CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
that afternoon, Jordie came rushing into my office yelling, "Brooke! Brooke! Turn on the news!" I grabbed the remote and flipped through the channels until I came to the Action News report. Annika Randall was explaining that Beck Malone had walked away from the rehab facility that his brother had admitted him to not twenty-four hours before.
"We need to find him," I said to Jordie without looking away from the television. If Beck was out there roaming around searching for drugs, it made him, and Dax, vulnerable. We needed to find Beck and get him somewhere safe before someone else decided he was a good target. I looked at Jordie and he nodded as he went back to his office to make a few calls.
I picked up the phone and dialed. "Pop, I need your help," I said. "And, I need it to be hush hush."
"What's up, kiddo?" he asked as I heard my mother in the background asking if it was one of the kids.
"I need help finding someone who doesn't want to be found," I said. "Beck Malone has wandered away from rehab and I can't explain it all right now, but we need to find him as soon as humanly possible."
"Hmm, well, I can think of a few places where someone might go if they want to disappear," my father said.
"Pop, he's a junkie looking for a fix," I said.
"Oh, well, then, I know exactly where he might go," my father replied. "I'll check it out and let you know what I find."
"Pop, don't do anything risky or dangerous," I warned.
"My darling daughter, I am an LA Times reporter," he said haughtily. "Danger and risk are our middle names."
"Pop, you're an entertainment reporter," I said with a smile. "Keep it safe and simple."
"You always take the fun out of everything," he pouted as I heard my mother asking what I had said.
"I love you, Pop," I said before disconnecting.
The next call I had to make was a bit trickier, but I knew it had the potential to be more helpful than the one to my father. My father was my connection to the paper's resources, but my brother had the ability to marshal the forces of the entire LA Fire Department, and I knew that once I called him, there would be no turning back. If Teddy got involved, I would have thousands of people looking for Beck. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was a smart idea. Did Dax want Beck to be found? What danger was there if everyone was looking for him? I didn't want to call any more attention to him than was necessary, but I feared that if I didn't, the person who had sent the threatening fax would turn their attention to Beck and away from me. And in this case, Beck was in a far more vulnerable position.
I tapped the screen and waited for my brother to answer.
"Yo, sis, what's up?" Teddy laughed into the phone.
"I need help, Teddy," I said.
"What do you need, Brookie?" he said, immediately treating my request seriously.
"I need you and your people to be on the lookout for Beck Malone," I said. "He walked away from rehab today and I'm afraid that he's either going to look for a hook up to get him a fix or he's going to be used as a bargaining chip by someone who wants to hurt his brother."
"What makes you think that?" Teddy asked.
"Just a hunch," I said as I avoided answering his question. I didn't want Teddy to worry about my safety or, worse, to sound the alarm and make my parents worry.
"Brooke, seriously, tell me what's going on," he said. Teddy knew me better than anyone, and that meant that he knew when I wasn't telling the truth. And then, he said the magic words, "I won't tell Mom and Pop."
"You'd better not be suckering me, Theodore Raines," I said seriously.
"Hand to God," he said, even though I couldn't see if he had his hand behind his back with his fingers crossed.
"I'll trust you, but I swear, Teddy, you'd better not breathe a word of this to anyone," I threatened. "I'll lose my license to practice law, and then I will tell Mom and Pop it was all your fault."
"Just like always!" he gleefully declared.
"Jerk," I said grumpily.
"Tattletale," he lobbed back, continuing our lifelong insult match.
"Someone is trying to pin this murder on Dax, Teddy," I said. I carefully weighed my next words before I spoke, "We know this because that person sent us a faxed threat this morning. I'm worried that Beck is going to become a target for this person to focus on and use to get Dax to take the blame for the murder simply to ensure that Beck is safe."
"Jesus, sis," Teddy exhaled into the phone. I sat tensely waiting for him to speak. "When you get involved in something, you really get involved!"
"Don't be a pain," I scolded, but I knew he was really worried or else he wouldn't be joking.
"Okay, I'll tell everyone to be on the lookout for Beck," he said. "You got a photo?"
"I'll forward you one on your phone," I said as I made a note to ask Dax for a photo of Beck. "Teddy, I'm serious, please don't tell Mom and Pop about the threat. I already asked Pop to see what he could get on Beck from the city reporters, but I didn't tell him about anything related to me, okay?"
"Brooke, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Teddy asked.
"No, but I know that my job is to make sure that my client gets the best representation possible and a fair trial," I said as I scribbled a few notes on my legal pad. "And, I'm absolutely certain that Dax did not kill Lydia Banks."
"Alright, if you say so, then I'll believe you," Teddy said. "I'm on it. Send me the photo as soon as you can."
"Will do," I said. "And Teddy?"
"Yeah, sis?"
"You're the best brother ever," I smiled.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, you say that to all your brothers," he laughed.
"No, just one," I said very seriously. "I love you, Teddy."
"Now, don't go getting all sappy on me," he grumbled into the phone. And then quietly, he continued, "Love you too, Brookie."
As I sat at my desk trying to figure out what to do next, my phone rang. The number came up blocked, and I almost didn't answer it. But then I thought about how Beck might be calling from some unknown location, and I answered it.
"Brooke Raines?"
"Speaking," I said. "Who is this?"
"No one that you want to know, but everyone you need to know," said the voice on the other end.
"Who is this?"
"I'm calling to let you know that I'm in charge," said the voice. It was metallic and obviously being filtered through some sort of vocal distortion machine. "If you play my way, I'll let you live, but if you resist, then you'll end up like poor little Lydia. Stupid cow."
