52. Lowri
LOWRI
B ack in Sean’s apartment, I open my laptop at the dining table and start watching the videos of the performance where Mr. Brentwood died. Switching between views from different cameras, I start following Amelia throughout the evening as she moves on and off stage.
She’s nearby Reese when he falls. I replay that part to see if Amelia had the opportunity to damage the dangling vine that tore, causing his fall.
As the video plays again, Reese’s facial expression catches my eye.
He winces before he falls. He must sense the silk giving way. That must have been scary.
As I continue following Amelia through the videos, she dances off the stage a few minutes before the baseball-capped person shows up next to the tree, which is backstage.
Then another camera shows Amelia dancing back onstage after a costume change.
It’s not clear that she had enough time to change into crew clothing, sabotage the tree, return to her dressing room, change into her next costume, and return to the stage for her next scene.
I need Ron’s opinion. This is something the stage manager will know.
With an arrest made, the show is back in rehearsals today, so Ron should be in the theater now.
I grab my purse and phone, intent on resolving this quickly.
It’s almost noon. If I hurry, maybe I’ll catch him before they break for lunch.
If I’m correct, Amelia is innocent, and a killer is still lurking in our midst.
Opening the door to the theater’s backstage entrance, I’m met by an unexpected quietness rather than the usual clamor of rehearsals. I look around and spot a woman organizing a rack of costumes down the hall. I walk close enough to be in earshot and ask, “Excuse me, where can I find Ron?”
“I haven’t seen him yet. Rehearsals don’t start until 1:00 p.m. today. I’m leaving to grab a bite to eat now, but you can wait. Rob should be here in the next twenty to thirty minutes.”
“Thanks. I’ll wait outside his office. That way I won’t miss him.”
The woman takes off, and I type a quick email to Sean summarizing what I saw in the videos. That done, I go in search of Ron’s office. It’s dimly lit backstage, requiring me to move with caution as I step around racks of costumes, props, and lighting equipment on my way.
“Ouch,” I mumble as I bump my arm against something big and rough.
To my surprise, it’s the infamous tree. I rub my sore elbow where the bark cut into my skin.
With the light from my phone, I take a closer look at the gigantic monstrosity.
The trunk must be eight feet across. Sean said they’re not going to use it in the show going forward, but I guess they haven’t had time to get rid of it.
The police tape surrounding the tree has been cut, and the door on the far side of the trunk stands open.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I step inside.
During the night of the tragedy, we were focused on investigating.
I didn’t notice that the interior is so large.
You could fit four or five people in here.
I start looking around, not sure what I’m expecting to find.
Metal posts, spaced a few feet apart, run from the floor to the platform above.
Looking up, the opening Brentwood fell through has been sealed shut.
I’m about to step out when I hear footsteps and a male voice.
I turn to look and catch a glimpse of Reese coming toward me with a scowl on his face, talking into his mobile phone.
“That’s not the plan. They’re going to figure it out. I have to get out of here,” he hisses.
Shit. I carefully pull the tree’s door almost closed, leaving only a small gap to peer through. I watch as he draws nearer.
Grabbing my phone, I hit record as Reese starts talking again.
“Galanis, you better keep your fucking mouth shut. The money is the only way out of this for both of us. You will go through with the plan.”
He paces while listening to the response.
I had no idea he knows Mr. Galanis. Did he know Brentwood too?
Peering out the door gap, I anxiously await what he’ll say next.
“Cabo San Lucas. I should be safe there. I’ll lay low, maybe find a job at a hotel or somewhere until you send my share of the money.”
Silence.
“No, I’m not worried about the dumb actor. He doesn’t know anything.”
More silence.
“I’m not talking about this now. Someone could overhear. You and Brentwood signed up for this deal. Let it play out, and we’ll both be fine.”
Shit. He did know Brentwood.
“No. I got a new ID. I’m flying out today—can’t risk staying here any longer. I’ll contact you when I get to Cabo and tell you where to send the money. Don’t try to call me again. I’m dumping this phone.”
The call ends, but he’s still pacing. I quickly send the recording to Sean. I can’t let Reese know I overheard him, so I pull the door completely closed, plunging me into total darkness. I’ll stay hidden here until he leaves.
Not willing to risk the light from my phone giving away my presence, I stuff it into my crossbody purse. As I fumble in the dark, searching for the outside pocket, the phone slips out of my hand, landing with a loud thud.
Whoosh!
The tree door flies open, dimly lighting the space. An angry hand grabs my shirt, slamming me against the wall of the tree. With his other arm, Reese tosses his backpack to the ground, grabbing my flailing arm with his freed hand.
“You bitch. Fuck. You overheard everything.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been inside here.”
“Don’t play dumb. What were you doing in the tree if you weren’t eavesdropping?”
“I was just looking around. Let me go!” I scream, attempting to knee him in the balls. Unfortunately, the agile acrobat easily jumps aside without easing his grip on me.
“Right. You were looking around in the dark. That’s a good one.”
With a sweep of his leg behind my knees, he knocks me to the ground. I land hard on my ass, barely missing his backpack.
I try everything to free myself—kicking, biting, hitting—but he stomps his other foot onto my diaphragm, knocking the wind out of me, and uses his foot to hold my left arm captive.
As I gasp, trying to catch my breath, he warns, “Hold still. I’m not going to harm you. I just need time to get away.”
Without oxygen, I can’t tell the jerk that he’s already hurt me. He’s delusional if he thinks I’ll trust anything he says.
Keeping my eyes on him, my mind spins, trying to concoct a way out of this.
He reaches for the hem of his shirt, raising it upward.
As I attempt to push myself up with my free arm, the metal chain on my purse clangs against a nearby metal support.
