“But there’s still no actual footage of him in the hotel?” Jessie reconfirmed.

  “Nothing so far,” he conceded, “but I’m still looking. And of course, if he went up to her suite during the time the cameras were out, we wouldn’t find anything.”

  “Anything else for us before we lose you in the hills?” Karen asked.

  “Just the obvious,” Jamil said. “I’m sure you two are already well aware, but I’ve combed through Addison Rutherford’s social media. She’s a big Eleventh Realmer and of course, there’s no more high-profile member of that…organization than Logan Bauer.”

  “We are aware,” Karen said. “And we’re looking into it. Just be careful not to share what you’ve learned about that with others in the department, Jamil. You never know who’s a supporter of those folks and how they might react.”

  There was no response.

  “Jamil?” Karen said.

  “I think we lost the connection,” Jessie told her. “That is, unless you think the Council of Harmony and Potential somehow got to him.”

  “You jest,” Karen said, as she navigated a tight hairpin turn near the top of the hill where Bauer lived. “But against these people, sometimes paranoia is the most effective weapon.”

  “Noted,” Jessie replied. “In the meantime, do you want to give me the non-tabloid data download on this guy so I know what I’m dealing with when we talk to him?”

  “Sure,” Karen said. “Logan Bauer was already a big star before he joined the Realm. But about fifteen years ago, he crashed his car into a house and got a DUI. He had to go to a treatment program to avoid jail time. An actor he’d worked with a few times when he was younger ran a very posh and secretive rehab center that was supposed to cater to celebrities. It was called Detoxibrate.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “It’s a combination of ‘detoxify’ and ‘celebrate,’” Karen explained.

  “No, I get it,” Jessie said. “I just can’t believe that someone would put their faith in a program with that name.”

  “Well, if that throws you, guess who ran the program?” Karen asked as she reached a straight stretch of road that suggested they were finally near the top of the hill and Bauer’s house. As they passed a “private property-no trespassing” sign, the road abruptly changed from asphalt to an expensive-looking cobblestone.

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Derek Burke,” she replied, “my old boyfriend, the one who first got me involved in the Realm in the first place.”

  “So he moved up?”

  “That’s an understatement. He ran Detoxibrate fifteen years ago. Now he’s right up there at the top, part of Shepherd’s inner circle.”

  “Wait,” Jessie joked, “is he part of the COHP cabal you keep talking about?”

  “Actually,” Karen said as she pulled up to the large metal gate that surrounded the estate beyond, “he is.”

  An armed guard stepped out of a small cottage just inside the gate and approached them. Both Jessie and Karen got out.

  “I’m sorry ladies,” the guard, who looked like a former pro football linebacker, said politely, “but this is private property, starting where the asphalt road ended about two hundred yards back. Maybe you missed the sign.”

  “Thanks,” Jessie said with equal courteousness, hoping to maneuver past any hostility Karen might harbor. “But I’m afraid we’re on official business. This is Detective Karen Bray with the LAPD and I’m Jessie Hunt, a profiling consultant for the department. We need to speak to Mr. Bauer about a pressing matter.”

  They both held up their IDs. The guard looked at them with mild skepticism but seemed hesitant to say anything.

  “Can you tell me what this is regarding?” he asked carefully.

  “I’m afraid not,” Karen said, “Other than to say that Mr. Bauer’s assistance is essential to an ongoing investigation. I’m sure you understand that we want to respect his privacy as much as possible.”

  “Hold on please,” the guard said, disappearing into the cottage.

  “Is this going to work?” Jessie asked quietly out of the corner of her mouth, “or are we going to have to come back with the cavalry?”

  “It’ll work,” Karen assured her. “One thing about famous Realmers—they have a God complex. They think that each time they pass into a new Realm, they achieve greater wisdom, strength, and an almost supernatural ability to heal the world. If Bauer is innocent and thinks that we need his help to solve a case, there’s no way he can leave the bait on that hook. And if he’s guilty, he’ll want to throw us off the scent with his air of altruistic charm. Either way, we’re getting in.”

  As if to prove Karen right, the guard came out a moment later.

  “Please proceed down the path to the house. Mr. Bauer will meet you at the front entrance.”

  They got back into the car and drove slowly down the path. Jessie turned to Karen.

  “You never finished telling me how Bauer went from drunk driver to Eleventh Realm true believer,” she reminded her.

  “Right,” Karen said. “So he signed up for Detoxibrate and embraced the program. It used all the same techniques as the Realm writ large. They could employ lots of the food and sleep deprivation techniques without having to couch them in the language of ‘unlocking potential.’ For these people, it was a matter of survival. Do as we say or you will very likely die. So folks in the program would willingly eschew meals and sleep. They would engage in hours-long therapy sessions that were really just Truth Sessions in sheep’s clothing. But because the alternative to committing to Detoxibrate was going to jail or possibly relapsing, there was a built-in urgency. Some of the most devoted Realmers come through the program.”

  They crested a rise and Bauer’s house came into view. At first glance, it wasn’t as grandiose as Jessie would have guessed. It wasn’t some Tudor style mansion or a wannabe castle with different wings and servants’ quarters off to the side. Instead it was a modern-looking place with a muted, wood exterior that blended into the hill it was built into.

