Dial Emmy for Murder (17 page)

The voice was loud, commanding me. I didn’t want to open my eyes, but I did.

“Jakes?”

“Thank God,” he said. His face was illuminated by the light from inside the car. He looked worried.

“I’m not dead?”

“No,” Jakes said, “you’re not dead—but not by much.”

“Sir?” someone said from behind him. “Can we get to her?”

“Alex, I’m going to let the EMT have a look at you, all right?”

“Sure . . . Um, my head hurts. . . .”

“He’ll have a look,” Jakes promised. He withdrew and a young man took his place. He asked me some questions—my name, what day it was, things like that—shined a light in my eyes, told me to follow his finger. Weirdly, I noticed he needed a manicure.

“How—Where am I?” I asked.

“You’re in your car.”

“I know that,” I said, “but I seem to remember I was . . . heading for the edge. I was going to jump out, but . . . I think I hit my head.”

“You did,” he said. “I’m going to take care of that now.”

“But . . . how did I not go over the edge?”

“You’ll have to ask the detective about that,” the EMT said. “It looks like he saved your life.”

“H-how?”

“Well, I don’t know all the facts, but it appears he used his own car to keep you from being rammed and pushed over the edge.”

“B-but how?”

“Again,” he said, “you’ll have to ask the detective. Now hold still, ma’am, and I’ll take care of this cut.”

When the EMT was done, Jakes appeared in the doorway again and asked, “Do you want to try standing up?”

“Yes, thanks,” I said.

He extended his hands and I took them. He pulled me to my feet. I either fell against him or he pulled me to him for a brief hug, but I was on my feet again so quickly I couldn’t be sure.

“What happened?” I asked. I turned and looked at the car. I couldn’t see much, it was so dark. The air felt good on my face, though. In fact, it felt good to be alive.

“You were hit repeatedly in the back,” he said. “Then on the passenger side. I was coming from the other direction when you went careening across the southbound lanes, heading for the edge.”

“B-but . . . I didn’t go over.”

“No,” Jakes said. “Both passenger side tires blew out. The metal rims scraping along the ground slowed you down enough to keep you from going over.”

“Then what?” I wanted him to get to the part where he saved my life.

“Well, it looked like the truck was going to ram you over the edge.”

“And?”

“Well . . .” He seemed uncomfortable. “I pulled my car up alongside yours.”

“You got between me and the truck?”

“Yes.”

“Your car is no match for a large truck. He might have pushed both of us over the edge,” I said.

“He might have,” Jake said, “but instead he just took off.”

“You saved me,” I said simply.

“But I didn’t keep you from getting hurt. I’m so sorry.”

I couldn’t stop staring at him. Something wasn’t making any sense. “What were you doing here? How did you know I needed help?”

“And I didn’t get the license plate of the truck,” he went on.

“Jakes . . . answer me.”

“Well, in this case it was just luck. But after you told me about Randy, I’ve . . . been keeping an eye on you. Just in case. I didn’t like the way it sounded, so . . .”

“Do you think that was Randy in the truck?” It would be hard for me to believe Randy could be a killer but stranger things have happened.

“I’m not a hundred percent sure. I have some people keeping an eye out and they haven’t seen him, but maybe he slipped by.”

“Frank . . .” I reached out for his face and gently held it in my hands. “Thank you.”

“Well. That is my job, you—”

I stopped his words by putting my lips over his and kissing him. We came together like two long-lost lovers who had been separated by some tragedy. I looked deeply into his eyes and felt something that I was pretty certain I’d never felt before. He seemed to be feeling it, too. It was amazing. And all-encompassing. And I didn’t want it to ever end.

Just then the young EMT walked up and cleared his throat.

“Uh, sorry to, um, interrupt, ma’am, but we have to take you to the hospital,” he sort of muttered, looking at us sideways. Jakes and I quickly disengaged but kept staring at each other like we were seeing each other for the first time.

“I don’t have to go, do I?”

“Oh, yes,” Jakes interjected. “You do. The ambulance will take you, and I’ll meet you there.”

