Purview of Flashbulbs (Alexis Parker Book 15)

by G. K. Parks

  “I’ll pass this along and get it to dispatch. We’ll pick up his trail,” O’Connell promised. “Thanks.”

  “Remember this the next time I ask for a favor.”

  After checking the garage for any clues as to who this guy was or how long he might have been waiting, I headed back to the hotel. A fire truck was parked at the main entrance. The lights were on, but the siren was off. The guests were still waiting across the street for the go-ahead to return inside.

  The announcement came over the PA system that it was safe to enter. The hotel was comping the guests a free breakfast for the inconvenience. I hung back and called Scar to tell him to expect incoming. I wasn’t sure exactly how they managed to remain inside, but it might have involved a bribe or hiding in the room.

  After the last of the guests went through the front door, I made my way into the lobby. I wasn’t surprised to spot Scar at the front desk. Ty was with him, and they were speaking to the manager.

  Scar noticed me and excused himself. He asked for a detailed account of what I knew. I had a feeling it would be another long night and told him about the man who escaped in the SUV.

  After listening to my description of the man and the vehicle, Scar scratched his cheek. “That sounds like Dinah’s stalker. How did he find her so quickly? I’ve taken every precaution.” Leading the way upstairs, Scar showed me into the security suite. He had photographs of everyone working on the film. “You saw him. You have to identify him.”

  It was pointless to protest, so I flipped through the photos, stopping on an image of Lance’s assistant. “He was built like this guy, but I didn’t get a good look at his face, just that he had dark hair.”

  Dinah opened the adjoining door. She put her hands on her hips and remained in the doorway. “Well, now what do we do? I don’t see how changing hotels again is a great plan, and even when I stayed with Alex, he still found a way to harass me. I want this stopped.”

  “We’re working on it, Miss Allen,” Scar replied. “He didn’t breach this level, and he didn’t catch a glimpse of you during the evacuation. I think it’s best if you remain here.”

  “What do you think, Alex?” Dinah asked.

  “It’s up to you ma’am.” It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but I didn’t have a solution.

  “You don’t think James Martin is behind this, do you?” she asked. It was the first thing Scar had asked me.

  “No, I don’t, but you need to realize whoever you invite into your life could be targeted.”

  “What about Elodie? She’s on her way with tomorrow’s sides. Should I call her off? I need her. I can’t do this without her.”

  “We’ll ensure Miss Smith’s safety,” Scar promised. “We’ll let you know when she arrives.”

  Dinah went back into her suite and closed the door. Scar and I continued to work through leads and theories, but he didn’t know anything more than Cross Security. When Elodie arrived, Ty met her in the lobby and brought her to the security suite.

  “Miss Smith,” I said, gesturing to the chair, “we haven’t gotten a chance to speak. I was hoping to ask you a few questions. You are aware of Dinah’s situation.”

  Scar had separated the photos to include only individuals who fit the profile and description of the caller and the man I saw earlier this evening. “Have you seen any of these men paying particular attention to Dinah? Do you know if any of them had access to her hotel suite?”

  Slowly, she flipped through the photos. Her face flushed, and she looked up with fear in her eyes. “Is this my fault?”

  “Why?” Scar asked. “What did you do?” His voice was harsh, and she cringed and cowered. I gave him a sharp look and took a seat next to her.

  “It’s okay. You’re not in any trouble. Just tell us what you know.” I looked at the photo. It was of Jett Trevino, Lance’s assistant.

  “I let him into Dinah’s suite a few days ago. He’s Lance’s PA. We hang out sometimes. All of us do. Other PAs get it, but regular people just don’t. Our jobs are crazy. It’s hard to make friends or have a life outside of work.” She looked sheepish. “Not to say that I don’t love my job because I do. I really do. It’s just lonely sometimes.”

  “Does Jett own a dark jacket and jeans?” Scar asked.

  “With a hood,” I added.

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess. He had on one of those waterproof slickers earlier today. They have hoods, right?”

  I hadn’t considered him in the list of potential stalkers, but that’s because I’d never seen him interact with Dinah. “Do you know how long he’s worked for Lance?”

