But some part of him had never fully left Refuge Cove. It kept pulling him back.
The detectives’ SUV in the driveway. The way Rowan had looked standing on the porch after they left, holding herself together with both hands.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out.
Calloway.
He excused himself, insisting this call was important, and he stepped into the hallway. “What’ve you got?”
“Something ugly,” Calloway muttered. “I’ve been digging into Vince’s history the way you asked. Pulled on a few threads. One of them led somewhere I wasn’t expecting.”
“Talk to me.”
“There was a camera operator on one of Vince’s productions about three years back. Young guy who worked his way up from assistant. Anyway, he started asking questions about equipment that had gone missing from the set—hidden cameras, audiorecorders, that kind of thing.” Calloway paused. “He died three months ago.”
Wes slowed near the window at the end of the hallway. “How?”
“Official ruling was suicide. Pills and alcohol in a hotel room.” Papers shifted on the other end of the line. “But one of the responding officers flagged something afterward that never made it into the report.”
“What kind of something?”
“In the week before his death, this guy’s name started appearing everywhere online. Angry posts on industry forums. Accusations from colleagues about erratic behavior on set. A drinking problem nobody had apparently noticed before suddenly became common knowledge.”
Wes’s pulse kicked faster. “Is that right?”
“It is.” Calloway’s voice dropped. “By the time he turned up dead, the story was already written. Anyone who might’ve asked questions had already been handed a reason not to.”
Wes had seen this before. Not in Hollywood but in the field. Sometimes, a target didn’t get eliminated directly. Sometimes the more effective approach was to discredit a person first. To strip away their credibility, their support, their ability to be believed.
By the time the real damage came, there was no one left on their side to push back.
Vince was constructing a narrative around his enemies before he neutralized them.
And right now, that exact pattern was playing out around Rowan.
Erratic behavior. Emotional episodes. Disappearing without explanation.
Every headline. Every unnamed source. Every careful word from Vince’s interview about hoping she got the support she needed.
It had never been damage control.
It had always been preparation.
“Wes?”
“I hear you.” He was already moving back toward the conference room to collect his things. “Keep pulling. I want to know if there are others.”
“Already looking.” Calloway paused. “Watch your girl.”
Wes ended the call and immediately dialed Rowan.
The phone rang once before going to voicemail.
He frowned and called again.
Again, straight to voicemail.
Unease settled deeper inside him now.