“My car—”

“We’ll get it towed,” he said. “Don’t worry. It’ll be safe.” His hand brushed my hair from my cheek. He spoke softly like we were the only ones there. “You have to, Alex. We need to make sure you’re absolutely okay.” He gave me a look like his life depended on my well-being, and I thought I was going to melt right there in the middle of Pacific Coast Highway.

The EMT led me to the ambulance as Jakes walked to his car. We were both looking over our shoulders at each other, still not willing to let the moment end.

What the hell was going on? Whatever it was, I knew I wanted more of it.

Chapter 38

No concussion, but three stitches. A true professional, I was already wondering how we could work the stitches into the storyline.

Jakes was in the waiting room when I came out.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he said.

I touched the bandage over my eye. “The doctor said it will look worse in the morning,” I said.

“With a little luck you won’t have a black eye,” Jakes said. “That looks high enough.”

“You didn’t have to wait,” I said, although I was so very glad he did. “I can call George or my mother.”

“Your mother has Sarah,” he said. “I’m already here. Come on; I’ll take you home.”

We walked out the emergency room exit to his car. He was very solicitous, offering to bring the car to me, but I told him I could walk—even though my legs felt like wet noodles. I wasn’t sure if that was because of the stitches or because of what had happened with Jakes. Maybe both.

He held the passenger door open for me and then got in behind the wheel.

We were looking at each other shyly, both with silly grins. Neither one of us seemed to know what to say until finally I managed to ask, “What about my car?”

“It’s been towed,” Jakes said. “I’ll help you get it back when you’re ready.”

We rode in silence for several minutes and then he became all cop. “Did you see the driver?”

“No,” I said, “the windows were tinted.”

“Did you get the license plate?”

“I tried to get a look when he, I assume it was a he, was following me. There were no plates, at least not in front.”

“Had you ever seen the vehicle before?” he asked. “Following you, maybe?”

“Not that I noticed,” I said. “But . . .”

“But what?”

“I did notice a truck outside my house when I was on the phone with you the other night. For a second I thought it might be paparazzi. I didn’t think much of it.”

“Same one?”

“I . . . I can’t say.”

“Same color?”

“I think so.”

“Didn’t see a driver?”

“No, but it doesn’t feel like something Randy would do. He’s capable of a lot of things—but murder? I don’t think so.”

“I tend to agree with you. This has to do with the actor murders. Someone is pissed.”

Silence settled over us again. Then he said, “You know, you should probably stay out of this from now on.”

“Yes,” I said, “I probably should.”

“But you won’t, will you?”

I looked at him. He was staring straight ahead.

“I’m going to give it some serious consideration,” I said.

 

He pulled up in front of my house and turned off the engine. He was looking out his window, thinking about something. Then he turned to me and held my hands.

“Look, I don’t know what this is between us. I do know it’s pretty amazing.” I was about to jump in when he said, “Let me finish. I care too much about you to lose you. So if you stay involved in this case, I’ll be stuck on you like glue.” He held my eyes. “You got a problem with that?”

I absolutely did not have a problem with that. Jakes being stuck on me in any way, shape or form only felt like a good thing. To all different parts of my body.

“I can’t say I do,” I answered.

Suddenly he grabbed me and kissed me so hard it took my breath away. After a long moment he pulled away and whispered, “You want me to walk you in?” His lips were still touching mine.

“No,” I stammered. “I’ll, um, be fine. I—I have enough to explain to Sarah and my mother.”

Still with our lips slightly touching, he added, “And I think you have something to explain to Paul, don’t you?” We were looking into each other’s eyes.

“I do. Yes, I do.” I took a deep breath and we kissed again.

When we pulled apart, he said, “So, about tonight—the truck, you getting hit—we agree it was deliberate, right?”

“No doubt about it. That shithead followed me from the studio and must have planned the whole thing,” I said. Just thinking about it was pissing me off.

“Uh-oh. This is bad.”

“Yeah, it’s bad. Some asshole tried to run me off the road.”

