Chapter 11
Ryan sped toward the movie set, his fingers tight around the wheel.
He needed to get his head in the game. To focus on his job. Someone was missing. He had to think about that. Not Emily and her soft, sad eyes. Not the words she’d said tonight about the alternative life she’d spoken about.
Don’t lie. You know the memories we would have made. The life we would have created.
Air hissed through his teeth. Because it was true. If he hadn’t let her go that night, if he hadn’t felt obligated to let the world witness her talent, then there wasn’t a chance in hell he would have let her slip away.
He pulled into the clearing beside the movie trailers, a patrol car, and four trucks already scattered around the area.
“What’s going on?” he asked, as he crossed the space between his truck and the guys.
A young male deputy glanced up. Shit, he looked like a kid. “Nine-one-one got a call. It was one of the guys from the movie needing help.”
Ryan lifted a brow. “Help?”
The kid looked at a female deputy beside him. She didn’t seem much older.
“Preston,” the woman said. “Preston Painter. He told dispatch he was dropped off, went into his trailer but heard something outside. Went out to check and some guy in a mask chased him into the woods. The call dropped at that point.”
The fuck?
Ryan looked at Zac and Connor. “He was just at the bar.”
The male deputy dipped his head. “Sounded drunk. His words were slurred. But he said the person chasing him had a knife.”
“We don’t know these woods well enough in the dark,” the woman added, looking around like it was the first time she’d seen them.
“We’ve got it from here.” Ryan turned to his team. “We’ll split the search into sectors. Ethan, you’re on the north slope. Zac, take the east ridge. Joel, you’re on the river. Pay close attention to banks. Connor, you’re on the southern approach, and I’m taking west. Copy?”
One by one, the team affirmed they understood.
“Stay armed,” he finished.
The guys split up, each slipping into the forest at a different entry point, flashlights raised and guns ready.
Ryan looked at the deputies. “Have you alerted your sheriff?”
The guy pulled at his collar uncomfortably. “He’s not answering.”
Of course he wasn’t. The lazy asshole probably had his phone switched off. “Stay here and alert us if you see anything. If there is someone in that forest with a weapon, make sure you have your own ready.”
They both nodded. And they both looked scared. Jesus, they barely seemed old enough to hold a gun.
Once he grabbed his own gear from his truck, he slipped into the forest and started to move. There was a chance Preston was so drunk that the threat was in his head. But if it wasn’t, if there really was a masked asshole chasing him with a knife, Ryan would be ready.
The beam of his flashlight cut a thin white tunnel through the trees, catching the shine of wet bark and the steady fall of rain. He barely noticed. He’d completed ops in torrential downpours; this sprinkle was nothing.
He searched for broken branches. Disturbed earth. Anything that might show where someone had stumbled off the trail.
The deeper he went, the thicker and darker the forest grew.
His radio crackled. “Anything?” Ethan asked.
Ryan was the first to respond, “Negative.” One by one, the rest of the team piped in.
No one had found Preston or even a hint that he’d been in the forest. Not yet. But they would.
Rain tapped softly through the trees, Ryan’s steps as quiet as the air around him.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. It was at the twenty-minute mark that he saw them.
Footprints.
He slowed his steps and followed the deep indents in the mud. They led to the base of a thick tree.
Slowly, he rounded the tree.
A man growled and lunged.
Ryan dodged with a quick sidestep.
Preston hit the wet ground hard and groaned.
Ryan scanned the area, making sure they were alone, before lowering to Preston’s side. “It’s Ryan from search and rescue. I’m here to help.”
“Ryan?” Preston pushed up to his elbows, and the second he saw Ryan’s face, he sagged with relief. “Thank God! I thought I was gonna die, man. I thought he was gonna kill me!”
“What happened?”
“Faye dropped me at the trailer. Didn’t think it was worth going back to the inn when I have to work in five hours.
Before I even got to the bedroom, I heard noises around the trailer.
Sounded like footsteps. I thought it might be Faye.
You know…late-night booty call. I went to check.
At first, I thought I was hallucinating.
I smoked some weed and it does that sometimes. But then…” His breathing sped up.
Ryan gripped his shoulder. “Preston, what happened next?”
“It was the killer from the movie. They had the same creepy mask. But the knife…it was real. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. I told the fucker to stop messing around, but they kept coming toward me. So I ran. Fuck, I ran so fast.”
As Preston started to cry, Ryan keyed his radio. “I have him. Taking him back to the trailers now.”
“Need help?” Ethan asked.
“I’ve got it.”
“No. We need help.” Preston grabbed him. “The guy could come back. He could be watching us right now!”
Ryan took in his pupils, blown wide even with the flashlight shining in his face.
Was the threat real? Or was it drug induced?
“I can keep us safe.” He pulled Preston to his feet. “When we get back, we’ll go check out the costume trailer.”
Preston’s gaze raced around the woods like the person was about to jump out at any second. Eventually, he nodded.
As they walked back, Ryan continued to examine the forest. The good news was, if a threat truly did exist, Preston had only seen him with a knife, not a gun. Didn’t mean he wasn’t carrying though.
But did he exist at all? Preston had smoked weed, and before that, he’d been heavily drinking.
When they reached the trailers, the rest of his team had already rejoined the deputies.
They went straight to the costume trailer. It was locked, but the lock was easy to pick. Ryan went in first, stopping at a long black cloak. “This it?”
