Jocelyn Lawrence glanced back, grabbed her phone from the sofa, and hunched over as she walked toward the left window, making a call. "Kara, come save me."
She leaned against the windowsill, staring at the black-clad paparazzo outside who was snapping photos relentlessly.
The security here was supposed to be good. But just as she had ways to hide, the paparazzi had ways to break through.
The sound of a door opening and closing came from the other end of the line. "What's going on?" Kara could already guess. "Did the paparazzi get in?"
Jocelyn Lawrence's manager was Kara Kendrick. In her early thirties, she was renowned in the entertainment industry for her "iron fist." She was clean, efficient, and undeniably capable.
She was the chief strategist who had allowed Jocelyn Lawrence, a celebrity with more haters than loyal fans, to maintain her footing at Azure Entertainment.
Their relationship had long surpassed the bounds of a professional partnership; they were more like family.
A single look from Jocelyn was all it took for Kara to know what her little troublemaker was thinking.
"Yes, yes, yes." Jocelyn Lawrence nodded emphatically. With her fiery personality, there wasn't much she was afraid of, but paparazzi were her one true fear.
She was used to being vilified. No matter what she did, it could always be twisted into something negative.
Zane Jennings stood there for a moment. After she hung up, he walked to the door and prepared to open it.
Jocelyn Lawrence was so scared she dropped her phone. She ran over to stop him. "What are you doing?!"
"What do you think?"
She knew she was somewhat in the wrong, but she still blocked the door with her body. "Not right now. I'm a celebrity, and there are so many of those vultures out there. If you go out now, I'm dead."
'If those paparazzi see a living, breathing man walk out of my room, who knows what kind of stories they'll cook up!'
"What does that have to do with me?" Zane Jennings reached out. His voice betrayed no emotion as he grabbed her and pulled her behind him.
Jocelyn Lawrence was no match for his strength. With her hands behind her back, she pouted and switched to a softer approach. "Just ten minutes." She pursed her lips, trying to be playful. "Really, just ten minutes."
"Oh." A corner of Zane Jennings's mouth lifted in a smirk that was both arrogant and wicked. He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave her a light push backward. "Sorry, I'm no saint."
That was just his personality: decisive and clean-cut. He certainly wouldn't waste pity on a stranger.
Thrown aside, Jocelyn Lawrence staggered a few steps. "You've never been in the entertainment industry, so you have no idea how terrifying it is, do you?" She steadied herself, her demeanor suddenly calm as she turned the tables and threatened him. "If you walk out of here right now, my army of haters will tear you to shreds."
The entertainment industry!
"Tear me to shreds?" The light in Zane Jennings's eyes grew hazy. "If you know the entertainment industry is so filthy, why claw your way into it? Who can you blame when you get slandered?"
He hated the entertainment industry, hated the people in it. He especially couldn't understand those who, knowing they would face humiliation, were still willing to give up everything just to climb a little higher.
Jocelyn Lawrence flinched at his gaze, finding his words—which sounded like a strange mix of concern and condemnation—odd.
Zane Jennings didn't look up. His long lashes cast shadows as his expression turned cold. He reached for the door again.
She couldn't possibly let him leave now—not unless he stepped over her dead body. She ran over, looked up with a faint smile, and cut straight to the chase, caving instantly. "I'll give you my Erin's address."
Zane Jennings's determined stride halted. His hand on the doorknob froze.
Jocelyn Lawrence had upturned, almond-shaped eyes that were coolly alluring when she wasn't smiling and utterly captivating when she did. "You only have eight minutes now."
"I'll eliminate the problem for good. Give me all her domestic addresses and phone numbers."
He was resorting to the tactics of a businessman—insidious, cunning, and taking full advantage of her predicament.
She didn't understand. "Huh?"
'Eliminate the problem for good? How?'
'Arson? Murder?'
Before she could react, Zane Jennings pulled the door open and strode toward the paparazzo crouching behind a potted plant in the distance. The man was so focused that he didn't notice the menacing figure approaching.
