We Won’t Stop Until They Find Her #3
The photograph showed a beautiful ocean view from a white balcony above the water.
Marble sculptures held up the balcony railing.
Here at the Swan, framed on the wall, was a view identical to the one that had been posted on Ramona’s Instagram.
Sam pulled out her phone and took several bursts of pictures.
“It must be Brinley Downs’s place in the Maldives,” Bex said.
“That whole arrangement of photos on the wall looks like it’s been up there for ages, and they’re all pictures of properties and parties at those properties.
No way are those Christian’s candids of a lawn party in Palm Springs with a young Frank Sinatra. ”
“We really need to look at his phone,” Sam murmured. “Or a laptop, tablet, anything.”
“At least six people are working on it,” Bex said.
“If the tech Christian uses is anywhere in this mansion, someone will find it, but clearly he’s involved somehow.
He didn’t want anyone to look for Ramona.
He must have posted those Instagram shots from the Maldives on Ramona’s account literally as we were leaving his house after we came here to ask him questions.
I think we should have people look for any phone. What if he has Ramona’s?”
“Unlikely, but who knows? We need to be more careful if we’re pretty sure he’s in league with Chad and Sloan. He wouldn’t notice us at a glance in these disguises, but if he talks to us or gets close, he will.”
Sam thought she caught another glimpse of Sloan’s fedora and started to lead them in the opposite direction. “Come with me. Hurry.”
She was focused on Bex, whose cooperation was never easy to obtain without an explanation, when she smacked face-first into hot, stinky silk.
“Watch it, kid.”
Sam glanced up. Fuck.
It was Christian, wearing a silk robe over board shorts. He had a piece of yarn around his neck strung with what looked like gummy peach rings but were probably edibles. He held a bottle of Scotch by the neck.
“Pardon.” Sam used her best British accent, holding tight to Bex’s hand, already pulling away from him.
“No worries. Hey. Wait.” The tone of Christian’s voice was suddenly sober.
Sam dared to glance at him. He was focused on her face. Her eyes. “Those are Ro’s sunglasses.”
Then, as Sam watched in horror, his expression contorted with animosity.
“What the actual raw fuck are you two doing here? And why the fuck are you wearing Ro’s sunglasses?”
Christian hauled them both down the same hallway where they had discovered the scratches and then pointed the way into the study. The noise of the party got briefly quieter as Sam and Bex’s people realized what was happening, but Sam caught Piper’s eyes and shook her head.
Don’t blow your cover.
Piper signaled something to the security detail who’d come with her, a former Navy Seal who worked full-time for Piper and her family. It made Sam feel a lot better to know that he and an entire mansion of partygoers had their backs.
Christian slammed his Scotch bottle on the green-leather-covered desk and glowered at them. “What the hell is this? I don’t remember sending either one of you an invitation.”
“We’re here for the same reason we came the last time.” Sam gave him FBI Agent Henri Shannon’s best grim stare. She didn’t know if it was as effective while wearing a tracksuit and a long brunette wig with barrel curls.
“Then you’ll have to leave with the same thing I told you last time. I don’t know what you’re so worked up about. Ramona does this. She’s in the wind.”
Bex stepped to him. “Like the wind in the Maldives? Or the wind on Mount Baldy? Ramona often heads off to the properties of her estranged friends? Was that before or after she signed autographs in the middle of L.A.?”
“Mount Baldy?” Christian looked down at Bex like he was trying to get her into better focus. Sam would chalk his peculiar expression up as a response to their disguises if it weren’t for the sudden uncertainty creeping into the back of her mind.
How was he involved? Why hadn’t Bex’s aggressive questions swung this volatile man instantly to the defensive?
Christian sounded authentically confused.
Bex’s phone made a noise. She pulled it out of the pocket of her trousers without taking her eyes off Christian. When she glanced at the screen, a storm cloud moved over her expression, and Sam’s limbs filled with molten lead. “What is it?” she asked.
“The search team found blood near the filming site.” Bex brought her glare back to Christian. “And a smashed phone.”
Sam could hardly pull enough to move over her rage-frozen vocal cords to speak.
“She was your friend,” she choked out at Christian.