  Only when they got closer did she realize that the subdued color palette acted as camouflage, hiding the fact that the home, concealed by the trees of the hill it was connected to, was actually four stories high. At the very top, she could see a glassed-in pool that appeared to be partly on the roof of the fourth floor of the house and partly carved out of the very top of the hill.

  “Looks like it eventually worked out for him,” she said quietly.

  “Yep,” Karen agreed as they approached the circular driveway, “he was as zealous about his rehab as he is with his roles. When he got out, he talked constantly about how Detoxibrate, and more generally the Eleventh Realm, had changed his life. He said he’d been on a bad path: drinking, drugs, womanizing. But with the Realm’s help, he’d turned it all around.”

  She pulled off to the side and parked the car.

  “He said Sterling Shepherd saved his life,” she continued as they got out of the car and walked up to the front door. “Now they’re best friends. In the years since, Bauer’s career has exploded even more. He credits the Realm for all of it.”

  Karen rang the doorbell.

  “You’re not going to punch him or anything, are you?” Jessie wanted to know.

  “Why?” Karen replied, “Just because the man on the other side of that door is the most vocal proponent in the entire world for a cult that nearly destroyed my life?”

  Before Jessie could reply, the door opened.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  For the first time since she’d started doing profiler work for the LAPD, Jessie was genuinely star struck.

  She’d handled multiple cases involving celebrities since joining HSS, but this was different. The man standing in front of her had been a movie star since she was old enough to watch films. For most of that time, she’d been unaware of his connection to the Eleventh Realm, but she couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t a part of the pop culture firmament.

  “Hello ladies,” he said, opening the door as wide as the smile on his face. “I understand that you could use my assistance. What can I do for you?”

  Logan Bauer was even more rakishly handsome in person than onscreen. She already knew from Jamil’s quick biographical sketch that he was fifty years old. But he looked closer to forty, with a chiseled jaw, dotted with a day’s worth of stubble, soulful brown eyes, and closely shorn salt and pepper hair, the only obvious concession to his age.

  He looked to be about the same height as Jessie at five foot ten and, at around 175 pounds, he was trim but firm. He wore a loose, olive, button-up shirt with a wide collar and black slacks. Other than the tattered sandals on his feet, he looked ready for a press junket right now.

  “May we come in, Mr. Bauer?” Karen asked, rescuing Jessie. “We have a few questions of a sensitive nature.”

  “Of course,” he said, waving them in. “Let’s go to my outdoor office. It’s very secluded so we can speak candidly. Will that work?”

  “That sounds fine, Mr. Bauer,” Karen said.

  “Please, call me Logan,” he said, leading them down a long hallway filled with stills from his films on the walls, but notably none including him. “May I ask who you are?”

  “I’m sorry,” Karen said. “My name’s Karen Bray. I’m a detective with LAPD’s HSS unit. We specialize in high-profile cases that tend to draw media attention. This is my colleague, Jessie Hunt. She’s a criminal profi—.”

  “I’m familiar with Ms. Hunt,” Bauer interrupted. “I actually have a production deal set up at Sovereign Studios. Ms. Hunt, I think you’ll recall that last fall, the producer Miller Boatwright pitched you about a project involving your life story.”

  “I do,” Jessie said, finally able to find her words.

  “Well, what you probably didn’t know was that Miller pitched you that concept at my request. I wanted my involvement kept private unless something materialized. I was very impressed with everything you’ve accomplished, especially in light of your tragic childhood. That has only increased recently in light of your capture and killing of the Night Hunter.”

  “Thank you,” Jessie said as they arrived at an elevator at the end of the hallway. Bauer pushed a button and the door opened. They all entered and it shot up with surprising speed.

  Jessie pretended to be thrown by the fast-moving rectangular box. It afforded her a brief moment to process her conflicting feelings. First, there was awe that such a famous actor knew who she was and wanted to make a movie about her. That was quickly followed by a surge of shame that she was awed at all, and not just because Bauer was a murder suspect.

  After all, just like Miller Boatwright, Logan Bauer wanted to take the most horrible events of her life and turn them into entertainment. It seemed that her fame, or more accurately her infamy, came either from public knowledge of the traumas she’d suffered or from her capture of killers who had inflicted trauma on others. Either way, it was the suffering that seemed to interest people.

  “I realize it may be inappropriate,” he said, oblivious to the fast-accelerating elevator, “considering that you’re obviously here for a much more serious purpose than movie talk, but I still harbor some hope that you might reconsider letting me develop your story.”

  Between the fast-moving elevator she feared might shoot out of the shaft into the sky above and Bauer’s near-blinding white teeth, she was having trouble concentrating, but did her best to compose herself.

  “I’m flattered,” she said, “but I think it would be best to stick to the purpose of our visit for now.”

  “Fair enough,” he said, with an only slightly less enthusiastic smile than before. The elevator came to an abrupt stop and the doors shot open. Light poured in, along with a dose of chilly air. “We’re here.”

