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“Be careful!” Rachel calls back, her voice muffled. “It’s a house of cards back here and I’m underneath this mess.”
One by one, Stelios, Wesselman, and I forge a path towards the back, pushing shelves out of the way. Vanessa and a couple of set assistants help by clearing away the debris.
“An ambulance is on the way,” shouts Allison, a makeup artist.
When we reach the back, Vanessa rushes past, kneeling on the floor next to Rachel, her face twisted in concern. The two women have grown closer over the weeks, Vanessa worming her way under Rachel’s prickly defenses.
I kneel next to her, glancing over Rachel. Her skin is pale, her features twisted in pain, her arm obviously broken. “Are you injured anywhere else?”
“I don’t think so.” She struggles to sit up. Stelios, a trained medic, braces her arm against her chest and pulls her up so her back is against the wall.
“What happened?” Wesselman demands, shaken. “These shelves are supposed to be secured.”
“They were bolted to the floor,” Rachel replies weakly. “All of them. I checked myself when we first set up shop.” She shakes her head, then flinches as she jars her arm. “I came in here to grab the cane for Spoon’s afternoon scene, but it wasn’t where I left it. I looked through everything, which is how I ended up back here. I heard the door open, called out a greeting, but next thing I knew, the shelves were crashing into each other and I was knocked to the floor.”
“This sounds deliberate,” I mutter, glancing at the mess surrounding us. There’s no way we can preserve a crime scene. Stelios checks Rachel’s head for bumps while I ask, “Is there anyone who might want to hurt you?”
She rolls her eyes. “I piss off a lot of people, Keenan. It’s kind of my job.”
I’d noticed. “Maybe someone thought you went too far. Anyone in particular stick out?”
She thinks about it, then shakes her head, but her eyes slide to the floor.
“What is it?” I urge.
Sighing, she looks at Wesselman. “Sorry, Zach. I should’ve told you earlier.”
“Told me what?” He shoves a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly disgruntled.
Shamefaced, she admits, “This isn’t the first accident. It’s the biggest one so far, but other smaller accidents have been going on almost daily.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Wesselman demands.
“I didn’t want to worry you. The film is already off schedule because of Hailey leaving.” Her face softens as she looks at Vanessa. “Which is for the best, but it has set us back.” She refocuses on Wesselman. “I only recently started to suspect sabotage. I wanted to investigate first, so I’d have some proof when I approached you about my suspicion.”
Her explanation seems to calm Wesselman.
“Could the culprit have found out about your investigation?” I ask.
She nods. “I was asking around about the accidents. I guess anyone could’ve overheard.”
“And thought to take you out,” I say grimly.
“What kind of accidents?” Wesselman asks incredulously. “How did I not notice anything?”
“No offence, boss,” Rachel says, grimacing in pain. “But you don’t notice much when you’re neck deep in a new film. That’s why you have me.”
He smiles and pats her shoulder. “You’re the best in the biz, Rach, but you can’t keep things like this to yourself. You could’ve been killed.”
“What were the other accidents?” I ask, turning the conversation back to the sabotage.
“My stunt car,” Stelios says. “The vehicle we were supposed to use to get Vanessa’s double on the train.” His gaze is on Rachel.
She nods at his words.
“I didn’t think anything of it because cars break down, but first the cooling system went last week, then the brakes a few days ago. I ordered a new one, but it doesn’t get here until next week.”
“Putting us another week behind schedule and $150,000 behind budget,” Rachel adds grimly. “I thought they were just coincidences until they started to add up. Rotten food in the snack buffet, electrical to the trailers being cut, lost costumes, broken set pieces.”
