Leave Me Love (9 page)

WE TOOK ASH'S
motorcycle at my insistence. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and feel the power of his bike thrumming underneath me. He fought me on it, worried about my head, but I assured him I'd be fine. I needed the adrenaline rush and didn't want to sit in a car.

My fingers dug into his flexed chest muscles as he drove to the edge of town. Finally, we arrived at a dilapidated motel by the side of the road, a rundown affair patiently waiting for weary travelers who were too tired or too desperate to find a place more suitable for safety and sleep. We walked into the main lobby.

An old man sat behind the check-in counter watching M*A*S*H reruns on a small black and white television. He vehemently sucked on a peppermint candy, a bowl of which lay by his hand. The whole room smelled like peppermint, a creepy smell in this dingy room with its peeling paint. The waiting room had one lonely chair with a small but growing hole in the center of its orange seat. I could imagine a rat gnawing through it, slowly growing the hole until the seat no longer remained.

"Excuse me," I said.

The man turned, his eyes bloodshot and coated with a milky, creamy film. He smiled a half-toothless smile. "You need a room?" he said through the peppermint on his tongue.

"No. I need to know about a room you rented." I took out my phone and showed him a picture of Bridgette. "This girl rented a room under the name of Catelyn Travis."

He peered closely at the picture, squinting and pulling my hand so that the phone was an inch from his eyes. "Ah, yuh. Didn't recognize her ‘til that P.I. came by. Sure, she got a room. Paid for a month in cash. Can't turn down that, now can I? Don't get much business ‘round here since that fancy Hilton popped up."

I had no doubt that was not the major detractor to his business, but I held my tongue. "Can we see the room, please?" I showed him my ID. "I'm actually Catelyn."

He scratched his chin, considering. "Well, seeing’s how the room's in your name. Figure I gotta let ya, don't I? Room's locked up tight. Ain't seen no one there. After that P.I. told me about the girl I had to call the cops, you know. Since everyone is looking for her. But seeing’s how the room's in your name, like I said, then figure I can give you a peeksee ‘til they get here. Can't harm me for that, right? With your name and all."

"No, they can't harm you for that," I assured him.

Knowing the police had been called made me nervous. I had no doubt Detective Gray would be showing up on his proverbial white horse to slay the dragon and save the girl. With me, unfortunately, in the role of the dragon.

When he opened the room for us, the first thing I noticed was the smell. An old, wet, moldy smell that I was sure predated Bridgette's rental of this place. The second thing I noticed were the pictures.

Hundreds of them, everywhere. All of Bridgette and Ash in innocuous poses.

Ash sucked in his breath and the old man chuckled. "That man be you, sir. Looks like you got caught between two beautiful women. Worse places to be, I figure. Worse places, indeed."

I turned to the man. "Can you give us a moment?"

"Sure thing. I'll be in the office if you need me. This one’s a good one. That guy Hawkeye is just too much," he said, referring to his M*A*S*H episode.

Ash closed the door behind him and we stared at the pictures, not wanting to touch anything and contaminate it with our prints. "What is this?" I asked. “I don't understand.”

"I don't either." Ash circled the room, stepping over trash on the floor to examine the different photos. "Bridgette and I didn't spend that much time together. Whoever took these worked hard to catch every moment I was ever around her."

I looked at the clothes and bags on the bed. "Ash, some of this is my stuff, things Bridgette bought me when she dragged me shopping. The rest looks new, but it's all in my size and style."

Before we could ponder what that might mean, Detective Gray walked in, weapon drawn. I backed into Ash, who caught me around the waist and held me. Other officers crowded into the room, making me feel claustrophobic and anxious.

"Watch them. Don't let them leave." Gray pointed at us, and an officer nodded.

Ash stepped in front of me. "This isn't Catelyn's room, Detective. I hired a private investigator to help find Bridgette. He discovered she rented this room out under Catelyn's name. The owner confirmed it. Then the owner called
you
."

Gray chewed on his lip. "Wait in the hallway."

Ash escorted me outside and we sat on the porch near the door, a burly officer standing beside us with his hand on his holster.

I put my head between my legs, breathing slowly as Ash rubbed my back. I pulled an anti-anxiety pill out of my purse and popped it without water.

I lost track of time. When Gray finally came out, he had a self-satisfied expression on his face. "Catelyn Travis, you're under arrest for the kidnapping and disappearance of Bridgette Beaumont. You have the right to remain silent…"

The handcuffs gripped my wrists and Ash stood, looking helpless, jaw set in an angry line. "Don't say anything. Maxwell will meet you at the police station. Don't say a word until he gets there. I love you." He kissed me on the lips. "I love you and I will protect you."

"WE KNOW YOU
forced her to buy you expensive gifts, clothes, purses. Give you cash. You made her check out the room for you." Detective Gray sat across from me. My chair was uncomfortable. The room was empty except for a large mirror on the wall.

I said nothing, clenching my fists.

