Page 57 of Romance Is Dead

I sped to base camp faster than was probably advisable. Hopping out of my car and jogging toward set, I hoped I could find Teddy quickly. It’s not that I thought he was actively spreading details of our investigation to anyone who would listen, but with him, you never really could tell. I was rounding a row of trailers when something solid collided with my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. The solid something lifted his head, clearly as startled as I was.

It was Brent, who—dressed in basketball shorts, a tee, and sunglasses—was clearly just arriving too.

“Shit, sorry, my bad.” Seeing it was me, his tone changed. “Oh. It’s you.”

I bristled at the edge in his voice. “Yeah. Me.” I turned to walk away. I was in a hurry and Brent was clearly in a horrible mood.

“I know you were spreading rumors about me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Cut the shit. You corner me at the bar to ask me about Trevor, and the next day people are saying I killed him just by coincidence?” His voice lowered to a mutter. “I’m not that dumb.”

“From what I heard, you were spreading those rumors yourself. Do you even remember that night? Exactly how many shots did you have?”

“Just lay off, ok? You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you do?”

“Trust me. When it comes to Trevor, you’ve got the wrong idea.”

My blood chilled and I took a step closer, lowering my voice. “What do you know? You can tell me—I swear I’m not the one spreading gossip.” He shook his head, but I continued to press. “We’re talking about someone’s life, Brent. If you don’t want to tell me, you should tell the police.”

“Just stop, ok? Mind your own business.”

“Whatever.” This was obviously going nowhere. I spun on my heel, intent on storming away.

Behind me, Brent’s voice called out. “They’re serious, you know. About what will happen if you don’t stop.”

My skin crawled as I continued on my mission to find Teddy. I considered the possibility that Brent was lying. He was obviously mad at me, thinking I’d been spreading rumors. He could be trying to throw me off or scare me. But I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that Brent was telling the truth. And unless I was reading him completely wrong, he wasn’t angry that someone was on his trail. He looked scared. Like he knew something he shouldn’t.

And how had he known that the killer had threatened me?

Chapter Eighteen

The set was swarming when I arrived, the rush between scenes when everyone is either coming or going and the crew is scrambling to prepare for the next shoot.

I slid into the house, doing my best to avoid detection. I needed to talk to Teddy—now—and the last thing I wanted was to be waylaid by another conversation that would take up more precious time. I passed the parlor, where Chloe and Audrey were bent over one of their phones, laughing, and the now blessedly repaired dining room, where Natasha was watching back footage she’d just shot.

No sign of Teddy.

Footsteps and voices echoed from the second floor. I took the steps two at a time, finally finding Teddy in the middle of the upstairs hall, talking to—of all people—Scott. I hovered for a moment, trying to gauge how critical the conversation was.

“. . . goin’ about this the wrong way.” Scott chewed on a toothpick as he crossed his arms and leaned against a door frame. “You can’t lay out all your cards like that, man.”

“So what do you suggest?” Teddy was leaning in, an eager pupil, the shirt he was wearing ripped and bloody from the scene he’d just shot.

“It’s like this.” Scott widened his stance, holding out his hands like he was about to describe a football strategy. “You make her think you hate her.”

Teddy’s eyebrows flew up in alarm. “Are you sure about that?”

“Chicks love that shit. Makes them want what they can’t have.”

“I don’t know.” Teddy looked doubtful. “I’m pretty sure she already thought that and she did not dig it.”

Oh God, were they talking about me?

Scott pulled the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at Teddy. “I’m telling you, it works every time.” He placed it back in his mouth. “Most of the time, anyway.”

---