  “A couple of years. He went to college to be a director. He took all these film classes and was working on some indie projects in the hopes of getting noticed, but he never had any luck. He knew some people who got him hired on as a production assistant on one of Lance’s other films. Lance liked him enough to hire him on as his personal assistant. He uses Jett on all of his movies.”

  “You seem to know a lot about him.”

  “And Carrie, Johnny, Vince, Louisa, and Bonnie,” she said. “Like I said, we all hang out after work.”

  “Have any of the other stars been targeted?” I asked.

  She thought for a moment. “As far as I know, it’s just Dinah. No one’s said anything.”

  “Have you said anything to them?” Scar asked.

  She blushed and looked away. “You don’t think Jett or one of the others is involved, do you? They would never do anything like that. We each have skin in the game. We wouldn’t jeopardize our future careers over something stupid.” She gasped. “Is Dinah going to fire me? Jett wasn’t in her room that long. He was with me when I dropped off some things for Dinah. We weren’t even there two minutes. I know he’s had to sign NDAs for Lance too, so I didn’t think it’d be a problem. Shit. Don’t tell her what I did. I’m not sure how those things even work, and I can’t afford to lose this job or get sued. I’m just biding my time and making contacts while I work on my screenplay.”

  “No one’s getting fired,” Scar said, “but I need to know if you’ve told anyone where Dinah is staying.”

  Elodie blinked a few times, shaking her head. Even though she denied it, I had a feeling she probably shared that information with her fellow PAs, believing it was no big deal. It was a very big deal, particularly if one of them was the stalker.

  Thirty

  Until today, we never had enough information. Now, it seemed like we had too much. Not that such a thing was possible, but it would take a lot of time to sort through. My neck hurt from the crooked way I had my head propped in my hand as I read through phone records, police reports, and suspect profiles. Amir pulled some prints off the tape on the drone which matched Chaz Relper. At least we knew for certain we had the right drone; too bad it didn’t lead us anywhere.

  It appeared Jett Trevino had, on one prior occasion, placed a call to Mario Scaratilli. That call happened during Dinah and Lance’s trip to Maui. Based on Trevino’s credit card information, he remained behind in Los Angeles. Perhaps he had taken a liking to his boss’s girlfriend. That liking turned into obsession, breaking and entering, and stalking, with a side of homicide.

  According to the DOT, Trevino was five foot eight, a hundred and fifty-five pounds, and drove a white pick-up truck. However, upon arrival here, he rented a blue SUV. I thought the SUV that nearly drove over me was green, but with nothing but streetlights to provide illumination, I could have gotten it wrong. Or it might have been teal. For some reason, the rental agency refused to give me the plate number, so I was stuck waiting for the cops to find the car and driver. If they didn’t find him tonight, I’d check the parked cars at the studio in the morning.

  Jett could have started the fire, freaked when he spotted me, and took off. Since Lance wasn’t staying at this new hotel, Jett had no excuse to be there. He was spotted, so he had to flee. Apparently, that was the stalker’s M.O. Starting the fire was daring. I just wondered about the timing. My in
itial gut reaction, which might have been an overreaction, was the stalker saw Martin, recognized him from his previous meeting with Dinah, freaked out, and set the fire to get Martin away from her. I just didn’t know what he planned to do afterward. Kill Martin? Lure Dinah out and abduct her? Kill them both? I didn’t know the answer to that, but I was great at jumping to worst case scenarios.

  “It’ll be another few hours before my guy can get the hotel footage. I spoke to the manager, but she doesn’t want to cooperate,” Cross said as he entered my office. “We should have considered the assistants and set helpers sooner. It’s always the ones we don’t notice. Tomorrow, while they’re filming, we’ll search the entire lot, but the studio’s adamant about its privacy. I don’t want to piss them off, so we’re going to do it quietly.” He dropped into one of my chairs. “Dammit, why didn’t we consider Jett sooner? He fits the profile.”

