Once I’m finished, I lean against the counter.The white marble is blinding in the sunny kitchen.Claudia has too many windows.This is intolerable; it’s like living in a fish bowl.Anyone could see in.
What if someone tried?What if Claudia didn’t imagine that face in her bedroom window?I immediately wrote it off.I believed it was a drug-induced hallucination, or psychosis.I didn’t even entertain the thought that she saw a real person.
Perhaps I should look around.
Claudia’s house is a single story.After setting the alarm and locking up, I make my way to the brick path which winds around the house.The immense green lawn comes right up to the path.On the other side of the path, closest to the house, are flower beds filled with lavender and succulents.
Her yard is completely surrounded by trees and a high fence to aid with privacy.The community is gated, preventing paparazzi from sneaking in.It’s hardly a high-security fortress, however.If someone wanted in badly enough, they could manage it.
I find the kitchen window, full of its orchids, and make my way toward the bedrooms at the back of the house.Claudia’s bedroom is on the corner.A large window is fully in view from where I’m standing.If someone got onto the property by hopping the fence, they could easily see inside her room.
I stride forward, compelled by an unknown force.Her window is low enough that it’s possible to peer in.I march closer, curious.If someone was determined, just how much could they see?
Before stepping up to the window, I look down to make sure I won’t trample any flowers.The earth is bare.
Worse, heavy boots have left an impression in the soil.
Someone was here before me, looking directly into Claudia’s window.
I hold one of my feet up to one of the other footprints.They’re smaller than mine, but too big to be Claudia’s.She must have seen someone that night, after all.Guilt floods my chest.I didn’t believe her.I gave her patronizing platitudes and shoved her into a rehab center.
No doubt, she still needs rehab.But I could have been kinder.I could have spoken to her about her concerns and taken her seriously.
I glance around, searching for a security camera, but there aren’t any.When I get to my hotel, I’ll call Ironwood and have them put something together for Claudia.She hired them for her existing set-up, as per my advice.But it seems she didn’t think it necessary to have a more sophisticated system.
It’s necessary.If cameras aren’t successful as deterrents, at least we’ll have a better chance of catching the culprit.
I examine the window for signs of attempted entry, but there aren’t any.Hopefully the peeping Tom was merely a creep wanting to catch a glimpse of Claudia, nothing more.
I return to the front of the house.As I’m getting into my car, two people walk past Claudia’s driveway—two people I recognize.
Harvey Billings and his daughter, Vanessa.
A surge of hatred, mixed with disgust, flows through my veins.I heard Billings lived in Hollywood Hills, so it isn’t shocking to see him here.It is, however, unpleasant.
Unfortunately, they see me at the same time I see them.
“Gage.”Billings lifts his hand in a wave.He’s wearing a pair of track pants and a T-shirt, along with a baseball cap and sunglasses.Typical Hollywood celebrity disguise.But I would recognize his bulbous nose and sagging jowls anywhere.
I shake my head and turn to my car.
“Gage, we should talk.”
I spin around and see him ambling up the drive with Vanessa.He’s walking slowly.At first it appeared he was leading Vanessa, but now it seems she’s the one leading him.Is he ill?I don’t care one way or the other, but I haven’t heard any rumors.Then again, I don’t keep up on Hollywood gossip.
“Gage.”Billings says my name for a third time, and something in me snaps.
“I don’t want to talk to you, Billings.”I grip my keys so hard, they bite into my palm.“Your time in Hollywood should have ended withAcademy of Ghosts.Stay away from me and Claudia.We want nothing to do with you.”
He opens his mouth to respond, but his daughter speaks instead.Vanessa is blond, extra slender, and model-tall, just like her runway mother used to be.All harsh, sharp beauty.
“He’s already been raked over the coals for things he didn’t even do.So just shut up, Gage Hawthorne, and maybe pay more attention to the garbage lifeyoulead.”Her vicious words match her appearance.She turns to her father.“Come on, Dad.Don’t let him get to you.Let’s finish our lap.”
The two of them make a slow turn and start walking back toward the sidewalk.Vanessa turns, though, to deliver a parting shot.“What’s worse is you’re sending the police after him.You should be ashamed.”
She spits on the ground.
I stare at the driveway, at the shadows made by swaying palms, long after the two of them are gone.
