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Jane didn’t respond. Yeah, she doesn’t believe me any more than I do.
Then Jane shook her head. “But he spent so much time pursuing you. It doesn’t make sense that he’d just give up.”
Elizabeth pulled her knees up to her chest. “Maybe he’s just one of those guys who gets turned on by the pursuit. I’m sure not many women say no to him; I was a challenge.” Her voice shook a little, and she swallowed.
Maybe he really wasn’t the guy I thought he was. I wanted to believe he wasn’t another Hollywood jerkwad, but that was probably just me deluding myself. I was getting him confused with Thorne—projecting the idealized, nonexistent self-sacrificing hero onto a real person. Never a good idea.
Elizabeth was in danger of waterworks again. Time to change the subject. “How are things going with Ricky?”
Jane’s face lit up. “Great. We—” Her phone chirped, and she glanced down at the display. “Speak of the devil. Hi, Honey! What are you up to?” Jane wore a smile Elizabeth only saw when she talked to Ricky. It’s good, she told herself. One of us should be lucky in love.
Her sister’s expression sobered immediately. “Hold on; I’m getting the remote.” She hurried to the coffee table, peering at Elizabeth over her shoulder. “Ricky says we should turn on ZNN. I’m putting him on speakerphone.”
The screen flickered to life. A perky blonde reporter stood in front of a tall modern apartment building.
“Yes, Chuck,” she said in a crisp journalist voice. “This is one of L.A.’s ritziest condo buildings, but today the residents were in for a surprise. The neighbors say William Darcy was taken from his apartment approximately six hours ago by the police. We’ve confirmed that he’s at the police station, but we don’t know if he’s been arrested.” The chyron at the bottom of the screen read: Actor William Darcy questioned in connection with drug-related car crash.
Elizabeth inhaled. “Is this about the Palm Springs incident?” she said loudly enough for Ricky to hear. “That was more than a year ago.”
Ricky’s voice came through the speakerphone, hollow and echoey. “No, these are new charges. Apparently a witness came forward who identified him fleeing the scene.”
This didn’t make sense. She knew Will didn’t use drugs. “Fleeing what scene?”
Ricky hesitated for a minute. “The crash that nearly killed Lydia. They’re saying that Darcy was driving.”
***
Burton Prescott III was waiting for Darcy when he emerged from the interrogation room. Without a word, he guided Darcy to a small room where they could speak unobserved. The police officers had said they weren’t planning to arrest him—yet. But they clearly were itching to do so. They had landed a big Hollywood star and were practically salivating over the publicity such a high-profile arrest would bring them.
Tall and paunchy with a fringe of dark hair, Burton was the Darcy family’s attorney. Darcy credited his lawyering with getting him out of the drug and reckless driving charges from Palm Springs. “You shouldn’t have talked to them without me there,” Burton grumbled as he closed the door behind them. They settled at a battered wooden table.
Darcy straightened the sleeves of his dress shirt. “I don’t have anything to hide, Burton. Do you know what their supposed evidence is?”
“They have a witness who says he saw you get out of the car after the crash and run away. He made a positive ID.”
Darcy rested his head in his hand. This was surreal. A couple of hours ago he had been in his condo, recovering from two days of nonstop promotion for In the Shadows, and his biggest concern had been trying to get in touch with Elizabeth.
Then the police had knocked on the door. He had been stunned, but he could see how the facts would line up in their minds: he knew Lydia, he had been arrested for drug possession, he had crashed a car before. It was all too plausible.
“Why did it take him until now to say anything?”
“He claims he feared retribution.”
Darcy snorted.
“Yeah, I know. It’s not like you’re all mobbed up. I’ll have someone check out his story. What did you tell the cops?”
Darcy slumped in his chair. “I told them I didn’t do anything. I’ve never been in a car with Lydia Bennet. I’m not even sure I had a private conversation with her.”
“What did you tell them about that day?”
Darcy gritted his teeth. Burton was going to hate this. “I had a TV appearance in the morning, but I was home the rest of the day.”
“Alone?”
Darcy had cursed when he’d seen which day they were talking about. He almost never spent a full afternoon and evening at home. Why couldn’t it have been some day when he was out shopping or shooting a scene? “Yeah.”
Burton scratched notes on a pad. “So you don’t have an alibi, and it’s theoretically possible that you met up with Lydia Bennet?”
