Chapter 60
CHAPTER SIXTY
To Do:
- Find a sneaky place to do Ted Talk power stance
- Make sure Bri’s flowers were delivered
The limo pulled to a stop in front of the TCL Chinese Theater on Hollywood Boulevard. Claire’s heart thumped in her chest despite her anti-anxiety medication.
“Why am I nervous? This is Bri’s movie. No one here knows or cares who I am.”
“Well,” Luke said, climbing out of the leather-padded seat and resting his hand on the door. “You are a nationally recognized proposal planner and the person who changed the Hollywood sign. And Bri’s sister. And, you know, a surviving victim of a serial killer.”
“Great. Thanks for the reminder.” She flapped her hands at her side, but they were still numb. Maybe another round of yoga breaths would help. If she didn’t get out of the car now, whatever Hollywood A-Lister was behind them would surely tell their driver to ram them.
“Deep breaths, Clairebear,” Charlie said in her best Alice impression. She looked as bossy and unbothered as ever in her form-fitting eggplant cocktail dress. Bill had been called to yet another lawyer emergency, so she was third-wheeling for the night.
Claire straightened the shoulders of her glittering, champagne-colored evening gown. A pair of brand-new Manolos, thanks to her tip from Brad, peeked out from beneath the hem. She glanced out the back window of the limo. A line of identical cars stretched behind them. Brianna and her assistant were in one of them.
“We’re going to be late,” Luke said pointedly, glancing at his watch. “They don’t appreciate it when you hold up a red carpet.”
“Fine, fine,” Claire said. She took a deep breath and scooted to the edge of her seat.
The door opened. Luke stepped out and held out his hand. When Claire didn’t take it, Charlie did. The press that lined the red carpet shifted and zeroed in on the inside of the car, probing the interior for VIPs.
Claire took a deep breath and stepped out behind her big sister. The glittering hem of her gown almost got stuck on her Manolos, but she wiggled just in time to avoid falling on her face. The door shut behind them, and the safety of the limo disappeared into the night.
“Anyone know who they are?” someone called out.
“That’s Luke Islestorm! Luke, over here.”
Oh, hell. Someone actually wanted to speak to Luke. But he was tall. She could hide behind him.
Luke’s eyebrows raised. He clearly wasn’t used to being recognized. His hand found the small of her back, and he guided her gently down the red carpet. Claire glanced over her shoulder, but Charlie was oblivious to the spectacle—her nose was buried in her phone.
Luke had been stopped by a small-time publication with an online edition.
“Mr. Islestorm,” a man with sandy brown hair and a sprinkle of freckles asked, “how do you feel about your recent Emmy nomination?”
“I’m very flattered at the attention Suburban Hustle ’s received. A lot of great candidates have been nominated this year. I hope people feel as strongly about my next documentary on the West Haven Widowmaker. It’ll be released on Streamster this summer.”
Wow. Had a studio executive given him talking points? That was next-level professional.
“And who do you have with you?” The reporter diverted his gaze to Claire.
“Claire Hartley.” Luke’s grip tightened as if he knew she was planning on diving headfirst into the bushes. “She’s the owner of Happily Ever Afters, a renowned proposal planning company. You might have noticed the Hollywood sign was different last week. That was all her.”
“Can we get a picture?” The sandy-haired reporter asked as microphones were suddenly thrust in Claire’s direction.
“Sure,” Luke said, tightening his grip on Claire. “Breathe,” he whispered in her ear. She smiled for the camera and leaned in to him. She hadn’t anticipated that anyone would recognize them, let alone want to put them in their publication. She should have triple-checked her teeth for spinach.
“Miss Hartley,” a woman with curly red hair and a matching blazer called as soon as the picture had been snapped. “How did you manage to escape the West Haven Widowmaker?”
Ah, shit . The blood ran cold in her veins. They must have Googled her.
Luke turned to step in front of her, but Claire stopped him. He had plugged her in his brief moment in the spotlight. The least she could do was return the favor.
“Well, if you want an answer to that question, you’ll have to watch the new Lucas Islestorm documentary, The Widowmaker , coming to Streamster this summer. Thanks,” Claire said, turning on her heel before anyone else could chime in.
“You handled that really well,” Luke said.
“Hopefully people will stop asking after the documentary airs.” She shook her head and took his arm. They set off down the red carpet. They were nearly to the end, and then they could skip to the fun part—celebrating Brianna’s triumph and shoving the female empowerment in ESA’s face.
“Can we wait for Bri? Just to make sure she gets here,” she said as they stepped off the red carpet and paused before the golden double doors.
