Don't Look Down

  "Stephanie, it's okay, we're here," Lucy said. "Where does it hurt? Can you move?"

  J.T. was punching 911 into his cell phone, looking grim. Don't let her be dying, Lucy thought and put her hand gently on Stephanie's shoulder, barely touching her. "Stephanie?'

  Stephanie turned her head, her face twisted, blood smeared on her mouth. "This is your fault," she said, her voice thick.

  She coughed and then moaned, and Lucy said, "J.T.'s calling 911. Somebody will be here soon. Can I help—Is there anything—"

  "Go away." Stephanie coughed, her head drooping, and Lucy stepped back, afraid to upset her more. "Nash. Is he—"

  "Connor, get over here," Lucy yelled, and he came around the back of the van. "She's hurt and she wants you."

  "Yeah, and whose fault is that?" Nash came up to the window. "You okay?" he said to Stephanie.

  "I'm sorry," Stephanie said, pain slurring her voice. "But I had to stop you—"

  "Where's my keys?" Nash reached past her and felt the empty ignition.

  "Please," Stephanie said, as J.T. held out Nash's keys.

  Nash grabbed them and took them to the back of the van, and Stephanie coughed and began to cry, moving her hand to hold her ribs.

  "Damn it." Lucy went to the back of the van and grabbed Nash's arm. "Get up there and talk to her. She's more important than your damn van."

  Nash shook himself free, unlocked the back, and opened it, and Lucy saw the stunt gun inside, racked and ready, the harnesses neatly coiled and stacked in their cages, everything secure, hardly disturbed by the accident.

  Nash sighed in obvious relief. "Nothing's hurt," he said and got out his cell phone.

  "Are you out of your mind? Stephanie is hurt."

  "She's hurt because she stole my van." Nash began to punch numbers into his phone.

  Lucy went cold. "What kind of a monster are you? My God, you were always a liar, but you had feelings. What happened to you?"

  "You're being a little irrational, love," he told her as he listened to the phone ring.

  "Irrational?" Lucy took a deep breath. "Expecting one human being to care about another is not irrational. Expecting you to be kind to a woman who loves you is not irrational. Expecting you to put your fucking phone down when somebody needs you is not irrational. "

  He ignored her, and she ripped the phone out of his hand and slung it into the swamp, where it plopped and sank without a trace.

  "What the fuck?" Nash said, rounding on her.

  "That was irrational," Lucy said, and went back to J.T., who was talking softly to Stephanie.

  "The rescue squad will be here any minute now," he was saying when Lucy reached him. "Can you move your legs?"

  "They hurt," Stephanie sobbed.

  "That's good," J.T. said. "You've got feeling in them. They might have been hurt when you hit the bridge, but broken bones heal. You—"

  Lucy heard sirens, coming closer, coming faster, and J.T. smiled through the window at Stephanie.

  "Just a minute, now. You're going to be fine. Just a minute."

  Lucy leaned against the door, biting her lip, as Nash came around the van.

  "Jesus, you're a crazy bitch," he said, and Lucy wasn't sure whether he meant her or Stephanie, but J.T. straightened. "I need your cell phone," Nash said to Lucy. "Now. "

  "Fuck you," Lucy said and walked back to the Jeep as the ambulance pulled up.

  "Lucy, I'm not kidding," Nash said from behind her.

  Lucy got into the Jeep and looked back. J.T. was standing between her and Nash, blocking his way.

  "I can go around you or through you, mate," Nash said.

  "No, you really can't," J.T. said, and then the EMTs pushed past them, and Nash ran to close the back of the van.

  Lucy's cell phone rang, and when she answered it, Finnegan said "Lucy?"

  "What do you want?" she said, in no mood for his Irish brogue.

  "Would Connor be standing by?"

  "No," Lucy lied. She was not playing secretary for two sociopaths.

  "Can you tell me if he recovered his van?" Finnegan said.

  "Yes. It's smashed into a bridge, along with the woman who was driving it." She was shaking, she realized. She could feel the cell phone move against her cheek. There was blood on Stephanie's mouth. Did that mean internal injuries?

  "We've had an accident?"

  " We haven't," Lucy snapped. "We're not bleeding all over the pavement right now." Too many accidents, too much blood. "This stops now. I'm shutting down your damn movie. Fuck you and your four million dollars."

