Mom clutches her stomach like she’s going to throw up.
Tommy takes a gulp of the scotch sitting in front of him. “Just tell us all, Garrett. What’s in the envelope?”
The detective motions for us to join him. He puts on a pair of latex gloves while he walks over to the big kitchen island. He pulls a baggie out of his coat pocket, pulls the envelope out of the baggie, and begins to open it.
I get up off the couch. My knees are shaking, but Damian grabs my hand and pulls me into the kitchen.
Everyone’s eyes are on the envelope. You’d think it held the answer to who won the next Academy Award.
He turns the envelope upside down. Out drops a flash drive and a note.
My Dearest Abby-
I told you I’d moved on. Bet you never thought it would be with your beautiful daughter.
Tell her I’m sorry tonight didn’t work out for us, but not to worry.
We’re still going to make a movie together, and it will be perfection.
And in case you need further convincing, whore, check out the flash drive.
I’m everywhere.
I shudder and feel faint.
Damian is holding me up.
Garrett sets up a laptop on the counter, and they slide the flash drive in.
A slide show pops up.
Photos of me pass by.
Me on the beach the first day I met Vincent. I’m in the skimpy French bikini, smiling and tossing sand at Brooklyn.
Me at the Undertow wearing the I-didn’t-try-I-just-look-this-amazing outfit.
A grainy nighttime shot of me, Brooklyn, and Damian in the hot tub on the deck.
Me and Cush at the Santa Monica pier. I’m carrying the big stuffed seal he won for me by shooting baskets.
Me and B walking hand in hand down the beach.
Me standing on a deck in the beautiful white gown I wore to Monte Carlo night. The night he told me we could walk down those steps and no one would even know we were gone.
Me lying on the chaise at the hotel pool when I got back from Europe.
Me doing a cartwheel in the ocean on my birthday. When he recorded me. I can still feel how tightly he gripped my wrist. How strong he was.
Me drinking a beer and eating shrimp today at Buddy’s.
Then there’s a video. It’s the one Vincent took when he told me to do my own version of Mom’s famous poster. I pranced out, threw water at him, and blew him a kiss.
I feel sick again.
“Oh my God,” Mom says. “Keatyn, this video. How did he get this?”
I breakdown and start bawling. Tommy puts his hand on my shoulder. I turn around, throw myself into his chest, and sob. My body heaves, and I feel borderline hysterical.
I don’t even want to imagine what would’ve happened to me if he had gotten me out that door. I grab ahold of my locket and say a thank you prayer.
Tommy whispers to me soothingly as he holds me. “Shh, baby, it’ll be okay. We’re not gonna let this guy win.”
He runs his hand across my hair.
My sobs slow down a bit.
“I . . . know . . . the . . . stalker,” I say in between sobs.
“You what?! What do you mean?” Tommy says.
“I . . . mean . . . I . . . invited . . . him . . . to the party.”
Everyone looks at me with confused, shocked faces.
Garrett is the first to recover. He grabs my shoulder and guides me back over to the couch, gestures for me to sit, and then sits on the coffee table directly in front of me. “I think you need to explain. If you knew who your mother’s stalker was, why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“Because I didn’t figure it out until he tried to kidnap me.”
“Tell us the whole thing. Walk me through what happened at the club before James got involved.”
I take a deep breath.
“I was standing on the edge of the dance floor talking to Brooklyn when there was a commotion. A guy who was dressed like one of your security guys—dark suit, sunglasses —picked me up off the ground and told me he had to get me somewhere safe. I immediately panicked and assumed that meant it wasn’t safe and that something bad must’ve happened. I was afraid the stalker had got to Mom, so I told him no. That I needed to find her. That’s when he said, The whore is fine, and when I realized he was the stalker and not a security guy. I tried screaming, but the music was too loud and no one could hear me. And everyone was gathering near the commotion. Then I saw part of his tattoo and realized that not only was he the stalker, but that I knew him.”
“Ohmigawd, Keatyn,” Mom says.
I look at her. “I tried to plead with him, but he just laughed. He thought it was funny that Mom never suspected that he was moving on to her own daughter. I tried to get away. Tried to make my body limp and heavier. I struggled. He was just so strong.”
I stop and run my hand across my face then back through my hair. “Like, really strong, and I couldn’t get away. I knew I wasn’t going to get away. I knew what he wanted. I knew he was going to kidnap me, and there was nothing I could do about it. The door kept getting closer, and I was freaking out, full-on panicking. Then this voice started talking to me. It calmed me down.”