Брайан Фриман - Alter Ego

“So you didn’t see anything that couldn’t be written off with an innocent explanation.”

“This wasn’t innocent, Stride.”

“How can you be sure?” he asked.

“Because I saw his face. It was scary as hell. Aimee got all disoriented and dropped her glass. Casperson didn’t do anything. He didn’t look surprised or concerned. It was like he was expecting it, you know? He got up, calm as anything, and he walked over and sat right down next to her. He didn’t get help. He didn’t freak out. He just sat there and reached over and started touching her.”

“Touching how?”

“Her face. He was caressing her cheek. Real slow, real smooth, like she was some kind of robot. And his eyes? Look, you know some of the things I’ve done. I know what men look like when they want sex and they’re with a girl who can’t tell them no. That was Casperson.”

Stride’s mouth was a thin, angry line. Those were the details that made him crazy.

“And then what?” he asked.

“Then I fell,” Cat said. “He heard me and alerted the guards. That’s when everybody started chasing me. If that hadn’t happened, Casperson would have raped her. I know it. I’m sure of it.”

“Between you and me, I think you’re right.”

“You believe me?” Cat asked.

“Of course I do.”

“Then let me tell people what I saw.”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“But why not?”

“I’m sorry, Cat. You were there illegally, and as far Serena and I are concerned, you were never there. The tip we got was anonymous. Serena didn’t use your name, and we’re going to keep you out of it. That’s it. It’s not up for discussion.”

Cat leaped out of bed. She paced angrily back and forth across the slanting wooden floor of the old bedroom. “That’s just wrong. So Casperson gets away with it? We don’t do anything?”

“I’m sorry, Cat.”

“Look, I know I was trespassing. Fine. I’ll admit it. If I have to get punished for that, I will. But why can’t I just tell the truth?”

Stride got off the bed, too. He held on to Cat’s shoulders to keep her in place and bent down until they were eye to eye. “Because if you say anything in public — anything — these people will destroy you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You saw what they did to me. They were just getting started. They didn’t leave you out of it to be nice. They left you out to make sure I knew what would happen if we kept going after Dean Casperson. If you stand up and make any kind of accusation, they will rip open your whole life, Cat. They will dredge up every mistake you ever made, every lie you ever told, every law you broke. They’ll print every rumor, every innuendo, everything, to humiliate you and obliterate you. They will make sure no one ever believes a word you say.”

“Let them try,” Cat said, with her forehead crinkled in determination. “I can take it. I’m strong now.”

“It’s not about being strong. Strong people break, too. I’ve seen lives ruined this way. Do you remember what I told you about Mort Greeley? He was an innocent man who lost his whole life to false accusations. You can’t imagine what the pressure is like when the media and the public turn on you. I won’t let you go through that.”

“ You didn’t break,” Cat said.

“I’m a cop. It’s my job to take the heat. You’re a teenager with your whole future ahead of you.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” Stride said. “It’s the only thing that matters to me and Serena. I know you want to do something. I know your heart is in the right place. But it’s up to me to protect you and keep you safe. That means you need to stay out of this. Are you listening to me, Cat? Stay away from Dean Casperson.”

Cat folded her arms across her chest. She spoke softly and intensely as she challenged him. It was the first time he’d ever really thought of her as a woman and not a girl. “Even if it means other people get hurt?” she asked.

Stride didn’t hesitate.

He stared at Catalina Mateo, who was as close to a daughter as he would ever have, and he didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” he told her. “Even if other people get hurt.”

Sitting up in the hospital bed, Aimee Bowe didn’t look famous. Her skin was pale, her hair flat and unwashed. She wore a blue plaid hospital gown that even a supermodel couldn’t have made fashionable. Her face was turned sideways as she looked out the window toward the gray city and the deep blue waters of the lake.

Serena tapped her fingernails on the door in greeting, and Aimee gave her a thin smile and gestured her inside. Serena closed the door behind her. The hospital room was already crowded with flowers, stuffed animals, and balloons. She couldn’t help noticing one particularly large bouquet of roses. The attached card hung open at an angle, so she could read it.

This will make quite the story for your Oscar speech. Stay strong, and see you back on the set.

Stay strong.

Serena could hear the underlying message: Stay quiet .

She sat down in the chair next to the bed.

“The nurses are already talking about autographs,” Serena said, “so you must be feeling better.”

“I am. No permanent damage. I counted fingers and toes. All still there.”

“I’m relieved.”

“They tell me I could have died out there. Thank you.”

“I’m just glad we found you in time,” Serena said. “Can we talk about what happened? Are you feeling up to it?”

A shadow passed across Aimee’s face. “If you’d like.”

“How did you wind up out in the snow?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Aimee replied.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I have this image of myself running in the moonlight. I’m not even sure it’s really a memory. It’s a flash in my head, nothing more.”

“Why were you running?” Serena asked.

“I don’t know.”

Serena knew she was dealing with an actress, and she didn’t know what story to trust. She had no idea whether Aimee’s memory loss was real or she was just covering up the truth.

“Do you remember where you were earlier in the evening?” she asked.

Aimee’s eyes flicked to the roses. “I was at Dean’s.”

“Why?”

“He wanted to talk about the film. And about new projects. He was offering me another role in his next movie. That’s big for me.”

Serena waited for Aimee to say more, but she didn’t.

“How did you get home from Dean’s?” she asked.

“I don’t remember.”

“Did someone take you?”

“I guess so.”

“You don’t know who drove you?”

Aimee’s face flashed with annoyance. “I said I don’t remember. One minute I was at Dean’s, the next minute I was outside running in the cold. There’s nothing in between.”

“That’s okay. I understand.”

Serena thought about the footprints in the snow outside Aimee’s house. They were far apart; she really had been running. But running from what? There was only one set of footprints. No one had been chasing her.

“What happened at Dean’s?” Serena asked.

Aimee looked at the roses again. “What do you mean?”

“What did the two of you do?”

“We talked.”

“Upstairs or downstairs?”

“I don’t know. Both, I guess. Why does it matter?”

“You remember going upstairs?”

“I think so,” Aimee replied. Her voice was clipped and impatient.

“Did you have a drink?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

“What did you drink?”

“Serena, what difference does it make?”