Face of Danger (6 page)

I
have to tell you something, Vivi.” Cara Ferrari leaned across the open space of the limousine, the fiber-optic light casting a blue glow on her pale skin.

“What is it?”

“I’m scared.” Her voice cracked with admission as she closed eyes unadorned by anything but purple circles of sleeplessness, magnified because her long hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail.

She’d been silent since they’d climbed into the limo together in the garage of Cara’s Brentwood home. A second limo followed, carrying the rest of the entourage. That included Bridget, the stylist who’d taken such great pains to turn Vivi into a carbon copy of Cara Ferrari; Marissa, the assistant; and a publicist named Leon who followed Cara everywhere. A third vehicle was full of bodyguards.

Only Joellen Mugg joined Vivi and Cara in the limousine, the quintessential hanger-on sister who, as Bridget had warned, seemed to spend the days and nights in a
constant state of pretty much toasted. She appeared to be languishing there now, curled into a corner with earbuds in place, an iPod in her hand, eyes closed. She still used the less glamorous last name the two of them had been born with, and she still called Cara by her birth name, Karen.

They looked nothing alike, but Joellen used every opportunity to say the words “my sister” when talking about Cara. But mostly she hid behind a bottle and an iPod, and Vivi had tried to avoid her as much as possible.

“Don’t be scared,” Vivi replied to Cara’s admission. “We have a plan, and it’s a good one. You’re safe.”

Cara looked doubtful, more vulnerable than Vivi had seen her in the past week. “What about you?”

“I’m a professional,” Vivi said. “We’ll be sealed up in Nantucket, making just enough appearances for the paps to believe it’s you.”

“What if the… killer shows up?”

She sincerely doubted one would, but for a million smackeroos, she wanted Cara to believe she was getting her money’s worth. “We’ll catch him,” Vivi assured her with a smile.

“About our plan…” Cara said, one hand on Stella, who flattened her length against Cara’s thigh and rested her snout on her lap. Her other hand still held the gold statuette. It had to be hot from almost twenty-four hours of nonstop handling. Cara had yet to put that sucker down since it had been handed to her onstage.

“What about the plan?” Vivi asked.

“I’m changing it.”

Vivi remained still, despite the full-body discomfort caused by the extensions pricking at her hair, the false
eyelashes pinching her lids, the stilettos squashing her toes, and, now, the sixth sense that she wasn’t going to like this change in plans.

The plan called for Vivi’s trial run as Cara to be the most difficult test of all: getting through the gauntlet of paparazzi and fans, encircled by bodyguards and the pack of people in the other car. Cara would blend in as just another in the group, while all eyes would be on Vivi, still dressed in the last outfit Cara had worn for interviews, including a hat worn in the movie, complete with netting covering her face. And, of course, she’d be waving the Oscar for all the world to see.

Then they’d all fly to Nantucket together on a Gulfstream G650, a brand-new private jet Cara had rented for an entire month. After landing on the island, Cara would take some of her entourage to a safe house that the Guardian Angelinos had already found and rented, while others would stay with Vivi to ensure the trick worked.

“There’s nothing wrong with our plan,” Vivi said. “You’re just nervous.”

Cara looked out the window as they pulled into the traffic of the Burbank airport. “Damn right I am. One of the people in that pack of paps could be him. Bullets could fly.”

“You’ll be well protected in the middle of the circle, and it’s not far from the VIP limo parking to the private planes. I’ve checked all this already, here and in Nantucket.” Vivi leaned forward and Stella snarled. “Trust me, Cara. We can do this.”

Cara shook her head, her eyes filling. “I’m scared.”

“You’ve been out all day doing interviews. That didn’t scare you.”

“All in protected environments.” She nestled next to the dog. “I’m not getting out of this limo.”

Vivi leaned back, practically tasting the other woman’s fear. She knew fear, knew the desire to hide from a threat. “Fine. We’ll stay in L.A. This same plan can work from your house in Brentwood. There’s no reason for you to fly to Nantucket. You can change your mind and go home right now.”

“No, I can’t. But I’m not going to Nantucket.”

“Then we’ll—”

“You are.”

“Where will you be?”

“I’m not going to say.”

“I need to know where you are.”

“Why?” Cara shot back. “You actually don’t need to know. It’s safer that way.”

Safer for Cara? Maybe, maybe not. Vivi should know where her client is at all times. “Look, you have to trust me. I need to know where you are.”

