738 Days: A Novel (40 page)

“Let’s maybe just get this cleaned up,” Karen says, stepping around us, heading for the broom in the far corner.

“Don’t,” Amanda says tonelessly.

“No,” I snap. “You don’t have to look at—”

“They’ll want to see it all as is. For evidence.” She sounds so hollow that it makes me want to hold her or carry her away or both.

“Then how about if we go outside while we wait?” Karen offers, returning to her station. “Chase is going to need ice for his stupid hand anyway.” She glares at me and hands me a wad of tissues from the box on the counter. “Dumbass.”

It was once her favorite word for me; it is again, apparently.

And she’s right. I stand and press the tissues against the cuts, sucking in a breath at the pain. Bruised knuckles, for sure; that’s going to fuck up continuity. Max is going to kill me.

Amanda shakes her head. “No, I’m okay.” She takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders. But when she stands, she folds her arms over her middle, as if she’s preparing for or recovering from a blow.

“It’s not even the right kind of chain,” she says after a moment.

I go still.

“The links in mine were much heavier,” she continues. “I could have maybe eventually broken through these.” She kicks the toe of her shoe in the direction of the chain.

“Amanda…” I don’t even know how to finish that sentence.

“But mine, he knew better than to take that chance.”

But she’s not crying. Her eyes are dry and dull, and she gives a mirthless smile. “You know, the doctors told me that the muscles on that side were more developed, just from dragging the extra weight.”

“Jesus Christ,” I say in a croaking voice.

“Knock, knock.” Leon’s voice comes from behind me as he climbs the steps into the trailer.

I whirl around on him, fury and panic finally finding a suitable outlet. “What the fuck is this?” I demand, jerking my hand toward the mess on the floor. “How did this happen? Elise shouldn’t have had credentials to be on set.” When I’d “fired” her on Sunday, she told me she turned them in, all to sell the story in case someone “from Amanda’s camp” checked.

Leon frowns at me, his bald scalp wrinkling with the expression. “Who is Elise?”

Raking my uninjured hand through my hair, to Karen’s audible cluck of dismay, I step to the side so I can see him and Amanda. “Elise Prescott, my fucking crazy ex.”

“And former publicist,” Amanda adds with a hiccuping laugh that holds an edge of hysteria.

Leon’s frown deepens. “You think she did this?”

“Who else?” I shake my head. “She’s probably the one who scratched up my trailer door, too.”

“Someone damaged your door?” Amanda asks.

“Scratched some bullshit words into it, yeah.” Warning me away from Amanda, which fits with this whole narrative Elise has going now.

“You didn’t tell me,” Amanda says with a frown.

I hesitate. “I didn’t think it was anything serious.”
Yeah, but more like you didn’t want to tell her the whole truth. That you thought it was just Elise taking her stupid plan up a notch.

Emily pops her head back in the trailer, her face tight with worry. “Chase, they’re going to need you in, like, ten minutes.”

“We’ll check into the publicist,” Leon says. “But I want you to look at something first.” He pulls a manila folder I hadn’t even noticed from under his arm.

“I’ve got some contacts with the local PD here, and they gave me these. Images from a security camera one of the warehouse owners still has active, trying to keep kids from trashing the place or turning it into a damn rave.”

He flips the folder open, revealing a stack of photo printouts, camera stills, and turns it toward me. “Do you know her?”

The black-and-white image is slightly blurred, the subject caught in motion, but it’s clear enough for me to recognize her. I will never, ever forget that face. It’s narrow, her chin pointed, giving her a furtive, shady appearance. Her hair is thick and frizzed, sticking out of a dark, possibly black baseball cap.

The blood drains from my head, and I feel dizzy. “She’s here?” I manage.

Karen pivots to look on Leon’s other side and freezes. “Is that who I think it is?” Karen asks, her voice low.

“Yes,” I say. Unbelievable. I should have known. The kind of media attention Amanda and I’ve been catching the last few days would be irresistible to her. Though she sure as hell didn’t seem to care as much when I was hitting the pages for drinking and getting arrested.

“Son of a bitch.” Karen sounds stunned, and I’m right there with her.

Amanda inches closer to me to look, and I want to put my arm around her, pull her close, as much for me as her, but she still has that bruised, don’t-touch air about her. “That’s not Elise,” she says.

