Sharon Sala - Life Of Lies

“Hi...” she replied hesitantly. This call wasn’t going to be easy. “This is Sahara Travis calling. I’d like to speak to either one of Moira Patrick’s parents.”

“Oh, Miss Travis. I’m Moira’s mother.”

Sahara took a deep breath. “There are no words for how sorry I am about what happened to her.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Amanda said, weeping across the line. “Moira loved her job, and she admired you so much.”

“Thank you for that,” Sahara said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I’d do anything to bring her back. She was a wonderful person. This is a nightmare, and we still have no idea who is responsible. But I want to let you know that I’ll be paying for the services myself. Not the company. Me. I wish with all my heart this had not happened.”

“That’s very kind of you but not necessary.”

“It’s important to me that I do this,” Sahara said. “I insist. I just need the name of the funeral home and I’ll cover the cost of whatever you choose for the arrangements.”

“Well, all right, then,” Amanda said. “Just a moment while I get the card to make sure I relay the proper address.”

“Why don’t you just send me a text with the information when you have time,” Sahara said.

“Yes, all right, and thank you again for this kindness.”

“It is the least I can do to honor a young woman I greatly admired. I can’t show up in person to the services—I wish I could, but between the mobs of people and the media...it wouldn’t be appropriate and you deserve peace when you have to say goodbye to Moira. But I want you to know my heart will be with all of you.”

Sahara waited for the text, then forwarded it to Harold with a note to cover the cost of everything from her personal account.

* * *

The next morning she got a call from Dr. Barrett’s office, asking for an update on her burn. Sahara informed them that the pain was lessening, but that she hadn’t taken off the bandage to look.

“Would you be available today for Dr. Barrett to stop by to check the injury?”

“Yes.”

“Great. He’ll be there within an hour or so.”

The moment the call ended, she went to the bathroom to get a towel and shampoo and quickly washed her hair at the kitchen sink. Then she hobbled back to the bathroom and toweled it dry. The thick, long curls were a menace to control, but that was what professional hair and makeup teams were for. She was fine with it on a day-to-day basis, and there was always someone around to fix it if it didn’t please the people who wrote her checks.

She was wearing pink shorts and a white T-shirt, her ode to a California summer, and as usual she was barefoot. She’d sent Lucy on an errand to get makeup and her brand of toiletries, so when Lucy Benton’s name popped up in caller ID, she answered without caution.

“Hello.”

“Who is this?” a man asked.

The male voice startled her. Her heart started to pound. Was this the man responsible for Moira’s death? Did he do something to Lucy? She didn’t want to be the reason people were dying.

“Where’s Lucy?” she demanded.

“Who’s Lucy?” he asked.

“She’s a friend, and you just called me using her phone.”

“Look, lady, I just found the phone in a shopping cart at Whole Foods and called the first name on the contact list. Just trying to help out.”

“Then please drop it off at the customer service counter. They’ll page her.”

“Yeah, all right.”

“I'm her boss, and I already took a picture of your face, so if you don’t turn in the phone, I will turn you in to the cops,” Sahara said, bluffing completely, but he didn’t have to know that.

“Well, hell, lady. How did you—”

“I see where you are, and it’s nowhere near customer service.”

“I’m going, I’m going there right now,” the guy said.

Sahara could hear him panting as he ran and then heard him turning the phone over at the counter just as she heard Lucy’s voice in the background.

“That’s my phone!”

“It was just in my basket, lady. I was on my way to turn it in, that’s all...”

“Oh! Then thank you very much,” Lucy said, as the manager at the counter took the phone, verified the info and handed it over.

Lucy pulled out a ten-dollar bill and gave it to the man who’d turned it in.

“Not a lot of honest people in the world anymore. I appreciate you turning this in.”

The guy took the ten, then waved it in front of Lucy and the phone.

“Turn the phone around...let that woman on the phone know that I did the right thing.”

Lucy frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, uh...I called the first number on your contact list trying to find out who owned the phone, and the woman said she took a screenshot of me talking to her and was going to turn it in to the cops if I didn’t hand over your phone. I mean, I was gonna do that anyway, but...well, you must be pretty important to have a boss who’ll do something like that.”

He walked away, poking the ten-dollar bill into his pocket, and the manager looked at Lucy in confusion.

“I’ve never heard of a phone that could take a picture of the person you’re talking to unless you were FaceTiming or something.”

Lucy grinned and put the phone to her ear.

“Hello, are you still there?” she asked.

Sahara was grinning. “Yes, I’m here. I heard it all.”

“Many thanks. I don’t know if I believe he would have brought it back if it hadn’t been for the story you sold him.”

“Are you okay, otherwise?” Sahara asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It must’ve slipped out of my purse when I was paying, I guess. Be there soon.”

“Good to know. Gave me quite a scare to hear a man’s voice calling from your number. Just for a moment I was afraid someone else had been targeted because of me. Be careful.”

“Of course,” Lucy said, and disconnected as she hurried outside and got into the car.

The sun was bright. It would be another hot day. She missed the changing weather from back home and, not for the first time, wished Sahara Travis lived in the hills.

* * *

By the time Lucy got back to the penthouse, Sahara was on the phone with Tom.

“I understand you have a burn on your foot,” Tom said.

“Yes, but it’s getting better. The doctor is coming by in a bit to change the dressing and check it out.”

“So if we resumed shooting soon, you’d be able to come to set?”

“Yes. You may have to shoot around a bare foot or something for a while, but I’m not bedridden by any means.”

“That’s good. Yes, yes, that’s good,” Tom said. “The investors are on my ass, so—”

“Don’t worry, Tom. Just send my car and the pages and tell me when to show up.”

“That’s great!” Tom said. “You’re a real trouper, Sahara. I’ve been trying to get a new trailer moved out for you, but—”

“There’s no need for that,” Sahara said. “I’m not superstitious, and I don’t intend to run from this creep. The trailer is fine as long as they’ve cleaned up the crime scene.”

“Of course,” Tom said. “Absolutely. See you soon.”

Sahara rolled her eyes at Lucy as she disconnected.

“That was Tom. He’s getting antsy. Sounds like we’re going to resume shooting soon.”

Lucy nodded. “Good. The sooner this is behind us all, the better.”

Sahara turned around and stared at Lucy a few moments and then walked out of the room. There were a whole lot of things she could say about how callous that sounded, but she wouldn’t. It had been a stressful experience for all of them. Maybe this was just how Lucy dealt with the strain of what had happened.

“Any death threats in my email?” she asked, changing the subject.