by G. K. Parks
“Okay.”
I went to the spot she indicated. One of the indoor sets was being constructed, and I watched as they moved the backdrop around, checking the tape markings on the floors for proper placement. Someone else said something, and a cable lowered to the floor. Before I could see what it was going to be used for, another PA appeared at my side.
“Miss Allen is waiting.” She didn’t even give me a chance to respond before turning and heading for the large exit at the far end of the building. At least today I wore my running shoes.
When we stepped outside, I was surprised to find the sun had set. It was dark, or it would have been if floodlights weren’t lighting up the sky. Dinah was seated in a chair with her name stamped on the back in bright white lettering. She wore a long coat which seemed way too warm for this time of year and was typing something on her phone. She held up a single digit when I approached, not even bothering to look up until she was finished. Then she put the device in her coat pocket and smiled.
“Finished dealing with the writers?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer.
“I think so.”
“They’ll probably check-in from time to time with modifications, but the hard part should be over.” She brushed an invisible strand of hair out of her eyes, blinking rapidly and getting frustrated. “Stupid fake lashes.” She brushed again before forcing her hand into her lap. “You would think after years of modeling I would be used to them.” Her phone buzzed, and a smile tugged at her lips. “I’m sorry, Alex. I’m out of my element. I’ve never been on a set like this either, and I’m entirely overwhelmed. I only did that one film, and it was nothing like this. We didn’t even have sets. Everything was shot on location. The prep was nothing. This,” she watched as a stuntman hooked to wires ran through an elaborate routine while another checked the light levels and someone with a boom mic tested out sound, “is unbelievable.” She grabbed the arm of the closest chair and dragged it next to her. “Do you want to sit down?”
I sat in the offered chair, practically jumping out of my skin when the mic let out a shrill whine. I laughed at myself and tried to keep one eye on the action and the other on her. “Now that I’m done with the writers, what’s next?”
“The stunt coordinator will want your input on a few of the action sequences, and I’m sure the director will want a word at some point. Tomorrow morning, you’re going to instruct the actors on the proper way of holding and firing a handgun.” She reached for a schedule no one bothered to share with me. “And in the afternoon, fight training.”
“No one told me any of this.”
She looked a little guilty and handed me the paper. “Sorry, I said I’d give that to you, but time got away. I spent my day in the wardrobe trailer, getting fitted, and in the makeup trailer while they worked on perfecting the various color palettes.”
“So I’m supposed to teach you how to fight and shoot in a matter of hours?”
“We already went through a six week boot camp back in Los Angeles. This is a refresher. And it’s not just for me. Lance, Gemma, and Clay will be there too. The stuntmen have previous training and their own coordinator. You actually don’t have to teach us anything, except how to make it look like we know what we’re doing.”
“Sure.” Maybe it wasn’t too late to get Cross to send a replacement.
As if reading my mind, she settled back in her seat and assessed me, subtly shifting until she was in the exact same position I was in. “Unlike today, most of your time from here on out will be spent in my company. I’ll be shadowing you while you follow me around.” She laughed “I know it’s rather counterintuitive, but we’re under time constraints. Elodie will get you copies of my call sheet, so you’ll know when you have to be here and where to be.”
“Okay.” My head throbbed. The only place I wanted to be was home.
Her assistant, probably the previously mentioned Elodie, appeared with a salad of some sort and a bottle of water. She handed the items to Dinah as inconspicuously as possible. Dinah looked down and thanked her, stabbing a piece of fish with her fork. “Have you eaten yet?”
“No, but I’m okay.”
Dinah looked at me through her lashes. “Elodie, see if crafty can toss together another one of these. Do you have any food sensitivities, Alex?”
“No.” I jerked my chin at the bowl. “What is that?”
“I call it a California poke salad.” She shrugged. “Wow, I just heard myself. That sounded pretentious. It’s lettuce with cucumber and carrot ribbons, poached tuna, avocado, and a honey lime dressing.” She smirked. “Sounds good, doesn’t it?” She looked back at Elodie and winked. The assistant disappeared, and Dinah took another bite. “Did you ever think you’d be on a movie set telling writers how to make the lines better?”
“Not quite, but life tends to throw me curveballs.”
“I bet.” She took another bite, balancing the bowl on her lap while she reached for her water. “If someone asked you ten years ago where you’d be right now, what would you have said?”
A pang of sadness came over me. “I would have said that I hoped to be working at an FBI field office.”
“You miss it?”
“Not really.”
She raised an eyebrow, her dinner completely forgotten. “Do you miss the life you thought you were going to have?”
“I actually ended up with something much better than I ever imagined.” The look on her face told me she didn’t believe it. “I am grateful to be alive and where I am.”
“Then what’s the problem?” she asked.
“It came at a price.”
She quirked an eyebrow and reached into her pocket for a notepad. “Professional or personal?”
“Damn, you’re inquisitive.” I shook it off. This was why I was here. “Both. Professionally, I wanted out of the OIO. I needed to break free. When I went back, it was a mistake. Leaving this time closed the door for good.”
