Necessary Detour (36 page)

“Wasn’t it planned?”

Nikki’s eyes flew open. “No. Pete would never let me do that. I wanted to buy time for everyone to get to safety. How would I know there’d be a hit man who didn’t know his subject well enough?” She paused. “I’m sure Pete was horrified when he heard I’d been shot. I still don’t know if he got in trouble with the Justice Department.” Saying his name out loud validated his existence, and she needed to take a deep breath to continue. “We became really good friends and promised…to meet up after all this, but he must have left town or he’s busy or something.” She didn’t want her daughter to know she’d been dumped, especially with the current look of horror on Quinn’s face.

“Oh, Mom.” Quinn’s voice sounded very far off.

“Now don’t feel sorry for me because I never heard from him again.” Nikki changed the subject. “Hey, guess what? Phyllis is flying in for the press conference.”

****

Pete was pretty sure Nikki was back in L.A. now that the stalker had been caught. Who wouldn’t want sunshine and palm trees at this point? Hell, he did. Only trouble was, it would be hard to enjoy his new freedom unless he set things right with Nikki. An apology was in order—from him. If he sent a fan letter, would it reach her? Probably not. As long as Quinn was still at the U, Nikki would come back. Plus, he had to learn to sail, spend some time in the shallow end of a pool, apologize for taking advantage of a rock star in a vulnerable time. Too many stones unturned.

Judson Peter Daniels had a nine a.m. appointment with the debriefing team and a counselor at the Justice Department. His goal at that meeting was to hide how distracted he’d been by Nikki on this last case. In the department they’d been taught to not blame themselves for matters that weren’t under their ability to change, but he could’ve held back with Nikki. Thing was, he only felt mildly guilty about all the flirting. And when she’d jumped from the van, he’d followed protocol. That much he knew.

On his way to the appointment, his cell phone rang and Pete answered before checking the number. “Hello.”

“Pete Daniels?”

“Yes.”

“It’s Quinn Burnside. I made a terrible mistake.”

****

Phyllis had flown in, the night before. A limo delivered her to Nikki’s house bright and early, and the women sat in the family room overlooking the lake, working on Nikki’s statement to the press that would take place in two hours. Words like “appreciate my privacy” and “discretion” floated in the air between them.

Wearing a black Chanel dress with a sling that Bev made out of a scarf, Nikki hoped to show the press her physical departure from Goldy. A hairdresser had come the day before to recolor her hair light brown and cut it in a fashionable bob. She was determined to convince the press to set her free. At least, to let their obsession die. Today she would answer most of their questions and then call an end to the nonsense.

Nikki stepped into the limo first and waited with Phyllis while Quinn finished a phone call on the walkway. Finally the sun had come out and a beautiful November day had emerged. “Is that my cell phone?” she called to Quinn. “I’ve been looking for that.” Nikki held out her good hand as Quinn entered the limo.

“Yes, sorry. I forgot I had it. I bet you need it now that life is beginning again.”

“That’s fine.” Nikki already knew that Pete never called. She’d asked every day in the hospital. Where the hell was he? Someone had to know. If nothing else, when this press conference was over and Phyllis flew back to L.A., Nikki would go to the dock where they’d left Pete’s sailboat. If the boat was still there, she’d leave him a note. If it was gone, she’d drive to Shelton to find the cove where it had been moored. If he hadn’t left for Mexico, she’d get on that nameless sailboat with a sack full of groceries and wait until he showed up. At the very least, closure was needed.

Quinn had called Pete to say that he could see Nikki later, after her press conference. He didn’t know if he could trust Quinn to orchestrate a meeting and, after getting details of the press conference from a reporter friend, he changed his morning plan. He had to forget his debriefing and get over to the Westin Hotel. After leaving his apologies with a secretary at the Justice Department, he ran to the curb to hail a taxi. In two minutes Goldy’s press conference would begin. There was a good chance he’d miss it, even if he got there immediately. But he was gonna try.

