Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“No.” Ash chuckled. “But thank you for thinking of me. Now, you know I always pick up for you, but I’m very much in the middle of something, so not to be a dick, but why are you calling?”
Klein took a breath but stayed silent.
“You hate delivering bad news, so just rip the Band-Aid off and tell me what happened.”
Quick clearing of his throat. “Okay, well, it appears that Kit Riggs is missing.”
Ash glanced at me, and I understood. Here we were talking about the guy, and suddenly he was the headline of a new conversation. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that after your meeting last week, he seems to have disappeared, along with his two writers.”
“What does that mean? Disappeared?”
“Exactly like it sounds. No one has heard from him or seen him. He was supposed to do a photo shoot for Men’s Health the next day, and he no-showed.”
“So his publicist reached out to you?”
“That’s right. Since you were his last official meeting, she wanted to know if he made it to that or if he blew you off too. Though why she called, I have no idea. There were enough fuzzy, crappy pics of you two having lunch together. All she had to do was check online.”
“So all three are missing?”
“Yeah.”
“Are the police looking for them?”
“Of course, but it turns out Kit was planning on driving back to Los Angeles—”
“You mean Palm Springs.”
“No, the publicist—I cannot for the life of me remember her name—said Los Angeles. So that’s a lot of area of Interstate 5 for the highway patrol to search. It’s gonna take some time.”
“Why would he drive?”
“Who knows why Riggs does anything? You know he’s weird.”
“He’s a free spirit,” Ash said defensively. “He probably thought just the air changing from the Bay Area to the desert would do something amazing for his process.”
“That’s nomenclature for weird.”
“I—off topic, the FBI wanted to know why I was meeting with Voss, a wanted fugitive.”
“What?”
“They thought Kit was Voss.”
“Well, whoever did his makeup should be thrilled about that compliment.”
“But what I’m telling you is, the FBI thought I was actually sitting down with a fugitive.”
“Well, there’s a rich tradition of actors meeting with infamous and sometimes frightening individuals—Sean Penn comes immediately to mind—but…wait. Did they come there? To the wedding, to interrogate you?”
“No. Jared Colter, the owner of Torus, he had his guys question me instead, and they promised to get back to the Feds.”
“I love this full-service protection Mr. Colter’s got going on. Plus, keeping your name out of the press when this is all a big misunderstanding is very appreciated.”
“Agreed.”
“Please convey my thanks.”
“I will.”
“Are you fine? Do you need me to put Gina on a plane?”
“No, Levi, I don’t need a lawyer. I’m fine.”
“Okay, well, just be careful, because not knowing where Riggs is…I hate that. He’s not a household name like you, but still. He’s well known enough that if someone saw him, they would recognize him and reach out. That he’s missing makes no sense.”
“I agree.”
“And with no one calling, that must mean something bad, right?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. I’m sure they’ll find him.”
“Okay,” he said, taking a breath. “And don’t forget to do the Wordle today. The first one who misses doing it this month owes the office lunch.”
“I’m on it.”
“All right, I’ll talk to you later, and I’ll call if there’s any news. You do the same.”
“Will do,” Ash said, hung up, then turned to me, Owen, and Nash. “What are you guys thinking? Because I’m wondering what could have—”
“Okay,” I said softly, taking hold of his hand. “Did you see on the news that Elliot Voss was dead?”
He squinted at me. “I didn’t. Other than talking to Kit about his film, I haven’t followed Voss’s story at all.”
“Well, it seems he died a few hours after you met with your buddy, which is why the FBI was so interested in talking to you.”
“I get it.” He squeezed my hand, holding my gaze. “If Kit were Voss, me and Inca and the writers would have been the last people to see him.”
“That’s right.”
“But it was Kit, not Voss, so now what?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, it turns out, Voss was killed on that same stretch of road that Kit would have been driving to get back to LA.”
“What does that—” He laughed nervously, then suddenly stopped. “You think what? That Voss killed my friend and staged it to look like it was him?”
I said nothing.
He gasped. “No, that can’t be—” He glanced at Owen and Nash, then back at me. “Is that what you all think?”
I nodded.
“Why?” His voice sounded strangled.
“Voss was—is—a fugitive. If someone died in his place, and the cops are thinking he’s dead, that leaves him free as a bird.”
“So you think my friend is dead and not Voss?” Ash repeated, his breath catching.