Tommy could ask Larsen the same thing. Was he even on duty—or had he been trailing them the whole time, looking for a reason to stop them? Not that Tommy had given him one. Larsen was out to harass, and there was nothing Tommy could do but stay cool and answer his questions in the least incriminating way possible.
Knowing that whatever he said could and most certainly would be twisted in a way Larsen wouldn’t hesitate to use against him, Tommy cleared his throat and said, “Just taking everyone home.”
“Looks like you’ve got quite a few stops to make.” His red scrub-brush head bobbed at each of them. “Or you all planning a slumber party?”
Tommy clamped his lips shut. If Larsen wanted him to bite, he’d be sorely disappointed.
“How about you all hop out of the car for a minute?”
Tommy hesitated. Larsen was clearly up to no good.
“Sorry if that sounded like a question, because it wasn’t. Everyone out,” Larsen barked.
Reluctantly, Tommy propped the door open and slipped out of the car. A second later, Layla, Aster, and Ryan followed.
Larsen instructed them to line up alongside the car; then he stood before them, legs planted wide, arms crossed menacingly over his bulky chest. He wore the kind of shifty expression that left no doubt their full compliance was in their best interest.
“Now, let’s start over.” He studied each of them. “Where are you coming from?”
“Ira Redman’s launch party,” Aster said, as Tommy stifled a groan. It was the worst thing she could’ve said.
Larsen’s interest was obvious as he moved to stand before her, brow lowered in scrutiny. But to Aster’s credit, she didn’t so much as flinch. “Guess you figure you have reason to party now that you’re out on bail?”
Tommy snuck a sideways glance at Aster, relieved to see that while she clearly wasn’t about to fold, she was keeping her cool enough not to get confrontational either. It was the best he could hope for, seeing as how she’d decided to take the lead on this one. Though he secretly wished she would’ve just kept her mouth shut and taken the Fifth.
“I’m employed by Ira,” she said. “We all are—except for Ryan, of course.”
Good. Bravo. Well done. Now kindly keep quiet and stop feeding the beast!
“Y’all been drinking?”
Tommy decided it was time to step in. “’Course not. We’re underage.” His gaze met Larsen’s, watching as he threw his head back and roared with laughter as though Tommy had said something hilarious.
“You got anyone to verify your whereabouts?” Larsen said, once he finally quieted down. He paced before them, slowly, leisurely, letting them know who was calling the shots in case that wasn’t already clear.
“I performed there,” Tommy said. “Plenty of people saw me.”
“That right?” Larsen stopped before him and faked like he was impressed. “You’re really moving up in the world, aren’t you? What with your star billing at Ira Redman’s launch party, and your fancy new ride.” He nodded admiringly at the black BMW, though the way his lip curled when he spoke Ira’s name left no doubt he wasn’t a fan.
On the surface at least, Tommy resisted the urge to fidget and forced himself to meet Larsen’s penetrating stare with an impassive gaze as though he had nothing to fear, though inside was a whole other story. His heart was slamming, his gut was wrenching, and rivulets of sweat raced down his chest.
“Reason I pulled you over is because there’s been a disturbance reported at an office park about a mile from here. Any of you know about that?”
Tommy shook his head and fought like hell to leave it at that.
“Seems there’s been a break-in at one of the offices.”
Tommy lifted his shoulders, shifted his weight from foot to foot. The Santa Ana winds were kicking up again, the hot gusts mostly stirring up dirt while providing little relief from the heat. Tommy focused on the stream of cars going past, ducking his head each time one slowed to get a better look at the lineup of unfortunate slobs unlucky enough to get pulled over on a Saturday night. A moment later, he heard what sounded like a bomb going off, and he swung around just in time to see a plume of smoke shooting high into the sky.
Larsen opened his mouth, about to say something more, when his radio crackled with an urgent call and he lifted a finger and moved back toward his car.
“You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?” Tommy whispered under his breath, as he nodded toward the smoldering sky just behind them.
“Of course not!” Aster snapped, rolling her eyes for good measure.
A few moments later when Larsen returned, he looked at each of them and said, “Go home. All of you.” They nodded and started to climb inside the car, when he added, “And Aster—”
Tommy watched as Aster turned toward him, their eyes meeting for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only a handful of seconds.
“See you in court,” Larsen spat. Dipping his head, he turned on his heel and made for his car, as Tommy crawled back behind the wheel, started the engine, and eased onto the street.
THIRTY
BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE
“You sure this place is safe?” Ryan paused in the threshold of Aster’s apartment and looked all around, as though he expected the very walls to be bugged.
Though after the run-in with Detective Larsen, Aster figured he couldn’t be blamed. The ride home had been fraught with tense silence, and Larsen’s parting words had left her deeply shaken. She could only assume they all felt the same way.
“Ryan thinks Ira might have something to do with this mess.” Aster peered into the fridge. “But honestly, I don’t see why he’d bother.”
“I’m just not convinced he can be trusted.” Ryan rubbed a hand over his chin, refusing to give in. “Not only have his clubs benefited from the scandal, but he is the one who served you that champagne,” he reminded her.
