Page 9 of Lasting Hope

“I should expect to see him in there tomorrow?” Paisley asked as she squirmed in her seat. “Maybe I’ll get used to him.”

“You will. Now eat up.”

Paisley's eyes widened at the sight of the food. It had been ages since she allowed herself such indulgences, always conscious of her on-screen appearance and the pressures of the industry. The crispy bacon and golden toast looked irresistible, and she eagerly dug in, savoring each delicious bite. There would be no personal trainer coming down hard on her out here. No agent asking if there had been a change in her weight for continuity purposes. Wardrobe wouldn’t make snide comments about letting out the seams on the dress she needed for a scene. The freedom from that made the food taste even better.

As they ate, Bailey and King joined them and the conversations buzzed with camaraderie and shared stories. SnakeGate as they were now calling it was being rehashed again, Ben doing an uncanny impression of Paisley throwing the contents of the basket everywhere.

Just as they were finishing their meal, a tall, gray-haired man approached the table. He introduced himself as Arnoldo, the retired detective Mrs. Tully had mentioned earlier. His serious yet compassionate demeanor had Paisley’s guard dropping. There was nothing scary about him, though she could see shadows of some unnamed darkness he must have encountered in his career. They had that in common. She was different now because of what she’d seen, and there would be no going back to the wide-eyed optimistic girl she once was. When she closed her eyes, she saw all of it. Flashing again and again in her mind.

"Is now a good time to chat, Paisley?" Arnoldo greeted her, his voice steady and reassuring. "I hope you slept well here. I’m pretty new to Cinderhill; I’m still adjusting to how damn quiet it is here at night.”

“I slept fine, thank you,” she said, trying to be as polite as possible. “And breakfast was delicious.”

“Mrs. Tully keeps us all well fed here. And she sets up little meetings like this. Some call it meddling,” he chuckled out, dodging the dirty look Mrs. Tully was shooting him. “But she usually knows what’s good for all of us. And she thinks we should talk.”

Paisley nodded, her palms starting to sweat. There had been a brief meeting with police after a few of the bigger incidents, but she’d never had to lay it all out for someone. She’d never really let herself think about what she’d been through. Not in its entirety.

"I appreciate having the chance to talk to someone. I don’t think I have much information that would help. I have no idea who is doing this or why. I don’t know why it started or what I should be doing to try to stop it.”

Arnoldo took a seat beside them, his attention focused on Paisley. "It’s a terrifying thing to have to consider. It's crucial that we gather as much information as possible to ensure your safety. A lot of people are working on this from all different angles. But sometimes very small details that seem unimportant end up breaking a case wide open. Let's start from the beginning. How did the stalking initially manifest?"

Paisley's voice held a touch of frustration as she recalled the sequence of events. Everything had been going so well for her up until that point. Her dreams had come true. And then it was a nightmare.

"It started with love letters. Or some twisted version of what someone would consider a love letter. It’s nothing uncommon for someone in my position. An actress who gets a big blockbuster movie has to deal with that kind of stuff. My agent assured me it was nothing to worry about, even if it did seem creepy.” Paisley thought back to those first few conversations. How everyone had dismissed the communications and assured her there was nothing to worry about. They were the professionals, in the business much longer than she was. Surely, they were right. Now with her best friend in the hospital, she wished she’d listened to her gut.

“Your agent turned the letters over to the police or at least to your security team?” Arnoldo pulled out a small pad and began jotting things down.

“No. At the time my security team was a rotating shift of one or two bodyguards, depending on the event I was attending. My career launched quickly after the first few movies, and I didn’t realize I needed to add more security.”

“But the police,” Arnoldo pressed. “If the notes were threatening in nature or showed signs of mental illness, the police could have investigated.”

“Everyone said they wouldn’t be able to find anything out from a few fan letters.” Paisley looked away, knowing her choices wouldn’t hold up to the scrutiny of a detective’s hindsight. “They thought they were nothing to worry about. My agent made copies to keep on file, but we wrote them off as unimportant.”

“When did your feelings on that change?” Arnoldo asked, clearly trying to sound impartial.

“The frequency changed. Rather than a couple a month they were weekly. Then they started to arrive daily. Sometimes twice a day. And they were different from each other. As if they were coming from all different people. Different postage from all over the country. I had a PO box associated with my fan mail so they weren’t coming to my home or anything.”

“That was a smart choice.” Arnoldo was being generous with his compliment. She knew damn well more should have been done. This catastrophic outcome was because of her lack of action. She could feel Ben’s eyes on her and wondered if he thought the same.

“So the letters arrived more frequently; did the messages in them change at all?” He scratched down a few more notes.

“Not for a while. They were mostly the same, just more often.”

“Can you tell me what they said? Just the best you can remember.”

“Uh,” Paisley felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I can’t remember exactly.” She could remember perfectly what the letters said, but repeating it felt like another sign she’d screwed up.

“I know this is difficult and we’re all gathered around staring at you,” King said apologetically. They did have her surrounded but she tried to imagine it as more of a wall of protection than an audience, trying to get a peek at her predicament. “The details really do matter though, if you’d rather just talk to Arnoldo.”

“No,” Paisley said, stiffening up her back. “I appreciate everyone being here. I’ll tell you everything you want to know if it helps.”

“And,” King pressed on, “you did nothing wrong. You’re the victim. There is no perfect way to deal with people who are targeting you that way. None of it is your fault.”

“Damn right,” Mrs. Tully agreed, slapping her hands together. “If that crosses your mind, you come find me and I’ll set you straight.”

Paisley nodded. “Some of the letters were asking me on a date. Then the person would describe where we would go and what we would do. And then, what we would do when the date was over.”

“Were they explicit in nature?” Arnoldo asked, very clinically. It was clear he’d had some very delicate conversations over the years.