Chapter 15
I woke to the sound of Code muttering in the other room.
I’d bet my bottom dollar he was in front of his monitors again.
I tuned him out and concentrated on the sunlight streaming through the suite's windows, painting golden stripes across the rumpled sheets.
I stretched, every muscle pleasantly sore, and found him sitting at his makeshift command center fully dressed, three monitors glowing.
"What time is it?" My voice came out rough.
"Eight-thirty." He called out from the front room. "You needed sleep."
"So did you."
"I got four hours. I'm fine."
I pulled on his t-shirt from last night and padded out the bedroom door. Coffee sat waiting in the coffee pot. I poured a cup and studied him over the rim. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, but something had shifted in his posture. He sat forward, intent, hunting.
"You found something."
"Maybe."
I walked around beside him so I could see the photos he pulled up on his screen. "Facial recognition hit from last night. Instagram posts from a party in Hollywood."
Russell Dunlap appeared in the background of candid shots. Always moving, always partially obscured, but definitely him. In two photos, he stood close to a blonde woman in a black dress. Their body language screamed intimacy and distress.
"Who's the woman?"
Code zoomed in on her face. Pretty, late twenties, with the kind of bone structure that photographed well. She looked upset in both shots, with her hand on Russell's arm like she was pleading.
"Do you recognize her?"
I studied the image. Something tickled the back of my mind, but I couldn't place her. "Maybe? Shit, Code, I've seen so many faces at auditions and parties, she could be anyone."
"Her name is Sophie Tremaine." Code pulled up an IMDb page. "Actress. Based in Los Angeles. Twenty-eight years old."
My stomach dropped. "Please don't tell me she's another target."
"She's his stepsister."
The coffee cup froze halfway to my lips. "What?"
"Russell's father married Sophie's mother when Sophie was six. Russell was twelve." Code scrolled through the family tree he'd constructed. "Different last names, which is why it didn't show up in earlier searches. But the connection is solid."
“So his sister is an actress."
Code nodded. "One who's struggled to break through.” Code's voice stayed level, factual. "Bit parts, recurring roles, one co-starring credit that got cancelled. She's been working for twelve years with nothing big to show for it."
The implications settled over me like ice water. Fuck. Please say I wasn’t right. My hands shook as I found my phone. Jerry picked up on the second ring.
"Kit, thank God. I've been trying to reach you for days. Where the hell are you?"
"Doesn't matter. I need you to do something for me." I looked at Sophie's photo. "Can you access the casting notes for Passing Through Jordan? I need to know if someone named Sophie Tremaine auditioned for my role."
"That's unusual. Why?"
"Just do it, Jerry. Please."
He sighed. "Give me twenty minutes."
I hung up and found Code watching me.
"While we're waiting," he said quietly, "let me show you what else I found."
He pulled up surveillance footage from the Hollywood party—Russell leaving at 11:47 PM, climbing into an Uber. Code had somehow accessed the ride record.
"The driver took him to an address in Laurel Canyon. Belongs to Andy Fritz, a producer currently on a meditation retreat in Bali for a month." Code showed me Fritz's Instagram feed, full of sunset photos and spiritual captions. "Russell's house-sitting."
My heart sped up. "So you’ve got him," I exclaimed.
"He’s not at the house, but Simon already has someone watching the residence. Former SEAL named Krause, very good at not being seen." Code's jaw tightened. "But I want to talk to Sophie first. Understand what she knows."
My phone rang.
“Jerry? What have you got?”
"Okay, this is weird, but Sophie Tremaine was a finalist for your role.
It came down to you and her. Director loved her audition, but you had the box office draw and the production company pushed for you.
Then there was the plus of having you and Marcus working together again. It was a no brainer for everyone."
I sank onto the couch. "Jesus."
"Why are you asking about this?"
"Can you check something else? Has Sophie Tremaine auditioned for any other roles I've booked in the last three years?"
"Kit, what's going on?"
"Just check. Please."
"Fine. But this is going to take an hour. I have to pull files from multiple projects."
"Call me back."
I set down the phone and met Code's eyes. "She was a finalist. They chose me over her."
"I'm sorry." He came to sit beside me, close but not touching.
"I didn't even know. I just showed up and did my audition and got the part." My throat tightened. "How many times have I done that? Walked away with the prize while someone else's dream died?"
