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Authors: Fern Michaels

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BOOK: Deadline
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Chapter 18
F
or the fifth night in a row, Chris slept in front of the fireplace in a sleeping bag. Laura slept on the pullout sofa. No way was she going to lower herself and sleep in a “nasty old sleeping bag”—her exact words.
Because of the severe cold, Chris had closed off the other rooms to preserve what heat they had. He could've clicked on the central heating system and used the generators, but he didn't know how much longer they would be stranded. His goal was to keep them alive. Part of staying alive meant keeping warm.
With several thick blankets under his sleeping bag, the hardwood floors weren't too bad to sleep on. Again, he thanked Johnathan for thinking and planning ahead. Had it not been for his friend's foresight, Chris had no doubt they would have succumbed to the cold temperatures by now.
At this point, his only hope of being located rested with Toots and the call he'd tried to make. She was a smart woman. She wouldn't wait around for him to call again. Toots was a woman of action. As soon as she discovered he wasn't where he should be, she'd do whatever was necessary to find him. The downside: he hadn't told anyone where he was going, hadn't bothered to contact any of his associates in San Francisco to tell them he wouldn't be attending the conference. Hell, when he thought about it, he hadn't even told Steve where he was headed, just that Steve could stay in his condo for a week and to make himself at home.
Chris wondered if Abby realized he wasn't where he was supposed to be. But why would she? He hadn't told her of his plans, either. He was totally screwed unless the weather did a complete about-face. Laura's hybrid vehicle was great on the open road. It sucked at driving up a mountain. He was sure he'd ruined the transmission, but at the time all he could think of was getting Laura somewhere where no one would find her. He could only imagine the fallout if she'd gone ahead with her plans to blow up the studio.
Rolling onto his side, Chris stared long and hard into the fireplace. A log fell from the neatly stacked wood, sending orange, red, and yellow embers dancing up the flue. Small bits of the hickory log fell, shooting sparks toward him, only to die out as soon as they hit the protective screen. Hissing and popping sounds were the only noises in the large cabin. Except the wind. It had been blowing so much he'd gotten used to the sound; it had become a white noise of sorts. When he'd gone out earlier to see if he could get a cell-phone signal, the wind was bone-chillingly cold, biting right through his clothes.
Punching the down pillow back into shape, he reclined into its softness. He pushed his entire body farther into the sleeping bag. Warm, fed, and beyond tired, he closed his eyes and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
A loud pounding jolted him awake. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep. He hadn't bothered looking at the time when he'd called it a night because time just seemed to go on forever out there in the middle of nowhere. The only concept of time was day and night. Scooting out of the sleeping bag, Chris stuffed his feet in the dress shoes he'd had on when he'd left Hot Wired.
“What the hell is all that noise? I am
trying
to sleep!” Laura called out from the sofa. “This is like living in a frigging cave!”
“Be quiet, Laura. It's just someone knocking on the door.”
Maybe Johnathan. Maybe anybody.
He didn't care who it was as long as they took Laura Leigh away. He had a mental image of men in white jackets strapping her into a straightjacket. He smiled. Best thought he'd had in days.
More banging.
“Hang on,” Chris shouted as he raced to the door. “I'm coming!”
Icy gusts of air smacked him in the face when he opened the door. Two burly sheriff's deputies, bundled in heavy coats and tall black boots that hit just below the knee, stood on the wraparound deck.
Quickly, Chris stepped aside, pushing the door all the way open. “You guys must be freezing. Come inside.”
They stomped their heavy black boots on the mat before coming inside. “Are you Mr. Clay?” the taller of the two asked.
“That would be me,” Chris said as soon as he closed the door. “I have a fire. Why don't you guys warm your hands and tell me why you're here?”
Laura sat up on the sofa, her attention focused on the two deputies. “Did that jerk from the studio send for me? I knew it! See, Chris? They can't make that movie without me!” She jumped off the sofa and headed for the stairs. “I'm going to get my clothes on. Don't you two dare leave without me. And Chris, you're fired,” she said as she ran up the stairs.
“I have no clue what the young lady is talking about. We're here to check on a”—the deputy flipped through a small black tablet—“Mr. Christopher Clay. Your cell phone pings led us here.”
“Yesssss! Toots, right?” Chris said exultantly. “I knew that old gal would shake things up once she saw I'd called. Never underestimate a woman.” Images of Abby flashed before his eyes. He smiled. Damn, she was as smart as her mother. Prettier, too, but he'd never say that to Toots.
The deputy with the tablet skimmed through the pages again. “No, it was a man. Goebel, uh, doesn't have a last name. Just Goebel Global. A private detective.”
