Chapter 6

As soon as Mason heard the rigging had been cut, he headed for the metal ladder attached to the back wall to take a look for himself. Someone had purposefully wanted that massive light to fall on Cassidy’s head. Now the near hit and miss from a couple of weeks ago took on new meaning. Maybe it hadn’t been a distracted driver, but another attempt on her life.

After examining the equipment, he agreed with Stan’s assessment. The lines had been tampered with. The thick cables were snipped clean through. Heavy duty bolt cutters were even lying on the ground, most likely the implement used to cut the wires. The only description he could give of the person fleeing the scene was black hoodie, dark jeans. He didn’t know if it was a man or woman, though it’d take someone with some strength to cut through the cable.

Russell had instructed someone to notify the police after Stan’s announcement. “Maybe they can get fingerprints off the grip of the bolt cutters,” he told the lighting director.

Stan nodded. “I’ll make sure the cops check it out.”

As he climbed back down the ladder, he wondered if Cassidy had told anyone what happened two weeks ago. He glanced around at the people milling about. They were all suspects, except for the guy with the wicked looking knee brace, hobbling around on crutches, and the people he’d seen around the stage before the accident.

“Mason?” Sawyer and Harlow caught up with him. “What’s going on? We heard the crash and then saw the damage.”

He gave the quick rundown of seeing the light falling and plucking Cassidy out of harm’s way. “It wasn’t an accident. Someone cut the rigging.”

“Damn,” Sawyer muttered, pulling Harlow closer to his side. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to compete, babe.”

“I’m pretty certain Cassidy Swain was the target.”

Sawyer eyed him questionably.

“Really? What makes you think that?” Harlow asked.

“The light was directly above the spot where she was standing for her solo performance.”

“Maybe she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Sawyer rationalized.

Mason shook his head. “Maybe, but I doubt it. There’s more. The Monday after your wedding, I was dropping off my tux at the dry cleaner. As I was leaving the shop, a woman was walking towards me, talking on her phone. A car jumped the curb and would’ve mowed her down if I hadn’t jerked her out of the way.”

Harlow gasped. “Are you telling me it was Cassidy Swain?”

Mason nodded. “She didn’t even hear it approach. At the time, I chalked it up to a distracted driver. She didn’t want to call the police and we went our separate ways.”

“Did you know who she was when you saved her?” Harlow asked.

He shook his head. “Didn’t have a clue. We didn’t exchange names.”

“That must’ve been a shock when you saw her here,” Sawyer deduced.

He had no idea. “That first morning when I left to get something from the SUV, I couldn’t find the studio where Harlow was practicing. I opened the door to one and there was Cassidy.” He fought a smile. “She accused me of being a stalker.”

Harlow and Sawyer both laughed.

“It is strange that you ran into her two times, and the meetings were so far away.” Harlow’s eyes lit with a frightening twinkle. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the next words out of her mouth. “Hey, you’ve saved her life twice now. In some cultures, that means you’re soulmates.”

Yep, he didn’t like them. “What are you talking about?”

“Babe, you’re making that up,” Sawyer accused.

Harlow tried to fight a smile and lost. “Fine. I made it up, but come on, you have to admit there is some kind of fate involved here. I mean, what are the odds? Bloomington and Los Angeles are how far apart?” She spread her arms wide. “Two thousand miles? And of the three hundred twenty-something million people who live in the United States and you just happen to cross paths twice?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Mason. That’s fate.”

“No fate,” he insisted. “Just good timing, and please, Harlow, drop it.” He didn’t want her to attempt any kind of matchmaking. Cassidy was so far out of his league, it wasn’t even remotely funny. He felt like a lumbering ox next to her sleek beauty. Not to mention the fact that he vowed never to get seriously involved with a woman again. Flings, fine. Casual dating, sure. Hot, all-night, sheet-burning sex, of course. But no more long-term relationships. Abby had cured him of that notion. Though he didn’t know her well, Cassidy didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would indulge in a short-term affair.

Harlow made a sound that could’ve meant anything from “Sure” to “Cue the Wedding March”. Dum dum da-dum.

“Seriously, there’s no fate involved,” Mason argued, a bit desperately to his own ears. Harlow gave him a knowing look, which he chose to ignore.

Sawyer saved him by asking, “What was she doing in Bloomington, anyway?”

“Honestly, I’ve no idea. The first time, I just assumed she was a local. After the second incident, I didn’t have a chance to ask. The production crew came in and I went to check out the rigging.”

Harlow glanced at her watch. “I need to go change. I’m scheduled to meet Marcus in twenty minutes.”

As they made their way across the floor, Mason scanned the auditorium for any sign of Cassidy, but she was nowhere to be seen. Cops were still taking notes and cameras snapped up all angles of the fallen light while crews stood by waiting to clean up the mess. There was a dent in the floor and he swallowed hard. That dent could’ve been Cassidy’s delicate skull.

Why would someone intentionally cut the lines? The good news about searching for the perp was that this was a closed set. You had to have clearance to get inside. The bad news was there were dozens of people who had that access—possibly hundreds.

He wanted to take a look at any security camera footage, but it wasn’t his case. He’d just been at the right place at the right time. And sadly, he’d learned that there were no security cameras that covered the catwalk anyway.

Harlow was explaining the scheduling of the first show as they navigated the concrete lot lined with ten trailers positioned end to end and back to back. Inside the trailers, the accommodations were luxurious and welcoming. The studio spared no expense. Mason glanced at an open door as they passed and then did a double-take. Cassidy was standing still as a board, her mouth dropped open in horror.

He detoured away from Sawyer and Harlow to jog over. “Cassidy? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t look at him, but he could see the whites of her fear-filled eyes. “S-s-s-snake,” she whispered.

Mason eased up the metal steps to hear the tell-tale sound of a rattler. Shit. Not just any snake, but one with a poisonous bite. He bit back a curse and eased outside.

“Don’t leave me,” she begged.

“I’m not,” he assured her. “Don’t move. He’ll strike if he feels threatened. If you don’t make any sudden movements, he won’t either. I’ll be right back.”

“What’s wrong,” Harlow asked as soon as his feet hit the concrete. Sawyer and Harlow had followed him to the door.

“There’s a rattlesnake in Cassidy’s trailer.”

“Oh my God.” Harlow’s hands covered her mouth.

“I’ve got an idea.” Sawyer disappeared and returned with one of the foamboard posters featuring Cassidy’s picture that was used to advertise the show. She was doing some kind of leap where her head actually touched her bent back leg, her eyes closed, a huge smile on her face. He wondered if he could sneak it out of here and then dismissed the notion. Maybe you are a stalker, Rossi.

“I’ll slide it in front of her to block the snake while you grab her.”

Mason nodded. “Perfect.” He was thankful for his quick-thinking teammate since his brain was having trouble focusing. His mind was consumed with worry for Cassidy. She looked so frightened it squeezed the breath from his lungs.

They moved back to her door. She was standing in the same position, but small tremors wracked her body. Mason spoke softly, explaining the next steps. “Cassidy, we’re going to slide something in front of the snake to block it from you.”

“H-h-h-hurry.”

“Don’t move until I tell you.”

“O-okay.”

“On three.” Mason nodded to Sawyer, who took up position. “One, two, three.”

Sawyer slid the panel in front of Cassidy while Mason jerked her off her feet and out the door. She screamed and wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight like a boa constrictor. As soon as they cleared the trailer and hit fresh air, the screams abruptly stopped. He glanced down at her face to discover she had promptly passed out.