Aster distributed bottles of water and sank onto the couch beside him. “He’s also the one who hired my attorney and gave me a place to live,” she snapped. “The idea of him setting me up doesn’t make sense.”
Tommy turned away from the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Don’t rule him out just yet.” He cast a glance toward Layla. “I think he deserves a place on the list of possible suspects.”
“Care to elaborate?” Aster was tired of people always questioning Ira’s motives. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have her own suspicions, but for the moment, with her future entirely dependent on Ira’s continued goodwill, unless someone gave her something concrete to go on, she’d just as soon call a halt to the speculating.
Tommy seemed to hesitate, then just as easily dismissed it.
“Look, can we just call a truce on Ira for now and focus on these papers instead? I think I might’ve scored something big.” Layla seemed annoyed. Tired and annoyed. Well, join the party.
Aster settled onto the couch, watching as Layla placed the box she’d found in Tommy’s car on top of the coffee table and lifted the lid. “You recognize this?” she asked, when Ryan mumbled under his breath, and Aster gasped.
Aster shook her head. “No, Not exactly,” she said. “But remember how I told you we found Madison’s empty file in Paul’s office? I’m pretty sure whoever sent this got to it first.”
“And they’re probably the same person who delivered Madison’s car.” Ryan nodded as though it was confirmed. Still, Aster was willing to bet he was right.
“This almost seems impossible.” Tommy spoke in a mix of wonder and awe. “For one person to have so much reach.”
“Who said it’s one person?” Layla looked at him.
“And, if it is Paul, who, by the way, is number one on my list of suspects”—Aster tapped the lip of her water bottle against her chin—“then it wouldn’t be so hard for him to arrange all of this.”
“They don’t call him the Ghost for nothing.” Ryan shrugged.
“Well, assuming this did come from the Ghost, don’t you think
it’s kind of weird that he still relies on paper when it seems the whole world has converted to electronic?” Layla plucked a piece of paper from the top of the pile and frowned.
“I guess it’s less vulnerable this way,” Aster said. “I mean, look how easy it was for Javen to hack into that apartment website.”
“If it’s less vulnerable, then why are we sitting here looking at it?” Tommy asked.
“Because someone obviously wants us to see it.” Layla abandoned one piece of paper for another. “Though I have a feeling they might be doling it out as they see fit. This looks like it’s mostly diary entries.”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do about those? Are you going to post them?” Aster looked at her.
“Haven’t decided. Though someone out there really wants me to. The rhyming threat level is only increasing. But I don’t like being told what to do.” She sifted through the pile and stopped on one in particular.
Aster leaned in to get a better look. Layla’s hand was shaking, and it was pretty easy to guess why. The photo was dark and grainy, but there was no mistaking the subject was Layla and Tommy. They were kissing. On a dance floor. In a club that looked a lot like Jewel. Seemed her suspicions had been valid after all.
“What the hell?” Layla whispered, as Tommy snatched it out of her hands, his cheeks flaming in a way Aster read as embarrassment.
“Who took this?” he asked, unable to keep from staring at it.
“Apparently, Madison did,” Layla said, though her tone seemed uncertain, or maybe she was just stunned. “Someone sent this to Mateo. It’s why we broke up.”
Tommy reeled on her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was edged with emotion, his face a mask of outrage.
Aster sank deeper into the cushions, as Ryan fidgeted uncomfortably beside her.
“Can we not talk about this now?” Layla shook her head, snatched the photo from his grasp, and angrily shoved it into her bag.
“I think the real question is, why would Madison do that?” Aster asked, figuring it needed to be questioned.
Tommy fell silent, as Layla nervously twisted the cap on her bottle of water and said, “Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t. All I know for sure is that someone has it out for her, and apparently they want me to have it out for her too. By giving me all this stuff and making it look like she’s responsible for sending the pic, it’s like they’re trying to alternately threaten me and/or anger me into posting her diary entries. Either way, don’t you think it seems weird that Paul would keep this picture in a file?”
“Maybe that picture didn’t come from the file,” Ryan said. “Maybe whoever planted the box in Tommy’s car tossed it in there to make it look like it did. Then again, it’s not like Mad wasn’t capable of that kind of thing, because the truth is, I could totally see her doing something like that. The girl has a dark side, that’s for sure. Along with a very low tolerance for people who try to mess with her, which you did the moment you chose to write those old blog posts about her. She kept a blacklist of people who dissed her. You were on it.”
Layla’s cheeks reddened in a way that had Aster wishing Ryan hadn’t revealed that. They were on the verge of veering wildly off track, and she couldn’t afford for the whole thing to blow up into a bickering match.
“Okay, so suppose for a moment that the picture didn’t come from the file,” Aster said, determined to keep them focused and on point, “but that it did come from Madison. You had access to her house well before we arrived—did you notice anything missing? Anything incriminating like that?”
Ryan narrowed his gaze on hers. “Am I a suspect again?”
Aster closed her eyes and counted to ten. It was impossible to talk rationally with everyone so on edge. “Honestly, at the moment, everyone’s a suspect.” She forced her gaze on his. “Some more than others. Though, if it makes you feel any better, you’ve fallen to one of the bottommost positions. I guess I’m just wondering if you noticed Madison’s stuff had been disturbed in any way.”
