The Final Act (#4 Bestselling Spotlight Series) (24 page)

Chapter 35

The stalker leads me deeper into the studio complex, through the fake town of Birchville and to the forest beyond.

He’s bound my hands and secured a rope around my middle, like a leash. Which he uses to pull me along behind him.

The further we go into the set, the deeper my despair tightens.

No
one will ever find us here.

When we reach the forest, he ties me firmly to one of the large fibreglass trees, yanking the ropes so tight, they cut off the blood supply.

I try not to wince, but my face twitches, and the stalker’s eyes light up.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he says. “For so long. I don’t want it to be over quickly.”

He steps away, considering me.

“I know all about you,” he says, holding up the knife and examining the blade.
“Isabella Green.”

The sound of him saying my name makes me flinch.

“I know about your Spanish Mami,” he says, “and your dead father.”

I feel my breath constrict, and see his eyes light up
again.

“I know you struggled as the poorest student in your drama school,” he continues silkily. “And I know your aunt and uncle gave you a place to stay while you studied.”

He moves close, leaning in so his face is level with mine.

“I know everything,” he says. “And I’m going to take everything from you.”

Something about the conceit in his voice charges me with unexpected anger.

“So you’ve researched my life,” I spit, “so what? That doesn’t give you any
more power over me than a gutter journalist.”

His face registers surprise.

“Oh, but it does,” he says softly. “I know
everything
about you. And you know nothing about me.”

“You think you can frighten me,” I say, trying to sound braver than I feel. “Like you did to
Emilia.”

“That stupid weak girl,” he scoffs. “She was hardly worth the challenge of her capture.”

“That stupid weak girl
talked
,” I say, taking a risk on a bluff. “She told me everything.”

His face looks uncertain now.

“Everything,” I add, pressing my advantage. “About who you are. So you don’t have power over me. Because you can’t even make a stupid weak girl stay silent.”

The stalker pulls back a little. Then his face sets in a sneer.

“You’re bluffing,” he says. “You don’t know the first thing about me. If you did, your precious James would have cut off my money.” He grins. “I couldn’t have bribed the guard to let me escape.”

I open my mouth and shut it again.

How did he escape? The mystery of it is swirling in my mind. Just at this moment, the answer seems more tantalisingly close than ever.

Think Issy. Think what you know.

The stalker’s face shifts back to its former arrogance.

“You
can try to act brave,” he says. “But once I get started, you’ll soon drop the performance.”

He
moves the knife to just below my eye.

“I’m going to start with your face,” he decides. His lips twist in a repulsive smile. “
Isabella Green. We’re going to find out what you’re really made of.”

Fear is coursing through me. But t
he facts are hammering through my brain as well. The whole case of the Lipstick Stalker is flashing before me.

It wasn’t Lord Berkeley making the payments.
So who was it?

For some reason,
Emilia’s quiet voice comes back to me. Like a ghostly whisper.

“
I don’t have any family. I’m all alone here.”

Family.
Family.
Why does that suddenly seem important?

The stalker had no identity. No family.

Like an enigma, that’s what they said.

W
hat sort of person has no records of them at all? It’s a question I’ve thought about over and over, and never got an answer to.

But the stalker’s terrifying proximity seems to have forced new synapses together, and suddenly, something is striking me as obvious.

The stalker must have been out of society for a long time. Perhaps until very recently. And he’d been profiling James. Studying Berkeley Studios.

Then, just like that, I’m sure.

“But I
do
know about you,” I say, fixing my eyes on the stalker. “I know all about you. I know
exactly
who you are.”

The stalker’s face twitches.

“You’re lying,” he says, considering my face.

“No,” I say. “I’m not
lying. I do know you. We thought you were locked up in a mental asylum. You’re Ben Gracey’s older brother.”

Chapter 36

Everything about the stalker’s firm stance seems to shrink away. And for a sudden moment, his face is uncertain.

“
We thought it was Lord Berkeley giving you money,” I say. “But it was Ben. He must have given you cheques made out by James. That’s why your money was in the Berkeley name.”

The stalker’s face twitches, and I know I’ve guessed right.

“James was giving money to Ben Gracey. To help his family,” I add. “That was you.”

