Deep Freeze (West Coast 1)

“Put in for it. See what the powers that be say,” Carter suggested without much humor.

“I’ll tell them it was your idea,” BJ teased as she turned back to the printouts.

Carter had realized, of course, about the dark side of celebrity, the lack of privacy, the photo-hungry paparazzi, the obsessed fans, the tabloid exploitation, but he’d always figured it just came with the territory, the quintessential price of fame. But now, as he considered the fear that had become a part of Jenna Hughes’s life, the ugliness seemed more real, the danger more certain. He felt an inner rage, a quiet determination to find the creep who was terrorizing her and put him away.

BJ was still talking about what she’d uncovered on the Internet. “It was more difficult to find someone who took responsibility for the more bizarre sites, of course, but I was able to go through to the chat room logs and the bulletin boards and figure out those who seemed most obsessed with Jenna Hughes and her movies. The problem is, those people aren’t required to use their real names—they use all sorts of strange aliases, so I’m still trying to find out who some of them are.”

“But you can?”

BJ winked. “I think so.”

“Legally?”

She stared him straight in the eye. “Absolutely.”

“So that if we find this son of a bitch, we can nail his ass. He won’t be able to pay for some high-priced, sleazy defense attorney to whine about his client’s rights being abused by the police and beat the rap.”

She hesitated just a beat. “No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Don’t worry, Carter. Everything I find will hold up in court.”

“It had better.” He ruffled the edge of the computer printouts with his thumb. “Tell me you did some kind of sort/ merge thing and came up with a list of names you know who visited her Web site and rented or bought the most movies.”

“And who lives in the area.” Smiling smugly, she slid a slimmer printout across his desk. “Here ya go, boss,” she said. “All the unusual suspects.”

CHAPTER 31

“It’s like a prison at home,” Cassie complained as Josh picked her up after global studies. She was taking a chance ditching study hall, but didn’t care. She was already hopelessly behind in some of her classes. He opened the door to his truck and waited as she climbed into the elevated cab. Once he was inside, she lit a cigarette and said, “We’ve got this bodyguard who’s like a drill sergeant or a spy or something. He wants to know everything I do.”

“Everything?” Josh asked, his eyebrows rising.

“And more.” She didn’t take the bait and exhaled a stream of white smoke. “It bugs me.”

“How long is he going to be there?”

“Beats me. Probably until they find out who’s sending Mom some weird letters.”

“Who do you think it is?” he asked as he pulled out of the high school’s parking lot, hit the gas, and sent the back of his truck sliding crazily on the ice.

“Hey!” she cried, just as his big tires grabbed the asphalt. “Knock it off, okay? I’m not in the mood.”

But Josh only gave her a smug glance as he slowed for the cross street.

He acts like he just won the Indy 500, she thought in a blinding flash of understanding. What

’s wrong with him? With me? Why the hell am I with this big bohunk?

“So who’s sending the letters?” he repeated, sounding like a broken record.

“Geez, I don’t know.” She let out a disgusted puff of air. “Maybe that same kook who did last time. When we were still in L.A. Or maybe a new creep. I just wish he’d go away.” She glanced across the seat to Josh, watching his reaction. “The police are involved, too. The sheriff’s trying to figure out who sent the letters.”

“That dirtbag couldn’t find his own ass with a magnifying glass.”

“Jesus, do you always have to be so gross?” she asked.

“It’s true,” he said, pouting. “He’s always lookin’ to bust my balls.”