  "Wait," 'Finnegan said. "Don't—"

  "Forget it. Go play with your mole."

  "I'll meet you— "Finnegan said, and Lucy clicked off the phone and watched the EMTs work on getting Stephanie from the van.

  "I'll stay with her at the hospital," she told J.T. as he got into the driver's seat.

  "No, you won't." He turned on the engine. "Fair or not, she's blaming you, and if she sees you, she'll get upset again."

  He began to back the Jeep up, and Lucy said, "We should at least stay until—"

  "Let Nash handle it." J.T. pulled back onto the road. "He's the one she wants, and if we're not there, he'll have to answer the questions. He's the one with answers anyway."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean that when I came out of the camper, I heard the noise of the van leaving, and he was mad but he wasn't chasing Stephanie, he was on the phone."

  Lucy shook her head. "Still not following."

  "Nash called somebody to stop her," J.T. said. "And that somebody caused the wreck."

  Lucy swallowed. "He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't hurt…" I don't know that, she realized. I don't know him at all. He's not Connor anymore, he's some crazed bastard.

  "You okay?" J.T. said.

  "No," Lucy said. "Not even close."

  Five minutes later, Wilder pulled up in front of Lucy's camper, not sure what to do for her. "Look, Stephanie's going to be all right. She was talking, her mind was clear, the EMTs were fast—"

  "I know," Lucy said. "But there's something very wrong here and I don't know how to stop it."

  "Hey," he said, feeling guilty about the CIA, and she turned and smiled at him, rueful in the base-camp lights.

  "You, however, are very right. Thank you for everything, for being so good to Stephanie and for taking me there and for Pepper's gifts."

  He shrugged, not sure what to say.

  "Right. You're the strong, silent type." Lucy leaned forward and kissed him swiftly on the cheek. "You're the best, J. T. Wilder."

  Then she got out of the Jeep and went into the camper before he could get organized enough to say, "Wait."

  That was probably good. It was late. She'd had a tough night.

  She thought he was the best.

  Wilder started the Jeep and went down the dirt road that Pepper had taken into the swamp. He'd scouted the location earlier and found that the road ended a little farther past where he parked the Jeep, so he doubted anyone would be coming that way. Still, the woods were full of dangerous creatures.

  Of which he was one. Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for I am one of the baddest in the valley. He was tempted to go to the cache and recover his MP-5 submachine gun. When in doubt, bring in heavier firepower. And he had plenty of doubts because there were too many questions yet, starting with how the hell Finnegan thought investing four million dollars in a movie was going to get him fifty million in jade phallic symbols.

  I'm chasing a guy for the CIA who's chasing stone dicks, he thought. It'd be so much easier to just shoot somebody.

  Well, the hell with it for tonight. He had something better to think about.

  Lucy Armstrong. In WonderWear.

  He forgot about the MP-5 and grabbed his bedroll out of the back of the Jeep. He took a chem light and broke it, the green glow giving him a little bit of illumination as he headed into the forest. About twenty yards in was a one-foot-high
earth-covered ring surrounding a twenty-foot-wide circle in the middle of the massive oak trees and palmettos. A shell circle where Native Americans had camped for centuries on end, depositing empty shells all around the site, which were eventually covered over with dirt and grass to form the ring.

  Wilder hooked the chem light over a palmetto frond. Then he pulled off the bungee strap and unrolled the self-inflating sleeping pad. It was only a quarter-inch thick, but enough to get him off the ground, which was the point. He'd slept on that thing all around the world, from minus sixty in the mountains of Afghanistan to plus one-twenty in a wadi in Iraq.

  Satisfied that it was full, he screwed shut the valve, then lay down on top of it on his back, grabbing the chem light and sticking it into a pocket, where its light was shuttered. He pulled the camouflage poncho liner over his body up to his chest and stared up at the sky. He kept his clothes and boots on. Just like on a mission. He pulled the Clock out and placed it on the pad near at hand. Just like on a mission. He thought of Lucy again. Not like on a mission.

