Dark Star (17 page)

Wondering where she would find the strength
to go on or even if it was worth it, Tonya closed her eyes and let
the grief flow over her. With every fiber of her being, she hoped
her mother was right. Surely something that hurt this badly would
eventually kill her.

* * * * *

“So what do you plan to tell your public?”
Cecilia, her publicist asked.

“Oh for crying out loud, I don’t have a
public. I’m a mid-list mystery writer,” Tonya said, sipping her
iced tea. Cecilia had come to town shortly after her return to help
her reschedule her book tour and work out these type problems. They
were having lunch at a restaurant that had only recently opened.
The patio area was all but deserted. Even for Alabamians the early
September temperatures were a bit much for outdoor dining, but
Tonya enjoyed the heat. The small patio was wedged between two
buildings and might have been claustrophobic were it not for the
profusion of plants that covered the high arching trellises and
drew the eye upward to the clear blue sky. The air was redolent
with the aroma of Confederate jasmine and other plants she didn’t
recognize. Tonya studied her publicist whose nervous mannerisms
always made her a bit jittery. Like many high-strung people,
Cecilia was too thin and reminded Tonya of a greyhound. Her short
bobbed hair was dyed raven’s wing black which matched her all black
attire. Tonya wondered if she realized that she personified the
cliché of a high-powered New York City woman, or if that was her
intention.

“Not anymore.
Covered
made all the
best sellers lists. Even Amazon’s having a time keeping up with the
demand.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t have jack to do with
my writing. People are only buying it because of what happened,”
Tonya said.

“What do you care? I’ve got a dozen other
authors who would kill and eat their grandmothers for this kind of
publicity and you’re acting like somebody died,” Cecilia said.

Tonya inhaled deeply at the sting of that
comment. Delicacy wasn’t Cecilia’s strong suit. Of course she had
no idea that Tonya had lost someone so close to her. “For God’s
sake, Cecilia, don’t you get it? I’m a writer, not some reality
star.” She held up a hand when the other woman opened her mouth to
interrupt. “Nor do I have any desire to be on television.” Much to
her horror she’d discovered that her agent had fielded more than
one inquiry from a reality show. She’d put paid to that immediately
upon her return.

“You’re a mystery writer, there are lots of
mystery writers, but opportunities like this are a once in a
lifetime deal,” Cecilia said.

Tonya pressed her lips shut over what she
wanted to say. “I know that. I’m not Tolstoy and I’m not trying to
be. I write mysteries and I’m comfortable with that, but
my
books
are designed to entertain people, not my personal
life.”

“Speaking of your personal life, what exactly
do you plan to tell people? You’ve been back for three days. Law
enforcement was involved. Have you talked to the cops yet?” Cecilia
returned to the original subject having apparently given up on the
philosophical issues.

“Yeah, briefly. The New York cops asked the
sheriff’s department here to talk to me. I went to high school with
the sheriff. He’s a jerk, but he’s protective of me as a local girl
being picked on by the big city cops, so he bought me some time. My
first thought was to tell the truth. That I was kidnapped by
persons unknown,” Tonya said.

Cecilia shrugged. “They might buy that. A
kidnapping for ransom gone wrong. I can spin it. Maybe even get a
movie deal -- ”

“Unfortunately that would mean the cops would
still be looking for the perpetrators...”

“And that’s bad because...”

Tonya hadn’t told her publicist the whole
story. Nate had never asked her to keep his identity a secret but
he knew she wasn’t stupid. Popping off at the mouth about secret
government agencies was never a good idea. Either they’d believe
her, which was bad, or they wouldn’t believe her and that was
worse. As things stood she didn’t really know what was going on
with the people who had been hunting her. Deringer assured her that
she was safe now that Nate was dead. She took a deep breath. Nate.
Dead. Funny, she could almost think about that without dissolving
into a pool of tears. Almost. But it didn’t seem wise to reveal the
machinations of such ruthless characters.