“Yes.” Preston nodded vigorously. “This is what the guy wore when he attacked me.”
Ryan touched the material. Dry. Also, clean and unwrinkled. His gaze shifted to the pale blue mask. It was the same.
He looked back at Preston. “I don’t—”
“I do.” Preston grabbed Ryan’s upper arms tightly. “The asshole wore that fucking costume and chased me through the forest with a knife! I’m not lying. The threat was real.”
Emily watched the light tap of rain hit her windshield. She should get out. How long had she been sitting here? Five minutes? Ten? Hell, maybe longer.
Cast and crew moved around the trailers. She had no motivation to get out there. None. But this was her job. And there was only one person to blame for making questionable drinking decisions last night, and it was her.
Two more minutes of peace, then she finally climbed from the car.
Her stomach rolled, and she pressed a hand to her belly. It wasn’t just her stomach, though; she’d woken with a throbbing headache, and even the Advil she’d taken didn’t seem to be working.
“Are you okay?”
She jumped as Faye suddenly appeared beside her. “Hey. Yeah, just had one too many vodkas last night. Did you guys end up staying long?”
“No, we left while you were on the dance floor.” She shook her head. “I feel so guilty about Preston. I dropped him here.”
“Guilty?”
“You didn’t hear?” Faye grabbed her arm to stop her. “I just assumed your mother told you.”
“I haven’t spoken to my mom this morning.” She’d even flicked the safety chain when she’d gotten up to pee in the middle of the night, so her mother couldn’t use her key card.
Faye fiddled with the pendant on her bracelet before stepping closer. “Preston had an…episode last night.”
“An episode?”
“He smoked weed.” She rolled her eyes. “I told him to lay off the stuff. He can barely handle alcohol. I assume that’s what caused it.”
“Caused what?”
“He says…” She paused. “Well…he says someone chased him through the woods.”
“What?”
“Yeah. And he said the person was wearing the mask and cloak from the movie and carrying a real knife.”
“Oh, God.”
“It couldn’t have happened. The costume trailer was locked and the costumes were dry. It was raining. The SAR guys found him and brought him back here.”
That had to be the message Ryan got in her room last night. “Is Preston okay?”
“No. He’s pretty shaken.” Faye looked at his trailer. “I might go check on him. He likes to play the tough guy, but we all know he’s a big softie.”
Emily nodded and watched as Faye crossed over to Preston’s trailer. When he opened the door, Faye threw her arms around him.
He was pale, his usual cocky grin nowhere to be seen.
They stepped into the trailer and the door snapped shut.
Jesus. And she’d thought her morning was bad.
Emily moved to her own trailer. Today was clearly going to be a long one. And if Preston wasn’t good either, chances were it would take them both a bit of time to ease into their scene.
Maybe Roscoe would let them have the day off…
Ha. And maybe pigs would fly. Unless they were unconscious and literally couldn’t get out of bed, they were working.
She’d just stepped into her trailer and closed the door when it crashed open again.
“Emily Quinn Madison!”
Too…loud.
“I’ve been calling you all morning!” Her mother crossed her arms. “Not to mention running around all night looking for you.”
“Well, as you can see, I’m fine.”
“So you couldn’t—I don’t know—call or text to let me know you were okay?”
“Obviously not.” Did the woman have amnesia?
Her mother’s jaw dropped. “What has gotten into you these last few weeks? You’re usually so…”
“Obedient?” Emily stepped back outside and headed toward the costume trailer. Would her mother follow her there too?
“Careful,” her mother corrected, the woman indeed following her. “And kind. And…I don’t know. Just…Emily.”
So, in other words, obedient.
“It’s Ryan, isn’t it?” her mother huffed. “That man is doing exactly what he did last time. Leading you astray.”
She spun toward her mother. “This may come as a surprise to a woman who already knows everything, but no, Ryan is not the reason I can barely look at you right now. It’s you. It’s because of what you did.”
“You’re still hung up on that phone thing? It was five years ago.”
“You think the fact that time has passed makes what you did okay?”
“I think the fact that you wouldn’t have achieved a fraction of the same success if I hadn’t interfered makes it okay.”
Unbelievable. This woman was unbelievable. “Nothing could ever make what you did okay, and the fact that you don’t understand that is the real problem here. I’m going into the costume trailer. Don’t follow me.”
“Emily—”
“Bye, Mom.”
Her mother growled and turned before storming away.
She was angry? Really? Argh, Emily wanted to scream. She was about to walk up the steps when loud voices behind the trailer had her pausing.
“You want me to ask the studio to pause production? Are you crazy?”
“No, I’m not crazy. Your main actor got chased through the woods with a knife.”
Ryan…
Roscoe laughed. “Preston didn’t get chased through the woods with a damn knife. He was drunk and high! The idiot hallucinated.”
“Boys.”
Emily frowned at the third, unfamiliar voice. Slowly, she stepped around the trailer to see Ryan, Zac, Roscoe, and, according to his badge, the town sheriff.
The sheriff lifted his hands. “Ryan, you get no say in whether they keep to his schedule. If the studio wants to continue shooting, that’s their choice.”
“Even if we don’t think it’s safe?” Ryan growled.
“Yes.”
Ryan’s gaze suddenly cut across to Emily.
She gasped and stepped back behind the trailer.
Was Ryan just being cautious? Or did he really think Preston had been attacked in the woods last night?