Code's hand found mine. "You didn't create the system. You're just surviving in it."
We sat in silence while Code's monitors hummed and my guilt churned. Finally, Jerry called back.
"Found two more. Echoes of Autumn last year, indie drama. Sophie was attached, then you signed on and they restructured everything around you. She got dropped."
My stomach twisted.
"And The Silent Hour three years ago. She was in second position for the lead and they gave her a different role. After you took it, they rewrote her part out entirely."
"Three times."
"Kit, you can't blame yourself for—"
"Thanks, Jerry. I'll call you later."
I hung up and pressed my palms to my eyes. "Three major roles. I cost her three major roles and I didn't even know she existed."
"Katherine." Code's voice was gentle but firm. "Look at me."
I did. His green eyes held no judgment, only understanding.
"We need to talk to Sophie. Find out what she knows about what Russell's been doing."
"She's going to hate me."
"Maybe. Or maybe she'll understand that neither of you created this situation." He stood, decision made. "Get dressed. We're flying to LA."
The private jet Simon arranged climbed through clear skies. Code sat across from me, laptop open, still working. I couldn't stop looking at Sophie's photo on my phone.
"What am I going to say to her?" I asked.
"Start with common ground. You're both actresses. You both understand what this industry costs." Code glanced up. "Don't lead with Russell. Build trust first."
"When did you become an expert in interrogation techniques?"
"Twenty years of getting people to talk." His almost-smile appeared. "Most of the time, they just want someone to listen."
An hour later, we stood in front of a converted beach house in Venice. Sophie's apartment occupied the second floor. Paint peeled from the walls, and the exterior stairs creaked under our feet. Code knocked, and I tried to breathe normally.
The woman who opened the door looked younger than in her photos. No makeup, hair in a messy bun, wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt. Her eyes went wide.
"Oh my God."
"Hi." I tried for friendly, non-threatening. "Are you Sophie? Sophie Tremaine?"
"Yes." Her voice came out faint, disbelieving. She stared at me as if I might disappear.
"I know this is really weird, but could we talk to you for a few minutes? It's important."
Confusion flickered across her face, but she stepped back. "Um, okay. Come in."
The apartment was small but tidy. Secondhand furniture, framed playbills on the walls, and a stack of drama textbooks on the coffee table. Sophie gestured us toward a worn couch and perched on the edge of an armchair, still looking stunned.
"I'm sorry to just show up like this," I said. "I'm Kit, and this is Code."
"I know who you are." Sophie's laugh came out nervous. "Everyone knows who you are."
"Right." I felt the familiar weight of being Kit Lord, the brand. "How long have you been acting?"
"Twelve years. Since I was sixteen." She picked at the hem of her sweatshirt. "Why are you here?"
I needed to ease into this. Build rapport like Code said. "What got you into it? Acting, I mean."
Sophie blinked at the unexpected question. "My high school drama teacher. She saw something in me, I guess. Said I had presence." A small smile appeared. "I believed her."
"Good teachers change everything." I leaned back slightly, trying to seem less intimidating. "I had a coach who told me I'd never make it because I was too tall for romantic leads. Took me three years to stop hearing her voice in my head during auditions."
"You're not too tall."
"I know that now. But at fifteen? I believed her." I met Sophie's eyes. "This business is brutal, isn't it?"
Something in her posture relaxed. "The worst. Everyone tells you to follow your dreams, but nobody mentions that ninety percent of the time you're just collecting rejections."
"And the other ten percent, you're terrified you'll screw it up and prove everyone who doubted you was right."
Sophie's smile turned genuine. "Exactly. Like, I finally get a co-starring role on a network show, and I spend the entire shoot convinced they'll replace me."
"What show?"
"Night Shift. Medical drama. Lasted half a season before it got cancelled." She shrugged. "Story of my life."
"Hey, you got a co-starring credit. That's not nothing. Most actors never get that far."
"Most actors quit before they hit twelve years of waiting tables between ads and guest spots on procedurals." The bitterness crept into her voice despite her obvious effort to keep it out.
I took a breath. Time to wade into harder waters. "I know you auditioned for some of the same roles I did."
Sophie's face went carefully neutral. "How do you know that?"
"My manager told me. Passing Through Jordan. You were a finalist."
"You were better." The words came out flat, practiced. She'd said them before, probably to herself. "They made the right choice."