  “We ran backgrounds on Dinah’s team, but the men came up clean. We never thought to look into Lance’s guys because it never made sense they’d have the type of access needed to know these things about Dinah or get her keycard.”

  “Yeah, but Lance does. And the assistants have access to everything Lance does.” Cross flipped through some of the paperwork. “I feel good about this one.” He pointed to a photo of Jett. “Have you noticed him around?”

  “Just on set with Lance.”

  “I sent his photo to the club owner. Jett was partying with the rest of them. That places him in the area around the time Reaper was killed. After he tied up that loose end, he could have gone back to the hotel and waited for Dinah. Since Lance was club-hopping, he wouldn’t have had any idea what his assistant was up to.”

  “We know how he might have been able to get a hold of Dinah’s keycard in order to get into the hotel gym. But why wouldn’t he have just used his own or Lance’s?”

  “He’s smarter than that.” Cross thought for a moment. “You called the police. They have cause to bring him in for questioning after he nearly ran you over. Once that happens, we’ll convince them to look a little deeper, and then we’ll be certain.”

  “Sounds easy enough.” I narrowed my eyes. “I thought you didn’t believe in working with the police.”

  “They have their talents. I have mine. Overlap is not something I enjoy, which is why I never take murder cases. Unfortunately, the stalking issue was unforeseeable. Had I known, I might not have signed the contract with Broadway Films, but I did. And here we are. I’m just glad you’re here to liaise between the police department and my firm.”

  “I should get a raise.”

  “Or maybe I should fire you, seeing as how I never had these problems before you started working here.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Go ahead.”

  We stared at each other in a game of chicken, but I wasn’t backing down. Plus, I was seventy-five percent sure Cross was joking. Eventually, he blinked. “You should call it a night. We’ll have a lot more data to sift through in the morning. I told Renner to tail Lance Smoke until he gets eyes on Jett Trevino. Right now, we don’t know where they are, but Smoke’s appearance always causes a buzz. We’ll track him and find Trevino. If Jett makes another attempt, at least we’ll know about it before it happens. Get some sleep. You look like shit.”

  At least Cross had a plan. It was more than what I could say for myself. I grabbed a few files off my desk and made my way home. The one thing I had that Cross didn’t was access to a possible witness.

  When I opened the door to the apartment, I heard a gun being cocked. “Exciting night?” I asked.

  Bruiser put the safety back on and returned the gun to its holster. “Only for the last two seconds.”

  I smiled and put the files on the kitchen counter. “That’s sweet of you to say.” I looked around but didn’t spot Martin. “Where is he?”

  “In the bedroom, on the phone. From what I gather, it’s not going well.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, and it’s not my business.”

  “I ought to make that my motto.” I checked the locks, poked my head behind the curtain, and stared into the dark night. When I failed to spot a drone or sniper, I slid out from behind the curtain. “Were you with him when he met with Dinah Allen?”

  “Both times I waited in the car.”

  I grabbed the files off the counter and sat down next to him. “Would you mind looking through some photographs to see if you remember spotting any of these people? It’s strictly off the record. I know you were probably told not to mention anything about the visits and I’ve been told not to discuss these matters with anyone, but you and I can’t follow those instructions and do our job.”

  “Our job?” he asked. “You mean protecting Mr. Martin?”

  “Shh.” My gaze bounced around, but the door to the bedroom remained closed. “Our mission is top-secret, Mr. Jones. He must never find out.”

  Bruiser laughed. “How very cloak and dagger of you. And here I thought you forgot my name.” He flipped through the photographs of what I had deemed to be our suspect list. “Isn’t he a famous action star?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, I didn’t see him.” He flipped through the photos of the director, stunt coordinator, and the DOT photos I pulled of Dinah’s team. “I saw these guys.” He pointed to photos of Scar and one of the other guards. He flipped through a few more images, slowing on the one of Jett. “Maybe him, but I’m not sure.”

  “Tonight?” I asked.

  “No. I didn’t see anyone tonight. That was from last time.”

  “What was the game plan tonight?”