She wasn’t following along, probably because I was being rather cryptic. “Were those issues gender-related? Women in a lot of industries face glass ceilings.”
“That wasn’t my problem. Sometimes, things just go wrong, and when they do, people die. I didn’t want to be there anymore, so I left. And my boss spent a very long time convincing me to go back. I did some consulting work which bridged the gap, and then some factors beyond my control came into play. I went back because, at the time, it seemed like the right thing. It wasn’t.” I bit my lip and looked away.
“People die,” she mumbled, latching on to the one thing I shouldn’t have said. “You lost someone to the job.”
“My first partner. We went through Quantico together.” I glanced at her. “That’s all you get. I’m not talking about this.”
She held up her palms and tucked the notepad back into her pocket. She had just picked up her bowl and resumed eating when Elodie returned with a carbon copy. She handed it to me, asked if Dinah needed anything else, and went to check on something in the trailer.
“This is really good,” I said, hoping to change the subject.
She swallowed and dabbed carefully at her glossed lips. Before she could respond, her phone buzzed again. She looked down at the device, a flirtatious grin skirting across her face.
“Is that someone special?” I asked.
My comment caught her off guard, and she looked rather alarmed. “How did you do that?”
“I am a trained investigator. And I’m here all week,” I teased. She continued to stare at me. “The look on your face. I’ve seen it a million times. It looks like someone has a crush.”
“Had,” she corrected. “We haven’t seen each other in nearly fifteen years. He was my first love. It turns out he still lives in the city. He recently contacted me in regards to a business proposal, and we’ve been texting a lot ever since. He’s going to stop by the set later. My people tell me he’s single and still gorgeous. I guess we’ll see.”
“Actor?” I asked.
&n
bsp; “No, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes with those.” Her eyes darted in the direction of her costar, Lance Smoke, and I wondered exactly what the story was. “I knew him from my fashion days.”
“Model? Photographer?”
“He should have been a model.” Her eyes closed, and for a moment, she looked absolutely content. “I guess you’d say he was a designer. We worked closely on several lines. But I ended up taking a job in Paris, and he stayed behind.” She typed out a quick response and tucked the phone away. “Actually, I was quite surprised to hear he was looking for some of the original sketches and an unfinished line we had worked on. Sure, fashion is circular and trends basically repeat with a few alterations, but I never expected him to reach out, especially now. It’s kind of crazy.”
“Do you think it’s because you’re a big star? You’re on the front of every magazine this month.”
“That could be.” Her expression soured. “And the tabloids too.”
“Goes with the territory, right?”
She rolled her eyes. “Unless you help me, I’m going to be a laughingstock in Hollywood.” She lowered her voice. “Do you think I have any idea what I’m doing?”
“Join the club.”
The look she gave me said yeah, right. Before such thoughts could be verbalized, Elodie returned, carrying an ugly arrangement of flowers. Most of them looked black, but it might be on account of the dark.
“I just found another one. What do you want me to do?”
Dinah frowned, her gaze on the bouquet. “Is there a card?”
Elodie held it out, and Dinah tentatively reached for it. After reading it, she crushed it in her hand and tossed it to the ground. “Get rid of it, and notify security. I don’t want anyone going inside my trailer without my permission.”
I finished eating as I watched the situation play out. “What’s that about?” I asked.
“Just a fan.” Someone called to Dinah from across the lot, and she took off her coat. Underneath, she was in costume, ready to film some sort of nighttime outdoor scene. From what she was wearing, I could only imagine it was romantic in nature. “You should call it a night. We have a long day tomorrow and more long days ahead after that.” She offered a smile that was far from genuine. It was obvious she was worried. “Good night, Alex.”
“Night.” I watched her cross the lot, and then I reached down and picked up the crumpled note.
Flowers for my flower. You’re mine, Dinah. You don’t need anyone else, and I’m going to make certain the world knows it.
Four
“We found three sets of prints. The only match we’ve made so far is to you,” Amir said. He worked on the thirty-first floor in Cross’s lab. “I’ll expand the database search and see if we get a hit.”
“Don’t bother. Whoever left the note didn’t leave a print.”
“Are you certain?”
Actually, I wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. I needed to speak to the security team Cross assigned to Broadway Films. They would have access to surveillance footage. If someone entered Dinah Allen’s trailer, they would know about it. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare portable modem, would you?”
The question amused him. “For your laptop?”
“Yes.”
“Give me a sec.” He crossed the lab and opened a cabinet. Inside were plenty of high-tech toys. This was one of my first visits upstairs, and frankly, I was impressed. I’d only glimpsed some of Cross’s gear during my first assignment at his firm, but this was definitely top of the line. It put the OIO and PD to shame, perhaps even the DEA, and out of the three agencies, the DEA seemed to have confiscated more than their fair share of shiny gadgets. He handed me a clipboard. “Sign there.” He pointed to the bottom line.
That was easy. Maybe too easy. My eyes went back to the crumpled note. “What about DNA?”
