Code blue, p.8
Code Blue, page 8
What they said was true, yes. But all I could think about was Jeremy. He was in the eye of the shitstorm. Him. His life, his privacy, his safety.
I clenched my jaw so I didn’t say any of this out loud. And when the elevator doors opened, I stepped out first and stalked down the corridor to Ambrose’s office.
The door was slightly ajar, so I knocked and stuck my head in. Ambrose was on the phone but he nodded and waved me in. Roscoe was already there, sitting across the desk from Ambrose. “You heard?” Roscoe whispered.
“Just now.”
“Where’s Jeremy?”
“With Maddox in the lounge.”
Roscoe sighed, relieved. “How is he?”
“I think he’s more freaked out than he lets on.”
My phone rang. It was Zoe.
“Zoe,” I answered in a whisper. “What’s up?”
“Media crowd gathering at the entrance gates.”
Already? Fucking hell.
“Did you get in?”
“Yeah, boss. We’re all good.”
“I’m in a meeting. Stay with the guys in the lounge until I come back.”
“Will do.”
When I ended the call, Amber and Ryan had sat down and Ambrose put his phone on his desk. “That was Mr. Kim. He already has legal on it. The person who leaked the information is apparently a family member of the person of interest who first posted about the FBI taking their sister away before the sister was released. They’re claiming they didn’t know they were supposed to keep their mouth shut. Incidentally, the person who was interviewed was released without charge.”
“Who was it?”
Ambrose sighed. “Just some overzealous fan who racked up a few email addresses with different VPNs to have sock puppet accounts on Atrous fandom chat rooms.”
Jesus. I shook my head. “There’s a big difference between chatroom shit-posting and actually threatening to kill someone,” I said. “What the fuck were the feds thinking?”
Ambrose shrugged. “They have a few persons of interest on the list, apparently. That was the first.”
“Oh good,” I deadpanned. “The first one, and look at the mess.”
Ambrose shot me a look, and I knew I was probably out of line but couldn’t really bring myself to care. This was no joke.
“I’m not overreacting,” I said. “This just made everyone’s job ten times more difficult. Mine even more so.” I held up my phone. “Zoe and Blake just arrived with Luke and Jason, and there’s already a crowd of paparazzi and media downstairs at the gates.”
Ambrose sighed. “We’ll take care of that. At the moment,” he went on, “it’s an unfounded claim by some person on the internet who is not involved in the case. The person of interest in the case hasn’t spoken about it, but the sister . . .” He scowled. “Well, the sister took a video of this person’s bedroom, and it’s wall-to-wall covered in pictures of Jeremy, cardboard cutouts, dolls, all that kind of thing. But it’s not just the bedroom. It’s the whole house, apparently. It’s kinda creepy. Now it’s all over the internet, and the media’s latched on to that footage.”
He turned his iPad around and tapped the screen, bringing a news site up. He hit Play, and sure enough, there was a bedroom completely plastered in pictures and posters of Jeremy. Even the comforter had his face on it, as did the pillows. A female voice could be heard saying, “The FBI came to question her about a celebrity fixation. No guesses as to who the celebrity is . . .”
Oh, just great.
“Where is this person now?” Maddox asked. “Not the sister, the one talking, but the person of interest who was questioned?”
“They lawyered up and were released about two hours ago,” Ambrose replied.
Probably trying to figure out interviews and pay rates. None of us said that out loud but I knew we were all thinking it. So did Ambrose because he added, “They’ve been hit with a gag order.”
“So they can’t speak about it but that’s too little too late for the sister who already blabbed,” Ryan said. “Damage is done now.”
Ambrose conceded a nod. “Mr. Kim has PR working on a formal statement.”
I resisted sighing. Roscoe dug his thumb and finger into his eyes.
“The person who owns that bedroom . . .” I said. “What do we know about them? Male, female, age, location?”
Ambrose paused, and for a second, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. Which was stupid because it was no doubt already all over the internet. “Female, nineteen years old. Address is here in LA. Her name is Lilian Sosa.”
“And the other people of interest?” Roscoe asked. “You said there was a list. Have they been interviewed?”
“Just one, so far. A guy by the name of Adrian Thrift. FBI team in Ohio took him in for questioning early this morning regarding a mail redirection service. Apparently he has a whole redirection operation thing happening, but he has been cooperating.”
The shady mail redirection was to provide random post marks to throw any suspicion off track. It was hard to connect dots when one letter came from LA, another from Ohio, and another from London.
For a fee, I could send several sealed and addressed letters in a package to Mr. Thrift. He would then distribute each letter to people in different locations who would then simply pop the letter in the mail. The letter would then have a postmark for a location it did not originate in.
It was shady as hell. And highly illegal. The only people who would have used such a service were either in hiding or cloaking their location. Liars, cheaters, tax evaders.
Stalkers.
Seemed like a lot of hassle to me. Same with the change of VPN. Not that I would even know how to do that, but it seemed backward to me.
“I don’t get it,” I admitted.
Ambrose tilted his head. “Don’t get what?”
“If this fixated person is trying to get Jeremy’s attention, if they want him to know who they are, why hide their identity?”
