Danielle Steel - The Apartment

“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked Sasha. She didn’t want to lie to him.

“They’re afraid the shooter may go after Valentina, if they think she can identify him.”

“Shit. And you look just like her.”

“But they don’t know that. No one in that crowd has ever seen us together. I met Jean-Pierre once. No one is going to come after me. They just don’t want the guy to run into me by accident, and mistake me for her.”

“So what are they going to do?” Alex asked grimly.

“Disappear her, until they find the killer, maybe with the help of an informant. And I told them I can’t go into hiding, so they may change my looks for a while.”

“How? With a clown nose?” He was not amused and had never dealt with anything like this before. Nor had she.

“I don’t know. They’re going to tell me tomorrow.”

“What a fucking mess,” Alex said, lying on the bed with an arm around her, worried sick. “I may kill your sister myself.”

“I hope it teaches her a lesson. She needs to clean up her act. This better be her last bad guy forever.” He nodded, and they lay there together until they fell asleep, with the policemen sitting in the kitchen.

At eight o’clock, Sasha got up quietly, to call her parents in Atlanta to tell them what had happened. Her mother sounded cool about it, although Sasha could tell she was upset, and their father was panicked, and offered to fly to New York. She told him she’d let him know but thought they were going to spirit Valentina away pretty quickly to a safe location.

She talked to Valentina after that, on the hospital line, and she sounded awful, and was crying over Jean-Pierre.

“He was selling nuclear weapons,” Sasha said in an angry tone.

“He was wonderful to me,” Valentina cried.

“He was killing other people. You have to wake up after this. They could have killed you too.”

“I know,” she said sadly. “They almost did. The doctor said if they’d hit an artery, I’d be dead.”

“Exactly. Did you see the guy who shot him?”

“No. We were making love. I had my eyes closed, and then he was on top of me, bleeding everywhere. I couldn’t see anything. What are the police going to do with me now?”

“I think they’re going to take you somewhere to keep you safe.”

“My agency will be pissed,” she said, sounding worried. “I have two shoots next week with Bazaar.”

“I’ll be more pissed if they kill you,” Sasha said, and promised to come and see her later, if the police let her.

The policemen in the kitchen had changed shifts, and Alex got up two hours later and found Sasha talking to the lieutenant who had come to see her, with three police intelligence agents, specialized in undercover work. They were looking her over carefully, her bone structure, her hair, her eyes. It took them an hour to decide what they needed to do. And they made their recommendation to the lieutenant while Sasha listened with a sinking heart. It didn’t sound good to her.

Her long blond hair had to be cut short and dyed brown. They had contact lenses to change her eyes from green to blue. They wanted her in flat shoes and loose clothes, nothing tight and sexy like her sister, which she didn’t wear anyway, and they didn’t want her to appear as tall as Valentina, who always wore heels. They thought the hair color and length and blue eyes instead of green would do it. There wasn’t much else they could do. They wanted her to be nondescript instead of striking like her sister, but Sasha was still a pretty woman. And they were debating brown contact lenses instead of blue.

Sasha cried when they cut her hair, and dyed it brown. They cut it short in a boyish cut, which actually suited her, but Alex looked upset. He loved her hair.

“It’ll grow back,” she told him, and then learned how to put the contacts in. They settled on the blue ones, and they were all shocked at the difference it made. She really did appear like a different person, and nothing like Valentina now, or herself. When Abby and Morgan came in for breakfast, they were amazed, and she told them what had happened the night before. Lieutenant O’Rourke left a little while later with his crew. Two plainclothes officers wearing jeans and T-shirts with baseball jackets to conceal their guns stayed behind. And Sasha felt like her life had been turned upside down. The lieutenant told her she couldn’t visit her sister—they didn’t want anyone to see them together. And Valentina would be removed from the hospital before noon, to an undisclosed location, until they found the man who had shot Jean-Pierre.

The three women and Alex were sitting at the kitchen table discussing it, and the two policemen had retreated to a discreet corner of the room and were playing with the dog. It had been a hell of a night. And Sasha had to see the head of the residency program to explain it to him before she went back on duty that night.