“They let me go and I promised not to sic the
cops on them. I’d like to keep my word if possible. They’re long
gone and I don’t want them coming back.” She frowned. This really
was
a dilemma, and in her despair over Nate she hadn’t given
it much thought. It was very difficult to muster up interest in
much of anything of late. She simply wanted to curl up in her bed
and sleep for at least a month. Or at least she would want to do
that if the nightmares would stop. Not knowing how Nate had died
left it to her subconscious to play out scenarios in her dreams,
each one more horrifying than the last. For once in her life she
hated the vivid imagination that lent such color to her stories, it
gave her far too much material to work with.

“Hey guys, mind if we join you?” Tonya looked
up, welcoming the distraction with a smile when she saw Callie and
Bryan. Callie had stayed in Maple Fork since Tonya’s return. Bryan
had flown in yesterday when his wife stubbornly refused to return
to L.A. The way he hovered over her was really cute, but Tonya was
glad to see him because the strain was telling on her friend.

“Where are those sweet little babies?” Tonya
asked.

Callie laughed. “You mean our demon-possessed
offspring? For some reason Mama insisted we leave them with her. We
escaped before she could come to her senses.” Callie and Bryan’s
two-year-old twins Rory and Brodie were as sweet as they were
over-indulged -- mainly by Bryan.

Tonya signaled their server to bring more
iced tea. When her two new guests were settled she resumed the
conversation, bringing them up to speed on the problem presented by
her return.

Callie shook her head in consternation. “I
can’t believe I didn’t think about that. Actually I’m surprised the
police haven’t grilled you more thoroughly. Scooter’s an idiot, but
even he should know something’s up.”

“He came by a few times, but he’s really
annoyed with the big-city boys picking on little ole me,” she
simpered while Callie rolled her eyes. “I even managed to squeeze
out a tear or two.”

Cecilia raised a brow.

“Hey, it
has
been a stressful time for
me, and if playing the swooning miss will get them to leave me
alone I’m all in.” Tonya said and then pursed her lips at Callie’s
knowing look.

“Oh well, that’s not going to work much
longer,” Callie said. Turning to Bryan she continued, “Sweetie, do
you think B.T. could help?” she asked, referring to Bryan’s
notoriously Machiavellian manager.

“Probably, but we don’t really need him for
this one, I already have an idea.” He paused as everyone turned to
look at him. “I think you should say you went to rehab.”

“Rehab!” Tonya said, stunned. “Rehab for
what?”

“Pick one. It doesn’t really matter. Drugs.
Alcohol. Food. Being an asshole. They pretty much have a rehab
facility for any dysfunctional behavior you could name. It’s become
so commonplace, the media, and most importantly, the cops will
quickly lose interest,” Bryan said pushing back a lock of his sleek
black hair. He’d cut it to shoulder length recently and Tonya was
always a little shocked to see him without the ponytail.

“Yeah,” Callie said, almost on top of Bryan’s
words. “And no one would be surprised that you’re an addict. You
are
a writer. It’s practically a job requirement.”

Cecilia tapped on the table, her multiple
bangle bracelets rattling like shackles as she fired off sentences
in rapid succession. “It might be a good idea to let the story leak
before you talk to the cops. I know someone at a rehab place who
will leak ‘off the record.’ Probably better to say prescription
meds rather than alcohol. That way if you’re seen having a beer
there won’t be any stories about you going off the wagon.”

“Oh, there will be stories,” Callie said with
a wry twist of her mouth. “You’re tabloid gold right now. You could
enter a convent and they’ll still be all over you.”

Tonya raised a hand. “Y’all are forgetting
one thing...what about my mama? Nobody’s going to believe that I
went to rehab without telling her. And what about you, Callie? You
were on television and everything.”

Callie sighed. “You’re right. I hadn’t
thought about that,” she said, chewing her bottom lip as she sat
back in thought.

Cecilia interrupted before Callie could speak
again. “Wait who’s to say you knew anything was wrong? I mean you
were supposed to be on the book tour anyway, so you would’ve been
out of pocket. They don’t let you have contact with the outside
world in rehab and they won’t officially tell anyone you’re there,
so maybe you didn’t know that people thought something had happened
to you. Besides, everyone knows you were angry with your mother --
”

“Everyone knows?” Tonya asked. Cecilia’s
perception of the universe was a bit skewed. Anything outside
Manhattan was irrelevant.

“Well, everybody in publishing,” she said as
though her own world was the only one that mattered.

