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you can read some scripts. In fact, you could even do some coverage if you want.”
    “Coverage?”
    “Well, typically my script readers make notes about the plot, what works and doesn’t work in the screenplay, so that I can get a quick idea about it and whether or not there’s anything worth reading for myself. Maybe I’ll like something enough to have the writer revise it and show it to me again, that sort of thing.”
    “I could try,” she said, not sure if the idea truly appealed to her, or if she just wanted to do it to get closer to Hunter.
    “Grab a red pen in that drawer down there,” he told her, pointing. “Grab any script, and then just tell me what you feel about it. Write it all down.”
    “I’ll do my best.”
    “You can’t be any worse than the clowns who usually read those things. I had to fire ninety-nine percent of my readers because they were completely useless.”
    Hunter went back to his study and Kallie took a pen and a screenplay, limping to the TV room to settle on the couch and try to try her hand at being Hunter’s script reader.

    ***
    It turned out Kallie enjoyed reading scripts.
    At least, she enjoyed reading the screenplay she’d grabbed from the top of Hunter’s pile—and not because it was a particularly well-written movie, either. There was just something fun and exciting about reading something that could potentially make it on the big screen someday, with real actors and actresses playing the roles.
    Kallie had always loved movies, and although she wasn’t very familiar with the odd format that screenplays were written in, it didn’t take her long to fall into the groove.
    As she went along, she made notes in the margins, like a teacher grading a student. It didn’t take a very long time to read through her first screenplay. It was only around ninety pages in length, so she finished it in just a couple of hours. Then she flipped to the back page, and wrote a quick synopsis of the story with some of her major thoughts and feelings about how it could be improved.
    When she was done, she looked at her own handiwork and felt a twinge of embarrassment.
    Hunter’s going to think this was a waste of time. He’s going to tell you not to bother doing this anymore, because you’re no good at it.
    She knew she was being silly, but the truth was that she cared what Hunter thought about her. She wanted to please him, wanted to show him that she was more than just a sexual being.
    You don’t have anything to prove, she told herself.
    But she felt like she still had something to prove. Maybe it was wrong, but it was how she felt.
    Okay, so maybe I’ll do coverage on another script. I can only get better at this.
    She left the finished screenplay on the table and went back to the pile and grabbed another one. As she was hobbling back to the couch to start the next one, the doorbell rang.
    She jumped, startled by the sound as it echoed throughout the house.
    Hunter appeared shortly thereafter, looking dismayed. “Wait here,” he said, moving to the door and peering out the window beside it.
    “Fuck,” he swore under his breath.
    “What?”
    “It’s that detective again,” he said, shaking his head. “This can’t be good.”
    “Maybe he’s found a lead.”
    “I highly doubt that.” Hunter opened the door and greeted Detective Phillips with about as much friendliness as he would have shown to a Jehovah’s Witness.
    “Mind if I come in for a moment?” the detective asked.
    Hunter stood there, blocking the doorway. “Do you have something new to tell us?”
    Detective Phillips peered around Hunter and saw Kallie standing in the hall. He nodded to her—then looked at Hunter. “I’d like to catch you up to date on the investigation so far. There have been a few developments.”
    The three of them went to the terrace and sat down at the small table. It was nice outside, and there was a steady wind, but it wasn’t too cool.
    “How are you feeling, Kallie?” Phillips