At each end, the footbridge was anchored into concrete platforms laid over sandstone, supported by steel cables. Lana had a good look around, but nothing seemed out of place. She walked to the middle of the bridge. As the gully walls descended,the beige sandstone fused into darker, weathered granite. A stream trickled along the seam at the bottom, surrounded by thick foliage—ferns and blackberries huddled under maples and laurels. She shivered, her blood cold and prickly.
She’d dressed appropriately and worn sturdy shoes, but she hadn’t planned on the kind of climbing that would get her to the bottom of a gully and—crucially—up again. Her dad would come in handy about now. He might be nervous about navigating the Metro, but he knew his way around the wilderness. He’d tried to teach her, but she was always impatient to get back to her books. Something touched the back of her neck, and she flinched. Nothing there but her own clammy skin.
A scraping noise sounded on the path behind her—a footstep, then another. She spun. A cluster of scrubby trees blocked her sightline. Security guard?Vivien’s killer? She backed away across the bridge. A man walked into view, spotting her right away.
Griffin Hart. Griffin Hart was standing there, still in costume, a coiled rope over his shoulder. He gave a one-sided shrug, almost apologetically.
“I know something about losing a person who’s close to you.”
Chapter 5
Griffin
Griffin liked to think his bullshit detector was well-honed, given that bullshit was his day job. His entire industry revolved around making shit up. Plus, it was a survival instinct to make a snap judgment of everyone he met. If he could figure out right away what someone wanted from him, it saved time, potential bodily harm, and lawsuits.
He’d thought about that as he walked along the dirt road toward the security gate, his leather boots crunching on gravel. When he was young and dumb enough to go to clubs, half the guys wanted to be your best buddy and the other half wanted to fight you. Half the women wanted to land you, mostly so they could say they had, and a good deal of the others seemed to hate you in principle. And everyone wanted a selfie. He’d never been the guy people befriended for the usual reasons, even as a kid. They wanted the connection, the exposure, an anecdote to tell at parties. That time they’d punched him or kissed him or told him to his face how muchThe Thunder Protocolhad sucked, like he didn’t already know. Never mind if he’d done nothing to invite it.
As he got older, he learned to recognize the quieter ways people wanted a piece of him. Everyone was pitching something—a film, a cause, a podcast. They wanted exposure, a role,an endorsement, an introduction to his parents. Mostly, they wanted to make money from the connection in some way.
But this woman with her vulnerable eyes and her snappy wit and the sister she was looking for alone… Not only did she want nothing from him—except not to rat her out—she didn’t want him there at all. And yeah, she’d lied at the start and that had put him on edge, but when the truth came out, he was certain itwasthe truth. And he wasn’t often wrong about people.
He spent his career solving fictional problems in created worlds, and here was a scared real woman facing a real problem in the real world—and he’d walked away. The moment in the film where the hero refuses the call to action. Rick inCasablanca, sticking his neck out for nobody. Luke Skywalker and his weak-ass,I’m way too busy with my space chickens to save the princess and the galaxy. Hell, Achilles dressing as a girl to duck out of going to war.
What was Griffin’s excuse?I’m tired of stalkers and bad press, and I have big weekend plans involving takeout and binge-watchingThe Godfather? Some action hero he was.
What was the worst that could happen?
Well, several scenarios there:
Pranked: Griffin Hart: World’s Biggest Sucker.
Griffin Hart: Missing in Wilderness, Never Seen Again.
Griffin Hart: Killed By Crazed Stalker Masquerading As Believable And Seemingly Normal And Actually Very Attractive When You Thought About It Regular Person.
Best not to get involved—well, not directly. Once he was back in cell coverage, he could ask around the production team, make some calls, see if anyone knew about this Vivien woman. People were more likely to respond to his queries than those of a background actor who presented as a stalker. The least he could do was fund a search of the hills.
Actuallythe least. Obi-Wan Kenobi would be disappointed. Odysseus would flog him.
Griffin wore the costume of a warrior—or the costume designer’s sparing interpretation of one. A character who fought for everything, literally and metaphorically. Griffin never had to fight for anything. The one time he should have fought, he’d been too wasted.
So he’d turned around. The moment in the hero’s journey when the character crosses the threshold. Luke leaving Tatooine. Achilles going to war. He’d considered breaking into his trailer for clothes, but he’d wasted enough time. It’d be warm for an hour or two yet.
And now, here he was, just a guy in an Achilles suit standing in front of a girl, feeling like a tool.
“Found anything?” he ventured.
“Not up here. You brought me a rope? I thought you left.”
“I brought you an extra set of eyes, but yeah, the rope too. Swiped it from a rigging platform.” He’d come up here a few times last season, to clear his head. The gully wasn’t death-defyingly steep, but the rope could be useful.
“You’re going to help me look?”
“That’s the idea. That okay?”
“I mean, sure. Of course. Obviously. It’s just…”
“Just…?”