Gray continued, "We found your fingerprints all over the place."

"Impossible." I clasped a hand to my mouth.
Shit. Don't say anything. Don’t say anything.

He grinned. "Look, I get it. Your best friend was seeing your boyfriend behind your back. You had to follow them, take a few photos to make sure. Cheating is a hard thing to deal with—trust me, I know. I mean, what a bitch. She was screwing your guy one minute, visiting you in the hospital the next. Playing BFF the whole time. I mean, the fucking bitch needed to be taught a lesson, right?"

I didn't respond. They couldn't have any fingerprints. They wouldn't have had enough time to test for any, right?

Someone knocked on the door. Gray stood up, talked to an officer outside, stepped back in. "You're free to go."

As I passed him, he whispered in my ear. "We have her diary, Miss Travis. Confess now. Make it easier on all of us."

I didn't face him as the uniformed officer escorted me out. Ash waited for me in the lobby and held me against his chest when he saw me. "I got you out as fast as I could. It was easier with your medical condition."

The police had given me my medication, but lying on a cot in a cold cell followed by an interrogation wasn't exactly the ideal place for my body to heal. Maxwell stood behind Ash, and I thanked him once Ash let me go. "I couldn't stand another minute in there," I said.

Maxwell squeezed my hand. "You didn't say anything, did you?"

"No, nothing. I did as you said.”

He nodded. "Good. I'll come by later so we can strategize but, first, you've got an appointment with your therapist. She helped us get you out faster, contingent on you meeting with her as soon as bail was posted."

I just wanted to go home, take a long bath and curl up on the couch with Ash while we listened to music and read books, but I guess this was better than staying in jail.

Lauren looked composed and beautiful as always in an expensive suit skirt and blouse in neutral tones. Ash waited outside for me, kissing my forehead before Lauren closed her door and I sat in my customary chair.

She sat across from me, a notebook posed on her knee, the scent of her unique perfume filling the room. "How are you?"

I was going to say "fine," but instead I burst into tears that turned to body heaving sobs that left my ribs sore and my eyes swollen. Lauren handed me a box of Kleenex and waited until my breathing slowed and I could talk again.

"I'm scared," I said.

"That's understandable." She handed me a glass of water and I drank deeply. "What scares you most?" she asked.

"That I'm being framed for Bridgette's kidnapping. That they will convict me of murder and I'll spend my life behind bars. That I'm going crazy and imagining things, even though I know I'm not. Honestly, I'm terrified of everything right now. The whole world seems out to get me and I know that makes me sound paranoid but what other explanation is there?" I dabbed at my eyes. "Maybe not the whole world, but certainly someone. I'm sure it's my parents' killer. He wants me to suffer, though I can't imagine why. And that means he has Bridgette and who knows what he's doing to her and setting me up for." My whole body shook as I talked and I had to forcibly calm myself to maintain composure.

"Everything you're feeling is completely normal, Catelyn. I know it doesn't feel like it, but it's true. You have a lot of people around you who love you and want to help, and you have one of the best attorneys in Massachusetts. It's not hopeless."

I sat back, pulling my legs up and hugging them like a child. "How was my mom before she was killed? Did she behave any differently?" I'd been thinking more about my mom lately, how she might have been, what she was like as an adult. Until recently I'd always seen her through the eyes of a child, or young teen, but now I was starting to look at her through the eyes of an adult and it made me curious about what she was going through. Did she suspect something bad was going to happen?

Lauren paused for a long moment before speaking. "I suppose it can't hurt to share with you about her. She's dead and you are her next of kin." Lauren's eyes unfocused to something in the past and I waited for her to compose her thoughts. "Alice was scared in the last few weeks of her life."

My heart pounded in my chest and I dropped my feet to the ground, sitting forward, attentive, soaking up each word in hopes it would loosen some secret that would help me figure out the truth.

Lauren took a bottle of perfume out of her desk and dabbed her wrist with it. The sweet scent filled the room again. She was lucky I wasn't sensitive to smells, but some of her patients would have been. I wondered if they ever said anything about it.

She settled back into her chair and frowned. "She started having doubts about some of the people closest to her."

When she didn't continue I prompted her. "Did she ever say who?"

Lauren shook her head. "No, she just said she worried that a close friend had betrayed her, but she wouldn't give me any details, though I pressed. I think she was worried that if anyone else knew, their life would be in danger."

She didn’t say any more, and our session ended. I left Lauren's office with a prescription for antidepressants and more questions than I'd had going in.

Which of my mom's friends killed her?

ASH AND I
spent the evening talking through every possible murderer while drinking really expensive wine. Probably the wine was contra-indicated with my medication, but I didn't care. It felt good and tasted good and I liked how the dark burgundy liquid looked in the fancy wine glass as I swirled it around. The wine had 'good legs.' That was the term, right? A wine connoisseur I was not, but it didn't matter. I could still enjoy the taste of it and the fire crackling in front of us. The smell of burning wood and flames made me think of camping, the trips we'd taken as a family before my family died.