“No,” I say flatly. “That’s Sera Drummond. The girl who went fucking apeshit and tried to burn down my condo building when my assistant called the police on her. She was stalking me back in the
Starlight
days.”

“She broke into his place and told anyone who asked she was his girlfriend and moving in,” Karen says to Leon. “And studio security caught her hiding under his car on the lot once, waiting for him. I was there for that one.”

Leon’s overgrown eyebrows shoot up. “You have a restraining order against her?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I did. It’s probably expired by now. Fuck.” I run my hands through my hair again before I think to stop myself. “Are restraining orders even valid outside the state?” I ask. “The one I had was in California.” Jesus, did she drive all the way out here? Follow me? How did she get here so fast?

My mouth is so dry right now. It’s killing me.

Amanda touches my arm gently, her fingers ghosting over my shoulder before retreating.

I turn toward her. “I’m sorry,” I say, feeling helplessness and frustration rise up in me. “I used to have a whole team to handle this stuff. And now I’m on my own with no fucking clue what I’m doing.” And now—I look at Amanda, her dark eyes watching me so seriously—I have so much more to protect.

“This is my fault,” I choke out. “I should never have—”

“It’s okay,” she says, with a strained smile. “We’ll figure it out.”

We shouldn’t have to.
She
shouldn’t have to.

“Chase,” Emily says in a pleading tone from the door.

“You.” Karen spins toward her. “Tell Max there’s a delay in Makeup, and it’ll be a few minutes.”

My heart falls. “Karen, no. You shouldn’t have to cover—”

“You.” She points at me. “Shut up and sit.” She steps back to stand behind her chair, swiveling it in my direction. “I can work and you can talk.”

I glance at Amanda, and she seems okay. Well, not okay, still too pale and shaken looking, but better than she was. She nods at me, jerking her head toward Karen, so I take my seat again.

“Thanks,” I say reluctantly to Karen. I hate everything about this. Somehow even trying my best, I’m still managing to screw everything up.

“Shut up, I said,” Karen says easily.

“I’ll check on the RO, see if it’s still in force,” Leon says to me. He closes the folder and returns it under his arm. “In the meantime, you want to talk to me about this?” He points at the chain and flower petals on the floor.

“A PA brought the box…” Karen trails off, looking uncertain for the first time.

“Which one?” Leon asks. “Which PA?”

“I don’t know. Not the one that brings Chase around,” Karen says.

“Any chance it could have been her?” Leon points to his folder.

Karen stops, clutching one of her brushes so tightly in her hand that her knuckles are white. “It could have been,” she says slowly. “I was working on Jenna, so I wasn’t paying much attention. It was definitely a girl, a woman. She had a
Coal City
crew jacket on. I think. It was black, I know that. She might have had an ID tag on. I thought I saw it…”

“Anything else going on?” Leon asks. “Usually we see a pattern of escalation but—”

“The burned photo,” Amanda says.

And that’s when I fucking lose my mind. She’s right. Burned stuff—that’s Sera’s thing.

“It was outside Chase’s room yesterday morning when we left,” Amanda says, looking to me for confirmation. “Early.”

I nod, my neck muscles creaking with tension. Which means Sera has been in our hotel and also somehow knows which rooms are ours. It would only take one lax member of Housekeeping and she could be in our room waiting for us. Or worse, waiting for Amanda.

I can see Leon making the same connection, his expression troubled. “Don’t suppose you kept it?” he asks.

“No. We left it in the hall, and I think it was gone when we came back.” Amanda looks to me for confirmation again, but I’m too far gone because I’m realizing that Sera might have been in the hall, watching us the whole damn time.

“I’ll talk to the hotel. See if they caught anything on camera.” He glances at me. “We’ll get you new rooms or at the very least new keys in case she’s managed to bribe someone on staff. You might have to forgo room service or cleaning until we can get this woman’s location pinned down. Don’t let anyone you don’t know personally into your room, no matter what they say.”

It’s a solid first step, but it’s not enough. I can’t take the chance. The realization of what I have to do curdles in my gut, but it’s inescapable. If I want to keep Amanda safe, I only have one option.