  Good vibes. That's what had drawn Wilder to the spot. Good things had happened here. People had been happy here. He could see the stars overhead through the interlocking oak tree limbs. The smell of the swamp, rich and vibrant, carried on the slight breeze. More good things could happen here. Maybe would later, once the danger was gone, the stunt was over, the movie was finished. He turned on his side.

  He always slept well under the stars. But not tonight. Tonight there was Nash. Finnegan. Letsky. Lucy.

  Fuck the mission for a while. He focused on Lucy. Wilder smiled and relaxed for the first time in days.

  When Lucy stepped into the camper, Daisy was sitting at the table, the bottle of Glenlivet in front of her with a half-empty glass, listening to Susanna McCorkle sing "It Ain't Necessarily So" on Lucy's iPod.

  "Hey," Lucy said.

  "Hey yourself." Daisy topped up her glass and then pushed the bottle over to Lucy. "Did you get the van back?"

  "Stephanie crashed it into a bridge. She's on her way to the hospital. The van…" Lucy realized what they'd done and started to laugh without much humor. "Nash is stuck on a back road with a crumpled-up van and no cell phone, explaining to the cops what happened. Now that's funny." She dropped into one of the chairs and picked up the bottle. "God, what a day. Hell, what a night."

  "Why the hell did she take the van?" Daisy said, her voice harsh.

  "Trying to stop the shoot,' Lucy said, suddenly aware that Daisy was looking grim again. "Look, don't let this make you crazy—"

  "Too late." Daisy took a drink. "She going to be all right?"

  "I don't know. She was talking." Lucy bit her lip. "She didn't want me anywhere near her."

  "Well, you are her chief rival for Connor. Not that she has a chance, but—"

  "She can have him," Lucy said, remembering the way Nash had looked at her. "God, he was a bastard to her."

  "Well, she has nobody to blame but herself." Daisy sat back, holding her glass to her chest. "He was sleeping with Karen when we started the shoot. Stephanie didn't give a damn about that."

  "I think he's been with Althea, too," Lucy said, remembering the actress's nervous denial. "I'm amazed he never hit on you."

  "I'm like his little sister," Daisy said flatly. "He takes care of me." She drank again and then sighed. "Well, he gave me fifty thousand. I don't think he realized he was screwing me over. When I couldn't sleep, he got me the pills. And when I asked for you, he told Finnegan and then called you himself." She shrugged. "He does take care of me. And I kept telling myself this would be good for you. I wanted this to be your big break."

  "I've had my big break," Lucy said, exasperated. "That's why I'm in New York. It's the capital city of Big Breaks." She leaned forward. "Look, forget Nash. Let me take care of you. Bring Pepper and move in with me. I have a loft. There's plenty of room and—"

  "Yes," Daisy said, her voice tired in surrender.

  "Or not." Lucy put her glass down. "I mean, I want you there, but not if it makes you miserable."

  Daisy shrugged again. "It's just, New York is your place."

  "I really hate L.A.," Lucy said, feeling guilty. "And it's not like New York is a small town. Many people there do not know me."

  "So maybe we compromise." Daisy leaned forward. "We could stay down here. Pepper loves it down here. It's warmer and everything moves slower. We could start over together. Brand-new place for both of us. Fresh starts for everybody and we're a family again."

  Susanna sang softly behind them, as Lucy thought, I don't need a fresh start.

  Daisy must have read it in her face. "Or maybe not." She sat back. "Look, I'm sorry if I jumped the gun, telling everybody this was your big break. I was just sort of hoping that you and Connor… He really has been good to us, Lucy, great to Pepper. And he really does love you."

  Lucy sighed and drank some of her scotch. "I know. He was always so much of what I wanted, strong and tough and brave, but he's a liar and a cheat, too. Gloom was right. He hasn't changed, he's just gotten more subtle about being a selfish bastard." And now he's out in the cold.

  She looked at Daisy. "I just screwed up your last fifty thousand, babe. I told Finnegan I was canceling the shoot."

  Daisy's eyes widened. "And he's letting you?"

  "He doesn't have any choice. I hung up on him. And threw Nash's phone in the swamp." She shook her head. "I don't know how much that's going to stop them, but at least I can slow them down long enough to send the crew home."

  Daisy sighed. "That last fifty thousand was probably too good to be true anyway." She nodded. "Thanks for saving me again."

