What You Don't Know (Sequel to "Secret Love")(Hunter Hayes/James Marsden)

La Dernière Cène

Jeremy leaned forward over his desk, as though he were sharing a secret with her.

"It means "The Last Supper". You see, after the event became public, it caused such a stir in the city that the site of the massive, charred wine cellar became somewhat of an attraction for bored civilians. One even took to saying that the mysterious fire was proof of the Devil's returning, which, of course, also made the papers when it was turned into a restaurant and opened for patrons." Jeremy sighed and leaned back again, and his whole demeanor changed, shifted to a lighter shade. He laughed a bit and then adjusted his dark glasses again.

"Ms. James, I have studied that case for years, and I cannot even begin to tell you how fascinating it is. Every time I look at it, there is something new to discover. The name Ignace, for example, is derived from the Roman family Egnatius, which was later changed to resemble the Latin word for fire- ignis - while "Blanc" is the French term for white. Whoever accomplished this murder - and I've no doubt that it was, in fact, a murder - powdered the shelves in the cellar with magnesium sulfate, which burns white. Cyril Natesh, roughly translated, means "Lord Destroyer", and the Natesh family are ancient descendents of Roman royalty. It's just remarkable, that whoever did this would look so far into the families' history and plan such an ironic, dramatic death."

Jeremy's words came faster and faster as his excitement grew. Bethany listened aptly, though she was becoming more and more frightened. Could it be possible that Trenton was behind it all?

"I've looked it over a hundred times, trying to figure out how it was accomplished. Cyril was on the street; we have the phone record to prove he was talking to his wife when the fire sparked, yet he reported seeing white flames pouring from the cellar when he opened the door. Magnesium sulfate, even in the large quantity that must have been used for a basement of that size, only changes the color of flames for a few seconds, which means that Natesh must have opened the cellar door precisely when the explosion took place. It looks like more than coincidence, Ms. James. And if Natesh was in league with the murderer, then we can use him for information. We just can't prove anything!"

Bethany sensed that she was no longer a part of this conversation, and chose that moment to remove herself from the office. "I'll do what I can," she promised, slinging her purse over her shoulder and moving quickly out of the room.

She climbed into her car outside of the small warehouse, and let out a few heaving breaths.

"Calm down, Beth. Calm down, calm down, calm down." She let out a strangled scream of frustration, pounding her fists against the steering wheel.

Why me? I can't do this anymore! I can't do this by myself! I can't deal with this!

Tears streamed down her face in the darkness of the early evening, and she could feel herself falling apart. She needed help; she did not want to do this anymore. She was so confused. So utterly confounded by the differing accounts she was getting. They bombarded her from every angle, and nothing added up.

He tried to rape me, then gave me an excuse that sounds far too excusable to be unforgivable. He's suspected for murder, but what kind of criminal could possibly be as funny as him? He's too fat to run from the police; he's too conspicuous to go under cover! And why would he keep going to that restaurant if he killed a man in it?

"Hunter...I need you. Please," she sobbed, scrounging around in her purse for her phone. Screw Jeremy Willakers and his investigation. She needed to hear his voice, just for a moment. She needed proof that he was all right; that he was not as messed up as she was. She needed her rock, her best friend.

"Please pick up the phone, Hunter, please."

The line rang over and over, until, finally, his voicemail message began.

"Hi, you've reached Hunter Hayes. I can't come to the phone right now," she sobbed harder. He was too busy for her. He was not there and she needed him to be, so, so badly. How could he do this to her? I thought you loved me, Hunter! "But I've got your number in my phone now, so I'll shoot you a call back when I get a chance. Thanks for calling!"

She pounded the steering wheel one more time before collapsing on top of it, the phone still pressed to her ear, as if she could squeeze just a few more words from the receiver if she held it there long enough. Before she found the strength to throw her cell into the passenger seat and drive away, an automated woman's voice started to list her options.

"If you would like to leave a callback number, press one now. If you would like to hear this message in Spanish, press two. If you would like to leave a message, press seven. If your name is Bethany James, check your voice mail for more information."

She perked up instantly at the sound of her name, which was the only part of the message spoken in Hunter's voice. Part of her heart warmed at hearing him say it again, while her hands were scrambling to end the call and check her voicemail.

Sure enough, there was a floating red notification on her voicemail box. How had she not noticed that before? Frantically, she opened it, punching in her security code and nearly bouncing in anticipation as she waited for the message to play.

"Bethany..." Hunter's voice poured into her ears like warm soup down a sore throat, and fresh, warm tears flooded her eyes. Hunter! "I miss you. I mean, you haven't left yet, but just thinking about you leaving is killing me. I love you so much, and nothing is going to change that. I want you to remember that."  He paused, and she heard him taking a deep breath, imagined him running his hand through his hair and kicking the wall nervously.

"Listen, Beth. I didn't leave this message to be all gushy. I know you, and I know that you'll get to a point in all of this where you'll start to freak out and I just want you to know that it's okay. You're in a difficult situation, and I can't tell you how much I wish there was something - anything - I could do to get you out of it, but I have faith that you'll be okay. You are strong, and smart, and God is watching out for you. The FBI is watching out for you, and they aren't going to let him get you, too. Just believe in yourself. You can do this, Bethany. I wish you didn't have to, but I know you can. Do it for us, baby. Come back to me, so we can start our life together. I love -"

The message cut off suddenly, and Bethany leaned her head against the back of the chair.

There it is, Bethany: exactly what you needed to hear. Hunter loves you. He would never lie to you. Believe what he says. You are smart. You are strong.

She took a fortifying breath and revved the engine of her car, pulling onto the street and driving off into the city.

I just hope I'm strong enough.