Morgan went to work at the restaurant then, and Alex went out for a while to get some air and pick some clothes up at his apartment. He was going to stay at the loft with Sasha until the killer had been found. He was back later that afternoon and went for a walk with the dog, while Sasha slept and Abby worked at the computer.

And at five o’clock, Claire came home from San Francisco and was confused. There were two men she didn’t know hanging out in the kitchen. Sasha looked like someone she’d never seen before, and there was a dog the size of a horse snoring on the couch.

“What the hell is going on here?” she asked Alex, who looked at her ruefully.

“Good question. Valentina turned our life to shit last night, and nearly got herself killed.” Sasha explained it to her, and Claire was stunned. It was the worst story she’d ever heard. And on a lighter note, she couldn’t believe the size of the dog Abby had brought home, but she admitted that he seemed sweet. And he held out a paw to her too, and then licked her hand with a tongue the size of a ham. She sat down on the couch after a while and laughed.

“Well, at least it’s not boring around here,” she said, and Alex laughed.

“No one would ever accuse this place of that.” They were allowed no contact with Valentina, and as far as he was concerned, that was a relief. Sasha had told her they were engaged, and Claire congratulated them both. And shortly after, Valentina called from the hospital with a tearful goodbye.

At seven o’clock that night, Sasha went to meet with the head of the residency program, who wasn’t happy about the situation, but agreed to let her work since she was heavily disguised, and she would be accompanied at all times by armed undercover policemen. But he warned her that he wanted no disruption for the patients or staff, and Sasha promised him there wouldn’t be. All she wanted was to do her job.

And at eight o’clock, she met the others at Max’s restaurant, and they had a relaxed dinner, with the two policemen at a nearby table. Claire talked about the shoe business she was starting with her mother, and they were all excited for her. Sasha and Alex had traded their shifts that night, and it was a relief to be together and act like normal people, even though Sasha didn’t look like herself, but she got to show off her ring. They all agreed it had been a crazy month, which included an engagement, a murder, and a dog. Not to mention Claire’s broken heart, getting fired, and the business she was starting with her mother.

“And what are we all doing for New Year’s Eve?” Oliver asked when he and Greg showed up for dessert, and everyone looked blank.

“We’re working,” Alex and Sasha said in unison. Morgan always helped Max at the restaurant, which left Claire and Abby free, without dates. Greg suggested the four of them go to Times Square to watch the ball drop and then go to Max’s restaurant for supper with Max and Morgan when things calmed down.

“Sounds like a plan,” Oliver said, smiling at the two women.

“Let’s hope it’s the start of a great year,” Max added, and they all raised a glass to that, and then toasted the newly engaged couple again.

Two days after Valentina was taken to an unknown location for her protection, Abby was peacefully writing at her desk, with Charlie asleep at her feet. Her cell phone rang. It was Josh Katz, the producer she had met at her parents’ on Thanksgiving. She hadn’t thought of him in a month, since she’d met him.

“I’m in New York for New Year’s.” He said he had moved back to L.A. since he’d seen her, but was visiting friends in New York for the weekend. “I read what you sent me. It’s strong.” She wasn’t sure if that was bad or good, but she thanked him for reading it, and told him she’d been working on additional chapters of her novel that were even more cinematic. “That sounds interesting. Do you have time to get together?” he asked her, and she thought about it. She wanted to finish what she was writing that afternoon.

“Sure. When?”

“How about today? Now? I’m staying in Chelsea, and I could come over in half an hour. I’m sorry I didn’t give you any notice. I wasn’t sure I could get away. I had to meet with some postproduction people for the film I’m finishing right now.”

“That’s okay. I’m just sitting here working. I can take a break.” She wasn’t sure if the meeting was business or social, but she could make the time.

He was there half an hour later. He was taller than she remembered, and he was wearing a ski parka and a heavy sweater. He noticed Charlie immediately, and stroked him.

“Great dog.” He was the kind of dog men loved.

“He adopted me a few days ago. We’re still getting acquainted.” She smiled at Josh, and offered him a glass of wine, and he accepted a cup of coffee instead. He didn’t waste time getting to the point. He wasn’t much for small talk, and was all about his work. And now hers.