  Lucy waved her away. "You know, I can't believe I ever thought Nash could be what I needed."

  "You needed Will Kane," Daisy said, nodding sympathetically.

  Lucy smacked her glass down. "Is there anybody who hasn't seen that damn movie?"

  "Just you." Daisy smiled at her. "Even Pepper's seen it. Which reminds me, thank you for the best night of my daughter's life."

  Lucy relaxed into the plush chair as Susanna sang on, her soft voice slowing Lucy's pulse. "She was really happy, wasn't she?"

  "I owe you, Luce," Daisy said.

  "No, you don't. She's my niece, I get to do stuff for her because I'm her aunt."

  "And because I owe you, I'm going to give you some really good advice."

  "Oh, good." Lucy lost her smile. "Okay. Why not?"

  "I think you should go jump that Green Beret."

  Lucy sat up. "Excuse me?"

  Daisy nodded calmly. "I said—"

  "I know what you said. You said I should go find a man who hasn't shown any interest in me and ask him for sex. Let me think. No."

  "Oh, please." Daisy leaned back, more relaxed now. "He can't take his eyes off you."

  "That would be the Wonder Wear."

  "He fell out of a helicopter for you, L.uce, what more do you want?"

  "I don't know." Lucy drank some scotch while she thought about it. "A pass would be good. You know, some indication of interest." He liked my hair down.

  "He didn't like it when you were outside with Nash during the party."

  "I didn't like it when I was outside with Nash. Look, that's just J.T. He saves people."

  "It's J.T. now, is it?" Daisy said, grinning. Behind her, Susanna began to sing "Someone To Watch Over Me," and her smile faded. "I love this song."

  "It's a good one."

  "That's what you always were." Daisy looked sadly into her drink. "For as long as I can remember, you were there, watching over me. You still are." She bit her lip. "Thank you for canceling the shoot."

  "Well, you know, big sister," Lucy said.

  "Who watches over you, Luce?" Daisy looked at her over her scotch. "All those years when we were growing up and you took care of me, who was watching over you?"

  "Hey," Lucy said, sitting up.

  "And then you married Nash, but he didn't do a very good job, did he? J.T. would watch over you."
/>
  "Listen—"

  "And you could watch over him because he needs it, too, Luce. You'd be good for each other."

  Lucy shook her head. "If you'd come back to New York with me, we could watch over each other." She leaned forward. "Really, Daize. There's work for you and schools for Pepper and colleges for you and I miss you both so much—"

  "All those things are down here, too," Daisy said, and looked strained again. "Plus, you know, warmth."

  "Alligators," Lucy said.

  "The ocean."

  "Hurricanes."

  "J.T."

  Lucy sucked in her breath. "Uh, big hurricanes."

  Daisy shook her head. "You really happy in New York?"

  "Well…" Lucy frowned into her drink. "I like what I do. And New York is the greatest city in the world. 'Happy' may be pushing it."

  "Because J.T.'s down here permanently, not just for this shoot. He teaches at Fort Bragg."

  "He teaches?" Lucy said, taken aback.

  "Yeah. Bryce told me. He teaches at some Special Forces school. You could see him all the time. Pepper could see him all the time. She keeps saying she's his egg. She wants a family. She wants him in the family."

  "That I can't deliver. I don't think he's a family kind of guy." Lucy tried to relax into the music, taking the edge off her lousy day. "This really is a great song." She closed her eyes and listened to the liquid notes. "Funny how the really great stuff has a few years on it. Eighteen-year-old scotch, seventy-year-old music—"

  "Thirty-something Army captains," Daisy said.

  "Daize—"

  "I'm not teasing, Lucy," Daisy said. "I mean it. He's a good guy. Close your eyes and think about him. About him, not the shoot or whatever the mess is, just about him. Because you care a lot, Lucy. It shows."

  Behind Daisy's voice, Susanna sang, "There's a somebody I'm longing to see," and Lucy remembered J.T. close to her in the swamp, catching her as she fell, his hands strong on her. J.T. coming to get her when Nash had been threatening, J.T. beside her in the Jeep, J.T. falling out of a helicopter for her, J.T. just standing there, every inch a hero. She gave up pretending to be responsible and memorized the planes of his face and the way his smile came slowly, and the light in his eyes…