  Bauer held the door as they stepped out onto what Jessie realized was the rooftop that she noticed before. Her earlier conclusion had been correct. Most of the roof was comprised of a glassed-in pool that had been partly carved into the top of the hill the house adjoined. It was both gorgeous and appalling.

  It was one thing to build his home naturally into the undulations of the hill. But he’d basically shaved off the top of the rise for his personal entertainment. Something about the sight of it cleared her head. The schoolgirl giddiness that had been clouding her judgment faded away.

  “We’ll have privacy up here,” Bauer said, motioning to several outdoor couches surrounded by the billowing curtains of a large cabana. “Can I offer either of you a drink?”

  “I’m good, thanks,” Jessie said sharply, marching over and taking a seat at the edge of one sofa.

  She saw Karen’s head perk up and knew her partner had picked up on the change in her manner. She too declined a drink and moved quickly to take a seat. She gave Jessie a quick half smile that seemed to say “let’s do this.” Jessie nodded.

  “Do you know why we’re here, Mr. Bauer?” she asked when he sat down across from them.

  He opened the seltzer water than he’d taken from the small fridge in the cabana, and took a sip before answering.

  “I’m assuming it’s related to Addison Rutherford’s murder,” he said calmly, though his voice betrayed just a hint of emotion.

  Jessie had to work hard to hide her surprise.

  “How do you know about that?” she asked.

  He smiled gently, almost apologetically.

  “I’m very well sourced in this town, Ms. Hunt.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t.

  “Mr. Bauer,” Karen jumped in, “you do realize that knowing about her murder, which has not yet been made public, casts you in a suspicious light, and that not revealing how you’re aware of it only increases that suspicion.”

  “I do realize that,” he said, unflustered. “I also realize that I’m probably under even more suspicion because I was there in her suite that night, apparently not long before she died. I’m assuming that’s what brought you to my door.”

  Again, Jessie had to fight to keep her shock at his admission from showing.

  “What makes you think we know about your visit?” she asked.

  “Well, the very fact that you’re here, Ms. Hunt,” he said plainly. “I assume I showed up in some hotel video or something and you had to do your due diligence. Is that not right?”

  “No, actually,” Jessie said, leaning in. “Oddly enough, the video from the time you visited seems to be missing. But we did get your fingerprints from a glass in her suite.”

  “Ah yes, I was parched,” he said. “Sonny was sweet enough to get me some water.”

  “Care to tell us why you were there?” Karen pressed.

  Bauer leaned back against the plush sofa pillow. For the first time since Jessie had met him, the man looked slightly ill at ease.

  “That’s a difficult question to answer,” he said slowly. “Under normal circumstances, I would simply decline to do so and leave it at that. But the situation is complicated. You have a dead girl on your hands. And while my presence there has nothing to do with that, it’s hard to explain it without compromising certain closely held secrets. I don’t want to deceive or mislead you, but I also don’t want to betray the confidence of people who’ve put their faith in me.”

  “Mr. Bauer,” Jessie said, staring into those eyes, ones that she’d seen five feet high on countless movie screens in the past. “I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here. But if you didn’t do this and you have information that can help our investigation and you hold it back because of some misplaced loyalty, that is going to reflect incredibly poorly on you. And frankly, it will probably come out in the end anyway.”

  He still seemed unsure. Now Karen leaned in.

  “You said we had privacy up here,” she said quietly. “Tell us what you know. It’s only a violation of their trust if they know you’ve said anything and we have no intention of telling them.”

  He cocked his head slightly to the right.

  “Who would you even tell, Detective?” he wondered.

  “You know who, Logan,” she said softly. “Let’s not pretend. There’s no Proctor up here.”

  Bauer’s eyes widened briefly before he regained control.

  “All right,” he said. “I’m telling you this in confidence. I went to Sonny’s suite to discuss an arrangement. She had just broken up with her long-time boyfriend on…instructions from the leadership of our Assembly. It was determined that he was no longer an amenable match. Her star was on the rise. She’d just booked a big role in a major picture. The decision was made that she and I would become a couple; that together, we would be the faces of the faith. I was there to discuss the particulars of the plan. We needed to come up with our back story: how we met, what we did on our first date, how we fell in love, the little details that sell magazines and generate clicks. We did that. Then I left.”

  “Didn’t you resent being paired up in some arranged marriage?” Jessie asked. “What if you already had a relationship?”

  “I don’t,” he said, “and it was for the greater good, for the benefit of the Realm. Can you imagine how many new Adherents could be brought into the fold, who could unlock their true potential, if they were inspired by our love?”

  “A false love,” Jessie said.

  “That’s your interpretation, Ms. Hunt,” he said. “I chose to believe that over time, if nurtured, it would grow like a beautiful flower. In any case, now that you know, you must understand why I would have no motive to kill her. From a cold, purely practical perspective, having her by my side would only increase my relevance. And truth be told, as I’m now on the wrong side of fifty, I can use all the help I can get staying relevant. I mourn her loss. But I mourn mine almost as much.”

  Jessie stared at the man, unsure what to make of him. On the one hand, he’d been open and upfront, answering all their questions, admitting that he was at the hotel and why, even allowing himself to come across as callously narcissistic in the name of total truth. But something didn’t sit right.

 

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