The Book Stops Here (23 page)

“Thank God,” I’d murmured.

Derek had lifted her head up slightly. “Did you see who hurt you?”

“No,” she’d said in a weak whisper. “Hit me from behind. Couldn’t hear. The rain. I couldn’t see.”

She’d closed her eyes.

“Don’t push her,” I’d said, although I’d wanted to. I’d been so relieved that she was alive and I hoped that once she was feeling stronger, she might give us more details. It didn’t matter, though, because I knew who’d done it to her.

A half hour later, Derek was finished with his police interview. “Let’s go,” he said, reaching for my hand. We got as far as the studio door before Tom hurried over and blocked our escape route.

“Okay, I admit it,” he said in a rush. “You were right: we need more security. That stalker has gone too far this time. He’s not targeting just Randy now. He’s creating havoc with my people and I can’t pretend to ignore it any longer.” He rubbed both hands over his face, obviously upset. “I guess I figured Randy was just being a whiner, but this attack on Tish is too much. Can you get me the people I need?”

Derek and I exchanged glances. We’d agreed that Randy’s stalker, whoever it was, had not been the one who’d attacked Tish, but we kept silent. If Tom was willing to hire Derek’s security team to protect his staff and crew, I didn’t care what justification he used. All that mattered was that everyone in the studio would be safer.

“I’ll have two men and two women in place tomorrow,” Derek said, all business now. “They’ll be in plain clothing and you’ll introduce them as new production assistants. They’ll blend in—don’t worry. I’ll be here every day, too.”

“Okay.” Tom took a deep, shaky breath and let it out. “Okay. Sounds good.”

“A brief word of warning,” Derek added. “The fewer people who know why we’re here, the better it’ll be for everyone. Do I have your assurance that you’ll keep the reason for our presence under wraps?”

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding briskly. “Nobody will know except me and Walter.”

Derek suggested that he introduce Tom and Walter to the new security agents and they agreed on a time to meet the following day in my dressing room. Then the two men shook hands. “See you tomorrow.”

We left the studio and drove home together in Derek’s Bentley. I didn’t want to leave my car all night, but I was too tired to drive alone. Derek would come back to the studio tomorrow and stay with me all day, just as he’d promised. At some point, I would drive my own car home.

I couldn’t imagine anything more boring for Derek than sitting in my dressing room all day, so I was extra grateful that he meant to keep his word. He really was a hero.

•   •   •

T
he next morning we woke up to sunshine pouring through the windows. I was so glad the rain had passed—and not just because I didn’t have my red raincoat anymore. The memory of Tish lying on the wet tarmac with blood trailing down her face was so awful, I had to jump out of bed and start moving, just to distract myself.

A while later, over bacon, eggs, and scones, we chatted about today’s meeting with Derek’s security team. I was excited at the prospect of getting to know some of his people, though I hated the circumstances under which we were meeting.

I must have had some kind of telling look on my face, because Derek reached over and squeezed my hand. “You’re going to need a new coat, darling.”

“Are you reading my mind again?” I asked lightly.

“I just know you. I had a feeling it might be bothering you.”

“It is. I admit it.” I set down my coffee cup. “I hate to be such an idiot, but I know I won’t be able to wear it again. And it was so beautiful and you were so thoughtful to bring it home for me and
I really love it. But after seeing Tish lying there in the parking lot, with her head bleeding from that vicious attack, I can’t . . .” I shook my head. “I know I could take the coat to the dry cleaners and it would probably be as good as new, but I’m not sure I can wear it again.”

I shut my eyes tightly, so tired of listening to myself whine. “Oh, just ignore me, please. This isn’t about the coat. I’m just so worried about Tish.”

Derek squeezed my hand a bit tighter. “The coat was damaged in the commission of a violent crime. Tish was attacked precisely because she was wearing your coat. It makes me ill to think it could have been you out there in the rain. I refuse to let you wear it again.”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

He smiled with resolve. “That’s exactly how I’d put it. Now, we can ask Tish if she wants to keep the coat. I can’t imagine she will, but you never know. If she doesn’t want it, we’ll give it to the homeless shelter.”

“All right,” I said, somewhat mollified.