“I'll be damned! They've called in the big guns. This is Toots's doing.”
Both deputies stood in front of the fire, removed their gloves, and spread them across the hearth to dry.
“We're here to make sure you're unharmed, that's all. A safety check. Looks like you and the girl are nice and cozy. I guess we can be on our way,” the shorter deputy said.
“No, no, no! You cannot leave here without us! We're trapped here. Hell, I don't even
like
that little twit!” Chris's voice was loud enough to reach upstairs.
Pounding feet raced downstairs. Laura Leigh was wearing the skimpy cocktail dress she'd had on five nights ago. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you just refer to me as a
twit? A twit?
You are fired, Chris Clay, do you understand? I will drag your ass through the mud when I get home.”
“Is there something going on here that we should know about? Something more than two stranded lovers? If there is, well ... then”—Deputy Short looked at Deputy Tall—“we'll have to take you both in.”
For a second, Chris couldn't form the right words. Only a second. “No, no,
no!
You have it all wrong. First, we are
not
lovers. God, I can't even ... never mind. I'm her attorney, she's my client—”
“
Was
your client,” the twit interrupted.
“I am her
former
attorney. She is my
former
client.” Chris watched Laura while he spoke. He did not trust her at all. “We were ...”
We were what?
he thought.
I was trying to prevent my client from committing a major felony. She threatened to blow up World Con Studios.
As much as he despised the little shit, he couldn't rat her out. “You know, you guys are right. We came up here to have some time alone, to ourselves, if you know what I mean?” Chris looked at both men. Each wore a smile the size of an extra-large donut.
A cruller,
he thought.
“You lying sack of sh—!” Chris placed his hand over her mouth before she could finish. He pulled her close to him, and whispered in her ear, “You want me to tell them you're an arsonist?” He felt the fight leave her. Gently, he removed her from his embrace. Her sky-blue eyes were cloudy, dark with anger.
Tough,
he thought.
“We had an argument earlier. She's mad,” Chris said to explain her behavior.
“You're damned right I'm mad, you jerk!” Laura raised her hand high in the air, but before she could move her arm in a full swing, Deputy Tall caught her arm. “Domestic violence. You want me to take you in?”
It was all Chris could do to keep a straight face. He wished she had succeeded in hitting him. She thought staying in the cabin was roughing it. Wait until she had to take a pee in front of a jailhouse full of prostitutes, drunks, and dope dealers.
Laura yanked her arm out of the deputy's grasp. “Don't put your slimy hands on me again, or I'll have a sexual harassment charge against you so fast you'll never work again!”
“Laura,” Chris said. “Enough. These gentlemen are here to help us. I know you're upset, but you need to calm down.”
She rolled her eyes. “So you're telling me World Con didn't send them?”
Chris wanted to say the studio wouldn't have sent the lowliest security guard in search of her, but stopped. It would only make a bad situation worse. Until he was out of there, safely at home, he would keep his thoughts to himself.
Out of the blue, Deputy Short said, “I would swear I've seen this young lady before.”
Deputy Tall replied, “I think I have, too. You think she's one of those call girls we brought in last month?” He looked at his partner.
Chris grabbed Laura so fast it startled her. “Shhh,” he whispered in her ear.
“I'm not sure, maybe we ought to take her in and run her fingerprints. Just in case.”
That was going a bit too far. Chris knew he'd best speak up before the backwater deputies decided to take matters into their own hands.
“Have either of you seen
Bloody Hollow?
”
Chris saw the recognition as they stared at Laura. He smiled. Maybe the guys had teenagers, had watched the gory movie with them.
“You're
that
actress!” Deputy Tall exclaimed.
“I'll be damned. Carrie Sue would give just about anything for your autograph. She's got posters of you all over her bedroom walls. Just got her a T-shirt for her birthday last week. It's your face, but you got blood running out of your mouth. Her mom didn't think she should wear something like that, said it was sacrilegious,” Deputy Short told them, a strange excitement glistening in his eyes.
Laura's demeanor went from smart-ass to sweet actress immediately. “I'll do better than that. If you have a cell phone with a camera, I'll pose with you. I bet your daughter would like that. She could brag to her friends.”
“Damn right! I will take you up on your offer.” Deputy Short fumbled around in his heavy parka for his personal cell phone. The two deputies took turns taking their picture with Laura. She was all smiles, and they were giddy as two pigs in a mud bath.
“Want me to snap one of the three of you together?” Chris asked.
“If Miss Laura doesn't mind,” Deputy Tall said.
“Laura?” Chris asked, even though he knew she was eating up every second of the attention the deputies showered on her.
“Of course not. I would be honored,” she said in her fake/nice voice.