“No, this. You’re gettin’ mad.”

“So what?” I asked. “Shouldn’t I be mad?”

“Your life probably flashed in front of your eyes as you were skidding across the highway,” he said. “And you probably thought about Sarah.”

“I did.” I blinked at him. “What’s your point?”

“And you might have even said a prayer. ‘God, get me out of this, let me see my baby again, and I promise I’ll forget all about this business and leave it to the police.’ ”

“Jakes—”

“But now you’re gettin’ angry, and by tomorrow you’ll be livid, and you’ll forget all about your promise to God or to yourself.”

“I’ll be careful. And you’re going to be stuck on me, right? Like glue?” I even liked the thought of it.

He turned back so that he was facing front again.

I reached out and touched his arm. “I really will be careful. I want a chance to find out what this is with us as much as you do. And you know how I feel about my daughter. I won’t do anything stupid, I promise.”

“You better not.” He gave me another kiss.

“I’d better go inside now or I won’t go at all.”

I opened the door, started to get out.

“Alex!”

“Yes?” I looked at him over my shoulder.

“I’m glad I was there for you. When you needed me.”

I took a moment to really see him. “So am I.”

Chapter 39

Jakes was right. I woke up pissed.

After he’d left I had to convince my mother I was all right, that the hospital had released me, not seeing fit to give me a bed for the night. Thank God I didn’t have to see Sarah—or, more to the point, Sarah didn’t have to see me—right away.

When I woke I went into the bathroom to look at myself. What I saw made my mood worse. I was angry as hell at whoever had been in that truck. Neither Jakes nor I had asked the obvious question last night—why me? It was obviously because I was nosing around in these murders. The question I had was, why me and not Jakes? He was the danger. He was a detective, for Pete’s sake.

Jakes had been right about the black eye not showing up. But my head was sore. I took the bandage off to see how it looked. Three stitches is really nothing, not in the scheme of things. Fifty stitches—now that would have been something.

I put a fresh Band-Aid on the eye—the small cut bisected my eyebrow. I’d worry about that later. Maybe I’d have to switch my career path and start being a character actress. They found more interesting roles to play, anyway.

“She didn’t notice,” I said to my mom after breakfast, as Sarah went to her room to put on her little wet suit for surf camp.

“Good,” my mother said. “I’m glad.” Her tone was clipped and cold. She was still upset with me—not because I’d gotten hurt, but because of how and why I’d been involved. I didn’t blame her, but I was still too mad to just walk away.

While I got dressed for the day, I figured all I had to do was stay alert from now on, watch for a dark truck and continue to try to get the soap information that Jakes wanted. I still had two shows to work on.

Sarah and I left, my mother’s disapproving glare following me to the garage. I could feel it burning a hole between my shoulder blades. I pulled my Porsche, Marilyn, out of the garage and let Sarah in, and then closed the garage door. I pulled out onto the road and looked in my rearview mirror to make sure Sarah’s police shadow was right behind me. There was no way my little girl was going anywhere without someone watching her every move.

Sarah chattered the whole way. When we got to surf camp she kissed me good-bye, grabbed her lunch and started to step out of the car. Suddenly she turned, looked at me and asked, “What happened to your eye?”

“I bumped it, sweetie,” I said. Which was the truth.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not very much.”

“Is that why we’re using Marilyn?”

“Yes, honey, that’s why.”

“Don’t bump it anymore, Mommy.”

“I won’t, sweetie. I love you. Don’t forget your towel. And eat the carrots I put in your lunch.” I grabbed her Hawaiian print towel and gave it to her.

“I love you, too, Mommeeeee,” she said as she skipped away, looking every bit like a little black seal in her wet suit. The car that had followed us to the beach pulled up along side me.

“Hi, ma’am! I’m Officer Kavanaugh. A friend of Frank’s. I just wanted to introduce myself.” This impossibly strong, muscular, not to mention good-looking cop was my daughter’s protector? How nice.

“I appreciate that, Officer. You make sure Sarah is safe, okay? Are you going in the water, too?” I laughed.