“You’ll have Marissa’s number.” She held out the Oscar to Vivi. “When you get to Nantucket, give this to Mercedes. She’s my housekeeper. She knows you’re coming in my place.”

Vivi took the Oscar; she didn’t like this plan. Cara was supposed to be close by, not at some undisclosed location. “The Guardian Angelinos have arranged a completely safe place for you to stay,” Vivi said.

“Of course you have to take Stella.”

She hadn’t even heard Vivi. Instead, Cara’s focus was on the dog as she closed her hand around Stella’s belly, lifting the tiny body and kissing her head. “Be careful not to let her run too much. She was the runt of the litter, born with a funky foot. Weren’t you, baby?” She cradled the
dog’s left front paw. “But you’re perfect to me. You be a good girl, little one. I’ll get you back soon.”

As she handed the squirming dog over, Cara’s eyes filled. Vivi tried to take Stella, but she squiggled away.

“Listen, Cara, I don’t think this is a smart plan. I should know where you—”

“No!” Stella jumped at Cara’s sharp reprimand, but it wasn’t directed at the dog. “You listen to me”—Cara pointed a white-tipped talon at Vivi—“I’m not getting on that plane. And neither are any of the people who work for me. Except you, obviously.” She leaned across the space and put two hands on Vivi’s knees, getting very much in Vivi’s face. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not watching you.”

An unexpected chill danced up Vivi’s spine. “Excuse me?”

“Or listening to every word you say.”

Vivi leaned away, eyes wide. “You’ll be spying on me?”

“Did you forget the nondisclosure you signed?”

“Of course not, but—”

“Well, how else would I know you haven’t told anyone?”

“You could trust me. With your life.”

“I am trusting you with my life, but there will be law enforcement people and—others.”

Vivi frowned. “I’m not going to lie to the police or FBI about who I am.”

Cara’s teary eyes grew narrow and harsh. “You will tell no one or I will consider it a breach of the nondisclosure.”

“Even the police? The FBI?” Vivi choked softly. “They’re on our side, Cara.”

“No one is on our side, Vivi,” she said darkly. “I know
from experience that the police create the worst media leaks. The
worst
. They refuse to sign nondisclosures.”

She blew out a sigh. “The pilots?”

“No one,” Cara said. “There’s a private bedroom cabin in the back of the plane. You go straight there, and don’t come out. Believe me, no one asks questions when I want to be alone.”

“And in Nantucket?” Vivi asked.

“I told you my housekeeper, Mercedes, will be there to meet you,” Cara said. “She knows I’m sending a decoy. You can’t tell anyone else you aren’t me, and that is final. And believe me, I will know.”

She’d be under constant observation. “I wish you trusted me.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s them. The FBI, everyone.”

“Have you talked to the FBI?”

“Briefly,” she said. “After I won the Oscar.”

“And?”

“They’ll be around, but you’ll fool them.”

Not all of them
. “What did they say?”

“Just that they wanted to send someone to protect me, but I told them I already had private security.”

The FBI might lurk, but they wouldn’t force their way onto the property. If they did, could she fool them? Only if whatever agents arrived didn’t know her. Would FBI agents on Nantucket work with the Boston office?

With the ASAC of the Boston office? “Cara, I have contacts in the FBI—”

“No one can know!”

Joellen opened her eyes at the sound of Cara’s raised voice, yanking an earbud out. “What the fuck is going on?” she asked.

“Vivi needs some acting lessons,” Cara said coolly. “She’s wondering what to do if the FBI recognizes her as an impostor.”

Joellen’s blue eyes, small and close together, absolutely nothing like her sister’s, widened as she leaned forward. “You convince them they’re wrong.”

Had Joellen had been following the conversation all along? “What if I can’t convince them? What if one of the agents knows me?”

“Avoid that agent,” Cara said.

“Or be ready to part with ten million dollars.” Joellen’s smile was smug.

“One good look at me and—”

Cara reached over and pulled netting down over Vivi’s face. “Don’t let them get a good look at you,” she said harshly. “And if they do, then your job is to do
whatever it takes
to convince
everyone
you are me. Whatever. Be creative, but get the job done. Clear?”

Joellen dropped back on the seat and replaced her earbud as the car came to a stop.

