wanted to know otherwise. At least at the moment.
Jake clambered up the ladder on the side where the catwalk had fallen. “We should check out all of those other backdrops,” he said when she joined him at the top. “Make sure they’re secure and not going to accidentally-on-purpose fall down. And the rows of spotlights, too.”
Vivien bit back a “what’s this we business?” and nodded. At this point, disengaging Jake DeRiccio was like trying to stop a bad video clip from going viral by making an official statement—too little, too late, and just drew more attention to the situation.
But when he started to walk out onto the intact section of catwalk, she grabbed his arm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “What if…whoever…sabotaged that piece too. Just now.”
He muttered a curse. “Good point.”
“There is some scaffolding in the back,” she told him. “It’s behind a bunch of old set pieces. I can dig it out and wheel it onstage tomorrow and take a close look at everything.”
“You have scaffolding?”
“Sure. It’s a common enough piece of equipment in a theater—not only to reach the tops of high set pieces, but for repairs to the lights, catwalk, flies, and even sometimes it acts as a moveable set piece itself. Haven’t you ever seen Newsies? That entire set was basically built around a huge piece of scaffolding.”
“Right. Never thought about that.” He looked back out over the top of the stage, where tattered backdrops hung in rows several yards from where they stood. “I see a filmy red something back there, behind the GO OR DIE piece. I guess we know what it is.”
“I didn’t notice it earlier today. Did you?” she said.
“I didn’t look all that carefully. But now I wish I had,” he replied grimly. “Would be nice to know whether it was installed, so to speak, in the last few hours or not.”
Vivien definitely couldn’t control a shiver at that unpleasant thought. It was bad enough that someone was spying on her, but to have been in here while all the teens and old ladies were as well? And setting up something so ugly?
“I need a shower,” she said, suddenly done for the day. All this—the warnings, the eerie chill, the creepy shadow, the possibility that someone was watching her—was just a little too much. She felt sticky, hot, hungry, and utterly defeated.
Vivien was self-aware enough—meaning she’d been in therapy enough—that she knew the best way for her to combat feelings of anxiety and defeat was to remove herself from the situation and take some time to reboot. A shower, then a good cocktail while she put her feet up and checked out the social media on her clients, hopefully with some good news from Gab-Wear about the proposal from Louise London.
It was too bad Wicks Hollow was short on carry-out and delivery options. She’d probably have to settle for pizza.
“My house is really close,” Jake said. “You can shower there—although I don’t have much you could change into except a pair of sweats my sister left once—”
“Oh, no, that’s all right,” she said quickly. Not a good idea to spend that much time with Jake. At his place. Showering.
Not a good idea.
He seemed genuinely disappointed. “That’s too bad, because I have a really excellent Pinot gris that’s been waiting for an excuse to be opened,” he said. “Seems like all this is as good a reason as any.”
She gave a short laugh. “Oh, thanks, Jake. Really. It’s better if I just head on back to my place. I’ve got some work to do. Besides, I think I’m going to need something s-stronger than a glass of w-wine.” She couldn’t quite keep the quaver from her voice there at the end, dammit, and she turned away before he could see her blinking rapidly.
“All right, then.” His tone was studiously noncommittal.
But Jake stuck with her as she locked up, then they walked outside together, with him carrying the Nutcracker headpiece for her.
“I could give you a ride home,” she offered, feeling a little churlish over having rejected his invitation.
But what had he expected, anyway? Just because they’d shared that icky theatrical display didn’t mean that she’d forgiven and forgotten what happened eleven years ago.
“I can walk,” he said in a cool tone. “Thanks—”
Their feet crunched and skidded to a sharp halt on the gravel-strewn concrete when they saw her car.
“Nooo!” Vivien cried, staring at the smashed windshield and the spread of glass shards glittering among the gravel in