“I wasn’t angry with my mama, and how did
“everyone” find out about our little disagreement?” Tonya said
glaring at her publicist. Really, this crap was getting out of
control.

“I needed to give the story legs if I could.
When the cops asked if you had any reason to leave on your own I
told them you might have had a problem with your mom.” She held up
a hand when Tonya opened her mouth to speak. “No, I didn’t tell
them what the disagreement was about.”

Tonya shook her head, but decided not to
pursue it further. Really, what would be the point? After all she’d
hired the woman for her legendary persistence but damn it was
annoying when that pit bull mentality was turned on her. “That’s
weak. Anyone who knows me will know better, but that’s all we’ve
got so I suppose we have to go with it.”

“Yeah,” Deringer said from behind her. Tonya
whirled around. The man was so goddamned quiet she always forgot he
was there. “That sounds like a good plan, but there’s something
else you guys forgot. The gunshots.”

Callie tilted her head to one side as though
in deep thought. Then she shrugged. “Tonya didn’t know anything
about it. It’s just a coincidence that something else went down at
the same time that Tonya was leaving.”

Bryan snorted. “You think they’ll believe
that, babe?”

Deringer spoke again. “Why wouldn’t they?
Most people will believe a complicated story before they’ll believe
a simple one, even if the simple one is the truth. So give them a
convoluted tale. Tonya decided to go off to rehab. Meanwhile
unknown assailants attacked an unknown victim behind her hotel. The
cops won’t believe it, but as there are no bodies and no blood I
doubt they really care.”

It took a while, but eventually the
conspirators worked out a story that was as bare and as strong as
possible. Then Cecilia left on a mission to leak it to all the
right sources. Bryan left to take some phone calls from L.A.,
leaving Callie and Tonya alone while Deringer wandered off to parts
unknown.

“Hey, isn’t he supposed to be your bodyguard,
or something?” Callie said.

“Or something is right. He assures me that
with Nate...gone...the bad guys have no reason to come after me, so
I don’t really need a bodyguard,” Tonya said.

Callie leaned back in her chair and paused
steepling her hands over her belly. “That being the case then why
is he here?”

“I have no idea. I mean, he and Nate were
really close. I think he’s mourning and just doesn’t have anything
else to do, but I’m not sure. It’s not like he talks to me or
anything.” She looked around, but didn’t see Deringer lurking
about. She changed the subject anyway. The man was like smoke and
could appear in the blink of an eye. “How in God’s name do you
stand this?”

“Stand what?” Callie asked, apparently still
preoccupied with the puzzle that was Deringer.

“This whole celebrity thing. People caring
where you are and what you’re doing. It sucks.”

“Don’t you remember what it was like when
Bryan and I went through our changes?” Callie asked.

“Of course I do. What do you think I’m
talking about?”

“Well I’d think you’d be used to it.”

“Callie, I’m not married to an international
celebrity,” Tonya said.

“Nope. You just became one.”

“But not for being a writer. This really had
nothing to do with me.”

Callie shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I think
it’s so horrible for you because it’s so new. And this is not
nearly as crazy as it was back then. Remember the photographer in
our closet?”

Tonya shuddered and touched her stomach in
response to a slight queasiness. “How could I ever forget? Still I
don’t know how you can say this is no big deal. You know I don’t do
people. I can’t live this way.”

“You already have,” Callie said. Tonya rolled
her eyes. Not this again. “I don’t know why you don’t see the
similarity.”

“Probably because there isn’t any,” Tonya
returned dryly.

“Really? We’ve been in a fish bowl all our
lives. What do you think Maple Fork is? Everybody knows your
business. Everybody knows who you are. Who your family is.
Celebrity just gives you a bigger bowl, but it’s pretty much the
same.”

“Well, yeah it’s just the same except that it
isn’t. Millions of people all up in my business is not the same as
a few dozen.”

“Yeah, but the few dozen are the only ones
that matter. Besides, you’re not coming up with a cover story
because you’re a celebrity. It wouldn’t hurt your career to tell
the truth. It would probably even help; look at what the publicity
has done to your sales. Either way you couldn’t be bothered to lie.
You just don’t care about book sales that much. I assume you’re
only concocting this story to protect Nate -- ”