If the U.S. Marshal badge didn’t get him in the door, he’d pretend to be a reporter. How hard would it be to get into a press conference as a reporter?

No taxis. Shit. He hailed a police cruiser. After flashing his badge and explaining he needed a fast ride to the Westin, they’d smirked. “Oh yeah, we heard about you and Goldy.” Even though he’d put on a Seahawks cap to hide his identity, the morning paper had a photo of him with the caption “Baby Daddy?” The cops stared at him strangely. Nikki was right. Fame had a price.

He showed his marshal ID at the Westin ballroom doorway and was admitted to the back of the packed room. Even though it was after nine, the room was still buzzing in anticipation. Just knowing Nikki was in the building, settled his nerves in one way and jangled them in another.

He walked up the aisle but was muscled out of the way by a burly man with arms as thick as tree trunks.

“I’m a friend of Goldy’s,” Pete said.

“Sure. We all are, pal.”

Pete was ushered to the back of the room, and, sitting down amongst the crowd, he told himself to be thankful he was even here. He needed to hear Nikki’s voice, to know she was fine, to see that she was alive, and hear from her lips that the baby was fine.

A middle-aged, gray-haired woman in large black glasses walked onto the stage and positioned herself behind the cluster of microphones at the podium. The room quieted.

“Good morning, Seattle.” She looked comfortable behind a microphone. Good thing, because a hundred press members in attendance waited to hear from Goldy, including those representing European publications.

“In a moment, Goldy will come out to read a prepared statement,” the woman said. “After that, she will answer only a few questions.” She scanned the sea of faces. “I’m going to ask you to be kind. Remember, she’s been through a lot lately and is still weak from the gunshot wound.” She smiled at the familiar reporters, waved here and there, and continued. “Although I offered to issue Goldy’s statement on her behalf just now, she insisted on doing this in person, and taking questions at the end. Goldy is a real trooper, a consummate lady and I want you to treat her as such.”

There was a collective murmur from the press.

“Goldy is not allowed to answer questions about the investigation, which is still underway. You know what I’m talking about.” She looked sternly over the heads of the front rows to the back of the room. “And to enforce that, we have Sergeant Hitchens of the Seattle Sheriff’s Department.” Pete knew at that moment, he’d get to talk to Goldy today. Hitchens was his advocate.

The abduction attempt was top secret, he’d been told. Hospital staff had been sworn to secrecy so the press knew only about the Vanelli case, not about Shakespeare. That was FBI territory.

Hitchens approached the podium. “Because of the ongoing investigation, Goldy will not answer any questions about the shooting that occurred in front of the King County courthouse on November 12
th
. Nor will she take questions about the shooter or the case connected with that incident. Thank you.” He backed away from the microphone, folded his hands in front and with that gesture, the curtains were pulled back at the side of the stage.

Out walked Goldy—international rock diva and superstar.

Pete’s heart pounded against his chest at the sight of her. She looked like Nikki. Her hair was shorter, darker, and in this monstrous room, she looked very small. Almost frail. The crowd buzzed. Quinn was at her side, along with a nurse. Hundreds, possibly thousands of photos were taken in the time it took Nikki to walk to the podium, the room abuzz with the energy of getting the shot that would sell.

Nikki stood behind the microphones and smiled. The loose dress didn’t show a baby bump and Pete hoped to God it was still under there. He found himself holding his breath.
Dear God, don’t let this be an announcement about losing the baby.
His heart stopped.

“Hello, everyone. How are you?” Nikki’s voice was soft and sweet and so familiar to Pete, that he felt tears at the back of his eyes. She sounded like she was addressing long lost friends, beloved, cherished people she’d lost touch with. She waved the fingers of her right hand at reporters in the front and cleared her throat. “I’ve missed you, but I needed downtime.” She smiled at them. “And now, look how happy we are to see each other.” As she flirted with the crowd, Pete’s heart melted. Was this the same woman he’d been intimate with only weeks before?

