Waiting For A Star To Fall (Autumn Brody Book 2) (29 page)

"Veronica, damn it!" Evan muttered, snatching at the air in a futile attempt to get it back.

"Why hello, Mr. Kowalcyzk. I understand completely why you've been concerned about Evan. He didn't tell me he came out here without clearing it with you, and for that, I apologize... Yes, the news stories are true, but we are under 24-hour protection. Why don't I let your son explain it to you?" Handing over the phone, she glared at Evan. "It's for you, obviously."

Evan greeted his father and immediately shrunk in his chair. The browbeating he was getting was so loud, Veronica could make out the occasional word from across the room.
No more of this
, she seethed, brushing her hair roughly. Maybe she was easily irritated; maybe a part of her felt that driving Evan away—driving him out of the damn country—could keep him alive. Either way, at least his dad would stop calling.

A knock on the door set her off anew, Veronica growling in frustration as she stomped to check the peephole. Wasn't this Kevin's job? He had a key card of his own; he wouldn't need to knock. Squinting, she recognized Detective Morgan Barrington, waiting patiently in the hallway.

Opening the door, Veronica slipped outside, shutting in Evan's heated argument with his father. "Detective Barrington? What brings you here?"

Down the hall, a hotel concierge waved to her, offering a thumbs up gesture.
Ah. Kevin's stepped away
. It was getting close to four—his changeover time with Ray, who’d swapped shifts with Mirza.
Probably met him downstairs
.

"Well, Ms. St, Clair, I wanted to ensure you heard the news from me," Barrington replied. "We've arrested Jeremy Dixon this afternoon."

A tremendous weight lifted as Veronica leaned against the door, exhaling loudly. "You're serious? You caught him?"

Barrington nodded. "He tried to board a train to Rhode Island, but our BOLO alerted the ticket agents at the train station. Security apprehended him and he was turned over to NYPD. Now, here's the thing: we want a confession out of him. So far, we've found nothing of evidential value to tie him explicitly to the disappearance of Sophia Bradley, and aside from the letters, we have nothing to prove his attack on Amanda Lafleur."

"But... But the letters were him! And they bragged about it! He's not going to
walk
, is he?"

"Not if I can help it," Barrington assured her. "We're got him on aggravated stalking, but the legal system is frankly weak when it comes to that offense. Every time I've asked him to talk, he's insisted he'll only tell you the truth."

The blood drained from Veronica’s face as she rocked back on her heels. "No. No way. I can't... I can't be in a room with him."

"I know it's a hell of a lot to ask of you, after everything he's put you through. But he needs to pay for what he's done, Veronica. I would be right there with you."

"Evan?”

Barrington winced. "Mr. Dixon has been very combative at any mention of him. I'm afraid if he believes he's near, he'll shut down and not tell us a thing."

Biting her lip, Veronica quickly mulled her options. Evan wouldn't be happy about sending her off to face him alone, but the others... The women Jeremy had hurt... She couldn't allow him to get away with it.

He's restrained in a police station. I'll be safe
.

"Okay, let's go."

Barrington smiled. "Thank you, Veronica. You're doing the right thing."

On their way to the elevator, Veronica pulled the concierge aside, asking him to fill in Kevin upon his return. He promised to deliver her message and she was on her way, stepping into the elevator and leaning against the mirrored wall, eyes closed.

Peace. Once he's confessed, I can have a little peace. We all can
.

A pin pricked her arm and she winced, opening her eyes in surprise. It dug deeper as a firm arm leaned into her neck, pressing against her windpipe.

A needle
?
What the fuck?
Her hands flailed and tore at the detective's arm, but it was fruitless: she was simply too strong and the drugs were invading her body, lulling her into submission.

"I'm sorry, Veronica. You'll understand soon," Barrington whispered in her ear.

A choking gasp, a squeak, as her knees buckled beneath her, her body crumpling into a twisted ball. Heaviness and blinding streaks of light swallowed Veronica alive.

It was déjà vu of the worst kind.

Andrew dropped his camera bag in the entryway and immediately called Autumn's cell phone, storming into the bedroom area. The room was vacant, no trace of his fiancée to be found. When ring number four went to her voicemail, he hung up and redialed. Voicemail, again.

A mental checklist formed.
Phone? Gone. Key card? Gone. Purse? Gone.
Okay, she'd left the room and had intended to leave. What bothered him, aside from the clear disregard she continued to show for doctor's orders, was the lack of communication.

You know I worry, Autumn! Where the hell did you go?

He'd felt it on the train, a strange, nagging sense of the universe being out of order.
Something's wrong
, the voice whispered.
Hurry back
. And he had done just that, jogging with his gear in the sweltering heat to make it here.

Jeremy
. Had the intern come to the hotel? Had she confronted him?
No, she would have called security, like she did when the courier came.
Andrew reached for the phone on the desk, suddenly optimistic.
Maybe that's exactly what happened. Maybe she's downstairs, safe in their office. She would have taken her things. No big deal.
Pressing the key for the front desk, he relaxed into the chair beside him.
And she wouldn't call, because she'd want me to focus on my work.