Zane Jennings walked right up and, without hesitation, kicked the paparazzo in the shoulder. With a loud THUD, the man and the potted plant crashed to the ground together.
The paparazzo checked his camera first before looking up in anger. "What are you doing?!"
Zane Jennings pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "That's my line." He held out his hand, palm up, and casually crooked his fingers. "Hand it over."
"Wha... what?" The paparazzo scrambled to his feet and ran.
"Running?" Zane Jennings didn't chase him. His tone was casual as he unfastened the strap of his watch. He then hurled it at the fleeing man. "I wonder if this scoop will be enough to cover your medical bills."
The watch struck the back of the paparazzo's knee. With a THUD, he fell to his knees, pitching forward onto the ground.
The paparazzo curled up, clutching the back of his knee and crying out in pain through gritted teeth.
Jocelyn Lawrence didn't dare get any closer, just stood at the villa's entrance. She was a little stunned by the scene. To maintain her "ethereal fairy" image, she gave him a thumbs-up in her mind.
Zane Jennings walked over, picked up the camera, and tossed it to Jocelyn Lawrence, who had just come over. "Problem eliminated. Now, the address and phone number."
She caught the camera and removed the memory card with surprising skill. With her gaze lowered, she asked nonchalantly, "What's your relationship with our Erin?"
"Don't know yet." Seeing her still fiddling with the camera, his brow twitched.
'Oh, so he's not willing to say.'
She stopped pretending to fiddle with the camera and looked up, her delicate brows curving. "So, you're interested in our Erin?"
"Not sure yet."
"..."
Jocelyn Lawrence was lost in thought for a long moment, staring at him. "What if I change my mind and don't give them to you?"
Zane Jennings's eyes narrowed. 'This is boring.' He turned and walked away.
She stood stunned for a moment, then smashed the camera with great force against a nearby stone pier before chasing after him.
In the end, Jocelyn Lawrence only gave him the phone number. She said she couldn't give him the address or anything else. First, she wasn't about to sell out her best friend. Second, she wanted Zane Jennings to get it from Erin Lowell himself, by his own merit.
「At eleven in the morning」
Zane Jennings was leaning against a wall on a street corner. He'd smoked two cigarettes before figuring out what to say. Just as he was about to make the call, another one came in.
When Zane Jennings arrived at the police station, Erin Lowell was sitting in a chair. She must have already given her statement. Her head was lowered, and she wore a jacket over her hoodie. She was dressed in black from head to toe.
A suitcase stood beside her.
She looked completely dejected.
Zane Jennings walked over. A police officer approached and questioned him in English.
Zane Jennings listened with his head tilted, his gaze fixed on Erin Lowell, and answered the officer, "It has nothing to do with her."
Erin Lowell kept her head down, like a hermit in seclusion, oblivious to the world around her.
The officer said, "She said it has nothing to do with you, either."
Zane Jennings looked at her profile and suddenly smiled. "That place has security cameras. I came out with her. As for how that person died," this time, he was clearing both their names, "it has nothing to do with either of us."
After they had fled the previous night, Ken Shaw had died in the alley outside the bar. The police had pulled the security footage, which proved he had walked out of the alley alive.
The place of death was in the alley behind the bar, which happened to be a surveillance blind spot.
The men Ken Shaw had hired were all cowards. Afraid of getting involved, they had thrown the two of them under the bus.
The police didn't have enough evidence to identify the killer. At five in the evening, the station released them but confiscated their passports and IDs.
Their personal freedom wasn't restricted, but they wouldn't get their documents back until the killer was caught or there was exceptionally strong evidence proving their innocence.
Zane Jennings finished filling out his witness statement, and the officer collected it quickly. He glanced over Erin Lowell's statement; everything she'd written was beneficial to him, or at least harmless.
When he walked out, she was standing at the entrance of the police station, waiting for him.
September in Brindleton. It was autumn—a time of cool breezes, falling leaves, and the deepest crimson sunsets.