Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security 3)

“Come on,” Phillip urges, walking toward the door Remington entered the room from. “The indoor pool is this way.”

Even with the luxury of the rest of the house, there’s no way to mask the smell of chlorine as we enter the room.

“Cameras in here?” I observe, noticing one in the corner.

“Four,” he answers, pointing out the others.

“And she always swims topless?”

His head shakes as if he’s already disappointed in me, but watching her half-naked isn’t my reason for asking.

“Always,” he says reluctantly.

“Do her parents have access to the system while they’re away?”

“Yes. They each have access through an app on their phone. You’ll get a daily login email, notifying you who logged in, when, and what cameras they accessed.”

The second he explains, I already know what I’m going to find and it makes my skin crawl in a much different way than it did when Remington pressed her wet body against mine.

“Mr. Blair logs in more than his wife. Mrs. Blair doesn’t seem as concerned about security as he does.”

“Let me guess,” I begin before I can stop myself, “he’s especially concerned about the pool area?”

He turns to face me, eyes narrowing, but not in a disappointed way. The look on his face tells me he never considered the implications of Remington’s father watching the pool area for any other reason than security purposes until now.

“That’s pretty fucked up, don’t you think?”

His eyes dart to the camera over my shoulder.

“Do they have sound as well?”

He shakes his head. “Just video.”

He looks like he’s going to be sick, and I can’t help but think he’s a little disappointed in himself for sticking around an extra six months to help the man out.

I’m already working through plans in my head to either get Remington to wear more clothes or get the damn cameras out of the room, knowing I’m going to get pushback either way I go.

“He’s her stepdad,” Phillip interjects, like it makes any damn difference.

“He’s a movie star, typecast as a man who demands to only work on wholesome films, all including children,” I clarify.

Jesus, I’m going to have to have a long damn conversation with Wren when I get the chance.

What has started as a job dealing with a bratty girl is turning into something much more sinister.

“He’s also concerned about his reputation,” Phillip says. “Hence the need for you. Remington seems hellbent on doing anything to get attention from her parents, and ruining their reputation in the movie industry seems to be her latest focus. She’s landed in the tabloids more times than I can count. She’s so volatile that the paparazzi often wait outside the gate in the afternoon and evenings just in case she does something stupid.”

I didn’t notice anyone out there when I drove in, but it’s still a little early.

I don’t open my mouth to express any more of my concerns. The issues going on here are no longer his problem.

“Let me show you the security room.”

I follow behind him, relief washing over me as we step out of the humid room and back into the main area of the house.

“The outside caretaker lives on the grounds. He comes in handy sometimes when she gets an idea to take off. She seems to like him, and he’s been able to convince her to go back inside more than once,” he says as we make our way across the house.

The security room, complete with a wall of monitors displaying the various camera angles from inside and outside the residence, is down a hallway past the dining room.

“Ten cameras on the inside, a dozen on the outside,” Phillip explains as he shifts through the system.

Ten cameras inside and four of those on the pool area. Only an idiot wouldn’t find that suspicious.

“And these?” I ask, holding up a thick stack of letters, several of them looking like something you’d see in a police procedural on television.

Some are on regular paper, letters from various magazines making words to convey obsession, many with threats. Most are addressed to Remington, but as I flip through them, I notice several to her parents as well.

“Threats?”

Phillip shrugs again, and I wonder just how long ago the man decided he didn’t want to be here and just gave up.

“None that we found credible. Celebrities get them all the time. It’s very common. People are jealous of those who have it all.”

I nod even though I don’t agree with him. I think I’m going to find that Remington Blair may act like a wild card, being mischievous to get attention, but in the end, she’s missing all of the things she really needs.Chapter 2Remington

“It’s where?”

I grind my back teeth when I hear Sasha’s attempt to cover the mic on her phone so she can complain about me. Why I still interact with this girl, I don’t know. She’s hateful, and more often than not, she uses me for clout.