His smile widened. “Someone who needs it will have a warm coat. And I will have the pleasure of taking you to London and we’ll make new memories together—while also getting you a new coat.”

A little lump of emotion got caught in my throat. I jumped up from my chair and wrapped my arms around him. “You are the best thing in my world.”

He rubbed my back. “And you’re the best thing in my world.”

“What a happy coincidence,” I whispered.

“Come here, thing,” he said, and pulled me onto his lap. We both smiled contentedly and sat snuggled up to each other for a few more minutes. It was a good start to the day.

•   •   •

A
s Derek drove the car out of our garage, he brought up the subject of
The Secret Garden
. “I keep circling back to that
children’s book. I know it’s worth a lot of money, but I can’t see those two brothers killing to get it back.”

“We’ve both seen people kill for less,” I reasoned.

“But this time the players are two extremely violent criminals. Psychopathic thugs. They’re not your typical book lovers, to say the least. So why do they want this book? Why are they so willing to kill to get it?”

“I don’t know. And it’s not like they’ll get away with it,” I added. “The cops already know who they are. So even if they do manage to steal the book, they’ll spend the rest of their lives in prison.”

Derek glanced in his rearview mirror before changing lanes. “Let’s play with the theory that they’re not just after any old valuable book, but they’re determined to track down this specific one. So there must be something about this book, in particular, that makes it beyond valuable to them.”

“Yes, exactly. And I’ve been trying to come up with some possible motivations.” I glanced over at him. “If you’ll indulge me?”

He flashed a lopsided smile at me. “Please proceed.”

“Okay.” I readjusted myself in the seat so I was sitting facing him. “One scenario I came up with is that Grizzly was the one who originally stole the book. And don’t ask me where he found it. I haven’t worked that out yet. Anyway, let’s say Lug Nut inadvertently threw the book in with a bunch of stuff for a garage sale. When Grizzly found out, he threatened to kill Lug Nut if he didn’t get it back.”

“Not bad,” Derek said, nodding in accord. “That gives him a very strong motive. Namely, fear. He recognizes that his older brother wouldn’t hesitate to kill him, so he’s willing to kill someone else.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they’ve been beating each other up since they were kids.”

“Or worse,” Derek said. “Perhaps their father was abusive.”

“Ugh.” I shuddered at the thought, though even if it was true, it didn’t give them the right to continue the cycle of violence. “Okay, another theory is that maybe they have a mother or a sister who always loved the book. Maybe Lug Nut wasn’t paying attention the day he sold the book to Vera, and now he needs it back because his sister is dying of, I don’t know, consumption. Or something.” I wrinkled my nose. “That scenario’s a little weak.”

Derek chuckled. “It’s a bit less plausible. But it makes sense in that they need
this
specific book as opposed to any old rare, expensive book.”

I took another shot at it. “What if someone hired them to get the book back?”

“Who would hire them?”

“Someone mean who doesn’t care if anyone gets hurt. I’m just offering possibilities.”

“All right.” Derek considered it. “But whoever it is, why would that person condone their killing someone?”

“Because it’s a valuable book?” I said lamely, out of answers. “I don’t know why anyone in their right mind would give the brothers permission to kill in order to get the book.”

He nodded thoughtfully as he turned right on Sixteenth Street. “I assume the book is still in the safe.”

“Yes. I was keeping it there until I got paid by Vera. Now I’m not sure what to do with it.”

“Perhaps she has relatives who would inherit it.”

“Maybe.” Although I couldn’t imagine Vera’s relatives having any more interest in the book than Vera had had, other than the money they could make by selling it.

I pictured the beautiful book with its dazzling original cover painting and stunning craftsmanship. Then I pictured the hideous Jones brothers. Grizzly, standing on the street, threatening me. His equally disgusting brother, Lug Nut, grabbing me, bruising my arm, and smacking down Benny the guard.

On one hand, the precious book. On the other, the repugnant thugs. The two images were so incongruous, they made me dizzy. But I needed to figure out the connection between them before I became a target again.

Derek pulled to a stop at the red light at Sixteenth and DeHaro Street. “Love, perhaps it’s time you did a little more research into the book itself.”

