Chapter 28
Ryan leaned back in his seat at Bloom, his team surrounding him. He should be relieved. Five days had passed since Faye had been arrested. Five days since the movie had officially shut down. And five days since Preston had been found and placed in a medically induced coma.
So why was there a pit in his gut? Because today was the first day he wasn’t with Emily? Because he felt like he was walking around without his right fucking arm?
She wasn’t even doing anything wild. She was at his house, and her mother was visiting before she left Deep River.
Which should be another reason to celebrate.
He lifted his cell and texted her.
Ryan: Your mom there yet?
Emily: Nope. She’s late. Very unlike Melanie Prior. But the later she is, the less time we have to talk before her flight home, so I’m not complaining.
Ryan: Sure you don’t want me there?
Emily: I’m sure. I need to do this alone. But thanks.
“You all right?’
Ryan locked his cell and looked at Zac. “Yeah. Just counting down the minutes until I can be back with Emi.”
“It’s good Faye was arrested before she could hurt Emily. I wonder what her ultimate plan was.”
“How did the script end again?” Joel asked from the other side of the table, shoving a nut into his mouth.
“There was some big finale at her house involving a fight. The heroine wins, Faye dies.”
“Maybe she was planning on changing the script,” Ethan said. “I’m sure in her version, she lived and Emily died.”
His skin crawled at the sheer fucking thought.
“But she’s behind bars,” Connor said. “She can’t hurt anyone.”
Ryan frowned as he looked out the window, onto the street. “It just feels too easy, you know? Why would Faye film herself trying to kill Preston, then leave the phone in Emily’s drawer?”
“She was bragging and obviously didn’t realize her bracelet was showing.” Joel shrugged. “Hell, if it had just been left for Ward to find, he may not have noticed the bracelet at all.”
“Here you go.” Polly set coffee on the table before studying Ryan. “You look like you’ve aged ten years.”
“Double it.” He touched the coffee but didn’t lift it to his mouth. He was missing something. He could feel it.
“Figured out why she did it yet?” Polly asked.
Ryan shook her head. “Last I talked to Ward, which was yesterday, Faye still hadn’t admitted guilt. She’s still insisting that she was set up. That she really was attacked in The Pancake Bar that day. I’ve asked to question her, but Ward won’t let me.”
Polly scoffed. “How does she explain giving you guys the wrong location for Preston?”
“She said she made a mistake,” Zac answered. “Said she doesn’t know the town well enough, and she honestly thought that’s where she left him.”
“That wouldn’t be a huge leap,” Ryan said, almost under his breath.
The eyes of his team fell on him, and it was Ethan who asked, “You believe her? You think she was set up?”
“I think until we have an admission of guilt, we can’t rule anything out.”
He glanced at his phone again, suddenly wishing he was with Emily. He should have stayed. Hell, he could have just remained in a back room.
“The bracelet though,” Joel said. “There were drops of Preston’s blood on it. And not even twelve hours later, it’s on Faye’s wrist.”
“Wait.” Polly frowned. “Ward was in here earlier, and he said something to his deputies about Faye sleeping with someone. Something about furthering her career.”
Ryan straightened. “What?”
Polly looked at him. “Whoever it was, the guy could have a key card to her room. He could have taken her bracelet. Worn it that night, then returned it before she woke up. He could have set her up.”
“Who?”
“Oh, God…what did he say his name was?” Polly pinched her nose. “It started with a B.”
“Boone?” Ryan asked.
Her eyes widened. “Yes! Who’s that?”
“Roscoe Boone.” Ryan glanced around at his team. “If they were sleeping together, Polly’s right, he could have had access to her room. He could have framed her.”
“She certainly wouldn’t have checked it for blood before putting it on,” Joel said. “Not if she wore it every day.”
“She was the killer in the movie,” Ryan half whispered, half growled. “Maybe he was trying to bring his movie to life.”
Polly wrinkled her nose. “That’s sick.”
He pulled out his phone and called Emily.
She didn’t answer.
Emily set her phone on the kitchen island and clicked her nails against the counter, nerves trickling up her spine.
She didn’t want to talk to her mother alone.
This was more of a need. Things felt so complicated.
Her mother had sacrificed plenty to get Emily to where she was in her career.
But it hadn’t just been for her daughter, and it hadn’t all been out of love.
If it was, her mother would just want her to be happy.
It shouldn’t matter if that happiness came from the peak of fame or a small life in Deep River.
She scanned the street outside the living room window, waiting.
It felt so strange that, after spending almost every day of her life with the woman, today, her mother was flying out of Deep River, away from her.
