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But at least Tremayne had come through with some cash—a lot of it. None of the others had been so generous. The first half was paid up front. After tonight she would collect the second half. That would give her enough money to buy the clothes she would need to start over in L.A.

No more Hollywood dreams. Her looks would start to fade soon. It was time to find a rich older man, preferably one who was going senile, a guy who could give her the financial security she would need to get through the years ahead.

The extra twenty bucks from Irene Glasson hardly mattered, Daisy thought. She had been told to make the demand for money so the scene looked authentic. A reporter expected to pay for a tip.

She stopped pacing and sat down on an empty crate to finish the cigarette.

Somewhere in the darkness the thick floorboards groaned again. She shuddered and glanced over her shoulder. There was nothing to see except darkness and shadows.

She checked her watch. She had arrived early, as instructed, after making the eleven thirty call from the last gas station phone booth on Miramar Road. The reporter would have to drive back through town, find Miramar Road, and then negotiate the dirt lane down the hillside to the warehouse. She wouldn’t be here for another half hour or so, maybe longer if she got lost.

Please don’t get lost, Irene Glasson. I need to get away from this place.

She finished the cigarette and started to grind out the butt in the makeshift ashtray. But her fingers were trembling so badly that she accidentally knocked the tin can onto its side. Dead matches and butts spilled out.

Thankfully, they didn’t fall onto a pile of straw, but the very idea of all the used smoking materials in such close proximity to the flammable items that cluttered the warehouse made her shudder.

Hastily she bent down to scoop the discarded matches and butts back into the tin can. The safest thing to do was dump them into the water.

She went out the freight door and walked a short distance along the dock. There was enough light from the lantern and the moon to allow her to see what she was doing.

She tipped the can upside down and dumped the contents into the black water.

Only about another half hour to wait—another half hour and she would have earned the rest of the money she needed to start a new life in L.A.

What a joke,she thought. This was her first and only real acting job, unless you counted all the sex scenes she had starred in over the years. She had given some very fine performances in the gardens of the Paradise Club and in various hotel room beds. The vacationing stars and directors and studio executives had all made promises, and they had all lied.

At least she was going to get paid for this night’s work. All she had to do was stick to the script.

She heard the creak of wood behind her. A footstep. It was the only warning she got.

Panic flashed, threatening to choke her. She started to turn but it was too late.

The blow to her head stunned her. She was dimly aware of tumbling off the dock into the water.

She fell endlessly into darkness, and then there was nothing.

Chapter 25

“There’s a clearing around the front of the warehouse,” Irene announced from the driver’s seat. “One car. It must be Daisy’s.”

Oliver stayed where he was, crouched behind the front seat, and tried to visualize the scene in his head.

“Any sign of Jennings?”

“My headlights are shining directly on her car. Doesn’t look like she’s in it. There’s some light coming from inside the warehouse, though. A lantern.”

“I’m going to take a look. Stay here. Keep the car running, headlights on, until I get out. The glare will blind anyone who might be watching from inside the warehouse.”

“What, exactly, are you going to do?” Irene asked.

She was worried, he thought. He rather liked the idea that she might be concerned for his safety, but it was far more likely that she was afraid he would ruin her chance at the big story.

“I just want to check out the area,” he said.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“It struck me as a better idea than walking straight into an ambush. If everything looks legit, I’ll wave you in. Got that?”