“I was just coming to that same conclusion.”

•   •   •

E
veryone I met in the studio wanted to talk about Tish. Most of the women were still worried about security in the parking lot.

In an effort to quell nerves and get people back to work, Tom gathered the entire staff and crew together on the stage to make an announcement. “I just heard from Kenny. Tish is doing great. She’s sitting up in bed and demanding that he get her the hell out of there.” Everyone laughed and some began to applaud.

“But the doctors want to keep her there for one more day,” he continued. “Just to make sure her concussion isn’t more serious than they think.”

Low murmurs of concern escalated quickly through the crowd.

“Hey, hey, it’s just a precaution,” Tom added quickly. “She’s feeling great and expects to be back here working by Thursday.”

This seemed to satisfy everyone enough to drop their security issues for the moment and they ambled back to work. I was thrilled to know that Tish would recover completely, but the knowledge did nothing to ease the guilt that was causing my stomach to twist and dip. Because, let’s face it, she was in the hospital because of me.

“No,” I muttered aloud. She was in the hospital because of those jackass Jones brothers.

That thought intensified my desire to seek a solid connection between the Thug Brothers and
The Secret Garden
. I headed for my dressing room to spend some time doing research on my computer, but when I got there, I found it packed with people.

“Oh, hello,” I said. I’d forgotten Derek had chosen my room to meet with his small security force and introduce them to Tom.

“Brooklyn,” Derek said, grabbing hold of the knob to keep the door open. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

I walked in and was soon shaking hands with George, Barbara, Steve, and Mindy. They were all in their late twenties or early thirties and looked smart and capable. Each wore casual street clothes except for George, who was wearing the same style guard’s uniform that Benny wore.

“George isn’t quite as undercover as the others,” Derek explained. “I thought it would calm some of the frayed nerves to have an outward show of increased security on the set.”

“I’m sure it will,” I said. “Tom and Walter should be here any minute. I just saw them out onstage.”

“Good,” Derek said. “Before they get here, I want to reiterate that we’ve two security objectives. First and foremost, Brooklyn.”

I waved weakly. “That’s me.”

Derek shot me a wry smile and then sobered. “We believe the man who attacked Tish last night is the brother of the man who assaulted Brooklyn last week. Brooklyn’s assailant is currently in jail, but his brother is still on the loose. He’s a dangerous thug who goes by the street name of Grizzly. I e-mailed descriptions of him and a short video to all of you last night.”

“Grizzly.” Mindy frowned. “His name suits him.”

“It does,” I assured her, glad that Derek had shown them the video from my phone.

“So he’ll be hard to miss,” Barbara added.

“He’s a big, ugly sucker,” I said. “There’s no disguising his height and weight. Be careful if you run into him.”

It was probably an unnecessary tip. These women—and men—worked security for Derek so they had to know every form of self-defense move known to man.
Unlike me,
I thought. But that
would change soon. I couldn’t wait for Alex to show me some moves that would make me feel a little more kick-ass and less wimplike.

Derek switched subjects. “Tom Darby and Walter Williams are the show’s producers and you’ll meet them in a moment. They’re the only ones who know your true reason for being here. You three will be introduced to the other staff and crew members as new production assistants and you’ll be expected to do whatever the job entails. George, you’re the new security guard Tom hired. You’ll act accordingly, patrolling the stage areas, keeping your eyes and ears open for any trouble. If any of the women want to be escorted to their cars, go ahead and do that.”

“It’ll be my pleasure,” George said smartly.

Mindy batted her eyelashes. “Who doesn’t love a man in uniform?”

The others snorted with laughter and I joined them, pleased to know that Derek had hired such likable people.

“We’ve got a few wrinkles,” Derek said, interrupting the merriment. “First of all, Tom believes he’s hired us to protect his people from a stalker who’s been tormenting the star of the show, Randolph Rayburn. Randy has been stalked for the past six months by an unknown person, so we have no physical description.”

Derek gave them all a brief rundown of the things the stalker had done in the past, the last of which may have been the peanut-allergy scare. “He—or she—has never threatened Randolph physically before, so his behavior appears to be escalating.”