"Concierge?"

"Hi there, this is Andrew Daniels in room 3806. I'm wondering if Autumn Brody is downstairs. Has she been in contact with you?"

"Not that I know of sir, but I came on shift an hour ago. Hold on, I'll ask..." Elevator music. The worst kind. How a hotel this pricey couldn't afford satellite radio was beyond him. "Sir?"

"Yes, I'm still here," Andrew replied.

"I've checked with everyone here, and there have been no calls to us from your room. Jason advises me that a police officer stopped by approximately two hours ago and he called up to the room to confirm the guest, as you've requested on file."

Andrew frowned. "What officer?"

"Jason, did you get a name?" the woman called out. "One... Female. Detective Morgan?"

"Thank you very much."

Hanging up, Andrew dialed Autumn's cell one more time.
Barrington came by
... Maybe the police had questions about Jeremy? But if so, why wouldn't she leave a message? And why would she need to leave the room to provide information? Seething, he pondered calling the police and giving them hell for allowing their officers to pull an injured woman from her bed for the sake of their own investigation.

No answer.
Probably has it on silent
, he guessed.

Andrew spent a good ten minutes trying to ignore the prickling on the back of his neck, but it was useless.
No, she would have called me. Or sent a text.. Something's happened.
Unless she'd left to see Veronica?

He was going to feel like an idiot if she was upstairs, but at least he would be a relieved idiot. His fingers flew over the hotel phone, dialing the four digits of their friends' room. After two rings, Evan answered, clearly agitated.

"Hello?"

"Hey Evan, it's Andrew. Autumn up there with you two?"

Evan huffed. "No, it's just me and my wounded ego, thanks to Veronica fucking off. Kevin's pissed and frankly, so am I."

Andrew's grip on the receiver tightened. "What do you mean, she's 'fucked off'?"

"After forcing me to have a shouting match with my dad, she steps out into the hall and disappears. Kevin had been called downstairs by security, so he traded off with hotel staff. Veronica asks him to tell us both that she's going to the police station with Detective Barrington. Jeremy was apparently arrested."

It was then that Andrew knew, deep in his core, that both women were in a world of trouble. "Evan... How long ago was this?"

"Maybe half an hour? Andrew, what's wrong?"

"It's just... Autumn's not here, and she hasn't called me. And two hours ago, Barrington phoned up from the lobby." His heart began to race as something odd stuck out in his mind. "Have Kevin call the police and confirm the arrest, and whether Barrington is on duty. I'm on my way up there."

Evan was apparently on the same page now. "Jesus, you don't think...?"

"Let's hope I am so very fucking wrong."

Slamming down the phone, Andrew hurried for the door, running through a series of tiny moments that now seemed like red flags to him. Like how Barrington had never referred to the stalker as 'he' or 'him'. Or how the Detective had been the one to raise Jeremy as a suspect.

Come to think of it, Barrington and Dixon had similar haircuts...

"Shit!" he cursed as he jogged up to the fortieth floor. "Damn it!"

If anything happens to her or Veronica, I will never forgive myself
. With every fibre of his being, he hoped he was wrong, that it was all just a massive coincidence. Kevin's face dashed his hopes on the ground, shattering them into tiny shards as he opened the door of Veronica's room.

"Barrington isn't on duty and Jeremy Dixon is not in custody."

"Then Autumn and Veronica are with the stalker," Andrew concluded, feeling sick. "Barrington. She has to be the one."

"How do we prove that?" Evan called out from within the room. "How do we prove a cop is a killer?"

"I have an idea," Kevin announced. "We can do this the difficult but upfront way, or the illegal and guaranteed way."

"Screw the law," Andrew replied. "It's the enemy now."

Kevin ushered Andrew inside, bolting the door behind him. "I was hoping you'd say that. Evan, hand me my laptop. I have work to do."

* * *

A flicker of light. White heat searing her brain, blinding her. The taste of glue on her tongue.

A muffled voice, terrified. "You can't leave her like that! Please..."

Nausea. A rolling wave, a spasm. Autumn rolled onto her side, groaning as her lips were torn free of their sticky confines. Gasping for air, Autumn forced her eyes open, squinting against the shock of fluorescent light.
Veronica.
Oh, shit...

"Autumn? Talk to me, please!"

"V... You have to go...Have to..."

"No one is going anywhere," Morgan snapped, nudging Autumn's rib with the toe of her shoe. "Not until you understand. Not until you know what I've sacrificed for you. For
us
."

"Us?" Veronica was furious now, pulling hard at her bound wrists. "There is no
us
, you crazy bitch!"

No, no, no
. She needed to play along. She needed to buy them time... Time to...
Something
. Autumn's head slumped as she scooched her body closer to Veronica. There was a way to break a zip tie. She'd read it once, before a protest she'd gone to...It was all just so
fuzzy
and
messy
in her mind.

Think, Autumn! Come on, you have to!

