Chapter 58

CHAPTER 58

Skye

"M ommy, are we going to the Country Mart today after you vote?" Maddie tugs at the tail of my nightshirt as I pour myself a much-needed cup of coffee. I barely slept, my mind preoccupied with getting in touch with Nicole Farrell. The caffeine and my adrenaline work wonders to get me going.

"I'm not sure, sweetie." It pains me to say these words as I pivot toward the kitchen island, my mug in one hand, my phone in the other. Maddie's frown pains me further.

Clad in her pajamas and holding Kangy, she follows me to the island. "But you promised."

It's Election Day, an official school holiday, so we have the day off though most businesses and retailers are open. The Malibu Country Mart, a small charming shopping center with upscale boutiques, restaurants, and a children's play area, is one of Maddie's favorite places, and she's been looking forward to our mother-daughter outing. Guilt gnaws at my conscience, adding to my anxiety.

"I know, baby girl, but I may have an important meeting."

"Who are you meeting with?"

"Um, an old friend."

"What's her name?"

"Nicole."

"That's pretty. Can't I come with you?"

"Sorry, sweetie. Not this time." I inwardly shudder at the thought of my daughter finding out the truth about me from another. The truth that terrifies me and can put us all in harm's way.

The tantalizing aroma of pancakes wafts in the air. Rosita hovers over the stove, fixing them for breakfast. Setting both my coffee and phone on the counter, I hop onto a stool. Maddie follows suit, taking a seat opposite me, Kangy in her lap.

Still frowning, she plants her elbows on the counter and sinks her head between her fists. The tips of her long braids dust the surface, her big, sad puppy-like eyes on me, making me feel guiltier than I already do. Averting her gaze, I take a sip of my steamy hot brew and glance down at my phone. The time: nine a.m. At last. ICM is officially open, but I bet Nicole's agent's assistant has been there for an hour. If not more. I know their type. Same as in a newsroom. Ambitious brown-nosers who dream of making it to the top. I know because I was one too.

"Why do you keep looking at the time, Mommy?" asks my perceptive daughter. "We don't have school today. It's Election Day!"

Before I can respond, Rosita brings us each a plate stacked with fluffy pancakes, along with a side of mixed berries.

"Eat, mis amores !" Smiling, she points to the maple syrup and butter already on the counter. While Maddie grabs the jar of golden syrup and drizzles it all over her pancakes, I grab my phone and google ICM. The agency's phone number instantly pops up on my screen. I hop off my stool and pad toward the sliding doors that lead to the patio.

"Where are you going?" shouts Maddie. "Your pancakes are going to get cold!"

"I'll be right back," I reply, the phone pressed to my ear. It rings, and as I head outdoors, someone picks up. The nasal female voice is sing-songy, reminiscent of a commercial jingle.

"ICM."

"Can you please connect me to Kate Howard's office." Kate is Nicole's agent.

"Hold on please."

The phone rings again and on the second ring, an effeminate male voice answers.

"Kate Howard's office."

My heart begins to race as I adjust the phone to my ear. "Hi. Is she in?"

"She's unavailable." Shit. Cryptic assistant-speak, meaning she doesn't want to be bothered or she's not there. Pacing, I take a steeling breath.

"When will she be back in her office?"

"She's away until next Monday."

Shit again. That means she's unreachable unless there's an emergency.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

I'm relieved the assistant isn't being a jerk.

"Yes. And by the way, what is your name?"

"Gene."

"Like in Gene Kelly?" I could have said Gene Hackman or Gene Simmons, but my gut told me this Gene was a fan of old musicals.

"Yeah." I can hear a smile in his voice. Score one for me.

"Gene, I need you or Ms. Howard to get an important message to your client, Nicole Farrell."

The voice on the other end grows suspicious. "Who is this?"

"My name is Scarlet Callahan. Please let Ms. Farrell know that I'm a close friend of Skye Collins."

"The newscaster who died a few years ago? The one she was going to do an interview with?"

"Yes. Please let Ms. Farrell know who I am and tell her to call or text me. It's urgent."

Silence. My pulse kicks up a notch, unsure if the assistant is going to be cooperative or tell me to piss off.

"What's your cell number?"

A flood of relief sweeps through me as I spew it out. He repeats it back to me.

"Yes. And, Gene, I can't emphasize enough how urgent this is." About to say, "It's a matter of life or death," I instead add, "And I can't begin to tell you how much this means to me."

"Sure. I'll contact her right away and ask her to get in touch with you."

A smile blooms on my lips. "Thanks, Gene. You've been awesome. I hope big things happen to you."

The call ends. Now it's time to play the waiting game.

***

When I return to the kitchen, Finn is there, freshly showered, wearing ripped jeans and a T-shirt. Holding a mug of coffee, he paces the room, his phone to his ear. Tension lines his forehead.

"Daddy's not in a good mood," Maddie tells me. "He's talking to yucky Kayla."

Just the mention of her name bunches up my stomach, adding to my angst. My ears tune into his conversation.

"Kayla, tell Sheldon he can't have the nude. No matter how much he wants to pay for it."

Sheldon Greenberg wants the painting of me? His tone sharp, Finn continues.

"It's not for sale. Period. And Kayla, no, I can't pick you up right now and take you to the gallery. I have to supervise the movers, who are bringing over the last few canvases."

Finn's jaw tightens as he listens to her reply. "The same to you."

Have a nice day. Or. Screw you. The way he abruptly ends the call, it's likely the latter. Despite my anxiety, I can't help a smug smile. Shoving his phone into a pocket, he catches sight of me. His face relaxes a bit.

"Hi, baby. I'm sorry. Just some last minute bullshit."

Maddie giggles. "Daddy, you just said a bad word."

Finn slaps his forehead. "Snap! I didn't mean to." He turns to our housekeeper. "Rosita, would you please get Maddie dressed and then take her for a walk on the beach?"

" Sí, se?or. A gleeful Maddie jumps off the stool and pirouettes out of the room, Rosita trailing her.

Once they're gone, Finn and I gather at the island, seated catty-corner to one another. Lifting his fork, he stabs at his cold, soggy pancakes.

"I'll make you some eggs," I say softly, my fingertips brushing across the top of his hand.

"Don't bother. I'm not really hungry."

The tension etched on his face eats at me. "You're worried about tonight?"

"A little bit." He takes a sip of his coffee, which is probably cold too, then sets the mug down. "I'm more worried about you. Did you reach Nicole?"

I relay my conversation with her agent's assistant. Guarded optimism, but with each passing minute, I'm losing hope. For all I know, she may be out of the country. Inaccessible. Just as I'm about to share my growing despair, my phone pings. A text. My heart thudding, I glance down at the screen. A text. It's from her! Nicole Farrell!

I share the good news with Finn. "She wants to meet with me at noon."

"Let me come with you."

I shake my head. "I've got to do this alone. At least this first step. Besides, you've got to focus on your show."

He blows out a breath. "Then we should call the police."

"Please, Finn, not yet. It's too soon."