Did you miss Chapter One?
Did you miss Part One of Chapter Two?
Chapter Two Continued…
Scott didn’t take the hint. “I gotta see the footage the camera crew
My disgust overtook me and I said, “How ghoulish.”
Scott looked over at me, seemingly surprised that I’d overheard
him. A lopsided smile filled his face. “You think that’s ghoulish? Hell,
nobody gets out alive.”
I made a mental note: Scott would be the first to get the boot.
The fireman concluded that I had not suffered any physical
trauma. Any trauma I felt was purely psychological. What else
When he left, Edward searched inside my refrigerator and pulled
out a bottle of water.
Scott peered over Edward’s shoulder into the fridge. “What? No
Edward ignored him and passed me the water along with a small
“What’s this?” I asked, fingering the tiny tablet.
“My personal stash,” he replied. “Consider it a fast prescription
Scott oohed. “Give me some of that, man. I’ve been traumatized,
“Undoubtedly, but your trauma was too long ago to fix now,”
Edward said. He turned to me. “Don’t worry it’s only a valium.”
“No,” I said.
Why this guy was a walking drugstore?
Ordinarily, I’d have grilled him about it, but since we’d just
witnessed a man plummet to his death… Oh, God. What if it had been
The thought made my head ache.
No, it had been a dreadful accident. I kicked off my shoes and
climbed under the covers.
The door to the RV popped open again and Martinez stuck his
head inside. “We need statements from each of you.”
Scott and Edward both got up.
Scott squeezed my foot through the blanket. “I’m glad you’re all
“Oh, you have a heart after all?”
He pinched my big toe. “I’m sorry; I got off on the wrong foot with
Martinez cleared his throat and indicated that officers were
waiting outside. Scott and Edward left the RV, the paper-thin door
banging repeatedly against the wall as the wind whipped it out of
Scott’s hand. Martinez reached out and secured the door.
When he was sure they were gone he asked, “What the hell are you
doing on a reality TV show?”
“Are those two of the guys you’re supposed to be dating?”
I covered my head with the blanket.
After a moment I said, “Are you here on official business?”
“Of course,” Martinez said.
“I fail to see the relevance of my dating life, then.”
Martinez grumbled. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
I cataloged the events for him, as though they had occurred to
someone else and not me. I supposed that was some stupid defense
mechanism. After all, the last thing I wanted to do was cry in front of
him and have that get back to Paul.
Martinez took notes and when I finished, he asked, “You say
someone pushed you?”
I frowned. “Pushed me? No, no. Well, not really. I mean, someone
did press against me, but I assumed it was Cheryl just trying to get the
Martinez looked down at his notebook. “Was there an order you
guys were supposed to jump in?”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Who was supposed to jump first?” Martinez asked. “Was it always
supposed to be you and Aaron?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t think we were supposed to jump together. I
thought there was a safety distance issue. Anyway, I assumed I’d go
last, but maybe I made that up.”
I was starting to feel fuzzy around the edges.
“I think the cowboy wanted to go first. But the witch told Aaron
and me to go,” I said.
“Who’s the witch?” Martinez asked. “Becca?”
I laughed. Only it lasted a little too long and bordered on hysterics.
I collected myself and said, “I’ll tell her you said that. I meant the
other witch, Cheryl.”
Martinez made a note. “I’ll talk to her again.”
I sighed. “Yeah, there’ll be a lot of talking. Lawyers, insurance
people, even the supes from the city will get involved, I bet. Maybe
even his royal highness, the mayor. You suppose he’ll want a little PR
out of this horrible accident?”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Seems like he always wants publicity.”
“Who do you think will be the P.I. officer assigned? Kristen?”
“You know we don’t get involved with that. Doesn’t matter.”
Even as the words tumbled out of my mouth I knew Martinez was
right. I was no longer a public information officer. I’d been canned for
releasing unauthorized information to the public. I’d been asked by
the media about departmental overtime and potential steps to reme‐
diate the expense. At that the time I thought I was simply giving my
opinion, but I soon learned that I wasn’t allowed an opinion. At least
that’s what was made clear to me by the newly appointed police chief.
He’d claimed that the overtime forecasts were confidential. City poli‐
tics at it’s finest.
First, I’d been put on administrative detail, a.k.a. the rubber gun
squad—where careers go to die.
Then, after my Skelly hearing, when the review board found me
not guilty and recommended I be returned to my post, the decision to
terminate me had ultimately been the chief’s. The board only provides
“recommendations.” The chief, who reports to the mayor, makes the
final decision even if it contradicts the review board.
I was asked to turn in my badge and gun.
Boom. Big mouth = career over.
Martinez tapped my arm. “Hey, you sure you’re okay? Seems like
you’re kind of spacey.”
My eyelids felt heavy, but I managed a nod.
“How come you haven’t called Brandi?” Martinez continued. “She’s
hurt, you know, that you guys don’t talk anymore. She wanted me to
tell you that just because you and Paul aren’t together doesn’t mean
she dumped you.”
Brandi was Martinez’s wife. As soon as Paul and I had begun
dating, she’d attached herself to me, thinking that because Paul and
Martinez were best friends, their significant others should be best
friends, too. Problem was, I had a best friend—since middle school—
and I’d never liked Brandi.
At that moment, Becca burst through the Prevost coach door. She
barely acknowledged Martinez and hopped into bed with me. She
scooped me into her arms.
“Oh, my God, Georgia! It could have been you!” She showered the
top of my head with kisses. “It could have been you,” she repeated.
Martinez mumbled something and left.
I closed my eyes and the entire day flashed through my mind.
It could have been me.
Something nagged at me. The makeup woman I hadn’t placed . . .
who was she? My mind was becoming increasingly fuzzy.
The coach seemed to be getting darker; either that or I was having
a hard time keeping my eyes open.
“I’m exhausted,” I murmured to Becca.
“No doubt. It was shock.”
I turned over. “I think I need to crash for a bit.”
“Yeah. Sleep. It’ll do you good.” Becca said.
I prayed, I’d have a deep sleep and wake up a different person with
a different life a million miles away.
Ridiculously, a smile came over my face. “At least I’m done with
the show now.” I sighed, relief wafting over me.
The last thing I heard before dozing off was Becca saying, “Done
with the show? Oh, no, honey, they’re not letting you off the show. Do
you know what this kind of thing does for ratings?”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”I couldn’t stop reading!”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”Fast-paced and fun. I love these mysteires!”
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐”Diana Orgain is my new favorite author!”
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