“No.” Rhys scrubbed a hand over his face. “There’s not an imminent threat. Just a gut feeling. I trust you. That’s it.”
“What’s your gut say?”
“That Tabitha’s not to be trusted.”
“Never had been,” Wes muttered. “Not to ignore your gut, but she has an alibi, and burning down Jules’s house isn’t a publicity move. That’s all that woman cares about.”
“Just keep her away if she shows up.” Rhys ended the call, unable to shake Wes’s words. He was right. Wes hadn’t been with Jules and Tabitha nearly as much as he had, but he had been there enough to see the ugly underbody of their relationship and the way Tabitha pined for attention.
What did the cops know about Mason that Rhys didn’t?
Tabitha had less skin in the game than Mason, and none of that made sense with the person in the photo with Scarlett. Except Tabitha had left the room after Abigail ordered icecream. She could easily have approached someone from room service. What would she get out of it? Rhys didn’t know. He rubbed the back of his neck and gunned the engine, racing through a yellow light.
He phoned Scarlett but got no answer.
He redialed.
Again, no answer. It was late. She’d been partying. A million understandable reasons not to answer his late-night phone call surfaced. But the unanswered calls upped his stress.
He hit the brakes then changed lanes and sped onto the 405. Instead of redialing Scarlett, Rhys tried Vivian. She picked up on the second ring. He didn’t wait for her to speak. “Who’d Scarlett travel to New York with?”
“Hello to you too. What are you—”
“Who’d Scar travel with?”
“You mean in her personal time? Not that it’s your business, but to the best of my knowledge, no one. Not that she runs her social schedule by me.”
“Who would know?” Was it too late to call Callum’s wife, Grace? She and Scarlett were close. “Grace would, right?”
“Callaghan, what’s going on?”
“The wedding day. The day when everyone was trying to get that money shot of Jules in her wedding dress, there was a guy. Room service. He tried to take pictures in their suite. I grabbed him. Wes threw him out. Did he tell you that?”
“No.”
Wes would’ve looped in Sloane or Margot, and they’d keep a record of it for Jules’s legal team. “Room service guy is in New York with Scarlett.”
“You’re sure?”
“Christ, Viv. I’m sure.” She’d never questioned him before, and the timing of it now irritated the piss out of him. “He’s with her, and she’s not picking up the phone.”
“Take it easy. It’s late. She might be asleep. Let’s think this through. Gage,” Vivian said, her voice pulling away from the phone. “Track down Scar.”
Rhys checked the dashboard clock and calculated the time on the East Coast.Late.He’d process Viv being with Gage another time.
“The ticket came from Sloane,” Vivian said calmly. “Any event like that will have paparazzi—”
“Room service guy wasn’t paparazzi. Trust me.”
“I do,” she muttered. “I trust you, but…”
“Now he’s a guest at a party.” How the hell had Tabitha managed this? Better question: Why had she? Rhys couldn’t make that connection. “Make it make sense.”
Vivian didn’t. Silence hung in the air until she asked, “Where are you?”
He changed lanes for an upcoming exit. “Headed to meet Ronaldo Menendez.”
“And Wes?”