“They’re hiding their identity from the cops and the feds,” Ambrose said. “They want Jeremy’s attention, not attention from the authorities.” He answered as if it was a question, telling me this was, at best, just a guess.
I could see his point, but it just didn’t ring true to me.
“You don’t think so?” Roscoe asked.
They all stared at me, waiting for my answer. “No. I don’t know. Admittedly, I’m not a psychologist and I can’t begin to understand how detached and deluded this person must be, or what tracks as typical behavior. But,” I added, “over the last decade, the one thing I do know is the type of fan who follows these guys. You know, who honestly think they’re going to marry one of them. That kind of attachment and infatuation is something we’ve all seen a thousand times, right?”
They each nodded, more or less.
“I mean, it’s probably not one hundred percent sane, but it’s mostly harmless. They get excited and a little wild. They want the guys’ undivided attention. They give out their names and phone numbers, addresses. What they don’t do is hide.”
Amber cocked her head. “What are you saying, Steve?”
“That the type of fan who has their room covered in posters and cardboard cutouts of Jeremy is going to want him to know who they are.” I nodded to the iPad screen where we could still see the image of the bedroom. “We see those kinds of fans every day. Most of the time, they’re great. They love the band, they support them, and they’re protective of them. I bet you anything you like, the majority of the hashtags on social media are fans supporting to protect Jeremy.”
Ambrose nodded. “There’s a lot, yes.”
I held up my finger. “But that one person, that 0.01 percent, who hates Jeremy—for whatever unjustified and stupid reason—they’re who we should be looking for. Not someone who claims to love him. Look for those who hate him.”
Ryan made a face. “I get what you’re saying. But sometimes some folks can’t tell the difference. What they think is adoration and love is some creepy obsession, and sometimes that obsession becomes something else entirely. And then they get that mindset that if they can’t have them, no one else can. There are often some serious psychological issues at play.”
“Yeah, I get that,” I admitted. “But this doesn’t feel like that. The hiding of their identity feels off.” They all stared at me and I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I dunno,” I said. I needed to shut up. “Sorry. I’m sure the FBI knows what they’re doing.”
I stayed quiet for the rest of the meeting. When it was done, they’d be relaying all the developments to Jeremy and the guys, so I pulled my team aside. I knew they’d be all waiting to hear.
“Hey, boss,” Robbie said when I walked in. “What’s going on?”
They all stopped and listened.
“Ultimately, there’s no change yet to our set up, and things will stay as they currently are. I’ll need to speak to transport because we can expect some media and crowd control, but that’s up to ground security. We focus on our individuals, getting them to and from locations and ensuring personal safety and security.”
I sighed. “I’m assuming you’ve all seen the footage of the house with the posters and pictures?”
They nodded. “The guys were watching it,” Ivan said. “’S not good.”
“No. Mr. Kim will be releasing a legal statement this morning, and hopefully that’ll be the end of it.”
“The fixated person who they brought in,” Zoe said. “What happened to them?”
“Released without charge. But they’re also talking to someone else in Ohio about the mail redistribution. And I believe they have a list of other persons of interest.”
“So we stay as we are,” Robbie said.
It wasn’t really a question but I nodded anyway. “For as long as the current threat remains, we stay as allocated. The media finding out is not ideal, and yes, it makes our jobs more difficult. But it’s nothing we can’t handle. We’ll rotate out in a few days so you can go home, see your families, get some decent sleep.”
“What about you, boss?” Riko asked.
I probably should rotate out, let someone else cover my shift for a few days. But there was just no way. “I’ll be staying with Jeremy.”
No one batted an eyelid. No one ever questioned me. And I wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but I wasn’t leaving Jeremy’s side until this was all over.
Just . . . no.
When Jeremy and the guys came out of their meeting with the managers and Ambrose, I got to my feet, my heart thumping as Jeremy met my eyes.
“Hey,” I said.
He shoved his hand into his back pocket and tried to smile. “Hey.”
“You okay?”
He managed a nod, then let out a long sigh. “Yeah. It’s all good. Just one more thing. All part of the job, right?”
“No,” I replied flatly. “You didn’t sign up for this.”
“Kinda did, though. Fans and media hype.” He shrugged. “The good, the bad, and the ugly.”
Maddox clapped Jeremy on the shoulder. “Don’t talk about Luke and Blake like that.”
Jeremy smiled. Kind of. Then he pointed to one of the conference rooms. “We gotta view this tour footage.”
“I’m getting the popcorn,” Luke said as he went toward the lounge area.
“Grab some soda too,” Wes called out after him, but then decided to follow Luke instead.
Maddox smiled after them before he slung his arm around Jeremy’s shoulder as they walked off toward the conference room. “Come on, let’s get the best seats. And I’ll even let you cuddle me, but don’t tell Roscoe.”
Jeremy shoved him. “Fuck off.”
I couldn’t help but smile at them, but as they disappeared down the hall, something occurred to me.
The tour footage . . .
I needed to watch the tour footage.
I made a beeline for Ambrose’s office and found him, again, with his phone pressed to his ear. He waved me in so I took a seat, and he wrapped up his call. “Thanks again for the update . . . okay, bye.” He looked like he’d aged five years. “The police have been called to manage the crowd downstairs.”
