“Oh, God! Then where is she?” Poppy cried.
“I heard her promise Thor she would lift weights on her own. Maybe she’s in the gym,” Timothy said.
Matt bolted for the resort gym with Poppy close on his heels. Timothy followed behind them. The door to the gym had been closed, and when Matt yanked it open, they all could see Danika inside, backed up against a wall mirror, as a young man wearing a gray hoodie and jeans, odd for such a warm day in the desert, had her pinned in front of him with a dumbbell loaded down with heavy weights on each side. The man’s face was pressed up close to Danika as she turned away with a look of revulsion.
Poppy could see his face through the reflection in the wall mirror. Beak nose. Acne-scarred face, wisps of greasy black hair, and beady, disturbed eyes.
Matt sprinted across the gym toward them and grabbed the young man from behind by the hood, yanking him off Danika with all his might. The young man dropped the dumbbell and it crashed to the floor with a loud thud. Matt spun the intruder around and Poppy could see him erupt in anger, enraged that his private moment with Danika had been so rudely interrupted. He took a swing at Matt, who luckily had enough stage combat training to expertly dodge it. The man threw himself upon Matt hurling wild punches, kicking him in the kneecap, before Matt had the opportunity to strike back. Timothy lunged forward to help, but the man scooped up a free weight and swung it wide, clocking Timothy in the side of the head.
Matt now dove into the man’s midsection and they hurtled to the floor, rolling around, punching and kicking each other. Matt finally managed to grab the man around the chest, pinning his arms, but the man lashed out crazily, biting Matt’s ear. Matt loosened his grip enough for the man to wriggle out of his grasp, and pop back up to his feet. Matt followed suit, raising his fists, ready to continue the bare-knuckled brawl. But then the young man lifted the dumbbell he had used to pin Danika to the wall off the floor, and with all his might launched it at Matt. The sheer weight of it slammed against Matt’s chest, lifting him off his feet and back down to the floor, the wind knocked out of him.
The young man pulled his hood down over his face as he raced out of the gym. Poppy rushed toward Matt, but before she could reach him, Matt was back on his feet and chasing after the hooded intruder. Poppy turned to see Danika still standing against the wall mirror in a state of shock. Timothy was on the floor, writhing in pain, so she went to check on him first.
“Timothy, talk to me. Are you hurt? Should I call an ambulance?” Poppy cried.
“No, please don’t. I’ll be okay, Ms. Harmon. I’m pretty sure he missed my jaw, he just got the side of my face. Luckily all my teeth are still intact . . . I think.”
“You should have a doctor check you out just to be on the safe side,” Poppy insisted.
Timothy nodded briefly, but Poppy could tell he had no intention of leaving work to go to the hospital. There was no way he was going to risk another up-and-comer replacing him.
Poppy then turned to Danika, who was resting her head against the mirrored wall and staring into space. Poppy hurried over to her. “Danika, I am so sorry. We should have been more careful, it’s on us that you were left alone—”
Danika seemed to finally snap out of her trance. “Poppy, I’m totally fine, just shaken up a little,” Danika said calmly. “There’s no need to blame yourself. I made the decision to come work out unaccompanied.”
“What can you tell me about the man who attacked you?”
“Not much. Just that he’s young, maybe early twenties, he said his name was Byron, like Lord Byron the poet, and he told me he writes love sonnets about me, about us, how he’s never felt a love like this, ever since he discovered my videos on YouTube and Instagram.”
Already Poppy suspected the kid was of unsound mind.
“I didn’t want to make him angry so I kind of played along at first, saying he was so sweet and how I would like to read his poems sometime, but then I tried to run and that’s when he grabbed me and threw me up against the wall and pinned me with that barbell and told me to stop fighting what is meant to be . . . and that’s when you all showed up.”
Poppy grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket. “I’m calling security.”
“Don’t bother, he’s gone,” she heard Matt say as he limped back into the gym.
Danika hurried over to him, notably far more concerned with his well-being than that of poor Timothy, the lowly production assistant. “Matt!”
“I twisted my ankle chasing after the little creep so he was able to put some distance between us until he got out to the street and sped away in his car,” Matt said, still slightly out of breath. He held up his phone. “But don’t worry, I got a photo of his license plate.”
Poppy’s hopes were quickly raised that they had a significant clue to tracking the stalker.
Matt stared at the picture on the screen and looked back up glumly. “Half of it, anyway. The half that’s not blurred.”
And then those hopes were just as quickly dashed.
Chapter 7
Don’t scream, Poppy said to herself.
Don’t scream, she repeated over and over in her mind, determined to keep a mask of calm on her face and not allow the man sitting next to her in the helicopter to derive any satisfaction from the fact that