Chris took the outdated cell phone, surprised it actually had a camera. “Okay, on the count of three, I want everyone to smile. One, two, three!” He clicked the photo, checked to make sure it wasn't blurry, then took a second shot. “That ought to please all the guys at the sheriff's department.”
Chris gave the deputy his phone. The two admired their photo, and he knew before the night was over it would be plastered on Facebook, Twitter, and maybe the front page of the local paper. Laura would love that.
Wanting to get out of there now that all the niceties were over, Chris figured if he didn't remind the pair of deputies why they'd actually come in the first place, it wouldn't surprise him if they'd opt to spend all night taking pictures and listening to Laura tell them about all the actors and actresses she was friends with.
Grinning mischievously, Chris said, “I guess I'd better put out the fire and get things ready to go. I know Laura wants to get back to her fans.”
“Yes, I do. I have movies to make and fans to entertain, so, yes, we had better get ready to go.” Again, she used her fake/nice voice.
Chris had to admit that she could act. She was too young and too spoiled to realize her childish behavior was going to cut her acting career short. Maybe this would teach her a lesson. Maybe she wouldn't be so quick to throw temper tantrums and threaten the studio that kept her employed. Time would tell. Right now, he just wanted to get off the mountain. And more than anything, he wanted to see Abby.
He
needed
to see Abby because, when he did, he would tell her how he felt. He would tell her he loved her.
Chapter 19
T
hey'd consumed four pots of coffee, and Toots was as wired as the Energizer Bunny. Ida and Mavis said they were going to stay up in case there was news of Chris, and were in the den watching
Mildred Pierce
for the hundredth time. Sophie and Goebel lounged on the deck. Abby was asleep in Toots's bedroom, with Chester and Coco. Toots was alone in the kitchen when her house phone rang.
Scrambling to answer before the machine picked up the call, Toots said, breathlessly, “Hello.”
“Is this Theresa Loudenberry?” a male voice asked.
Instant warning. No one, and she meant absolutely no one, called her Theresa. This couldn't be good. “Yes, this is she.”
“Please hold,” the male voice said.
Toots had visions of medical examiners, morgues, and drawers that were really freezers with lifeless bodies inside.
Please,
she silently prayed,
do not let this be one of those phone calls. No!
She could not bear it if something happened to Chris. He was her son; she didn't care who'd given birth to him. She loved him as much as she loved Abby. Images of funerals,
events,
flashed before her eyes.
“Toots? Can you hear me?”
Jolted out of her macabre thoughts, Toots said, “Chris? Is this really you?” She crossed her fingers.
“You weren't expecting this call, I take it?” A deputy had to make the call, make sure I wasn't calling Germany or Italy.” Chris laughed, and it felt good.
“Oh, Chris, I have been so worried about you! We thought you were dead or that something else terrible had happened. Abby has been crying her eyes out. She doesn't think I know that, but she has. Goebel is here. We called him because the media said you did something vile, or rather they implied you did something vile to that silly actress, and I said there was no way. You're a man of integrity—”
“Toots! Stop, slow down. I'm fine. Really. I'm at the sheriff's department in Mammoth Lakes.”
All of a sudden Toots felt as light as a feather, carefree, as though the weight of the world had been removed from her shoulders. “Oh, Chris, thank God you're all right. I won't ask anything. As long as you're safe, that's all that matters. When are you coming home?”
“Good question. It's still snowing like crazy. I'm without a vehicle, and the closest airport is in San Francisco. They tell me there's only one flight a day to LA and that it doesn't leave until four in the afternoon. If I can hitch a ride to San Francisco, I'll be home tomorrow. Actually later tonight.”
Toots glanced at her watch. It was after three in the morning. “I can send a private jet to pick you up. You'll be home much earlier.”
“Thanks, but I can wait. It's been damn near a week, and another day won't matter.”
“Chris, it will matter. I take it you haven't watched the news or had Internet access?”
“Not where I was, no. Why? Is there something I should know?”
Toots took a deep breath. Hating to be the bearer of bad news, she spoke quietly, hoping to soften her words. “The media thinks you're involved with Laura Leigh's disappearance.” There was no other way to say it.
“What? What disappearance?”
Toots heard the shock in his words. “The police say you're the last person she was seen with.”
“Of course I was. The little brat is right here next to me. If I hadn't followed her, she would've either killed herself or someone else. She was smashed. She told me she was going to blow up World Con because she didn't get the role in
Bloody Hollow, Two.
She was supposed to meet her agent; I think he was going to deliver the bad news, but she knew it already. Someone let the cat out of the bag. I called her while I was following her, convinced her to pull over. I had to get her the hell out of Dodge before she acted on her threat. Took her to Johnathan Kline's cabin. My intentions were to drop her off, let her stew for a few days, then, when I returned from my conference in San Francisco, I planned to take her back to Los Angeles, let her face the music.”
