Gun Brooke - Course of Action

"It's a contemporary style," the hair stylist explained. "Diana Maddox—"

"Is a hardworking criminal investigator with little or no time in the morning to create this!" Carolyn gestured toward the mirror. "You're wasting your time. I know Regina Carmichael. She's not going to run with this look." Truth be told, she simply could not imagine going through the rather painful process of creating the wild hairdo every morning before filming.

"Let's take a picture of it anyway." The stylist gestured toward the photographer. "Just in case."

Muttering under her breath, Carolyn stepped up on the dais and allowed the studio photographer to do his job. "I liked the first version you created," she said. "The simple French twist was in character."

The other woman looked like she was about to object when Carolyn's cell phone interrupted them.

"Black."

"Oh, dear, you sound miffed," Beth greeted her at the other end. "What's up?"

"Nothing, sweetie. I'm at work, doing my fittings."

"Welcome back to New York."

Wanting to slap her forehead for forgetting to call her sister the previous evening, Carolyn took a deep breath and moved out of earshot. "I'm sorry I didn't call right away, kiddo. When we got in last night I fell into bed, unconscious."

"Did you have fun?"

"We had a great time, especially at Disney World, going on all the rides and eating well."

"Great. Listen, Lyn…" Beth's voice wavered. "I'm not sure, but I picked up on something on TV and had the feeling I should tell you."

"What is it?" A sudden, inexplicable pang made Carolyn square her shoulders.

"It's about your new boss. I saw something on E! News first and then a short segment on NBC."

Chills dashing down her spine, Carolyn pressed the cell phone closer to her ear. "Go on."

"Apparently Annelie Peterson's father has come forward, accusing her of letting him live in poverty, on welfare. He's claiming her charity work is nothing but a hypocritical act, since she doesn't even care about her own flesh and blood."

"What?!"

"I didn't like the sound of it. It came across like she was this heartless rich bitch with a poor, sick, old dad."

Carolyn's heart raced as cold fury exploded in the depths of her stomach. This was the type of story that signaled a media hunt. With so much press about the Maddox film and interest in the woman behind the project, the media would beat up any hint of scandal into a salacious exposé. Knowing time was all-important, she scrambled to figure out the best plan.

"Thank you for letting me know so quickly, honey. This will cause problems for Annelie, so I need to get right on it. Can I get in touch with you later tonight?"

"Sure. I'll be here."

Carolyn hung up and walked over to the makeup area where she kept her purse. Combing her hair, rolling her eyes as she destroyed the ridiculous hairdo, she held up her hand dismissively when the beautician approached her. "Sorry, we'll have to continue tomorrow. Something came up that can't wait."

"But…"

"Tomorrow." Rummaging around in her purse, Carolyn found Margo's business card. She looked up and saw the stylist still standing there. Sighing inwardly, she fought not to take her irritation out on her. "Can you call for my car? I'll see you in the morning at eight." Carolyn grabbed her coat and was already dialing Margo as she left the room.

"Margo, this is Carolyn Black."

"Carolyn, how are you? Annelie's not here. She's working from her apartment today." The Irish accent smoothed out the other woman's energetic way of speaking.

"I know. I'm on my way back there. It's you I need to talk to. Something's come up."

"Go on." Margo's voice was guarded.

"I had a call from my sister in D.C. who saw something disturbing on the news today about Annelie. It's not good." Carolyn relayed what Beth had said.

There was a pause, making Carolyn think she'd been cut off.

"Margo, are you still—"

"The bastard!" Margo exploded. "We'll take care of him. Why the hell did that lowlife have to crawl out from under his rock?"

"That's a no-brainer. Money."

"Yeah." Margo cleared her throat. "You realize this is going to hit her hard, don't you? When the media's witch hunt is on, all bets are off."

"I agree." Carolyn walked over to the car pulling up at the curb, got into the backseat, and gave Annelie's address. "I can't imagine how she'll take it. Privacy is so important to her."

"Tell her I'll be there as soon as I know more. And Carolyn, thanks for calling."

Forcing herself to relax against the headrest and rubbing her forehead, Carolyn hoped Annelie wouldn't be watching TV while she worked. Knowing Annelie preferred listening to soft jazz or classical music, she doubted it. Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up to the condo.

Outside the door to the apartment, Carolyn had to stop and draw a cleansing breath. She was furious, angrier than she had been in a long time, and at a ghost of a man who was only out to get his hands on some of his daughter's money.

As Carolyn unlocked the door and stepped inside, she heard the bittersweet voice of Billie Holiday.

"Annelie?" Carolyn dropped her purse on the small dresser in the hallway and strode toward Annelie's study. Stopping in the doorway, she felt her heart melt when she spotted her lover completely focused on her computer. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she wore powder blue sweats. "Annie?"

Flinching, Annelie looked up, a soft smile spreading on her lips at the sight of her lover. "Carolyn, what are you doing home already? I thought fittings would take all day." A frown appeared on her forehead. "You look so serious. Is something wrong? Oh, God, is Beth all right?"

Carolyn walked over to the desk and sat down on the edge, leaning down for a quick kiss. "Beth's doing fine. She called me earlier and… she had some news that I wanted to share with you in person."

"What news? It can't be good. I can tell from your face. Come on. You're scaring me."

"Now, listen to me, love." Carolyn cupped Annelie's chin. "Seems your father has decided to float to the surface and make an appearance."

There was a stunned silence as Annelie went pale.

"Probably saw you on TV and put two and two together," she continued. "I've called Margo. She's dealing with it as we speak."

"My father?"

"Yes."

"Who…I mean, where…wh…" Annelie's voice gave out. When the words still didn't come, she reached for a remote sitting on her desk and pressed a button. Doors slid open in the bookshelf to reveal a plasma-screen television. Pressing another button, she clicked to the entertainment channel. After a commercial, a news segment featuring an elegant blond woman appeared.

"We're talking to Miranda Lewis, who has the latest on the Annelie Peterson story. As you know, Annelie Peterson is the publisher and executive producer responsible for bringing the famous character Diana Maddox to us in printed form as well as award-winning audiobooks. There has always been some mystique around the elusive beauty, who is one of the wealthiest women in the country. Share the scoop with us, Miranda."

Carolyn moved to stand behind Annelie, placing both hands on her shoulders.

"Well, Cathy, it turns out the stunning Ms. Peterson, also known for her generosity and philanthropic endeavors, has been hiding a secret that seems out of character. We know her, among other things, as the president of the Nebula Circle, a company devoted to building shelters for the homeless and raising money for needy children. Here's what's hard to understand. It turns out Annelie Peterson's father has lived in poverty most of his life, and he claims she hasn't raised one finger to help him."

"He's never…I didn't know," Annelie whispered. "I…"

Carolyn caressed the top of her right shoulder through her sweatshirt.