I cover my face with my hand, lean against his chest, and start crying again.
He doesn't say anything.
Just holds me tightly.
I can't stop crying. It's like, now that I've finally let it all out, it won't stop.
"Shhh, baby," he says, smoothing down the back of my hair. "Tell me what happened."
I take a breath, shuddering, trying to stop crying.
"Garrett said no news is good news."
"What did he mean by that?"
"That's what I asked him. He said that it meant they . . . they . . . they . . . hadn't found a body yet."
Aiden takes a sharp breath. "That's an awful thing to say."
"I know. It was supposed to make me feel better, but the thought of a body showing up. I don't know why that never really crossed my mind. I just pictured him kidnapped, not dead. You know?"
Aiden pushes my chin up and kisses my forehead. "It's because you've been listening to your heart."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure, but it's like, through this all, you've known, somehow. Were you and Vincent close? Like, before he tried to kidnap you?"
"Part of me wants to say yes. Part of me wants to say no."
"Tell me about the part that wants to say yes."
"We sort of instantly connected. He looked into my eyes like he knew me. He was nice. He caught me one night when someone pushed me. He noticed things about me that other people didn't."
"Like what?"
"Stuff about me. My posture. My expressions. How I bite my lip when I'm trying to tell a lie. That I have a very expressive face. Granted, I wanted to be an actress, so I loved hearing those things, but it never felt like he was just blowing smoke up my ass or trying to impress me. He seemed sweet and sincere. I mean, he did flirt with me, but it was playful; the kind of things that could have dual meanings."
"Did that bother you?"
"No. I liked it. I liked him. I had little fantasies about what being with a man would be like. And when he took me to dinner to thank me . . ."
"Thank you for what?"
"Oh, one day I came home from school really mad. I was pissed and walking down the beach and ran into him. He was upset. Told me that his grandmother had passed away and he was supposed to spread her ashes on the beach. He was having a hard time doing it. He didn't really have anyone special in his life, I guess. And I was there. And I could relate because I had lost my dad. So I said some things that I hoped gave him comfort. He told me all about his grandmother, who was a famous actress, and her life. How she had met the love of her life on the beach. It was all very romantic-the kind of love I dreamed I would have with B. You know, we met each other on the beach, and it was love at first sight just like hers. He told me about his bad childhood at some point, too. About how his grandmother had taken him in and given him a better life. How he went to an exclusive prep school and how if you told yourself something enough, eventually, you'd believe it."
"Like what?"
"Like being good enough. Being strong. Stuff like that. Anyway, he told me his grandmother would love that he spread her ashes on the beach with me. Because I was special. That he was going to make this amazing movie with me and every man who saw it would fall in love with me. Anyway, I held his hand and said a few words, and then we sprinkled her ashes and tossed the urn into the ocean. He texted me the next day, invited me to dinner. We had fun. Flirted. But he never took it further. Kissed me on the cheek goodbye. Held it way too long, but it was sweet, not at all creepy. We just talked a lot whenever I saw him. I told him things I hadn't dared tell Brooklyn or my friends."
"That's why people tell bartenders their problems, right? Easier to tell a stranger than a friend."
"Yeah, probably. Anyway, we saw each other like that off and on. And every time we did, we had these sweet little moments. He was on my beach the morning of my birthday. I was happy, doing cartwheels. He laughed at me. Videotaped me. Teased me about recreating my mom's movie poster. I redid it for him my way. Turned around, tossed water at him, then blew him a kiss over my shoulder. I invited him to my birthday party. I was shocked when I figured out it was him who was trying to kidnap me. And, since then, I've questioned everything I've felt."
"Even with me," Aiden says.
"Yeah, mostly with you."
"So what does your heart tell you now about Brooklyn?"
"That he'll be okay for a while. But not for long. I think his having Brooklyn will be both motivation to get me and a reminder of the fact that he hasn't yet."
"That's a fine line."
"Yes."
"Do you think he has the seven days Garrett asked for?"
"Probably," I say slowly.
"But what?"
"But I'm probably not going to wait that long."
"You'll go anyway?"
"I think I'll have to."
Aiden nods. "You keep saying that you don't want me to help, but I'll help you find him."
"I'm surprised you'd say that. If I find him . . ."
"If you find him, Vincent will go to jail and you'll have your life back."
"Even if I don't end up with you when I get it back?"
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens his green eyes, they are sparkling with moisture. "I'm trying not to consider that possibility."