“Of course her stuff was disturbed.” From the tone of his voice, Ryan seemed annoyed, though he was quickly losing some steam. “The cops ran a thorough search.”
“Do you think it’s possible that maybe one of the detectives lifted the picture and is responsible for this?” Layla asked, not giving anyone a chance to reply before she shook her head and dismissed the thought with a wave of her hand. “No, never mind. That doesn’t even make sense. If they did lift the pic, they wouldn’t give it to me and try to bribe me to post it. They’d sell it to the tabloids and retire early on the proceeds.”
“What about Emily, her assistant? Or even Christina, her stylist?” Ryan shifted closer to Aster, and for once, Aster didn’t shrink away. “Then again, I’m not sure why either one of them would do that to her. They seemed pretty loyal.”
“What was she like to work for?” Aster asked, half of her hoping he’d say she was awful, a total diva, a raging bitch, if only to validate some of her growing suspicions about the spoiled celebrity she’d once admired.
“Exacting, demanding.” Ryan shrugged. “But that’s only because she’s a world-class control freak. It was never personal, though. And when she liked something, she was generous with the rewards. Overall, I’d say she was a lot nicer than a lot of celebrities with half the stature.”
“Okay, so, now that we’ve confirmed we have no idea who’s behind this”—Aster shook her head and sighed—“let’s go over what we do know. Madison is missing, and someone went to the trouble of drugging me and setting me up to look responsible. It’s also possible the same person who framed me is trying to smear Madison by trying to scare Layla into posting Madison’s old diary entries. Diary entries that pretty much prove Madison lived a very different life than the one in her bio.”
“What if—” Layla paused as though weighing whether or not to continue. “I mean, I know I may be reading too much into this and it might be far-fetched, but what’s up with those photographs hanging in Madison’s entryway?”
Aster squinted as Ryan shifted beside her.
“I mean, they seemed so odd—so incongruous.” Looking at Tommy, she explained, “She has these oversize black-and-white prints of run-down interiors, guns resting on broken-down coffee tables with sagging couches in the background. Like, seriously low-rent images, when the rest of her house is super high-end. And for some reason, it’s been bugging me for days. It’s like—you know how liars always have a tell? Well, what if that’s Madison’s tell? What if her lie is right out there in the open—hanging on her walls—for anyone to see? Or at least anyone she invites over. What if those pictures are almost like a taunt, or a dare to uncover the truth about her?”
Aster took a moment to consider, then looked at Ryan and said, “Did you ever ask her about them?”
Ryan scrubbed his fingers over the spread of stubble shading his jawline. “I didn’t. But then again, our relationship was superficial at best. Our agents set us up, and we both went along. Though we did our best to play the part of perfect boyfriend and girlfriend for each other, in the end, when we finally came clean, it was the first time I realized just how tough she really is. Aside from her delicate, patrician looks, there’s absolutely nothing fragile about Madison Brooks. Every now and then I’d get a glimpse of the real, less-refined Madison. But it wasn’t often. Mostly she stuck to the role she’d created for herself. But yeah, with that in mind, the pics don’t seem all that out of place.”
“You say she was tough—but do you think she was tough enough to drain her own blood and fake her own abduction?” Aster said. “Because those needles and collection tubes in Paul’s office have me leaning in that direction.”
“But again, why would she frame you?” Layla asked. “According to what Ryan just said, she wasn’t all that upset about you guys hooking up. If anything, she found a way to use it to her advantage.”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to think anymore,” Ryan said. “Madison is definitely
capable of all of it, sure. She may very well be hanging out on some tropical island, laughing at all of us, like we said before. But while I really hate to think she’d be so calculating and vindictive, well, the opposite scenario isn’t much better, because it means she really is in deep trouble.”
He closed his eyes and sighed, and Aster couldn’t help but marvel at how far he’d come from the shallow celebrity she’d first fallen for. Then again, intense public scrutiny and a show cancellation would do that to a person, leaving them with no choice but to grow or fold. After all she’d been through, the old Ryan was someone she couldn’t even imagine falling for now. But this new version was well on his way to earning a place in her heart.
“One more thing about Ira, if I may . . .” Tommy went on to tell them all about the paper with the cartoon cat Tommy had seen in Ira’s office, followed by the fat cash-filled envelope Ira had instructed him to deliver to James. “I don’t know if it means anything, or if it’s even connected, but I’m also not sure we should be so quick to call it a coincidence either.”
A hush fell over them as they took a moment to contemplate and Aster dumped the rest of the papers onto the table, leaving them for everyone to sort through. Aside from occasional shuffling, the room was otherwise silent.
Until Layla said, “Guys—I think I’ve got something.” She waved an old yellowed newspaper clipping before them. “It’s brief—just a piece from the police blotter—but I think it proves Madison wasn’t lying about the fire that killed both her parents and left her an orphan.”
West Virginia—Two people are dead and two injured, one critically, in a house fire that took place early Thursday morning. The fire was called in shortly after four a.m., and by the time firefighters arrived on the scene, the house was completely engulfed.