Page 12 of Vain

“You don’t remember talking to him?”

“Nothing beyond thanking him.”

“Men like that can build a whole relationship in their head from one word or look alone. They’re seriously messed-up. I read somewhere that he confessed?”

She looks back at me and nods. “He was up on the lighting rig where the water effects were being controlled. He told the police about the Post-it notes, sneaking into my trailer and cutting my hair, and switching out the water for nitric acid.”

“He say why he did it?”

“He wanted me to pay. Wanted me to see that I was nothing special.”

I lean back and rub my jaw. “I have to admit what little I did read about the case made it sound like you were singled out and attacked. The report said you didn’t see your attacker, so I assumed you were alone when it happened.”

“Powerful people can pull a lot of strings when necessary. They didn’t exactly lie. I was attacked, Andrew did confess, and he is currently serving time in jail for those crimes. They played down Andrew being an employee, edited out the part about the acid, and as one of the crew affected was a seventeen-year-old intern and still a minor, it gave them the legal loophole to do so.”

“Sounds like their first thought was to protect themselves,” I huff angrily.

“The movie was set to make millions at the box office. The tours of the studio where we filmed most of it were booked out three years in advance. They didn’t want people to cancel for fear of being attacked. And yeah, they didn’t want to lose money.”

I shake my head but don’t give my opinion on the whole thing. From what I can gather, they left her to deal with the aftermath herself while covering their asses.

“What happened that made you call me in?”

She grimaces. “I started getting Post-it notes with smiley faces on them again.”

I cross my arms, watching her. “Could be someone trying to spook you.”

“Well, they’ve succeeded.”

“What did the police say?”

Her shoulders deflate. “Depends on who you ask. Some think I’m paranoid. Some think I’m leaving notes to myself for attention.”

“Not sure someone who has rarely left the house in years fits the attention-seeker profile. Hold on…where exactly have you been getting these notes?” I tense, waiting for her reply.

“Here. I’ve found one on my front door, one on my rear living room window, and one on the bumper of my car.”

“Shit. I’m glad you trusted your instincts and called for help.”

“You might be the only one. Everyone else thinks I’m losing it. Andrew Summers is in prison, after all.”

“A source told me that you were never convinced he was the guilty party. Why?”

“It just felt wrong. I don’t remember interacting with him beyond what I mentioned. But even if everything he said was true, why—if his motives were all about showing me I wasn’t special—didn’t he attack me in my trailer? Why risk hurting the others?”

“Maybe so he could twist the narrative. In his head, it was your fault they got hurt, not his.”

She chews her lip for a minute. “He never mentioned the incident that hurt my stunt double. He took a plea bargain, but only if the prosecution removed any charges related to that incident. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t an accident. Inspectors investigated and found the rig had been tampered with. The issue is Andrew couldn’t have been there before, during, or after it happened because he was on set with us.”

“So either you have a second perp who has now picked up where Andrew left things or?—”

“Or it was never Andrew. His being on set with us gave him an alibi, proving he couldn’t have done it. I found out from asking around that Andrew wanted to be famous. It did not matter how or for what; he just wanted to go down in the history books. And if he couldn’t achieve fame, he wanted infamy.”

I whistle. “What a clusterfuck.”

“No kidding. Now, I’m looking for attackers in every face I know, expecting pain from every touch. I don’t know who I can trust anymore. I don’t even trust myself because everyone else is trying to convince me I’m crazy.”

I reach over and slide my hand under her jaw, tipping her head back. “Even if nothing else makes sense, you can trust me. We’ll figure it out.”