fight. That’s why she was here and that was why she needed to find the courage to go upstairs. She needed to feel a connection to her twin again to help with the anguish washing over her.
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