For the second time in a matter of minutes, Toots felt as if she were floating on air. Maybe she would be like those puffy images of Bing Crosby and Aaron Spelling she'd seen hovering at her bedside two years ago.
“Toots? Are you there?” Chris's voice was laced with concern.
“Yes, yes. I think I should send the jet. The sooner you and Laura Leigh are back in town, the sooner we can put this nightmare behind us.”
“I guess you're right. I can't believe this silly spoiled girl has caused so much trouble. It's no wonder World Con won't hire her for the second gig. I'll ask the deputies to drive me to San Francisco. If they won't, then I'll see if I can borrow a car.”
“Ask them while I have you on the phone,” Toots instructed.
“Hang on.” Chris covered the mouthpiece, but Toots could hear him.
When he came back on the line, he said, “They'll drive me, but it will take a few hours. Why don't you have the jet waiting at say, nine in the morning?”
“I'll make it happen,” Toots said. “Where will you stay tonight?”
“This is a tourist town. There's all kinds of hotels, according to the deputies who rescued us. By the way, thanks. I knew I could count on you, Toots. I tried for days to call and never could get a signal. When I finally saw those bars, you were the only person I knew who would get the ball rolling. I can't thank you enough. This girl is out of control. It's a miracle I didn't strangle her.”
“Chris, whatever you do, don't let anyone hear you say that. Promise me?”
He laughed. “I'll keep those evil thoughts to myself.”
“Smart man. I'm going to make your arrangements. Will your cell phone work where you'll be staying?”
“Yes, I'm sure. It's dead though, so give me a couple hours to get settled, get it charged. Call me if you can't arrange for the jet.”
“Chris Clay,
can't
is not a word in my vocabulary. You of all people should know that by now,” Toots admonished in a teasing way.
“True. Okay, I'm outta here. Oh, one more thing, Toots. When you see Abby, tell her I want to speak with her about something vitally important. Could you do that for me?” Chris's tone was serious.
“Consider it done, dear.” Toots clicked off.
Sophie and Goebel came inside, and both were staring at her.
“That was Chris! He's fine, the actress is fine, and he'll be home as soon as I send a jet to fly him back to Los Angeles.”
Sophie's eyes sparkled like jewels. “Hot damn! Was I right? Was he stranded in the mountains?”
“Yes, you were right, Soph. At his friend's cabin.” Toots grabbed Sophie by the arms and pulled her in a friendly embrace. “You're good, Sophie. I knew you were right all along. Now, let's tell the others.”
Ida and Mavis were both asleep in the den.
Mildred Pierce
, aka Joan Crawford, had just told Veda she would kill her when Toots clicked the DVD player off. Sophie clapped her hands together so loudly, Ida and Mavis practically flew out of their chairs.
“What in the world!” Mavis cried out.
“You're going to hell in a handbasket, Sophie Manchester,” Ida said. “Don't ever do that again. I'm sure to have a heart attack.”
“They're right, Soph. Too noisy for us old broads. But I have fantastic news. I just spoke with Chris. He's fine, the actress is fine, and he'll be home sometime this evening. Isn't that the best news you've heard in forever?” Toots felt like dancing.
“Oh, that is wonderful news!” Mavis exclaimed. “That poor young man. Is he all right? Was he in the wilderness?”
“That is good news. Did he say where he's been for the past five days?” Ida asked.
“He was in a friend's cabin. Apparently he was trying to prevent Laura Leigh from destroying the movie studio. I'm sure he'll tell us all about it when he gets here.”
“I can't wait to hear this.” Sophie stood next to Goebel, his arm casually draped around her waist. Toots couldn't be happier for her very best friend. But there was one more person she needed to deliver the good news to.
Abby.
Toots had a message to give her.
“What's going on, Mom? I heard everyone talking.” Fear, absolute terror, stark and vivid, glittered in Abby's eyes. “Is there something you're not telling me?”
“Yes. Chris said he had something to tell you, said it was vitally important,” Toots explained. “He's coming home tonight.”
Suddenly, Abby was blissfully happy, glad to be alive, knowing that the sun would shine tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. She'd worry about the details later. Chris was coming home!
As soon as Toots had told everyone that Chris and Laura had been found, and both were safe, everyone had gone back to bed. Sophie and Goebel had opted to sleep in the den. She had been very specific when she explained to Goebel that he was not allowed in her bedroom, that she wasn't that kind of girl.
Ida had muttered, “Yet,” and they'd all had a great laugh.
BOOK: Deadline
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