It all fits into place now.

“Did Ben know?” I ask. “Did Ben know what the money was being used for?”

Somehow
, this is important to me. I don’t like Ben. But I don’t want to believe he would be colluding with a psychopath to hurt me. Not even if the psychopath was his own brother.

The stalker shakes his head, his eyes venomous.

“Ben doesn’t care,” he says. “Anymore than the rest of them.” He spits this last part. “Ben doesn’t even know I’ve been released from the asylum. He sends his guilt money cheques, and they are forwarded to my lawyer.”

He smiles. “That way, I’m untraceable.” The stalker seems pleased at this. “Even your clever James Berkeley, with all his minions, isn’t allowed to pry into my legal defence,” he adds.

I let this slide around my brain, putting the pieces together.

“You’re angry at James?” I guess.

“He was my only chance after they locked me away,” hisses the stalker. “I always knew I was destined for fame. Ben told me about my new stepbrother. James Berkeley was my chance for greatness.”

His expression quivers a little, and his eyes rise up, as if considering some distant dream.

“And you think James betrayed you?” I say, putting the pieces together.

Ben’s older brother. In a mental asylum as a teenager. He must have had plenty of time to develop an obsession with his absent
stepbrother, and his successful movie business.

“James
did
betray me,” says the stalker. He leans closer, and the mania is firmly back in his eyes. “He’s the reason I wasn’t accepted into the Berkeley family. But now I’ve found my own way of becoming famous. And I plan to take James’s fame for myself. Starting with you.”

He raises the knife, ready to bring it down on my face. And I close my eyes, waiting for the blow.

But it never comes.

I open my eyes fractionally,
just in time to see the stalker’s face whipping backwards with an expression of horror.

Then
the stalker is a few feet away from me, writhing on the ground. He shifts, and then I see a familiar person pinning him down.

James!

The stalker is screaming, writhing and clawing.

But he’s no match for James Berkeley.

Chapter
37

“James!” I’m gasping in shock.

He looks up at me, relief flooding his green eyes.

“Issy! Are you ok?”

I nod, and beneath him, the stalker makes another strangled cry.

“I’ve got him!” shouts James, returning his attention to restraint. “We’re over here!”

There are more shouts, and within moments, security guards have b
ounded into the forest clearing. They fall on the stalker and secure handcuffs to his wrists, and he shouts and struggles.

James rushes o
ver to me, tugging at the ropes as his men drag the stalker away.

“Issy!” He pulls me free and drags me into a tight hug.

“Ow!” I laugh. “Easy! I think you crushed a rib!”

He grips me even tighter, ignoring my reproach.

“I’m just so glad to have you safe.” He pulls away a little, looking into my eyes. “Did he hurt you? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” I say, mentally examining my body. “A few bruises where I fell, is all.”

“Thank God.” James kisses my mouth.

I struggle away from the tree, rubbing life back into my arms and legs.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask. “I thought you were busy with the premiere.”

The idea of
Leicester Square and the premiere feels like a distant, strange dream now.

“
It was Natalie,” answers James. “She suspected something wasn’t right. She made some calls and found out that someone had requested your dress be sent to the wrong place.”

Wow. Natalie. I guess
I owe her one.

“So you worked out that the stalker had set me a trap?” I deduce.

“Not exactly,” says James. He lets out a long breath. “I spoke to my father,” he admits.

He did?

“You did?” Despite all that’s happened, I can’t help but be delighted at this small victory. If James is speaking to his father, it can only be good.

“Yes,” says James. “And you were right. My father… He’s not as ashamed of me as I
thought.” He looks abashed. “I guess I didn’t talk to him for so long, that I made the fear worse in my head,” he admits. “Although,” he adds sardonically, “I had a lot of explaining to do when he found out I’d had the police freeze his bank account.”

I smile at him. “So he told you that he hadn’t been making payments to the stalker?”

“Better than that,” says James. “My father was clever enough to work out that the payments must have been my cheques sent by Ben to his older brother.”

He frowns.

“Ben didn’t know,” I say, answering his suspicion. “He’s been sending guilt money for years, rather than pay a visit. He didn’t even know his brother had been let out. The asylum was sending your cheques to his lawyer.”

