CHAPTER 14 #2
“No.”
“Did Victor Hales?”
I look at the recorder.
Then at Alvarez.
“Not directly.”
“Explain not directly.”
“He told me the story was already fragile. He told me Clara’s career could survive grief but not liability. He told me the public had sympathy for pretty women who broke in understandable ways.”
Casey stops pretending to handle cables.
Alvarez’s face changes by almost nothing.
I continue because stopping now would be another edited take.
“Nate Weller used similar language later. Tragic but unreliable.”
The words enter the record.
Finally.
Eleven years late, but in.
Alvarez writes. “And you went along with that?”
“Yes.”
No theater. No excuse.
The tent heater hums under the silence.
I can hear press outside like distant insects.
“Do you believe Victor Hales is responsible for Nate Weller’s death?” Alvarez asks.
“I believe Victor knows more than he’s saying.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“No.”
“Try again.”
“I don’t know who killed Nate.”
“Do you believe Victor Hales is involved in the old cover-up?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Not enough.”
“Do you have records from your past attempts to find Scene 17 materials?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“My apartment. Paper notes. One external drive. Some email archives under an account I stopped using.”
“We’ll need them.”
“You’ll have them.”
His eyes narrow. “That easy?”
I look at my empty hands.
“Nothing about tonight is easy.”
The tent flap moves.
Diana steps in without permission.
Alvarez doesn’t look surprised. “I don’t remember inviting you.”
“I don’t remember caring.” She holds up Clara’s phone. “This died.”
My body goes cold.
I stand too fast.
The chair scrapes.
Alvarez’s hand lifts. “Sit down.”
I don’t.
Diana looks at me. “She’s alive. Before you become unbearable.”
Not enough.
“Where is she?”
“With a uniform outside and half my attention, which is more valuable than most full departments.”
“Diana.”
She tosses the dead phone onto the table. “She asked me to charge it. Then she went to give a statement. Then Molly called my phone because Clara’s died and because apparently I am now part of an insane group project with murder.”
Alvarez reaches for the phone. “Why are you bringing this in here?”
“Because the last message on the screen was visible before it died.”
The tent loses air.
I already know.
I knew in the tank.
I should have pushed. I should have stayed. I should have—
No.
That sentence is the door.
Diana looks at Alvarez, not me. “Storage opens at nine. Come alone or Avery stops breathing.”
The words hit the table.
Hard.
Casey whispers, “Avery.”
I take one step toward the tent flap.
Alvarez stands. “Reed.”
“She’ll go.”
“Sit down.”
“She’ll go because the message says Avery stops breathing.”
“Sit. Down.”
The command snaps across the tent.
I stop.
Not because of the authority.
Because Clara’s voice from the rain tank is still in my head.
Don’t make him pull you. It’ll be embarrassing for everyone.
Control is not rescue.
I force myself back to the chair.
It feels like cutting off a limb and calling it maturity.
Diana studies me. “That looked physically painful.”
“It was.”
“Good. Maybe it’ll stick.”
I look at Alvarez. “You have to intercept her without making it look like police intercepted her.”
“We have time.”
“Storage opens at nine. Whoever sent that knows she won’t wait until nine to plan. She’ll move early. She’ll make Molly pull records. She’ll try to identify the unit, entry route, cameras, staff, ownership.”
Diana says, “That sounds right.”
“It is right.”
Alvarez watches me. “And what would you normally do?”
“Lock down every route, put a tail on her, take her phone, park two uniforms outside her office, and call it safety.”
“And now?”
My hand curls on the table.
There is the test.
Not from Alvarez.
From the night.
“Now,” I say, each word unpleasant, “you tell her we know. You ask her what she needs to make contact safe. You don’t take the decision out of her hands unless there is an immediate physical threat.”
Diana looks almost impressed.
I hate that I need the approval.
Alvarez leans back. “And you?”
“I stay out of sight.”
That costs more.
I say it anyway.
“If they want her alone, seeing me may escalate. Seeing police may escalate. But she shouldn’t be alone.”
Alvarez taps his pen once against the notebook. “Who does she trust?”
I almost laugh.
Nobody. Not fully. Not anymore. That’s partly my fault and partly her survival.
“Molly,” I say. “Gideon Park, maybe. Diana currently, against both their wills. Alvarez, when he’s irritating but useful.”
Diana says, “I’m touched and offended.”
Alvarez ignores her. “Does she trust you?”
I look at Clara’s dead phone.
The black screen reflects the tent light in one hard stripe.
“No,” I say.
The word hurts less than it should.
Maybe because it is finally clean.
“Can she work with you?” Alvarez asks.
“Yes.”
“Can she ignore you?”
“Yes.”
“Can you let her?”
The tent is too warm. My throat tastes like burnt coffee and smoke.
“I’m learning,” I say.
Diana mutters, “At a glacial pace, but yes.”
Casey says, “Her phone is dead. Molly is trying to call everyone. She’s sent twenty-three messages to the emergency group chat.”
I turn. “Emergency group chat?”
