“N-no. Why?” she stammers, my question clearly catching her off guard.
“They are here,” I state dryly. I take a photo and send them to her.
“Oh my God!”
“Mom, calm down. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”
“What if? You need to tell security, right now,” she demands.
“I will,” I tell her. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.” I hang up, but my words don’t reassure me. I open the dresser drawer to put the items away and it’s what’s inside that changes my demeanor.
A yellow sticky note. I read the words.
“To you, your father should be as a god. Was yours, Grady?”
I drop the note and step back.
I hear Dean come back into the apartment. “I’m back, Mr. Daniels, and I have Agent Kingsley with me.”
“I-I’m in here,” I stammer as I take another step back from the offending paper.
“Mr. Daniels?” Dean’s voice asks.
I glance toward him. “He was here,” I manage as I look back at the dresser.
Dean stares at me and then follows my gaze to the dresser.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, clearly confused as he looks at the unoffending objects.
I explain to him my father’s nightly routine, and then I point to the note. Dean approaches but doesn’t touch anything, Kingsley stays at the door.
“Should I call it in?” he asks.
Dean nods. “Call it in.” He turns to me, and I can see he’s flustered. This shouldn’t have happened.
“Who all has had access to the penthouse since you’ve been here?” he asks me.
I groan because my life is a steady stream of visitors all day, every day. “A lot of fucking people. People from the record label and my publicist were here yesterday to go over some things for the album. My brother came by yesterday,” I start to rattle off the list of people who have been here since we arrived yesterday. I text my mom for a list of anyone who would have had access since she was here on Friday.
“What do we do?” I ask Dean as he stands, staring at the dresser as though it will reveal all its secrets.
“I need to speak with Bryce,” he mutters and walks out without giving me another glance.
“Mr. Daniels, why don’t you wait in the living room. The police should be here any minute,” Kingsley says. “And, it’s nice to meet you, sir. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
I nod to him as I walk out of the room, glancing back to look at my father’s items one last time.
The next two hours are a blur of police, detectives, security, record label people, our manager, Rhett, Max, my mom, and God knows who else. There’s zero recording evidence from the cameras inside the apartment. It’s like a ghost did it. They aren’t there in one frame of the video, and then they are.
By six, I’m exhausted. I just want to lie down. My phone pings with a message.
Emma: I’m on my way back. Carl said something about an issue at the penthouse. What’s going on?
I sigh and call her.
“What’s wrong?” she answers.
“I’ll explain when you get here,” I tell her. “Just…be prepared because this went from Fort Knox to the vault with the crown jewels.”
“Are you OK?” she asks, her voice rising an octave.
“I’m fine. It’s…we’ll be OK. The security here is now beyond ridiculous.”
“Oh…” She trails off, and I know she’s on high alert. I feel awful that I’ve brought her into this mess.
“I’ll see you soon,” I say as I hang up because I don’t know what else to say to her.
Emma
I can tell it’s bad by his voice. That and Carl, my new security guy, won’t leave my side for a second. He was completely normal until this afternoon. Then I had to explain why he was here to Will, Dr. Elliott, and Dr. Stevens. All of whom were giving Carl weird looks. Dr. Stevens was worried, Dr. Elliott was annoyed, and Will was oddly amused.
I sigh as Carl opens my door. “Dean will see you up,” he says as Dean walks from the building and escorts me inside.
“What’s going on?” I ask him.
“The penthouse was compromised. I’ll let Mr. Daniels explain.”
He doesn’t say another word as he lets us in the passcode-controlled elevator. I tap my foot nervously as it makes its way to the top floor. As soon as the doors open, Grady is standing there. I walk into his outstretched arms, and he pulls me to him, crushing me against his body.
“What is happening?” I look up at him.
“Just let me hold you for a minute,” he murmurs against my hair. Dean leaves us alone in the foyer. After a long minute, I relax into his embrace.
“Tell me,” I urge.
He explains what happened all day since I went to class this morning. The busy record stuff, the meeting with security, finding his dad’s things out on a dresser, cops, more security, and now me arriving home. His arms stay tightly wrapped around my body as he speaks. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest.
“What are we going to do?” I ask.
“I don’t know. We can’t run, clearly. I…maybe we could go far away. I could book us a flight to Mexico or Hawaii.”
“But…school,” I remind him.
“Fuck.”
“And I still am filming the documentary. I have about three more interviews to go,” I explain.
“Then, we’ll stay put.”
“But…” I trail off because I don’t know what else we can do.
He kisses my forehead. “I’ll figure it out.”
“Grady, I don’t think this is something you can just figure out.”
“Well, it’s going to have to be,” he says as he finally lets me go. I step back, and we stare at each other.
“Come shower and eat. I ordered food, in case you were hungry,” he says.
I shake my head. “I’m not very hungry now,” I admit.
Without saying another word, he takes my hand. I follow him to the bathroom where he draws me a bath filled with bubbles and Epsom salts. I get in it, and he sits on the edge.
“You’re not getting in?”
He shakes his head. “Relax. I’m going to talk with Dean.”
I grab his hand as he stands to leave. “It’ll be OK,” I insist. He gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes as he walks out of the room, leaving me to my thoughts and worries as I sit in the oversized bathtub in the pristine, white bathroom. Everything in here screams calm, but inside my head, it’s chaos.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Three days of insanity. It’s been three very long days. I’m starting to lose my mind, between filming four hours a day, classes, my TA responsibilities, having security protocols for everything I do, and trying to be there for Grady, I’m burnt out and ready for a day off.
To make matters worse, I really want to be alone. I need to edit. I have two more weeks of filming scheduled but today is my last day this week. I have booked an editing studio at school for the entire weekend. If I can make good progress over the weekend, I’m hoping I’ll feel less jittery about this project.