When I get back to my room, Katie gives me a hug and goes to sleep.
My friends have been treating me with kid gloves since I got back.
I'm sure they've all been filled in on what's going on.
And I appreciate it.
A text pops up from Garrett right before I fall asleep.
Garrett: Remember the girl from the club? She was a message to you. I don't think he's going to hurt Brooklyn until he starts "filming his movie," which we both know he can't do without you. Not finding a body after almost twenty-four hours means we were right. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just a fact. And that fact makes me feel better. It should you too.
Me: Thanks.
Vincent is a patient man, but his patience is wearing thin. Matt is not cooperating, and he's considering recasting him. Or just plain writing his character out of the script.
No matter what he says or does to Brooklyn, he swears he doesn't know where Keatyn is. And after the beating he just gave him, he should have told.
Vincent has to consider the fact that he truly doesn't know.
Vincent has also been searching for the elusive Abby Johnston and has finally come up with a hit. She and her daughters are currently staying in their home in France. The international location will make things a little trickier, but still doable, thanks to Hondo. He has also learned the exact location of Tommy's set trailer in New York.
He briefly considers having his new best friend mob boss send the kind of man whose specific skill set involves being able to torture the truth out of anyone.
But he's afraid that if Brooklyn were permanently disabled or dead when his star arrived, it would upset her. And that's the last thing he wants-for Lacy. Keatyn, he's still pissed at. Abby, he loathes.
But the dog is another story. He likes the dog. A lot. Something that really surprises him.
And assures him that his life is finally following his script.
Keatyn makes a decision. If Brooklyn hasn't been found by Saturday, she's going to Malibu.
I lean over and whisper to Riley, "Hey, where's that map of Stockton's exits? Have you ever noticed if one goes off property?"
"The map is in Stockton's. But, yes, there is one. I'm sure that's how they get everything in and out of there."
"Where does it go?"
"I've never been. Do you want to go see?"
"Yes. Cooper and I-or maybe just I-may need to leave here without anyone knowing."
"I thought you agreed to wait seven days."
"I may have lied. This is all my fault, Riley. I can't just sit here."
"If Cooper doesn't go with you, I will."
"I love you. You're the best friend."
"You just love me because you want me to help you run your new production company."
"I'm serious about that. We'd have a blast working together. And I trust you-maybe more than anyone."
"More than anyone?"
I sigh. "I trust Aiden, and he wants to help. But I just can't let him."
"So you'll sneak out of Stockton's?"
"Yes."
"I'm serious. I'm going. I'll do whatever you say. Even if it's just to ride on the plane with you."
"I'm afraid if I let you on the plane, you'd renege on your promise."
"I won't," he says solemnly.
"Riley, if something happens to me, the whole production company is going to you. Do great things with it, okay?"
His shakes his head at me, but agrees.
"I think it's this one," Riley says, taking me through an exit from Stockton's.
"We should really check this place out sometime when we're not drinking," I say with a laugh. "We'd probably find all sorts of interesting stuff."
We walk along the dimly-lit tunnel.
For a surprisingly short while.
When we get to the end of the tunnel, we find a ladder, climb up, and open a trap door in the floor of what appears to be a small cement block building.
"You stay down there," Riley instructs. "I'm going to close the door and see if I can get back in with the key."
"Come on out. That," he says, showing me a keypad, "must be how they do the deliveries. They can control access through keypad codes. I bet only members get keys."
"It's pretty crazy if you think about it. Someone spent a lot of time and energy on this place."
"I think it's sort of evolved over time to be what it is now. Some of the tunnels look older than the others. Speaking of that, have you ever read any of the names on the walls?"
"I looked at some that first night, but I didn't really pay attention."
"I started looking at them before break. There are some important names on those walls. History-making names. Leaders of industry and state names. People you could maybe call, Keatyn. One is a California judge. I looked him up. He's a big deal. Well-connected. What if you went to him?"
"For what?"
"You said they couldn't get a search warrant. I'm just saying that sometimes it helps to know the right people."
"Garrett knows a lot of people. If he couldn't pull strings . . ."
"I'm just saying . . ."
"Yeah, you're right. Let me think about it. Let's go look outside."
We walk out of the little building and find ourselves just on the other side of the Eastbrooke fence.
I point to a plaque above the door. "This was a gift from the class of 1978."
Riley smiles. "We have a year and a half to figure out our gift. We need to make it epic."
I look up at him, tears filling my eyes.