James considers this.
“The only profession on the planet low enough to keep the stalker’s identity secret,” he says, his face grim.

“Poor Ben,” he
adds with unexpected sympathy. “I guess he’ll have to find out his brother was driven over the edge.”

I can see by James’s face where this is headed.

“Stop that,” I say firmly. “It was nothing to do with you. Ben’s older brother was committed long before you came along. You were just the catalyst for his obsession. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been something else.”

James considers this.

“I’m just glad I found you before anything bad happened,” he says finally.

“
How did you find me here?” I ask. Berkeley Studios is a big place, after all. James could have searched for hours before deciding to check the forest.

“I followed the stalker
’s blood trail,” says James, raising an eyebrow. “It seems you’re more able to defend yourself than I gave your credit for,” he adds with a wry grin.

I
smile at him. “I guess so. I stabbed his leg with an arrow,” I add. “I grabbed it from the props department.”

James tilts his head, considering this. “Very resourceful,” he says
approvingly. “Perhaps I can be a little less protective of you in future.”

Then I remember.

“The stalker burned the costume warehouse,” I gasp, raising my hands to my mouth in horror. “All your costumes. James!”

He shakes his head. “We have a
very effective sprinkler system,” he says. “It put out the fire before there was any real damage. Only a few costumes were past saving, in any case,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What a thing to worry about. I’d have burned down ten costume warehouses just to find you safe.”

I smile at him. “My hero.”

“We aim to please.” He tips a pretend cap at me. “Come on,” he adds. “Let’s get you up. I’m taking you to a nice hotel, a long way from here. And we’ll forget this ever happened.”

“But. What about the
premiere?” I ask, wondering if the smoke got to me more than I realised. Did I skip a day?

The premiere must be due to start any minute now.

James shakes his head. “We’ve got an hour until it starts. I’m going to call it off,” he says. “It will be strange to have a movie without a premiere. But I’m sure the public will live.”

“No!” I shout the words with more determination than I mean to.

James looks shocked.

“No.” I repeat. “I’m not going to do that. Then the stalker will have won. That’s what he
would have wanted,” I add. “To sabotage your premiere.”

James looks at me in disbelief. “Issy,” he says. “You have just been abducted by a vi
olent psychopath. You have escaped from a fire and been dragged through a forest…”

“A fake forest,” I point out.

He laughs. “A fake forest,” he concedes. “But you can’t possibly be considering coming to the premiere after all you’ve been through.”

“Why not?” I insist, meeting his gaze.

He sighs loudly. “Only you, Isabella Green, could seriously ask that,” he says.

James
leans forwards, cupping my jaw.

“
Why not, is because you’ve been to hell and back,” he says, kissing my forehead. “You’ve been tied up and threatened with a knife,” he continues, moving down to kiss my nose. “Not to mention,” he concludes, touching his lips to mine, “you smell like a bonfire.”

I laugh, kissing him back.
“Wearing this dress, no one will notice,” I say, struggling to rise to my feet. He helps me stand, taking in the low-cut blue silk dress for the first time.

“Point taken,” he says,
letting his eyes linger on the plunging neckline. “And you can add another skill to your CV. ‘Keeps a designer dress in wearable condition, despite fire and forest chase’.”

I look down at the dress. Apart from a few fake twigs, and a little dirt from the forest floor, it’s in a surprisingly good state.

I dust it off experimentally. There’s a little rip on the hem, and some stitching is coming away at the shoulder. But given what I’ve just been through, I couldn’t care less.

“It’s a
talent every girl has,” I say, snapping off a hanging thread, “Give us a nice enough dress, and we’ll keep it mostly clean, come hell or high water.”

The blood has almost come back to my legs now.

“This is what you really want?” asks James. “To go to the premiere?”

His face is a mixture of delight and incredulity.

I nod. “It’s the principle,” I say. “I don’t want the stalker to win.”

He takes me in his arms.

“Will you ever stop amazing me,” he asks, “with your bravery?”

I
lean into his strong chest. “I won’t, as long as you don’t stop amazing me either,” I say.

He kisses my mouth. “My strong beautiful Issy,” he murmurs. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”