“Sure.” Luke pulled off to the side with her. Charlie joined them a second later, frowning at her phone. Once inside, she’d have to secure it in a locked bag to prevent any details about the premier leaking, and Claire knew she was taking one last opportunity to check her email.
“Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Big Z’s in trouble again. He roofied a girl at a club last night. I’m not going to be able to squash this one. I already called in too many favors this week.”
“What an asshole.” Claire shuddered. As soon as she was back in West Haven, she was going to have a stern talk with Mindy about her musical preferences.
She glanced down at her phone. Bri hadn’t texted her back in a couple hours. Surely she was just busy getting ready and doing whatever pre-premiere ritual she had adopted over the years. But she couldn’t ignore the anxiety that had settled in her stomach like a ten-pound kettlebell.
“I’m going to call her assistant and see where they’re at.”
“Famous people are always running late.” Luke reached over to rub her arm. “I’m sure she’s trapped in that nightmare of limos.” He gestured to the road, where a dozen town cars and limousines were waiting to drop off passengers.
Claire shook her head. Dread was threatening to overwhelm her, growing inside her like a black hole. Something didn’t feel right. She pulled out her phone and scrolled to Brianna’s assistant, Natalie. She held her breath as she dialed.
“Natalie Stevenson,” a cheerful voice answered.
“Hey, it’s Claire. Brianna’s sister. I was just calling to check on Bri. Are you guys almost here?”
There was a pause on the other end.
“Aren’t you with her?” Natalie asked.
The bottom fell out of Claire’s stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Luke asked. His phone rang, and he took a step away to answer it.
“No, she told us she was going to be with you all day,” Claire said.
Charlie threw her phone in her purse and stood next to Claire. She was much paler than she had been in the limo. Claire put Natalie on speaker phone.
“Well, she was, but then she said she wanted to catch the limo with you guys. She headed to your house about an hour ago.”
“Oh my god,” Claire said. “I have to go.”
“Wait, are you saying she’s?—”
Claire ended the call and frantically clicked on Bri’s contact. Her hands shook as they clutched the phone. No answer. She dialed again. No answer. She sent a text. No answer.
“Luke,” she called out. Her whole body was trembling. Something was terribly wrong. Where the hell was she?
“Thanks.” Luke ended the call he was on and turned back to Claire with an unreadable expression.
“I can’t get in touch with Bri. I think something happened to her.” The words tumbled out over numb lips.
“I know,” he said, scrolling through something on his phone. “We need to call Jack right now.”
“I’ll do it.” Charlie looked rattled for the first time since she was sixteen. She buried one hand in her hair and dialed.
“What do you mean you know?” Claire asked. Her vision was starting to blur at the edges. She took shallow, hurried breaths. Goosebumps ran down the length of both arms.
Luke showed her the screen. It was their security camera for the front yard. Something was flickering onscreen.
“Is that fire ?” She leaned in and stared at the screen.
Luke nodded. “It’s hard to tell from the video. Mr. Nesbit called and the fire department’s on their way. But they left us a message.”
“What does it say?” Her stomach roiled. She was going to projectile vomit here on the red carpet outside a historic theater.
“We warned you,” he said quietly.
Thirty minutes passed in absolute panic. Jack launched an FBI response. The venue shut down the screening. Cops and agents buzzed around them. Eventually, they were shepherded to what appeared to be an FBI safe room not far from the theater.
“Okay,” Jack said, a map of Los Angeles spread out in front of him.
Tanya paced in the corner, weeping and clutching a crystal. “Should have known. Mercury is retrograde again. Oh, my poor baby.”
“What do we know?” Claire asked. There was a pool of sweat beneath the Taser she had strapped to the inside of her thigh. She was going to use it on whoever had taken her sister.
“Last confirmed location was her house in Burbank.” Jack pointed to a spot on the map. “She left there at six thirty to head to Luke’s house?—”
“But we were already gone,” Claire said. Of all the days to be on time.
Luke sat in a chair in the corner, combing through the security footage. “I don’t think she ever made it to the house,” he said. “Her car doesn’t show up on any of the footage since we left.”
Jack made a note on a piece of paper and turned back to the map. “So that means somewhere between here and there she disappeared.” His shrewd brown eyes narrowed. “LAPD is checking traffic cameras and looking for her car.”
Charlie sat on a futon in the corner, eyes watering and fist clenched around a scrunchie that Brianna had let her borrow during their dance party.
“She could be anywhere.” Claire stared at the map. “We don’t even know where the professor is staying. Anyone could have her.” She turned away. Her hands twitched, ready to flip a table or strike a match to burn down a building. ESA had taken her baby sister. There was no doubt in her mind.
“What about her tracker? Don’t you always put a tracker in her car or shoes or something?” She had seen evidence of the tracker at Jack’s house back east.