"What do you want?" I asked, trying to keep my voice calm and even. There was no one left in the office, and I couldn't risk calling the police while I had this person on the other end of the line. So I carefully pulled my phone away from my ear and hit the speaker button. Then, I opened my voice recorder app and hit record, hoping he'd speak again so that I'd have something on record.
"You have nothing I want," said the voice. "What I want is Dax Malone's head on a platter, and I'm going to get it."
"This makes no sense," I said wondering how long I could stall this person before they'd hang up in frustration.
"That's the beauty of it all," said the voice with a little laugh. "You don't have to understand a damn thing."
"Why don't you explain it to me?" I asked.
"Why don't you fuck off?" said the voice before disconnecting and leaving me staring at a blank screen.
I had no idea what that was about, but at least I had evidence of the person's existence and could tell Dax that the real killer was actually out to get him. I quickly tapped the screen of my phone and brought up Dax's number, then I thought better of it and gathered up my purse and briefcase and headed out the door.
I'd go see Dax and we'd discuss what to do next. I knew I was making excuses for why I had to see him in person, but at this point, I didn't care. I wanted to see Dax and, if I was honest, I wanted to wrap my arms around him and reassure myself that he was okay.
#
", good morning, Miss Raines," Fred cheerfully greeted me as I walked into the lobby. "I was starting to worry about you!"
"Good morning, Fred," I said as I came out of the cloud of thoughts swirling around my brain. "Why's that?"
"Well, I hadn't seen you all day and I've got a delivery for you," he said as he went behind the desk and pulled out a large envelope and handed it to me. There was no return address or postage on the envelope.
"Fred, did you see who delivered this?" I asked frowning and turning the envelope over noticing that it had been sealed with a wide strip of tape. First, the phone call and now, this envelope. Someone was trying to get a message across, and I didn't like the way it was being transmitted.
"No ma'am, I sure did not," he said. "I went out for a break and when I came back it was sitting on the desk face up. No note or anything."
"Okay, thank you, Fred," I nodded as I walked to the elevator and pressed the button. I debated about whether I should open the envelope, and then decided that it would probably be better to have someone else present when I did it, so I tucked it in my briefcase and went upstairs.
My apartment felt very empty after everything that had happened over the past few days, but it was nice to kick off my shoes and get out of the clothes that I'd been wearing for over twenty-four hours. I smiled as I pulled off my blouse and dropped it and my skirt in the dry-cleaning pile, remembering the way that Dax had quickly removed them both.
I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. As I waited for it to warm up, I looked at myself in the mirror and ran a hand through my hair as I recalled the way that Dax had touched me. I knew that getting involved with him was complicated and potentially dangerous, but I couldn't help myself. He was unlike any other man I'd ever fallen for, and he had ignited a passion in me that I'd never felt before. The fact that I was his legal representative made the situation incredibly complicated and presented an ethical challenge that I'd never run up against. But I thought about the way he'd touched me and held me, and I knew that I was willing to risk it for the chance to feel that way again. Even for a moment.
I stepped into the shower and let the hot water flow over my body as I turned my thoughts to the case. Where was Beck? Why was someone trying to frame Dax for Lydia's murder? Where in the hell had Roger gone and why hadn't he checked in after going to the marina? What was in the envelope?
I let the questions swirl around in my head without trying to answer them as I scrubbed away the previous day. By the time I stepped out of the shower, I felt refreshed and ready to face the day's tasks, despite having had no sleep. I pulled on a soft robe and went out to the kitchen to make myself a pot of coffee and read my mail.
I glanced at the envelope Fred had given me, and then on a whim, decided to open it. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and sliced open the top, careful not to disturb the taped flap. I reached inside and pulled out a stack of what looked like photographs that had been duplicated using a copier. The top photos were pictures of a woman I recognized as Lydia Banks. They were normal, everyday photos of her going to the grocery store, walking from her car to the office, and out running in the park. I was puzzled as to why someone would send me such average ordinary shots of her.
Until I came to the last sheet in the pile. It was a picture of Lydia sitting in LID having lunch with Dax. She was smiling and her hand was extended across the table resting on top of his. I couldn't see his expression because he had his back to the camera, but it was obvious they were enjoying each other's company. I felt a wave of jealousy wash over me as I looked at the other woman in the photo. She looked happy and relaxed, and she was sitting in the exact same place that I'd been sitting earlier today. Doing almost the exact same thing that I'd been doing.
Maybe everyone was right. Maybe Dax really was just an expert manipulator who knew how to charm a woman in order to get her into his bed. Maybe I was just a naive fool who was seeing only what I wanted to see and not what was standing right in front of me. Maybe I was falling for a murderer and would become one of those sad women who everyone thought was so deluded. Maybe he'd use me and then discard me. The thoughts raced through my brain one after another until I wanted to scream.
I looked back at the picture and noticed that there was an arrow on the bottom corner of the picture pointing to the right edge. When I turned the page over, I saw the hastily scrawled note and gasped as I read: You're next.
Suddenly, all of the thoughts I'd had disappeared. I dropped the sheet of paper, grabbed my phone, and quickly dialed Dax's number. When he answered, I simply said, "I need to see you. Now. Please?"
"Where are you?" he asked.
"Home," I said and then gave him the address. "Tell Fred to call me when you get here, so I can verify it's you."
"Brooke, what's going on?" he said in a voice that radiated concern.
"I can't tell you over the phone, just get here, please?" I said as I looked over at the table where the photos of Lydia lay spread out with the warning laying on top.
"I'm on my way," he said without asking any more questions. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
"Be careful, Dax," I said softly as he disconnected.