Nikki flashed a big smile and proceeded. “Do you like my hair?” She flipped it with her good hand and smiled broadly at the crowd. She was a master at handling the press, and Pete wished he could run to her and kiss her for being so brave.

She waited for the room to fall silent. “I don’t look very Goldy-ish, and there’s a reason for that. Firstly, let me announce to you that I am doing well, my gunshot wound is healing and will be a distant memory, soon enough.”

The group erupted in applause and Goldy waited again for the noise to die down. “And I want to confirm that I’m having a baby in the spring.” She nodded, looking very proud of herself.

Pete heaved a sigh of relief and joined in the applause.

“The baby is doing well, and I couldn’t be more thrilled about the addition to my little family.” She cleared her throat. “On a more serious note, you have to admit that I have been very open to sharing myself with all of you over the last twenty years. I have granted interviews even when I was exhausted, answered questions when it was inconvenient, and have included you in every aspect of my life. You’ve watched Quinny grow up, followed me through my marriage and divorce, and been included in everything. And I have benefitted from your involvement. Don’t get me wrong. It’s been a beautiful love affair.”

Chuckles and murmurs spread through the room.

“Up to this point.” She paused. “I have loved this life as Goldy and how you’ve helped me achieve this life, but I’m sorry to announce today that this is where our love affair ends. I’m breaking up with you and you have to move on.”

The words troubled Pete, but then he remembered she was talking to the press, not him.

“I look forward to being a mother again, with privacy this time.” She looked over at Quinn standing at stage left. “And I will not be doing anything in show business that you will need to report anytime soon, aside from a short birth announcement in February.”

Wasn’t the due date March?

“I plan to be the most boring person in history, so you will have no reason to follow me.” She laughed. “In the past, I’ve made good press, but that’s all going to change. I know this game well. I will not be your story from now on.” She looked sternly at the crowd.

Nikki paused briefly and scanned her audience. “When I was shot—” She fought to keep her voice even. “—it was the press who saved my life. That day, wonderful people set down their cameras and surrounded me in a protective circle. My guardian angel, Gerard Thomas of the Seattle Times, risked his life to shield me after the first shot.” She looked sideways and took a tissue from the podium. “In his words, he ‘asked for guidance to save my life.’ Several of you, and you know who you are, took down the shooter at risk to your own lives…” She took a moment to compose herself. “…and for that I will always be grateful.” Nikki dabbed at her eyes. “I want to thank the press for saving my life, for giving me back this life, for saving my baby.” The applause was deafening. Nikki waited and blew her nose. When the noise died to a hush, she named names and asked that the people who’d helped her that day stand up to enjoy their moment of fame. They did.

“And lastly I want to thank you for giving me the greatest gift of all…the privacy I need now to have a normal life.” She backed away from the microphone to let the older lady in glasses step in front of the microphones.

“Goldy will now take only a few questions.”

Nikki pointed to someone in the second row, who waved frantically. “Jim.”

“What about the man on your dock, Goldy? Can you tell us who he is?” Although a pin didn’t drop, you could’ve heard it.

She looked over at Sergeant Hitchens and a man in a suit, who was probably her lawyer standing off to the side of the stage. Both shook their heads. She continued. “Jim asked about the man on my dock, photographed a month ago.” She cleared her throat and adjusted her sling. “He was a neighbor and a friend of mine. The day that photo was taken, he was attempting to get rid of photographers for me.”

“A boyfriend?” The reporter looked desperate.

Nikki didn’t miss a beat. “Next question.” She pointed to someone standing halfway back, at the side of the room.

“Does this pregnancy change any terms in your divorce, and will Burn be joining you and the baby in Seattle?”

Nikki looked calm. “No and no.”

Someone shouted out, “Is Burn the father?”

“I didn’t call on you,” she chided with a smile.

Nikki pointed to another reporter in the middle of the room.

“Will you remain in Washington State or raise the baby in Los Angeles?”

“I haven’t decided yet. Probably not L.A. For the time being, I’m here with Quinny.”

The publicist leaned into the group of microphones. “Last question.”