by G. K. Parks
“Was he in the limo with us?”
“No, he followed behind in a separate car. Ty Johnson was riding shotgun in the event we encountered any issues.”
“Okay.” It didn’t seem important, especially since Cross was getting these details from Dinah’s security team. He could assess any weaknesses, and we would go from there. “Who’s in charge of your fan mail? Whoever reached out with the flowers probably attempted to communicate before.”
“That’s what Scar thinks too. He had Cherise send everything over.” Dinah saw the question in my eyes. “Cherise is my agent. She’s in charge of correspondence. She and her team reply to messages, physical and virtual.” Dinah returned to the couch and took a seat, looking down at some empty folders and legal pads. “This is how it’s done? You ask questions and form a list of suspects?”
“They are persons of interest. It’s possible someone you know might have noticed something that will lead to someone else, but we don’t know until we figure out who is in a position to know something.”
“It sounds like guesswork.”
“That’s where the luck part comes in. It is guesswork, but you develop a feel for it. Pretend our roles were reversed, where would you go from here?”
She thought for a moment. “Back to set. I’d want to talk to Gemma. Then I’d probably want to talk to the prop guy to see if anyone borrowed one of the dummies.”
I pointed at her. “I have a feeling you might just pull off a convincing FBI agent.”
She gave me a genuine smile. “Not if I don’t get back to film my scenes on time.” She reached for her phone. “You are coming to set with me, aren’t you? Despite all of this,” she waved her hand around my office, “you’re still a technical consultant and my personal insight into what it’s like to be a female FBI agent. I need you.”
“I’ll be there. I just need to check in with Cross first.” I gave her an encouraging look. “Should I meet you at your trailer?”
“No. Meet me on the soundstage. This is one of the more complicated scenes. We have five cameras. Setup will take time and probably quite a few takes. It’d be best to have you there in case I need feedback or input, and Neil might have questions. You haven’t met him yet, have you?”
“No, but it’s about time we get to know one another.”
For a moment, her expression was entirely unreadable, as if she couldn’t show any emotion when she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to convey. “You aren’t going to ask about us, are you?”
“I am aware of what is considered polite conversation. Decorum is my middle name.”
“Good.” She stopped for a moment. “What is your actual middle name?”
“How is that relevant?”
“It’s not, but you know more about my sexual history than my therapist. It just seems fair that I know something about you. Do you want to make a list of your conquests for the past two years? I bet that would be enlightening. Aren’t law enforcement officials notorious for one night stands? It has something to do with the near-death, might not live to see tomorrow mentality.”
“I’m not that exciting.”
“What about your fellow agents?”
I thought of Kate, one of the forensic accountants at the OIO. “It depends on the person. There is no broad generalization. My last partner is married with a young child. My mentor was divorced three times and at the point of swearing off all sexual encounters. And my Quantico roommate will take home any guy with a nice smile and biceps the size of my thigh.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“It depends on the person,” I repeated, “but to answer your question, danger heightens everything. It skews perception, which is why we are warned not to make any life-altering decisions after a dangerous encounter.”
She scribbled something down in her notepad and called Scar to tell him she was coming down and to have the car waiting. Then she went down the hall, slipping on the Jackie O’s and burying her hair beneath a scarf she pulled from her purse. And people thought I could be dramatic.
Thirteen
The day was long. Extremely long. It began around three a.m., and it hadn’t stopped yet. In between Dinah asking a million questions, I’d spoken to several people on set, including a few of the PAs, but none of them were helpful. No one saw anything, and if they did, they weren’t telling me. In fact, it seemed no one actually knew anything about the Dinah dummy, which I found hard to believe.
Gemma Kramer was unaware of any security issues. She hadn’t received any hate mail or odd gifts. No ugly floral bouquets to speak of. She’d been in the industry since her teenage years, and her team knew how to handle such matters. Her security had never been an issue. Unfortunately, I didn’t exactly get to grill her on her relationship with the director. From what I gathered, she and Lance had never been an item. If they’d been together, that information never leaked to any of the tabloids.
The prop master didn’t recall anyone using any of the dummies. No one borrowed any or checked them out. In fact, he didn’t even realize one was missing until I inquired about it. It was no wonder things disappeared from sets all the time.
Someone from the costume department found Gemma’s missing clothes in a heap on the floor. It appeared they’d been knocked off the hangers and buried under shoes, handbags, belts, and other accessories. I hoped to take them back to Cross Security to be checked for clues, but the costumer adamantly opposed that idea. She even threatened to call security on me. Someone ought to clue her in that I was security or at least security adjacent. But she didn’t care, and the studio didn’t want us getting in the way. They didn’t even want me asking questions, which is why I’d been doing my best to be discrete.
After a brief introduction, I sat down with Neil Larson, the director, for a whopping three minutes. He didn’t pay any attention to the things I asked. His focus was entirely on the scene and the input I could provide. He wondered how many units would respond to a threat, what the response time would be, and if it would seem contrived if they arrived at the same time. This seemed more like a logical reasoning or math problem, but maybe he’d never been able to figure out the age-old question of what time train A and train B would meet. As soon as he had his answer, he barked commands to the DP and disappeared into his makeshift command center.