Casey looks at Diana.
Diana looks at the ceiling.
I stare at them both.
Diana shrugs. “Molly made one. It’s called Murder Internship. I did not approve the name.”
Despite everything, a laugh leaves Casey and dies halfway.
Alvarez holds out a hand. “Show me.”
Casey brings the tablet.
The messages fill the screen.
MOLLY: WHERE IS CLARA MOLLY: WHY IS EVERYONE BAD AT ANSWERING MOLLY: DIANA IF YOU HAVE DIED BAREFOOT I WILL HAUNT YOUR DIRECTOR’S CUT GIDEON: Please stop creating discoverable written material.
MOLLY: NO MOLLY: CRESCENT VAULT HAS THREE LOCATIONS BUT ONLY NORTH HOLLYWOOD HAS A UNIT RENTED UNDER V H INITIAL CONTRACT MOLLY: I AM A GOD WITH WIFI AND ANXIETY GIDEON: Again, discoverable.
MOLLY: THEN DISCOVER THIS, PARK MOLLY: unit number redacted in public record but loading dock footage shows recurring black town car last 3 weeks
I read faster.
MOLLY: CLARA CALL ME MOLLY: CLARA DO NOT DO A brAVE IDIOT THING WITHOUT ME MOLLY: that is our brand together
Then one from Clara, sent before the phone died.
CLARA: Need unit number. Don’t come here yet.
Here.
My fingers press into the table.
“Here where?” I ask.
Diana’s face changes.
Casey scrolls.
No answer.
Gideon wrote:
GIDEON: Clara, answer location.
Molly wrote:
MOLLY: I AM GOING TO BITE SOMEONE
Then nothing.
Alvarez turns to Diana. “Where was she when the phone died?”
“Outside Stage 6. Then she said she needed air.”
I stand again.
This time, Alvarez doesn’t tell me to sit.
“She left,” I say.
Diana’s jaw tightens. “I had a uniform with her.”
“Had?”
She pulls her phone and dials. Her face goes still before anyone answers. “Harris, where is Clara Vane?”
A pause.
Diana’s eyes close.
“What do you mean she went to the restroom?”
The tent goes silent.
Diana listens, then says, “Find her now,” and hangs up.
I am already moving.
Alvarez grabs his coat. “Reed.”
“She’s going to the storage unit.”
“Not alone she isn’t.”
He says it like a promise.
I hope he understands promises have been losing badly tonight.
Outside, the north lot is louder now. Press lights at the gate. Studio legal near a cluster of golf carts. Crew members pretending not to stare. The first colorless hint of morning sits behind the stage roofs, not sunrise yet, just the sky admitting it can’t keep covering this.
I scan for Clara.
Dark coat. Hair tied back. Tired posture she turns into purpose.
Nothing.
Diana runs barefoot on one foot and heeled on the other, which would be absurd if I had room for absurdity. Casey follows with the tablet. Alvarez barks orders into a borrowed radio.
Molly calls Diana’s phone.
Diana puts it on speaker without slowing.
“WHERE IS SHE?” Molly yells.
“We’re finding out,” Diana says.
“That is not an answer. That is a scented candle phrase.”
“Molly,” I say.
A beat.
“Security Batman?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Clara?”
I do not lie.
“I think she left for Crescent Vault.”
A sound on the line. A chair scraping, maybe. Papers falling. “Of course she did. Of course she did because someone threatened Avery and her phone died and she has the self-preservation instincts of a Victorian orphan with a lockpick.”
“Can you track her?”
“Her phone died, genius.”
“Car?”
“She didn’t drive. She had no car.”
Alvarez cuts in. “Rideshare, taxi, studio cart, on foot, borrowed vehicle. Pull all.”
Casey taps the tablet. “Checking gate logs. East gate had an outgoing studio van three minutes ago.”
“Who authorized?” I ask.
He swipes. “Transportation request under production errands. Driver ID...” He stops.
“What?”
“Driver canceled badge scan. Manual override.”
Diana says, “Who can override transportation?”
I already know.
Victor.
Or someone using Victor’s level.
“Which direction?” Alvarez asks.
“North exit.”
Toward Crescent Vault.
My body moves before thought.
This time, I stop it myself.
Not far. One step.
But I stop.
Alvarez sees.
So does Diana.
So does Molly through the phone too, because she says, quieter, “Don’t chase blind.”
Clara’s words.
Coming from Molly.
That hurts in a place pain shouldn’t know.
“I need a vehicle,” I say.
Alvarez points at me. “You ride with me. You do not run off. You do not enter first. You do not decide alone.”
“Yes.”
He looks suspicious. “That was too easy.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
Molly’s voice shakes with anger. “Find her. And don’t you dare make this about your redemption arc. She will smell it and weaponize it.”
“I know.”
“Good. Hate that you know. Go.”
Diana hangs up and throws me my dead jacket from the evidence pile? No. Not my jacket. A spare studio windbreaker from a cart. “Your shirt smells like smoke, and you look like a walking confession.”
I take it.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t make it emotional.”