The room grew silent, and Aster stared at the wall before her, watching as Trena’s image was replaced with one of Madison rising to her feet in a daze as the wall slid open before them.
FORTY-FOURHEARTBREAKER
The entire time it took to drive from his photo shoot in downtown LA to RED in West Hollywood, Mateo Luna went over the long list of reasons why he should turn the car around and head home instead.
And yet, he still found himself parking on the street and standing before the big red double doors, which from all appearances seemed to be locked.
He ventured toward the sidewalk and squinted up and down the boulevard. He could’ve sworn Heather said the shoot was taking place that night, and that she and Ira would be there.
While he resented her bargaining on his behalf by trading his appearance at RED for his little sister getting better care, he’d since cooled down enough to realize he had no choice but to go through with his end of the deal.
He hated the idea of being in debt to Ira Redman, but at least by agreeing to take part in the shoot (no matter how grudgingly), they could each walk away and call it even. Or at least he hoped that was the case.
He tried the door. He was right; it was locked. And if anyone was in there, they weren’t responding to his knocks.
Deciding to send Heather a text to let her know he’d changed his mind and that he was waiting outside, he settled onto a bench and typed:
Thought you said you were filming at RED tonight. I’m outside if you still want me to take part. I’ll hang around a bit longer so LMK.
He waited for a response. He knew she was in there—he’d seen her car parked nearby. He’d seen Layla’s car and Ryan’s too, for that matter. And yet, they were inside while he was on the stoop, cooling his heels.
He frowned, checked his phone again, then got up and started to pace when he glanced across the street and saw Detective Larsen watching the building in an unmarked car.
What the—?
Mateo hadn’t even finished the thought, when his phone vibrated with Heather’s reply.
No reason to wait
It’s already too late
Please don’t you worry
Just go now & hurry
You’ve been nothing but sweet
I’m forever grateful we had the chance to meet
I’m going away for a very long while
Though I’ll always think of you with a smile
Despite what you may hear
For me, you were the one true thing I held dear
Mateo’s hands began to shake as he read the message again.
The rhyme reminded him of the ones Layla had been sent.
The picture Ira had taken with Tommy’s phone wasn’t meant to taunt him, but to warn him.
Finally, after all this time, the clues were falling into place in a way that made sense. Though the ominous tone of Heather’s message didn’t bode well for anyone locked inside with her.
He railed hard against the door. When it failed to so much as budge, he started toward the street, intent on alerting Larsen, when someone caught him by the back of the shirt and he turned to find Paul Banks standing behind him.
FORTY-FIVEHERE’S WHERE THE STORY ENDS
Madison stood wearily before the glass wall, not the least bit surprised to see Heather Rollins holding her gun to Trena Moretti’s head. Though she was surprised to find Heather acting alone. She’d been convinced Heather had help. Then again, considering the body found in Joshua Tree and the one Paul left behind in Death Valley, it was possible Heather was the only one left.
Somewhere in a corner behind Madison, Ryan, Aster, Layla, and Tommy were huddled together, but she paid them no notice. This wasn’t about them. Never had been. They were merely pawns chosen by Ira and manipulated by Heather into her sick, twisted game.
When Aster had asked if any of this would’ve happened if it weren’t for the contest, Madison hadn’t known the answer. Though she’d since figured out a few things leading her to conclude that while Ira and Heather were both playing a game, the games they played weren’t remotely the same.
Heather had been after Madison from the first day they’d met, which wasn’t the date Madison had once thought. Turns out, their connection stretched back a decade or more.
“As you may have guessed, this won’t end well.” There was no use for disguise. Heather spoke in her own voice now.
“It doesn’t seem likely,” Madison agreed.
“I’ll never forget how you looked at me in the car. You weren’t the least bit surprised to find me waiting in the backseat. Tell me, just out of curiosity, what gave it away?”
“You’re wearing my earring.” Madison gestured toward the single gold-and-turquoise hoop swaying from Heather’s left lobe.
“What else?”
“Your tattoo.”
“Which one?” Heather grinned. “I’ve collected a few.”
“The one on the inside of your arm—the shooting stars. It’s a symbol for Shooting Star Ranch, isn’t it?”
For a handful of seconds, Heather looked shocked, but just as quickly she recovered. “As you know, not all scars fade.” She raised her arm to display the intricate ink that marked her flesh in a way that mimicked Madison’s burn scar. “Go ahead, explain it to your friends and the fans at home watching this feed.”
Madison glanced over her shoulder toward the others cowering in the corner, warning them with her eyes not to do anything heroic or stupid. Returning to Heather, she said, “Shooting Star Ranch is where they sent Heather to live after her dad, Gerald Rawlins, went to jail for killing my parents.” From behind her, someone gasped. Madison suspected it was Aster. “You changed the spelling of your last name,” Madison said. “But you are his daughter, aren’t you?”
Heather nodded. The gun shook in her hand, setting Trena on edge. Trena was tied, gagged, and rendered completely defenseless.
“What I don’t understand is why you’d risk everything