“Leon,” I ask, my tone gritty and harsh. “Can you take Amanda back to the hotel?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

“I’m standing right here,” Amanda says, frowning at me in the mirror.

“I know, and it’s not safe here. Clearly.” I shove my hand in the direction of the chain and flower petals.

Amanda raises her eyebrows. “So you’re sending me to stay in the hotel alone.”

I steel myself against her reaction and the sense of loss already building in me. “No,” I say. “I’m sending you to gather up your stuff so you can go home. I’ll find someone to take you. Or I’ll hire a car. Something.”

Her mouth falls open in shock.

Karen sighs and mutters something unintelligible. I’m pretty sure one of the words might be “dumbass.”

I ignore her, focusing on Amanda. “It’s the only way I know for sure that you’ll be safe,” I say, pleading with her to understand. “You don’t know what it was like before. She would pop up everywhere. It was creepy as hell. She wanted to be with me. I have no idea what she might do to you.” Just the thought of it makes me want to pull Amanda into a corner and block the rest of the world with my body.

“No,” Amanda says.

I pause, flummoxed for a second. “No, what?”

“No, I’m not leaving.” She sets her jaw stubbornly. Color has returned to her face, but in the form of a flush in her cheeks.

“It’s not up to you,” I say, getting louder and my accent breaking through, much to my chagrin. “I can’t keep you safe here.”

Which is apparently the exactly wrong thing to say.

Amanda’s eyes flash anger. “That’s not your job,” she says, stepping closer to me.

“You don’t know what she could do, Amanda. She’s unstable. Jesus, she might have a gun. It happens,” I argue.

“And I could die tomorrow because a bus runs me over or because some nutjob kidnaps me off the street and I’m not as lucky the second time.”

Her words are a cold knife to my insides. “That’s not funny, Amanda.”

“I didn’t mean it to be,” she says evenly. As Karen swivels the chair to finish her work, Amanda steps around to maintain eye contact with me. “I know this is simple for you, but it’s not for me.”

I squeeze my hands into fists, the injured one sending dull pangs up to my elbow. “I don’t want you getting hurt,” I say through gritted teeth. “How is that complicated?”

“Because it’s about more than that,” she says, maintaining that infuriating calm. “I spent two years under the control of someone else. I lived literally at the whim of another person.” She gestures at the chain. “He decided if I lived or died, if I suffered.”

And everyone in hearing distance collectively sucks in a breath.

“That’s not … I don’t…” I struggle to find words, to put them in any kind of sentence that can follow that.

“Then I spent two more years hiding, being afraid, letting my fear control me,” Amanda continues. “I’m here trying to change that.” She levels a steady look at me. “You know that.”

“This is someone trying to hurt you; you’re supposed to be afraid!” I shout.

“This is someone trying to control me,” she corrects. “And I can’t let them.” She hesitates. “I can’t let you.”

I jerk back in the chair as if Amanda just took a physical swipe at me, and Karen makes a frustrated noise, coming after me with a makeup sponge. “I’m the bad guy because I want to keep you safe?” I ask. “Are you saying I’m like…” I can’t even finish that sentence.

“Of course not!” Tears fill her eyes, and she wipes them with the edge of her fleece sleeve. “Never,” she says fiercely. “But what you’re asking me to do … I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Amanda, you aren’t listening—”

She throws her arms up in frustration. “You want to protect me, I get it, but how am I supposed to learn to trust myself, to feel safe with my decisions, if someone else is always making them for me? Whether it’s you, my parents, or my freaking anxiety?” She laughs bitterly. “Someone else is always in charge.”

Karen pulls the cape from around my neck, signaling that she’s finished.

I stand up, facing off with Amanda. “Okay, then tell me this: How am I supposed to live with myself if something happens to you on my watch?” I demand.

Her eyelids flutter down. “I’m not on your watch.”

“Yes, you are,” I say, frustrated. “That’s what loving someone means.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize I’m going to say them. It’s something I haven’t even acknowledged to myself, let alone shared with Amanda. But I know in this moment it’s true, as clearly as I know my own name. And I don’t care who hears it.

Amanda’s mouth falls open slightly in surprise.

“I meant it,” I say to her. “And I’m not taking it back,” I add.

“Chase?” Emily is back at the door, hopping from foot to foot like a kid who waited too long to find a bathroom.