“That’s a lot more complicated than fingerprints. I can get started tonight.”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure any of this is important.”
Amir picked up the card and held it up to the light. “It’s doubtful there’s anything on it, but I’ll check. If there is DNA, it could be a few weeks. I’ll leave you a message in the morning and let you know either way.”
“Thanks.”
Just as I reached for the elevator button, the doors opened. Lucien Cross stood on the other side. His hands shoved in his pockets. The lines of his suit remained pristine. To this day, I had no idea how he accomplished such a feat. He stepped to the side and gazed at me expectantly.
“Were you coming to see me?” He sounded smug, as if he already knew the answer, which he did.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than watch the security feed?” I stepped into the elevator, and he pushed the button for the lobby.
“Why did you request fingerprint analysis?” His reflection in the mirrored doors glared at me. “Have you already moved on to another case? It would have been courteous to at least notify me before reneging on Cross Security’s contract with Broadway Films.”
“I’m not reneging.” I stepped in front of him so he couldn’t continue to stare at himself in the doors. “Something weird happened, and I thought I’d check it out. Speaking of, I need to get into contact with our security team.”
“This is about the breach in Miss Allen’s trailer.” Lucien nodded to himself. “Did she ask you to look into it? Does she have any suspicions as to who left the flowers?”
“No.” I licked my lips. As usual, he knew more than he should. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing. It’s my understanding the delivery was a miscommunication. The studio delivered the gift. Whoever entered her trailer belonged there. They probably didn’t realize fan mail and gifts were being rerouted. Protocols concerning Miss Allen aren’t set in stone yet. This is their first experience working with her, and it’s not like her manager or agent care about anything other than publicity.”
It sounded like excuses. “So your team isn’t responsible? They didn’t screw up?”
“Absolutely not.” He looked stern. “Should Miss Allen require additional information concerning the identity of the sender or the delivery person, feel free to direct her concerns to the security team.”
“You don’t want me to investigate.”
He smirked. “There’s nothing to investigate.” My gut said otherwise, and Lucien knew it. “Use your best judgment. Just remember what your actual duties are.”
“I will.”
“And Alex, don’t forget the terms of the NDA.” The doors opened in the lobby, and Lucien waited for me to step out first. “If any other issues arise, please let me know. I will expand the security team if you believe there is an unaddressed threat, but you might want to do some research into Dinah Allen before you jump to conclusions. Any one of her people could have delivered those flowers.”
“I thought it was a closed set.”
He resembled a Cheshire cat. “There are always exceptions.” He moved through the lobby like he owned the whole damn building and not just the three floors where his offices were located. “Would you care for a ride home?”
“My car is in the garage.”
He nodded and climbed into the back of his town car. Maybe one of these days I would actually figure him out, or he could just make my life simpler by laying his cards on the table and sharing his intel. Pondering the unlikelihood of that, I worked myself into a tizzy while I drove to the apartment I shared.
Even though I was tired from the long day, my muscles craved movement, but my treadmill was across town at my place. There was a twenty-four hour gym within walking distance, but I didn’t have a membership. So I had to improvise. I changed into workout clothes, road the elevator down to the lobby, opened the door to the stairwell, and ran up twenty-one flights.
By the time I made it back to the apartment, I was covered in sweat. My legs were dead, and my glutes were cramped. My heart beat so hard in my chest I wondered if that workout would
be my last. I showered in record time, just so I could sit down, and changed into pajama shorts and a t-shirt. It was only after I settled onto the couch with my computer to research Dinah Allen that I realized just how exhausted I was.
According to the schedule on the call sheet, I would have to get up by 4:30 in order to get to the studio on time. Didn’t actors need their beauty sleep? It was nearly eleven. I scanned through the top stories concerning Dinah Allen. Hollywood’s newest It girl was rumored to be in a torrid affair with Lance Smoke. The rumor mill continued to churn around their on again, off again romance. From the photos, it appeared Lance wasn’t ready to be tied down to just one woman.
Several articles concerned the casting of the new movie. No wonder the studio was determined to keep a lid on things. The paparazzi loved on set romances, and the model turned actress who hooked up with one of the most sought after actors on the planet was definitely at the top of their list. Cross Security would need to remain on their toes, but at least I understood why Lucien was certain there hadn’t been a breach. It would have been all over the internet by now. Maybe Lance had one of the assistants deliver the flowers. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made.
After packing my laptop and the modem to take with me, I filled my gym bag for tomorrow and made sure I had everything ready to go. I planned to stumble out of bed, grab my things, and drive to work. I’d be lucky if I was awake enough to remember to get dressed. Craft services better have coffee waiting.
I crawled under the covers, but something nagged at the corners of my mind. I twisted and turned, checking the clock every few minutes. Finally, I managed to fall into a light sleep.
The sound of the front door opening jolted me upright. My hand sought out my nine millimeter in the dark, but I retracted it when a familiar voice called out. A moment later, James Martin stepped into the bedroom. His tie hung in a loose knot, but aside from that, he appeared to be the powerful CEO he was.
