Serena could hear the underlying message: Stay quiet.
She sat down in the chair next to the bed.
“The nurses are already talking about autographs,” Serena said, “so you must be feeling better.”
“I am. No permanent damage. I counted fingers and toes. All still there.”
“I’m relieved.”
“They tell me I could have died out there. Thank you.”
“I’m just glad we found you in time,” Serena said. “Can we talk about what happened? Are you feeling up to it?”
A shadow passed across Aimee’s face. “If you’d like.”
“How did you wind up out in the snow?”
“I’m honestly not sure,” Aimee replied.
“What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I have this image of myself running in the moonlight. I’m not even sure it’s really a memory. It’s a flash in my head, nothing more.”
“Why were you running?” Serena asked.
“I don’t know.”
Serena knew she was dealing with an actress, and she didn’t know what story to trust. She had no idea whether Aimee’s memory loss was real or she was just covering up the truth.
“Do you remember where you were earlier in the evening?” she asked.
Aimee’s eyes flicked to the roses. “I was at Dean’s.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to talk about the film. And about new projects. He was offering me another role in his next movie. That’s big for me.”
Serena waited for Aimee to say more, but she didn’t.
“How did you get home from Dean’s?” she asked.
“I don’t remember.”
“Did someone take you?”
“I guess so.”
“You don’t know who drove you?”
Aimee’s face flashed with annoyance. “I said I don’t remember. One minute I was at Dean’s, the next minute I was outside running in the cold. There’s nothing in between.”
“That’s okay. I understand.”
Serena thought about the footprints in the snow outside Aimee’s house. They were far apart; she really had been running. But running from what? There was only one set of footprints. No one had been chasing her.
“What happened at Dean’s?” Serena asked.
Aimee looked at the roses again. “What do you mean?”
“What did the two of you do?”
“We talked.”
“Upstairs or downstairs?”
“I don’t know. Both, I guess. Why does it matter?”
“You remember going upstairs?”
“I think so,” Aimee replied. Her voice was clipped and impatient.
“Did you have a drink?”
“Maybe. Probably.”
“What did you drink?”
“Serena, what difference does it make?”
“Who got you the drink?” Serena asked. “Was it Dean? Was it a butler? Who?”
“I. Don’t. Remember.”
“Okay. But at some point you started not feeling well?”
“Apparently. I have no idea. I told you, everything in between is gone.”
Serena nodded. “Do you have a prescription for any sedative drugs like Xanax?”
“What?”
“It’s an antianxiety medication. Some people use it for insomnia.”
“I know what it is. No, I don’t.”
“Have you ever taken anything like that?” she asked.
“In my life? Yes.”
“When?”
“A few years ago.”
“But not recently?”
“No. I don’t understand why you’re asking me this.”
“Xanax was found in your blood,” Serena told her. “Do you have any idea how it got there?”
Aimee quickly looked away. “I have no idea.”
“The dose was dangerous, particularly when combined with alcohol.”
“I can’t imagine how it got there,” Aimee said.
“Did you take it yourself?”
Aimee was about to say no. Serena could see her mouth forming the word. Then she bit her lip and hesitated. “I told you, I don’t remember anything, so I have no idea.”
“Did you take anything before going to Dean Casperson’s house?” Serena asked.
Aimee frowned. “No.”
“Did you eat or drink anything before going over to his place?”
“I had dinner.”
“How long was that before you went to Dean’s?”
She shrugged. “A couple hours.”
“Did you notice any unusual physical effects during that time?”
“No.”
“So is it fair to conclude that the Xanax must have gotten into your system while you were at Dean Casperson’s house?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Look, Serena, none of this makes any sense. For all I know, the blood test was wrong.”
“You blacked out. You don’t remember anything. That’s consistent with the amount of the drug in your system.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
“Has anything like this ever happened to you before?” Serena asked. “A blackout of this kind?”
Aimee hesitated. “No.”
She was an actress, but Serena could see the lie in her face. “Are you sure?”
“Nothing like this has ever happened to me before,” Aimee insisted.
“I remember you telling me that your first big break in acting was in a Dean Casperson movie,” Serena said.
“So what?”
“I was wondering if you had any similar experiences while you were filming that movie with him.”
Serena could see Aimee growing more agitated.
“I told you, no.”
“What about other actresses? Have you heard any similar stories about these kinds of blackouts? Any rumors in the industry? Last time I asked you about that, you dodged my question. Why?”
Aimee closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. Then she opened her eyes and grabbed Serena’s hand. “Okay, look. I lied about the drugs.”
“What do you mean?”
“I took the Xanax myself.”
Serena exhaled in frustration. “Aimee,” she murmured, shaking her head. “What are you doing?”
“I’m confessing. I took it.”
“You said you didn’t have a prescription.”
“I don’t. That’s why I lied. I got it illegally.”
“From who?” Serena asked.
“Someone on the set. There are always people who can get you what you want. You know how it goes.”
“What was the person’s name?”
“I have no idea. Just some guy.”
“There were no pills found on your body. Where did they go?”
“I finished them. I threw the bottle away.”
Serena shook her head. Aimee had an answer for everything. “Why take the drugs?”
“Stress. Anxiety. This role has really gotten under my skin. What those women went through in the box? It’s horrifying.”
“I think you’re lying to me about the pills,” Serena said.
“I’m not lying. The drugs help. That’s the truth.”
Serena knew she wasn’t going to get Aimee to change her story. Dean Casperson had built a wall around himself, and no one wanted to challenge him. If you were a victim, you kept your mouth shut to protect yourself. If you talked, you risked a Hollywood shunning that ruined your career. There was no upside in coming forward. Only risk.
She leaned closer to the bed. “Jungle Jack says he drove you back to the rental house. You don’t remember that?”
Aimee’s lip curled with distaste. “Jack? No. If I’d been conscious, I’d have gone home with anyone but Jack.”
“He claims he dropped you off, you headed up the walkway, and he left. As far as we can tell, you never made it inside. For some reason, you ran off and collapsed in the snow. The tracks indicate you were alone.”
“It must have been the drugs,” Aimee said. “I hallucinated something.”
“Is there anything else that you remember? Anything else that comes to mind about what happened?”