“It’s showtime,” Cara said. “Go walk across that tarmac the way Bridget taught you, look like an exhausted and very self-involved Oscar-winning actress, throw a few waves of the statuette, blow them some kisses, hang on to Stella, get your ass on that plane, and keep your mouth shut. Please?” She went soft again, as if some inner director had just reminded her she was supposed to be scared. “For me?”

No wonder she’d won an Oscar.

The noise of the crowd had already penetrated the limo. “How can I reach you in an emergency?” she asked.

“Just call Marissa. And, remember, I’ll be watching.
I chartered that plane days ago, and Leon has specially prepared it.” She underscored the not-so-subtle message with a tight smile. “So be convincing.”

Surely she could convince the pilots, then hide in that back cabin for the duration of the night flight. Once she got to Nantucket, she’d figure out what to do about the FBI.

“Fine,” Vivi said. “I have no issue with being monitored. It’s not being trusted I don’t like.”

Cara reached out a hand. “In my business, you can’t trust anyone.”

The car slowed and they peered out the darkened windows. The crowd was cordoned off, about forty feet from the plane, but the limo couldn’t get any closer than it was to the plane, leaving a long walk of fame for Vivi.

Cara let out a slow whistle. “The most I’ve ever seen.” She turned back to Vivi, giving her a critical up-and-down. “I know it’s a little over the top, but the
Now, Voyager
costume was pretty smart on Bridget’s part. It’s so distinctively me and, honestly, you cannot see your face through that net.” Once more she reached over and adjusted the screen of material over Vivi’s face. “You realize this was the actual hat Bette Davis wore in the original movie?”

Could she have cared less? Unlikely. All she cared about now was doing this job, and doing it right.

“Cool,” she said, her focus outside as the bodyguards reached the limo. Someone got her luggage from the trunk. But nothing was cool. Not her skin, not her nerves, not her client.

One of the guards tapped four times on the window.

“That’s the signal,” Cara said, her expression soften
ing. “Break a leg and keep your phone handy. We’ll text you.”

The door opened to a blast of noise, along with enough camera flashes to bathe the tarmac in near daylight.

Vivi’s pulse thudded as she took a deep breath and pulled the heavy designer bag they’d given her up on her shoulder. The skirt she wore was slit thigh high, but tight enough to make getting out of the limo a challenge.

“Let ’em see the tattoo,” Cara whispered.

Vivi nodded, placing her left leg out of the limo door, letting the slit skirt ride high to reveal the temporary tattoo that every photographer in Hollywood wanted to snap: the Ferrari logo in deep purple, high and on the inside of “Cara’s” thigh, leaving no doubt that this woman was Cara Ferrari.

“Wave!” Cara ordered from the limo. “And for God’s sake, don’t forget Stella!”

Vivi turned into the limo cab again, reaching out for the dog, who yelped mightily but let Vivi take her.

“Vivi, look at me,” Cara demanded, forcing Vivi to dip low and stick her head back through the door.

Cara put her fingers to her mouth, zipped her lips, and twisted an imaginary key.

“Got it,” Vivi said.

“Remember.” She stabbed her finger in the air, inches from Vivi’s face. “I’ve got eyes and ears.”

Vivi gave her a tight smile and backed out. The bodyguards flanked her as she started her march, squirmy pet under one arm, sweat-dampened statuette under the other. Stella was heavy, but the Oscar was surprisingly light, making Vivi wonder fleetingly if the impostor had gotten an impostor. Fitting.

From behind the chain-link fence the crowd screamed for Cara.

She waved and made a show of cuddling the dog, keeping her face in Stella’s short-cropped fur. She walked as quickly as she could, considering she had on four-inch heels and a tight skirt. The noise of the screams and hundreds of cameras snapping was barely drowned out by the engines of a sizable private plane waiting with the stairs open.

The pilot stepped forward and smiled, the first person Vivi would talk to as “Cara.” She climbed the steps, paused to give one more wave to the cameras, then slipped inside, daring direct eye contact from behind the protective netting.

“Welcome aboard and congratulations, Ms. Ferrari.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m Captain Wahl. My copilot is Captain Klossberg, and we are delighted to have you on our flight this evening.”

She nodded, easing the dog to the ground. The instant she was out of her hands, Stella bolted toward the door, and Vivi spun for her with a little shriek. But damn if the little beast didn’t shoot right back down the steps and tear ass across the tarmac like freaking Toto escaping the Wicked Witch.