That gives me an idea. Unclipping the electronic luggage tracker from my purse, I quickly stuff it into the outside pocket of his backpack as Reese pulls his shirt over his head with one hand and rips his belt from his pants with the other.
Sweat seeps from my pores, not knowing what he’s going to do next.
The way he has me pinned, I can’t reach to hit him.
Summoning help is my best shot. As air begins to refill my lungs, I open my mouth to scream, but he stuffs his shirt in it.
Bending over, he manages to flip me onto my stomach, pull my wrists above my head, and binds them together with his belt.
I have no idea how he did that so quickly.
It must be his kickass acrobatic skills.
His foot is now firmly planted on my lower back, preventing me from getting up. I’m not finished fighting him though. I frantically kick my useless legs, hoping to land a blow somehow.
Keeping me pinned to the floor, he opens the main part of his backpack, extracting a couple of exercise bands. In a split second, my feet are bound together. Despite my twisting and flailing, he rolls me to my back and ties my wrists to one of the metal supports and my ankles to another. I’m stuck.
“I need you to stay quiet for a while. Now where did your phone go?”
“Ahh. There it is. I’ll take this with me—can’t have it ringing and risk someone coming to find you too soon.
This is the second time I’ve had to take your phone—sorry about that.
At least I don’t have to take your laptop again this time.
I know they’re expensive, but last time I had to destroy your notes and recordings in case Amelia had shared that Brentwood and I hung out together. ”
I watch as he takes a spare shirt from his backpack and pulls it over his head. He gives the area a quick scan, hoists his pack onto his shoulder, and peeks out the door. With a last warning to keep quiet, he slides out and shuts the door.
Reese takes off, leaving me stranded, bruised, and unable to move. Darkness surrounds me again, and a sense of claustrophobia overwhelms me with his shirt stuck in my mouth and my legs and arms bound. It’s even worse than the paralysis that happens when you’re partially awake but can’t move.
Closing my eyes, I try to calm myself with logic. It’s doubtful Reese will return. My situation could be much worse. I’m safe. I inhale deeply, counting to four, and breathe out slowly. Repeating this a few times, my breathing and heart rate gradually return to an almost normal state.
It could take forever for anyone to find me. Who’s going to look inside this tree?
Think.
The performers and crew should be here soon. There must be a way I can draw their attention.
When I hear footsteps and talking nearby, I quickly work through a laundry list of ideas.
I squirm to bang my head against the metal support behind me, hoping someone will hear the noise.
Damn it. The way Reese tied me between the two supports, I’m stretched out so much that the top of my head barely taps the support.
I scream in frustration and desperation. That doesn’t work. The shirt in my mouth muffles it. No one can hear me.
I’m about to give up from exhaustion when my butt connects with a lump on the ground. It’s too dark to be sure, but it must be my purse. A light bulb goes off in my head. I need to work it up my body to reach it with my hands.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been squirming and wriggling my butt, back, and shoulders trying to inch the purse upward along my body. I’ve already had to stop a couple of times to rest and quash my frustration at the slowness of my progress.
Finally, it’s near my neck. If I can move it two or three inches closer, I can grab the leather with my fingers. Rotating my upper body slightly, I give the purse one final shove with my shoulder.
Success!
Taking a deep breath, I re-center myself, being careful not to accidentally push the purse out of reach.
I turn my wrists as far to the side as possible and reach to let my fingers gently touch the leather.
Working slowly, I pull the bag on top of one hand while using the other hand to locate the strap.
Yes! I got it.
Moving the second hand, I secure the strap with all ten fingers and work them along its length until the cold, hard metal is within my grasp.
As I begin banging the metal part of the strap against the support, I swear to never badmouth the weight of the heavy chains they put on crossbody purses again.
A minute later, the door to the tree opens, and a panicked Sean stares at me in disbelief.
I sag, exhausted and relieved, as he and Daniel rush in.
“We heard the recording you sent and have been looking everywhere for you. We didn’t recognize the voice. Is that the man who did this to you? Are you okay?” Sean asks, kneeling to remove the gag from my mouth. He searches my body for injuries while Daniel hurriedly unties my arms.
“Yes, it was Reese. I’ll be fine. I just hurt all over.” My mouth is so dry, I barely can talk.
“What else did he do to you?” Sean asks, helping me sit up.
I groan from the bruises on the front of my torso and lower back. Reese’s foot did a number on me.
“There’ll be time for that later. Reese is getting away. He’s flying out to Cabo now under a fake name, but I don’t know what it is. Find my laptop quickly and follow my luggage tracker. I stuffed it in his backpack. It’s the only way you can stop him.”
“Daniel, call Detective Fielder and get Lowri’s laptop. I’ll take care of her. Go. Now.”
“Got it, boss. Text me Lowri’s password.”
Daniel’s already on his phone as he sprints away.
“Now, let’s focus on you. Clearly, Reese did more than tie you up. What happened?” he asks as he unties my feet.
“I survived the fight with only a few bruises—nothing major. I’ll be fine.”
“First, I’m going to call an ambulance, and then I’m going to kill that bastard when I get my hands on him.”
“No ambulance. I’ll take something for the soreness and get a good night’s sleep.”
“Are you sure? At least let the hotel doctor look you over. Will you do that for me?”
“If you insist, but that’s overkill.”
I listen as Sean calls Emily to arrange for a golf cart to meet us at the nearest Maze entrance, which I learn is underneath the stage. He also instructs her to have the Athena’s doctor waiting for us in his apartment.
“Let’s go via the Maze. Can you walk if I help you?”
“Maybe.”
Sean helps me up. He catches me when my legs give out and the muscles near my waist spasm.
“That’s not going to work,” he says, reaching down to pick me up.
Hugging his neck, I smile, knowing I trust him to take care of me.