“She left the bracelet at home.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. That was fair. It wouldn’t have gone with her outfit.
“She told me she hired a bodyguard,” Jack added.
“She didn’t,” Claire half-screamed. Her mind spun. She could see it, clear as day. Brianna, bound and gagged while a psychopath stared down at her. If they didn’t find her, she would be dead before morning. For the first time, she understood how Luke and her friends had felt the night she had been abducted by Barney. Nothing but dead ends, seconds slipping away. Could they find her before it was too late?
“Someone should check the decommissioned ESA houses. I have a list on my phone. That’s where they were going to take Wendy when they planned to kidnap her.” She scrolled through her emails and sent the spreadsheet to Jack.
Jack nodded and addressed one of the other agents in the room. “Humbert, we’re going to need LAPD to investigate every fraternity house that was once affiliated with the Greek organization Epsilon Sigma Alpha. I just sent you the list.”
“On it.” The agent disappeared into another room.
“Why don’t we just put out a social media blast?” Charlie piped up from the futon. She looked slightly more composed than she had a minute ago. The borrowed scrunchie was now around her wrist. “Bri’s a public figure. People know what she looks like.”
“We don’t want to cause a panic,” Jack muttered. “Whoever has her could drag her further underground where we’ll never find her. These next few hours are crucial.”
“I have another theory,” Claire said quietly.
Jack whirled around. There was a crazed look in his eyes. “What?” he barked.
“I think it’s possible that whoever is in charge out here lives in the Hills.”
“What do you mean?”
“A couple weeks back, I mapped out where missing women over the last two years had been taken.” She scrolled through her phone and found the picture she had taken of the map. “See how the lines intersect over the Hills? And I was attacked at the ranch right within the same radius. I drove through a couple neighborhoods, but I didn’t really see anything suspicious.”
Jack wiped a hand over his face. “We can’t waste time on unfounded theories, Claire.” His voice cut like a knife. A pair of agents came in, and he stepped away.
Another hour passed. Claire paced the room, Manolos clacking across the hardwood floor. Tanya stared out at the barely visible stars and whispered tearfully to the crystal in her hand. Luke called everyone he knew who lived in Burbank and asked them if they’d seen an abandoned Subaru. A set of cold, untouched pizzas sat on a table in the corner.
Reports trickled in. Every ESA house they checked was abandoned, just like the West Haven chapter. It was a dead end.
The radio in Jack’s hand crackled.
“We found the car.”
Everybody stopped what they were doing.
“Where?” Jack barked into the radio.
“A Starbucks in Burbank.”
Jack swore. “That’s her pre-premiere ritual. She always gets an iced coffee. And that location’s close to two major highways. There’s no way of knowing where they took her. She could be anywhere.” He slammed a fist on the table.
Claire finally stopped pacing and sat next to her sister on the futon. It was surprisingly comfortable for something government issued.
Charlie opened a text. The tiny circular contact at the top of the screen showed a white man in his mid-forties dressed in a black suit with gold chains. A distinctive gold tooth flashed at the camera.
Claire gasped. A lightning bolt might as well have just crashed through the roof and impaled her. She had seen him before, she was sure of it. But where? A tabloid? A magazine? But no—this felt personal. Something tugged at her memory, but she couldn’t place it. She jumped up and began to pace. The vegan restaurant? No, that wasn’t it.
“Charlie,” Claire said slowly.
“Hmm?” Her sister was clearly only half paying attention.
“Who is that?” She gestured at the phone screen.
“This idiot? It’s just Big Z. He doesn’t even care about Bri, he just wants me to fix the roofie thing. Un-fucking-believable.” Charlie threw her phone at the futon. It bounced off and hit the floor.
Claire froze, then dove for her phone. Her hands shook as she scrawled through her camera roll. She shoved it in front of Charlie’s face.
“Is this him?”
The picture she had taken of the man in baggy jeans at the men’s rights conference stared back at them. With Luke almost dying immediately thereafter, she had completely forgotten about the other member of ESA in the audience.
“Yes,” Charlie said slowly. “I got him those diamond studs for Christmas. How did you?—”
“Where does he live?” Claire interrupted.
“Why?”
Jack turned away from the table.
“Because we need to go there right now. He has Bri.”
“What do you mean? How do you know?” Luke appeared at her shoulder.
Jack stared silently at her from across the room. The pencil he was clutching snapped in half. He calmly set the pieces down.
“At the men’s rights conference. Big Z was in my row. I hate his music, so I think that’s why I didn’t recognize him. But it was him, I’m sure of it. He and the professor nodded at each other.”
Jack picked up a walkie talkie and pressed the button to talk. “We’re going to need backup.”