“Good.” Then I added, “Might be worth asking them to take a drive to Jeremy’s house. No doubt there’ll be some leeches waiting at the gates.”
Ambrose sighed as if he hadn’t thought of that. “Might need an escort to get home at this fucking rate.”
Ambrose didn’t swear often, certainly not in my company. He’d clearly had a long morning.
“So,” I hedged. “The tour footage the boys are watching. I was wondering if I could see it? More specifically, the raw crowd footage. I don’t need any behind the scenes stuff of the band.” That, I saw with my own eyes. I experienced it with them. I didn’t say that out loud, though. “Any crowds gathering at the hotels, the airports, TV studios and interviews, anywhere the public was or had visual access to the band.”
He stared at me. “You think this person was there?”
“I think we shouldn’t rule it out.”
“In Europe or Asia?”
“Yes. You said some letters came from overseas. And groupies following us on a world tour is nothing new.”
Ambrose studied me, searching for something. I held his gaze with conviction. This was not out of my realm of responsibility. Could he have someone else scour the footage? Sure. Would they know what to look for?
Would I?
“I know how to read a crowd,” I said. “I know how to read an individual. I don’t know what I’m looking for, exactly, but I think I’ll know it when I see it.”
He chewed on the inside of his lip for a second before he conceded a nod. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
I tried not to smile. “Thank you.”
His phone buzzed and he groaned. Given our meeting was over, I didn’t want to waste any more of his time. I gave him a nod as I left, and he was already on his phone.
So, now the band would be busy for some time, I took Robbie and Riko down to the lobby. I wanted to see the crowd . . .
And that gave me another idea.
The crowd outside was big and mostly media types: TV, reporters, photographers. A lot of cameras, phones. But there were also a decent number of fans. The police were there now, controlling and dispersing, I guessed. The building security manned the front doors, checking IDs and clearances before letting anyone enter. Then there was secondary security at the reception desk and at the elevators.
Christ.
I saw a familiar face by the reception desk and made my way over. “It’s a show, huh?”
Katarina was a security manager, in her security uniform with her hands behind her back, and she gave me a tight smile. “You could say that.”
“Basement and parking lot the same, I assume?”
She nodded once. “Yep.”
“Can I ask . . . CCTV scope? Do your cameras just cover the entrances and exits and internal floors? Or will there be footage of this crowd outside?”
Her sharp eyes cut to mine. “Limited footage outside, approximately fifteen feet. Any further than that and I don’t know what kind of quality you’ll get. Not if you’re looking for facial details.”
I nodded. “I’d like to see it. But I’ll have the request come from the boss. Pretty sure I don’t have the authority to just come and ask,” I said with a bit of a laugh. “I just wanted to know if it was possible.”
She smiled at that. “No problem.” She scanned the crowd and pursed her lips. “FBI and cops, according to the news stations and entertainment sites. Daily-E is running an all-day story apparently.”
I growled. “Figures.”
She nodded to the glass wall and the crowd beyond. “You’ve got some fans too, it seems.”
I followed her line of sight, and sure enough, reporters were trying to get my attention. Their muted cries were barely audible through the glass. “Steve! Steve!”
It was then I noticed Robbie and Riko had moved into position around me as if I needed their protection.
It’d probably be funny if a hundred people weren’t yelling my name, waving their arms and cameras at me. There was over thirty yards and a glass wall between us, other security and police, and still . . . it was unnerving to have the attention directed at me.
I turned back to Katarina and gave her a nod. “Someone from upstairs will be in touch,” I said. “About the footage.”
“No problem,” she replied. Her stoic gaze returned to the swelling and yelling crowd.
I went back to the elevators, and as soon as the doors closed, I sagged. “That was crazy. How do they know who I am? I mean, when I’m with the band, sure. But on my own?”
Robbie shook his head. “Boss, you need to look at the internet more often.”
“I read the reports and briefings—”
“I mean social media. Not for the guys or the band. But to see what they’re saying about you.”
“Me?” But then I remembered the comments about me being cold and the Iceman. I rolled my eyes. “Don’t believe everything you read online.”
Riko sighed as the doors opened on our floor. “Leaving tonight’s gonna be fun with that crowd.”
“Pretty sure Mr. Kim will be releasing a statement,” I said. “That usually gives the vultures something to eat for a while. Fingers crossed they leave us alone. But if you guys wanna catch up on some rest while the guys watch that tour footage, I’d suggest you do it now.”
“Good idea,” Robbie agreed as we walked past the lounge area. He threw his huge frame onto one of the couches. “No need to tell me twice.”
I went back to Ambrose’s office and requested the downstairs security footage as well, to which Ambrose readily agreed.
A man appeared at his door, holding a slip of paper. “Ah, Peter, perfect timing,” Ambrose said. “This is the guy who needs the footage.”
Peter handed the piece of paper over. “Your access code. Follow the link. It’s single-user only, approved for your staff ID number.”
“Thanks.”
Peter left without another word and Ambrose sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Sorry. Security measures around all unreleased footage. You know how that is.”