Returning to my seat, I leaned back in the metal folding chair which wasn’t cushioned or particularly fabulous. Kellan was right; it only took three days for me to hate movies. Unfortunately, it was too late to be reassigned. My window slammed shut the moment security found the dummy.
Lance eyed me while he waited to shoot his scene, and I wondered what he wanted. I hadn’t spoken to him yet. He was always busy. Always doing something important or sneaking off to his trailer. At one point, he had his assistant run interference just to keep me away, but now it looked like he had something to say. Maybe it was a confession.
While he was shooting, I cornered Jett Trevino, his assistant, to ask if he’d seen anything odd the previous night, but that didn’t go so well. As soon as Neil called cut, Lance stormed toward us, dismissing Jett with a flourish of his hand.
“You’re a distraction,” Lance said. “If this happens again, I’ll have you removed.”
“Dinah wants me here,” I replied, my eyes narrowing.
“She doesn’t have top billing or producer credits. It’s my money. My show.” He leaned in closer. “I’m not stupid. Yesterday, you kept her from speaking to me. You need to back off. This doesn’t concern you.”
I held my ground, wondering how anyone could think he was one of the sexiest men alive. “Did you notice anyone lurking around set last night? You were one of the last people to leave.”
He stared down his perfectly straight nose at me. “Why?”
I shrugged, wondering if he knew what happened. From my conversations with Gemma and Neil, no one was aware of the threat or potential breach. The studio execs were keeping that information secret,
and Cross was an expert at containment. Perhaps finding the one person who knew what happened would be enough to pinpoint the culprit.
“Wardrobe reported some missing costumes. Cross Security wanted to make sure there wasn’t more to it.”
“You should run along and check.” He shooed me away with a flick of his wrist.
Taking a step back, I sighed and walked away. Dinah was having her makeup touched up, so I left the soundstage and went outside. An elaborate outdoor scene had been built on the backlot. The walls had been painted, and several large platforms of varying heights were erected. The platforms ran almost the entire length of the lot. Two stuntmen were on wires, and Kurt was watching from the side. I took a moment to watch one man chase the other, jumping and rolling from platform to platform. Some metal rails separated the platforms, and the chase continued from the lowest roof to the highest with lots of jumps, flips, and other impressive acrobatics. When they were finished, Kurt cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted to them that was enough for today. He turned and saw me watching.
“It’s a closed set,” he said, grinning.
“I’m aware.”
The radio in his hand chirped, and he pressed the button and gave a quick reply before closing the distance between us. “What do you think? It’s for the rooftop chase scene. We just wanted to run through it tonight to see if it would fly.” He looked proud.
“Is the bad guy an acrobat?” I asked, and he scowled.
“Come on, Alex. We need something flashy and cool. It’s based on military obstacle courses.”
“Parkour?”
“You’re familiar with the practice?”
“Envious of people who can move like that, but it seems rather unbelievable, especially with the wires.”
He took a step back and cocked his head to the side. “The wires are safety precautions. They aren’t assisting in the jumps or flips. Those moves are one hundred percent my guys. You look like you’re in good shape. You could probably run through the course without a problem. Do you want to try?”
I held up my palms. “No, but I will admit I am intrigued. How does one go about preparing for something like that?” Polite conversation might give me the chance to ask about last night.
“Honestly, it’s a lot of lower body strength, stability, and agility. It might sound weird, but the skills required in yoga are incredibly valuable in parkour in addition to jumping and vaulting.”
“Were you setting this up last night?”
“Yeah, we had the platforms placed late last night. Construction went to work on the railings, and set design came in this morning to give it that real world feel.”
“I don’t remember seeing it when I left yesterday. It’s crazy how fast it got put up.”
“It was literally the last thing we did before leaving. When the cameras stopped rolling, Neil and Lance came to check it out. They moved the schedule around so Lance would have more time to practice. He wants to do his own stunts, but we’ll see how that goes.”
“What did you guys do afterward? Just stand out here and watch it get built?”
“Pretty much, and then we called it a night.”
I bit my lip, thinking. Something crossed his mind, and he shouted to the stuntmen to try something else. Since I no longer had his attention, I continued on my path to the front gate. It had been nearly a day since the dummy was found; I hoped security knew something by now.
Unfortunately, surveillance cameras faced out, not in. Aside from the few obvious blind spots, which had been remedied, no unauthorized personnel had been caught entering the lot. Cross had people looking into yesterday’s visitors, and even though the lot was considered closed, thirty-four people had dropped by, everyone from lawyers, agents, assistants, and managers to random friends and family members.
I watched the footage of people leaving for the night, but that didn’t help. “What about the trailers? Do we have cameras set up over there?”