It also felt freeing. A bit like having her own life handed back to her.
She grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and had just set them on the counter when the doorbell rang.
Another kick of nerves hit her throat. She swallowed them and crossed to the front door.
She’d be fine. She’d say her goodbye and that would be it. Then, maybe they’d have a normal mother-daughter kind of relationship. At a distance. They’d text every so often. A few calls here and there. And they wouldn’t live in each other’s pockets. It would be so much healthier.
She opened the door and smiled, but the expression slipped when she saw Roscoe behind her mother. “Roscoe. I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Well, someone had to drive me to the airport.” Her mother pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “Can we come in?”
Hello, darling. So good to see you. Yes, I wanted to do this alone too, but is it okay if Roscoe joins us so he can drive me to the airport?
All words her mother had not said.
Emily stepped back. “I was just about to make coffee.”
Her mother wrinkled her nose. “It’s not that pod stuff, is it?”
Again, kind of like a thank you, but not.
“Unless you want tea, that’s all I have.” Emily closed the door after them and moved to the kitchen. “When are you leaving, Roscoe?”
“Once I wrap up a few things, I’ll head off.”
Emily pulled a third mug from the cupboard before looking over her shoulder. “I’m sorry we never finished your film.”
Sorry for Roscoe, at least. This was a big deal for him. His last few movies hadn’t done so well, and this was supposed to boost his career back to what it had been at its peak.
Roscoe lifted a shoulder like it was no big deal as he walked around the living room, his eyes stopping on the framed photo of her and Ryan that sat on the mantel.
Ryan had put it there last week. It was one of the first photos they’d ever taken together years ago, and she’d barely stopped looking at it since.
Her mother’s lip curled at the sight of it.
Really? After everything Emily had told her mother about loving Ryan, the woman still couldn’t even muster a smile?
She looked away before she said something she’d regret. “Are you going back to California, Mom?”
“Where else would I go? I’m now jobless, so I can’t exactly buy a new place.”
Breathe, Emily.
“You could go to one of the three vacation homes you own. You could retire and live off the millions of dollars you’ve made.
” Because her mother had made millions. Even if she didn’t work another day in her life, financially, she’d be fine.
“You could even look at acting for yourself, if that’s what you want. ”
“Me?”
“Yes. You’re an amazing actress, Mom.”
“Who would cast a washed-up old woman like me?”
She turned and crossed her arms. “First, you’re not old or washed up. You also look thirty years younger than you are. Second, casting directors hire actors of all different ages, all the time.”
Her mother’s brow creased, like the idea hadn’t even occurred to her. “I tried.”
“You had no connections then.” And really…
she hadn’t tried that hard. And she’d used the excuse of being a new mother to quit trying entirely.
But the more Emily thought about it, the more she believed it had been a mental thing for her mother.
A deep belief that she wasn’t good enough.
That she’d never reach the heights that she wanted to reach, so why try at all?
Instead, her mother had funneled all her efforts into Emily. Maybe there hadn’t been as much fear of failure for her daughter.
Her mother’s frown deepened. But there was something else in her eyes…hope. Just a flicker.
Mom turned to look at Roscoe. “What do you think, Roscoe?”
He glanced up from staring at the floor. “Huh?”
He hadn’t even been listening. It may as well be just her and her mother then.
She turned back to the coffees and opened the sugar cannister.
Empty.
Coffee without sugar? Absolutely not. She needed sugar. With this company, caffeine just wasn’t enough. She moved to the pantry and searched the shelves.
Come on. One bag. Heck, three teaspoons. It was all she needed.
She spotted a bag of cookies. Huh. It wasn’t sugar for her coffee, but these would be nice as a side.
She was still rummaging around another shelf when a loud thump sounded, like something heavy hitting the floor.
She gasped, quickly stepping out of the pantry and searching the room.
The first thing she saw was shoes. Just the soles of them poking out from the other side of the kitchen island.
Her mother’s shoes.
Her brain barely had a second to process what she was looking at before an arm wrapped around her throat from behind. It locked just beneath her jaw, tightening so quickly she didn’t have time to react.
She grabbed at the arm, her fingernails digging into skin, clawing with both her hands.
Then a cloth came over her mouth and nose.
Panic hit first. Then the smell. A chemical scent, but also sweet.
She thrashed, driving an elbow into Roscoe’s ribs, then threw her weight to the side, trying to knock him off-balance. He moved with her.
The kitchen began to tilt, black dots edging her vision.
Her arms suddenly felt heavy. They dropped. Then the world went black.