He raced through the pages, surprised to find they focused more on the competitors than the contest. While plenty of employers were known to run background checks, the info Ira had collected went much further than that. Ira had kept them under surveillance from the day of their interviews, and he’d collected the photos to prove it.
There was a pic of Tommy and Layla standing outside a restaurant on Abbot Kinney Boulevard. Tommy recognized it from the day he’d asked her to meet him at Lemonade. He’d been looking to form an alliance, hoping to pool their talents and work together. Only he’d flubbed the pitch and had ended up alienating her.
He dug deeper. Flipping past a photo of Aster and Ryan embracing in the Night for Night parking lot, he unearthed a separate file buried beneath it, with Madison’s name printed on the front.
Inside was a picture of Madison as a young girl. She was barefoot and bedraggled, dragging an old doll by her side. Along the top someone had written in all caps: MARYDELLA, WV, age 8.
It was the same picture someone had sent Layla—the same one that had covered the walls of Madison’s cell.
Farther in, Tommy found a newspaper article about the fire. Just beneath was another childhood photo of Madison. Only this time her hair was neatly combed, her dress was pressed and clean, and she sat smiling beside a plain, nondescript woman Tommy was sure he’d never seen, and yet something about her seemed vaguely familiar.
He flipped it over. On the back someone had written MaryDella & Eileen. Eileen was Paul Banks’s mother.
Why would Ira even have such a picture?
After photographing both sides, Tommy was about to dig deeper when he noticed footsteps sounding in the hall.
“What’re you doing?” The voice belonged to a girl. Probably one of Ira’s hot assistants—there was no shortage of them.
“I need to check something,” Ira said. “It’ll only take a minute.”
The doorknob rattled, sending Tommy into a panic as he quickly abandoned the folder, swiped at the light switch, and raced for the small supply closet. Contorting his body to fit, he managed to ease the door shut just as the office door swung open.
Inside the closet it was hot and dark, and there was barely enough room to hold him. Something sharp wedged into the middle of his back, forcing Tommy to take short, shallow breaths in an attempt to keep the noise to a minimum, though he was sure the frantic pounding of his heart would give him away. The only thing standing between him and Ira was a thin piece of wood and a knob with no lock.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Ira sounded hurried, if not wholly annoyed.
“Sitting in your chair, seeing what it’s like to be you.”
“Yeah, and what do you think?” Ira seemed distracted. The girl was flirting, but he’d clearly lost interest.
“I think it would be a lot more fun if you came over here and joined me.”
Tommy closed his eyes and cringed, hoping Ira would deny her request.
“How about I take your picture instead?”
“Again?” The girl tried to sound burdened, but it was clear she loved the attention.
“Like you ever tire of it.”
She let out a low, throaty laugh. “You mean, like this . . . or maybe even this . . .”
After a series of muffled thumps (what the hell are they doing out there?) Ira said, “You ready?”
“Always.”
Tommy listened as the door clicked shut, the lock engaged, and the outside room descended into silence. Determined to wait a bit longer to make sure no one returned, he slipped a hand into his pocket in search of his phone, only to find it was gone.
He reached into his other pocket. Then both front pockets. It was nowhere to be found.
Closing his eyes, he did a mental retracing of his steps. He’d taken a couple of pics of the photo . . . then he’d heard footsteps . . . shut the light . . . raced for the closet . . .
The file—he’d closed the cover and left his cell phone inside!
Tommy sprang from his hiding place and bolted for Ira’s desk. The file was gone, but Tommy’s phone sat prominently in its place. A quick check showed that Ira had deleted the photo of Madison and Eileen and replaced it with one of the girl. Her hair was long and blond, her lips parted and pink, as the tip of her tongue slid suggestively over her teeth. And though he’d purposely angled the shot in a way that obscured her eyes, an impressive cleavage was on full display.
Ira was taunting him. Letting Tommy know he hadn’t gotten away with anything. Hell, he’d probably known he was there all along. In an instant, Tommy’s biggest concern shifted from the fear of getting caught to the fear of why Ira had chosen to let him get away with it.
Next thing he knew, the alarm sounded through the building. Ira must’ve set it, purposely locking him in. Tommy had only a handful of seconds to make it outside before it rang straight through to security.
Would he find Ira waiting, ready to bust him for trespassing, breaking and entering, or whatever trumped-up charge he’d hold against him?
Anything was possible, but Tommy had no choice but to see it through to the end.
He flew down the stairs, raced past the bar, and burst outside just seconds before the alarm sounded its flat, ominous tone. Anyone still inside wouldn’t be able to hide for very long.
He took another peek at the picture of the blond girl. Without the eyes, she was impossible to identify. Then again, it didn’t really matter. There was no shortage of hot blondes in LA, and clearly it was more about Ira mocking him than anything else.
Tommy paused before the security camera long enough to flash it the middle-finger salute. Then he made his way across the empty parking lot, unable to shake the unmistakable feeling of being watched