  “Martin got dropped off at the front entrance, and Marcal and I circled the block a few times while we waited for him to finish. I didn’t see anyone.” An angry growl came from behind the bedroom door. “Does this have anything to do with whatever’s going on in there?” Bruiser asked.

  “I have no idea.” I closed the folder. “I probably should find out. You can call it a night, but I’d appreciate it if you were waiting in the lobby for him in the morning. If you happen to spot anyone suspicious, let me know.”

  “Good night, Parker.”

  I locked the door behind him. Then I knocked on the bedroom door before opening it. Martin was pacing back and forth in front of the bed. One hand was rubbing the back of his neck while the other held the phone to his ear. He barely glanced in my direction.

  “I don’t care about the ramifications. It doesn’t matter.” Whoever he was speaking to was arguing and interrupting. “Don’t get started on that bullshit. It was her intellectual property. It should have never been sold.” He dropped the hand from the back of his neck and rubbed his eyes. “I understand that. I don’t know what I’m planning to do with it. I just want it back. I want the rights.” Another annoying interruption caused Martin’s fist to clench, and I wasn’t positive he wouldn’t put a hole through the wall. “No, I don’t want to sue. In that industry, it’s next to impossible to win those types of cases. You’re my fucking lawyer. You should know that.” He let out an exasperated huff. “If I were concerned about sound investments, I would be talking to my accountant instead.”

  “I can go,” I whispered, pointing at the door.

  Martin shook his head. “Listen. No, you listen.” He walked out of the room, realizing we were alone so he had the rest of the apartment in which to pace and argue.

  So much for asking him about Jett Trevino and Dinah Allen. I listened to the sound of his angry, annoyed voice, but the words didn’t quite carry. It was clear he didn’t want me to hear what he was discussing. I remembered the look on his face right before he left Dinah’s suite. I didn’t know what they were talking about or what this was about, but it was clearly a bone of contention for Martin.

  Reluctantly, I ducked into the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed. Maybe he’d be off the phone and in a better mood by the time I came out. After drying my hair, I came out of the bathroom in a pair of pajama shorts and a sl
ouchy tank top. At least I didn’t hear any arguing.

  I found Martin leaning over his laptop. He had a glass of scotch next to him and the bottle beside it. It was one of those nights.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He glanced up. “Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine.” Before I could say anything else, the phone rang, and he grabbed it. “Is it done?” he snapped.

  We needed to talk about his business with Dinah and if he’d seen Jett or anyone else, but now wasn’t the time. I went to the kitchen and plucked the notepad off the fridge. Leaving him a note, I separated the photos from my files and took the rest of the paperwork and placed it in a box and tucked it into the bottom of the linen closet. I just needed him to identify the men he’d seen around Dinah.

  I gave him a concerned look which he didn’t notice on account of his furious mouse clicking. “I’m going to bed,” I said. “I left something for you on the counter, if you get a chance later.”

  After he acknowledged he heard what I said, I left the room. It was obvious he didn’t want the company or an audience. Truthfully, he probably didn’t even want to be here, but he was here for me. The least I could do was give him space. I had never been very good at figuring out what was wrong, particularly when it came to him, or how to fix it. But right now, I wanted nothing more than to fix whatever was going on. He was angry, and for no reason I could understand. In Dinah’s hotel room, I’d seen it flash over him. The hate. The contempt. I had no idea what she had been talking about or why it triggered that response, but it had only gotten worse in the last few hours.

  Closing my eyes, I listened to the slam of drawers and his deep voice berating and arguing with whoever was on the other end of the line. The only thing I could do was get this stalker situation with Dinah wrapped up in the hopes that it would somehow make his arrangement with Dinah easier. My last thought before drifting off was that he shouldn’t have an arrangement with Dinah, but I had no right to dictate terms on things I didn’t understand.

  The vibration of my phone woke me, and I squinted at the time. It was 2:30. Renner had located Lance and Jett. The star and his lackey were at one of the premiere nightclubs. From the photo he texted, Lance’s leftovers would be easy pickings for Jett, so why the infatuation with Dinah? It was pointless to try to get into the mind of a psychopath.