“No, ma’am. The actors won’t allow it. They say it violates their privacy, and the studio agrees. It’s why we have no idea who entered Dinah’s trailer and left the flowers.”
“Fine.” My eyes met the guard’s. “And it’s Alex.”
“Noted.”
Trudging back to the soundstage, I waited outside for Dinah. Her security team wasn’t on the lot, and I realized I hadn’t seen any of the actors’ security details. Obviously, they believed the site was secure, which indicated they weren’t worried about a threat. Dinah should have been. She knew better. Scaratilli didn’t seem like the type of man to leave anything to chance. It didn’t add up.
Laughter sounded behind me, and I turned to see Clay, Dinah, and the DP leaving the building. She met my eyes, excused herself, and bounded over with way too much energy. “What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“Working.”
She giggled like this was the funniest thing she ever heard. I caught a whiff of smoke and realized her eyes were glazed over. Kellan was right again. “You can call it a night,” she said, dismissing me as if I were Elodie.
“Yeah, okay.” Asking what she was on wouldn’t be productive. “Just be careful.”
She made a face. “You sound like Scar.”
“Where is he?”
She looked around. “Not here.”
“No shit.”
She scowled. “He’ll be here when I’m ready to leave. That’s how this works.” Clearly annoyed, she turned and jogged to catch up to Clay who was on his way to his trailer.
So much for wanting to figure out who left the flowers. Apparently, it was easier to get high and let someone else worry about the potential threat. Maybe I picked the wrong profession.
* * *
“What do we know?” Lucien asked the moment I set foot in his office. He was sprawled out on the sofa, his head propped against the arm with the file opened in front of him. He looked tired. Hell, with his shirt wrinkled and his jacket and tie off, he looked like a cop.
“Clay Chaffey has some primo weed, and that’s about it. Cameras don’t cover the trailers, and no one was caught on tape planting the dummy. We’re back where we started.”
“Shit.” He closed the folder but made no attempt to sit up. “Is this our fault?”
“I don’t know. No one’s aware of what happened.”
“That’s strange. By most standards, that’s a small lot. Broadway Films is the only company currently using it. Everyone there is part of the same film. Someone should have seen something.”
“It was cleared out. Only your security team was present when the dummy was found.”
He reached for a pen and scribbled a note. “Maybe I should have them investigated.”
“Lucien, you can’t be serious.”
After pulling himself up, he put the folder on the table. “Need I remind you that I am in charge. I’ll do whatever it takes to safeguard that set. You said no one else was there. I’m just following your leads. If you have something that contradicts that theory, by all means, I’d love to hear it.”
“No, sir,” I managed through gritted teeth, even though what I really wanted to say was don’t be a prick.
With a satisfied smirk, he climbed off the couch and went to his desk. “Broadway Films is unaware of any threats to their company, the production, or the cast and crew. I’ve spoken at length with the personal reps of the big names, but no one’s been experiencing any issues out of the norm. I’ve double-checked with the LAPD and several of the private security firms on the West Coast. While it’s possible another nutjob has come out of the woodwork, it’s probably best to assume this situation is related to Dinah.”
“I agree, so did her security chief.”
“Still, it bothers me.”
“What does?” At this point, I wouldn’t put it past him to say the pinstripes on his shirt were a problem.
“Not knowing if the lot was breached.” He dropped into his chair, sifting through several aerial photos and diagrams of the prope
rty. “We can’t address the problem unless we know the source. If this is internal, everything,” he gestured at the stack of papers on the coffee table, “I’ve done today is a waste of time, but if it’s external, then everything you did today was a waste of time. Fuck.”
“We have no way of knowing.”
A fire blazed behind his eyes. “We need to find out.” Abruptly, he stood and went to the closet for his jacket. He put his tie back on and adjusted it. Then he went to his phone and pressed the intercom button. “Justin, tell my driver to have the car waiting, and get the head of our legal department on the phone and transfer the call to my cell.” He pressed his lips together and waited for the affirmative. “Thanks.” He pressed the intercom button again and wrote down a number. He held it out, and I took it. “That’s the phone number for Mario Scaratilli. Try to charm some answers out of him.”
“Me?”
He continued moving around his office. “Yes, you. Or is that beyond your capabilities?”
“Didn’t you mention at one point that I lacked finesse?”
“Yes, but Mr. Scaratilli views me as a threat. He doesn’t regard you in the same light.”
“How can you tell?”
Lucien plucked another folder off the table on his way to the door and held it out to me. “That’s his profile. I had our techs run it before our meeting this morning. He’s the typical protective, alpha male. To put it simply, he’s afraid I plan to show him up and force him out. In essence, he believes Cross Security wants to take over Dinah Allen’s personal security.”
“Why?”
“Protective. Alpha. Male.” Lucien led me to the elevator. “Since it’s not your company and you lack a penis, he should be more forthcoming with you.”
“But I work for you.”
Lucien grinned. “Tell him if you don’t come up with valuable intel, I’ll fire you. After what I said about the head of security, he’ll believe it.”