"I am
not
crazy!" Morgan screamed, slapping Veronica's face. "How dare you? After all I have done for you? I've encouraged you, supported your art, offered you gifts. I've punished people who've dared to hurt you. No one will forget your name, Veronica. Not after all I've done." She began to pace, tugging viciously at her hair. "None of you appreciate it. None of you ever see how loyal I am, how caring. None of you..."

"Play along," Autumn hissed quietly.

Think. There was a way... A release...

"Maybe I just don't understand it," Veronica said, her voice quivering. "Maybe... Maybe you should explain... Why me?"

A latch. There's a thing... you press it and the tie slides free...
Autumn's hand fumbled with Veronica's tie, feeling for the locking mechanism. Her fingers felt puffy and swollen, difficult to control.

"Why you?" Morgan sighed, leaning against the wall beside an enormous snowflake. "I grew up in the world of Broadway. This was my home, my escape. Grandma would take me to a show whenever things were too much.
In the Garden
has been the Holy Grail of musicals for years. Of course, it caught my attention."

"Theatre has always been my safe place," Veronica chimed in, stretching her arms back a little further.

Almost... There.
With her thumb, Autumn began shoving her nail against the tie, searching for the tab that would set her friend free.
I can't run... Can't... But she can...

Morgan rambled on, mercifully oblivious to Autumn’s efforts. "See? I understand that. So many people don't appreciate the healing power of the arts. I immediately looked into the cast of
In the Garden
and your story was fascinating. Fluke audition, high school senior from another country... I was curious. For a show that major, they would want a stellar set of performers. High expectations. I looked for your older work..."

Time shifted and stuttered: one moment, she was flicking at the bar; the next, she was shaking herself awake. Was Morgan incoherent, or was she losing time? Autumn drew a deep breath, steeling herself against her body's urge to collapse, to shut down.

"I'm glad you think I have a great voice and can act, but you don't know me," Veronica was saying now. "Aside from my career and a few of my friends, you don't have a clue. That's why this isn't a real relationship. You can't love an image of someone."

"I see through the image," Morgan insisted. "I see! You're funny and kind, and you're shyer than people would assume from an actress. Oh, I know you, maybe better than you know yourself."

A giving way. Autumn tugged gently, loosening Veronica's restraints. Another tug, a relieved sigh.
Sleep. I just need to sleep...

"Even if you do, I'm with someone. You have to respect that I am a grown woman in charge of her body and her relationships," Veronica pleaded. "Please, you have to let me go. Let us go—"

"Why do you have to make this so difficult?"

With an angry shriek, Morgan stormed away, digging into her bag. Autumn knew what was inside, knew that her friend had just shoved her stalker over the ledge from disturbed into violent and dangerous.

"Maybe you need to cut ties with the past to embrace our future," Morgan muttered, unsheathing the hunting knife. "You don't need to spend your life obligated to her!"

Autumn whimpered as Morgan grabbed her by the hair, holding the blade to her throat. A paper cut sting under her chin and then there was warmth, trickling down her skin, an annoying, wet itch she couldn't scratch.

"NO! NO, STOP IT! LEAVE HER ALONE!" Veronica pleaded.

"S'okay," Autumn mumbled sleepily.

Voices surrounded her, muffled as if underwater. She struggled to decipher the din, failing miserably and allowing the cottony blankness of her brain to claim her anew. Eyelids fluttering shut against her will, she wondered if it was possible to forget to breathe.

I don't want to die
, she thought as she slipped into unconsciousness once more...

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me!" Kevin snarled, punching his laptop.

Andrew rushed to his side, staring at the screen. "What's wrong?"

"The elevator cameras—either they're down or they're fake." Kevin gestured to the security cameras of the hotel, laid out in an expansive grid of tiny thumbnail images. "I can track Barrington into the elevator lobby. I can show she was on the 38th floor. And here..." Kevin pulled up a window, rewinding the footage. "Autumn's with her, for a moment. After this, I have no idea where they go."

Kevin's illegal solution to their horror was to hack into the hotel security grid, as opposed to asking for access. The likelihood of an upscale property granting the request for anyone aside from police was slim, Kevin had explained. With a few decryption programs and some tech savvy, he'd had the footage on screen in fifteen minutes.

"Can you see them leaving the hotel?" Andrew asked.

"That's the weirdest part: there's no exit. Unless she took her through some back exit without a camera, I'm stumped."

"What about Veronica?" Evan asked. "Is there anything at all?"

"Similar story: I have footage from this floor, but nothing in the elevators. No exit."

Andrew mulled this over for a moment, studying the cameras. "Wait: follow Barrington backwards from this floor. Does she
enter
?"

"What, enter the hotel? Good question..."

Kevin hit a few keys and watched the front entry cameras for several minutes in reverse. Andrew and Evan also searched the images flying by, seeking a flash of green blouse and dark, curly hair. Ten minutes elapsed in a flurry.

"Nothing," Evan whispered.

"They're still in the hotel," Andrew realized. "They never left. They're nearby."