I closed my eyes and leaned back into Ash's arms, memories dancing behind my eyelids. Memories of s'mores and sleeping under the stars and my dad telling ghost stories even as my mom scolded him not to be too scary. But I never had bad dreams from his stories, even though my mom did. I never had bad dreams until after they were murdered.

"Cat?" Ash's voice held worry and I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

"Hmm?"

"I think I lost you there for a minute."

I set my empty glass down though I couldn't remember finishing it. "Just thinking about the past. About my family and my life as a child. Do you have any good memories of your childhood?" He didn't like talking about his family, which I understood, but it couldn't have been all bad.

"Sure. Everyone has something good, I suppose. Well, most people. My brother and I used to build fantastic forts in the woods behind our house. We'd find large leaves, branches, rocks, anything we could carry, and create these magical fantasy worlds where nymphs and fairies and dragons lived. We'd make swords from branches and train as knights." He stared at the fire, mindlessly running his hand through my hair. "We were so close in age that for along time we were each other's best friend."

"What happened?"

His eyes snapped back to the present and he finished the last of his wine and stood. "We grew up. Grew apart. Found that we had less in common than I'd thought. It happens."

There was more to the story, I could tell, but it could wait.

We locked up the house, turned off the lights and found solace in each other's arms, making love to the sound of a light rainfall outside and falling asleep holding each other.

***

The next day, Professor Cavin picked me up and we drove the two-and-a-half hours to his cabin. Ash wanted to come along, but I insisted against it. This was something I had to do myself. I had no idea what we'd find when we arrived, if anything, but a buzz of anticipation built in my stomach the closer we got to our remote destination.

The last leg of the trip we bumped along a dirt road that wouldn't have made it to any maps or GPS systems. Surrounded by oak, hickory, cherry and birch trees, with nothing but nature everywhere, it felt like stepping into another world. When the cabin came into view, it looked just as I'd imagined it. Cozy, small, made of polished logs, situated between the woods and a private lake.

I inhaled deeply as I stood on the porch waiting for Professor Cavin to unlock the front door. Nothing smelled as good as this—except maybe Ash. Clean air, wild flowers and a hint of the musky foliage decomposing under layers of forest floor. It smelled raw and natural, free of human pollution and toxicity.

Professor Cavin pushed open the door and fiddled with a light switch. The bulb flickered for a moment before coming on. "Wasn't sure it'd work. Haven't had electricity in here for years."

He shuffled in and I followed, dropping my purse on a small table by the front door. A love seat sat in front of a wood-burning stove, with a reclining chair to the right of it. The kitchen and living room formed a large L shape, open and inviting. The hardwood floors and colorful throw rugs gave the room a warm, intimate feel. A two-seater table sat in the middle, made of the same wood as the cabin.

"It's a humble place, but good for getting away and clearing your head." Professor Cavin coughed, and I could tell being here was hard for him. He showed me the rest of the place, including the one small bedroom with a queen-size bed and dresser, and a bathroom with a shower, sink and toilet.

I stared at the bed the longest, knowing in my gut that this is where my mom had her affair with him. Had they made love on top of that handmade quilt? Or had they taken the quilt off first? Was it rough and rowdy or slow and sweet? I couldn't look at my professor and imagine him naked, sweaty and entangled with my young, beautiful mother. I shivered at the thought.

Professor Cavin came up behind me, looking in.

"You and my mom… "

He nodded. "Yes. This is where it happened, during our last study retreat here."

He walked away quickly, heading outside to the porch.

I used the time alone to search the small cabin, looking in drawers and cupboards, hoping for something that would lead to the book my mother wrote. All I found were a few dust bunnies and some expired cans of food.

Frustrated, I joined the professor outside and sat next to him on the porch swing facing the lake.

He stared at the horizon. "Alice was a beautiful woman. One-of-a-kind. She had a passion for life I'd never seen in anyone else. That passion glowed within her and made her a star in a world of darkness."

"I wish she was still here." I kicked my feet out in front of me to make the swing move faster.

"I do too. I know she would hate seeing you go through all this. It would break her heart, but she would fight for you with every fiber of her being."

I sucked in a breath and watched a squirrel climb a tree, wishing I could be as free and unencumbered. "I'm being framed," I said.

Professor Cavin looked at me, his eyes narrowing. "Why?"

"Someone wants that book my mom was working on. They think I have it, or that I can find it, and they want me to trade it for Brig. That's why I wanted to come here. I… I don't know, I guess I hoped this cabin would hold some clues as to where my mom put it."

The professor nodded sagely. "Who would know about the book? And who would think you had access to it?"

Who, indeed? Plenty of people would have known about the book. She hadn't kept that part a secret.

But only one person would have reason to believe I knew where it was. Only one person had a letter from my mother saying,
The book is with Cat
.

Maxwell.