Page 4 of Ashes to Ashes

“And in the meantime,” Detective Staufferson continued, “I recommend hiring a personal security detail. We’ll have teams stationed outside your house, but having someone with you at all times until we catch this person wouldn’t be the worstidea.”

“Okay,” I replied, the word coming slow and drawn out. “Is that something you can handle?” I asked, turning to Rocky.

“Already taken care of,” he replied, his deep voice gruff. “I have a call set up this afternoon and we’ll have someone lined up by end of day. I’m not leaving anything to chance so I’m using the same team that protected you in Brazil a few yearsback.”

I nodded, satisfied with his answer. I hadn’t felt particularly vulnerable during my South American tour, but there’d been some concern about my safety after an actor’s daughter had been abducted from his hotel and held for ransom. The security detail Rocky had hired for that leg of my tour had been comprised of ex-Special Forces, and while the three men had been hard to ignore given their size, they’d fitted in seamlessly with my day-to-day activities. After the first couple of days I’d even forgotten they were there. Thankfully, there’d been no need for their protection, but I couldn’t deny I’d felt safe knowing they were watching myback.

Detective Staufferson rolled his chair away from the table. “I’m going to get back to the station to get our analysis started. If we find anything, we’ll be sure to let you know.” He turned serious eyes my way. “I know this is frightening for you Miss Griffin, but let me assure you, we are very good at our jobs and I am confident we’ll have your stalker in custodysoon.”

“Thank you,” I whispered, trying to wrap my head around how drastically my life had changed in the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday, I’d had a meeting with the label about a tour in support of my album, and now I was meeting with the police because some deranged person wanted medead.

Once the detective left, I turned to Rocky. “Has someone reached out to Crawford?”

Briefly, his eyes flicked Charlotte’s way and then met mine. Something told me I wasn’t going to like his answer. “We have. Or rather, we’ve contacted his manager.”

I sighed. Kurt Macintyre had hated me from the moment we’dmet.

“Let me guess. He said this was my problem and I needed to deal with it like a biggirl?”

Rocky shifted looked out the window to the valley below. “Not exactly,” he replied, crossing his hands over his belly. “Let’s just say he wasn’t helpful.”

I swiveled to face Charlotte. “Tell me what hesaid.”

“Does it really matter?”

I stood and started pacing. “Yes, it matters. One of his clients’ fans want me dead! I know Ford never loved me and stupid fucking Kurt begged him not to marry that white trash singer—” I used my fingers to make air quotes “—but the least they could do is tell those lunatics to back the fuck off. I didn’t do anything wrong,” I cried as tears filled myeyes.

Defeated, I sagged back into my chair. “I never did anything wrong.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Rocky cooed as if he was talking to a wounded, frightened animal. “But what did you expect, Rae? Given everything Ford has put you through, did you honestly think he’d help younow?”

And that was the saddest part. A small part of me had hoped the bastard would extend me this one tiny kindness. Lord knew he’d failed me in every other regard, but no one had ever wanted me dead before now. And it was all his fault. Before he’d gone on that damn talk show and announced he was divorcing me while strongly hinting that I’d been unfaithful—something he was the one guilty of—his fans had loved me. They’d been thrilled when our wedding was plastered on the cover of Martha Stewart Weddings.

“But it’s the least he coulddo.”

Charlotte scoffed. “No. The least he could do is tell the world he’s a lying piece of shit who did everything he accused you of and more, but we all know Crawford Madigan is a text book narcissist who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you, much less continue to be adored by millions.” Once Charlotte got on a roll about the injustice that was Crawford Madigan, there was no stopping her. “I don’t know why you continue to honor that godforsaken pre-nup Kurt made you sign without Rocky or your lawyer seeing it first. It’s not as if they actually had the balls to sue, you couldn’tpay.”

Charlotte and I had had this argument countless times in the past, but sitting here now—worrying about my safety and knowing that Ford wasn’t going to lift a finger to help me—was the first time I’d truly considered her point. Now, I was willing to concede maybe she was onto something.

At just 20 years old, I’d had stars in my eyes and thought Ford and I would grow old together, surrounded by a gaggle of grandchildren. I’d had no reason to think otherwise. And so I’d naively signed a prenuptial agreement that stipulated everything Ford made during our marriage remained his in the event of our divorce. That was fairly standard practice for any celebrity pre-nup, but what hadn’t been, was him getting final say in what music I released and a “fat clause” that gave him $50,000 of my hard-earned cash for any weight I gained over 120 pounds. Since I was naturally small-boned and had a quick metabolism, that had never been a problem.

What had been a problem was the clause I’d glossed over before signing on the dotted line: in the event of our divorce, I could never reveal what had transpired during the course of our marriage. If I did, I’d have to pay Ford a one-time lump sum of $10 million. Obviously, Kurt and his team of lawyers had known more about the state of mine and Ford’s relationship than I had because the gag order prevented me from revealing my ex-husband’s drug use, plastic surgery, and serial cheating. It also meant he could say whatever he wanted about me with absolutely no recourse.

“Ten million dollars is a lot of money,” I reminded Charlotte with a cynical laugh. Never in my life had I thought those words would cross my lips. I’d grown up dirt poor, and the idea that I’d have one million dollars—let alone ten—to pay my way out of an untenable situation was preposterous. Shit, it was a miracle I wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck like everyone else who’d grown up in the small desert town I camefrom.

“You know I’ve always advocated for you taking the high road,” Rocky interjected, “but I’m with Charlotte on this one. I thought things would get better once there was a new scandal for people to glom onto, but this is your life we’re talking abouthere.”

“It was my life we were talking about when I nearly killed myself with booze,” I reminded him, unable to keep the bitterness from seepingout.

“Yes,” he responded sadly, “and I’ll never forgive myself for not seeing it sooner. Which is why I’m not going to sit back and let this happen now. I think it’s time for you to come out swinging, Ford and his ridiculous pre-nup be damned.”

I’d been cowering for so long, hunched in on myself trying to shoulder the blame for everything that had gone wrong in my marriage, it was like I didn’t know how to stand up for myself anymore. I’d been scared for so long, the idea of telling the world what had really happened was paralyzing.

You’ve gone through worse, my subconscious reminded.

As if I needed reminding.

“What would that even look like?” I asked, letting the idea percolate. “Do I just give an interview to set the record straight?”

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