“What did she do to deserve getting hurt while she was working on that mountain? Was it just because she held you accountable for your behavior with Colin, so you decided to sic your old buddies on her? Did you dangle some prize in front of them? Money? You might as well start talking. Everyone at this party is here because of Ramona.”
Christian’s head shook slowly from side to side, trying to get his thoughts to surface like the die in a magic eight ball. “Where’s Ramona?” His voice was hoarse with worry.
Sam’s creeping uncertainty came back.
Then she remembered that once upon a time, Christian Stanstedt had been a decent actor. “It’s disgusting to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
His jaw clenched. “Where is Ramona, Sam? Where is she? There’s blood? What the fuck is going on?”
Bex scoffed. “Don’t pretend that—”
“I posted the Maldives pictures,” he spit out. “You got me. Fine. But I didn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t. I posted them to help her.”
“How is posting pictures that keep people from looking for Ramona going to help her when she’s missing?” Bex asked.
“I didn’t think she was actually missing! Why would I think that? I wanted her to be able to live her life! I was trying to get ahead of some fucked-up blind item saying she was wandering around a mesa doing drugs with cult members!”
“What?” Bex’s question rang through the room. Sam’s stomach felt too tight, her breathing wrong, but her sense that something was off the rails had become a solid belief.
Christian wasn’t acting.
He held up a finger. “Give us a minute. Give me a fucking minute.” He started pacing. “Start further back. Tell me from the beginning. Please.”
Sam crossed her heavy arms to keep from leaning against something.
“Ramona had a shoot on Friday. It was on Baldy, on location. With your buddies, Chad and Sloan, as guest stars. She didn’t show up for work on Monday morning.
Everyone has been looking for her ever since.
Right now, West Valley Search and Rescue is on Baldy in the dark, in the rain, trying to find her after van manifests and questioning a ton of people proved she never came off the mountain.
We didn’t know that until tonight, because, again, your buddies lied to the production assistant.
They left her up there. And the scratches on Chad and Sloan’s arms and necks, combined with this news”—Sam coughed and, to her horror, realized she was choking on tears—“about the blood, and her smashed-up phone, means that not only did they leave her there, they hurt her. And you’ve been making sure no one looks for her with the blind item and the Maldives photos. ”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Christian’s body collapsed against the desk. He’d gone pale, with red spots on his cheekbones. “When you came here the first time, why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”
“We did!” Sam protested.
“No, you fucking didn’t! You said she didn’t show up on Monday for work!”
“And time-date stamps prove that you understood well enough,” Bex put in, “since you posted the Maldives pictures right after we left.”
“I understood that she didn’t go to work, not that she was missing! Ro sometimes does need a break. I believed it when I told you I thought she’d just taken off for a while. Why wouldn’t I? I had no idea Chad and Sloan were shooting an episode with her the week before! If I had known that …”
“Then what?” Bex asked. “If you had known that, then what?”
“I’d have fucking strangled Sloan and Chad is what I would’ve done! But you two were too busy playing detective to be straight with someone who could have helped.”
“We were supposed to look for help from the guy who Ramona had to cut off because of how bad he treated Colin?” Bex angrily swiped a tear off her face. “Unlikely.”
Christian closed his eyes. He looked his age.
Maybe older. He’d lived fast and rough the last several years.
“I care about Ramona. I always have. She was a real friend to me when I was a newcomer to the Ice Crew. It wasn’t easy, and just as I got comfortable—just as I thought I might have real friends in this town who were interested in more than my family connections—I was stupid and decided to come out to everyone.
Chad and Sloan started making my life hell.
Luckily, I didn’t have to deal with them much after what happened with Juliette, but Ro and I were tight for a long time.
Look, I don’t make good decisions—although that’s none of your goddamned business. But I would never hurt her.”
Sam couldn’t read Bex’s expression. Her own body told her Christian was telling the truth, but so many things didn’t make sense. She hadn’t even had a chance to process what search and rescue found, much less worry about what else they might find before morning.
What did she know? Chad and Sloan had deliberately left Ramona on the mountain. They’d lied and pretended she was in the van, then lied and pretended Sloan drove her home.
Just like they’d left Juliette in a dinghy and then lied about how it happened.
Don’t say shit.
But she can’t swim.
Sam shook her head. “But why did you think that your Instagram post would get ahead of rumors? How could pictures from the Maldives possibly help Ramona?”