Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (12 page)

“Is she with you?” I nodded. “You may as well come too.” He took us into an interview room and directed us to have a seat. “May I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”
What the hell had Christopher gotten himself into?

“You mentioned on the phone that Mr. Meyer was your
ex
-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Last night. I had a show—I’m a photographer—and he came to the gallery.”

“Was he invited?”

“No. What’s this about?”

“About what time did he leave?”

“I’m not sure exactly. Before ten.”

“Does he normally come to your shows?”

“No. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in over a year.”

“Why was he there last night?”

“I really don’t know. He said it was because he wanted to get back together, but whether or not that was true, I couldn’t say. Why don’t you ask him?”

“What was your reaction to the idea of ‘getting back together’?”

I frowned at the invasion of privacy, but answered his question. “I told him to leave and never come back.”

“And did he?”

“Leave? No, not immediately. Eventually, though.”

“This was before ten?”

“Yes. Now please tell me what he’s done and how I can be of assistance.”

“It appears that Mr. Meyer committed suicide last night in his apartment. His landlord found him this morning when he came to fix the drain in his bathtub.”

“What?” I’d heard the words, but my brain couldn’t make sense of them. Beside me, Juliet made a surprised gasping sound.

“His workplace had you were listed as his emergency contact person. Do you know if he has any family?”

I took a couple deep breaths, trying to stop everything from moving so fast. “Um, he has a former step sister, they rarely speak. Would you like me to call her?”

“No, we’ll take care of that if you’ll provide her name.”

“Sure. Her name is Maggie—Margaret—Thurman. How? How did he die?”

“Slit his wrists in the bathtub.”

“So you found him in a pool of blood?” The image wafting through my imagination was almost too much.

“No, most of it went down the drain. Are you okay, Ms. Martin?”

I clutched the edge of the table, willing myself to calm down, willing my heart to stop racing. Willing my mind to stop telling me that I should have done more, should have helped him. “I kicked him out of my show. . . .”

“You couldn’t have known.” His words were kind, but I could see the judgment in his eyes—and I deserved it.

“Olivia, it’s not your fault,” Juliet said as she gave me a teary hug.

“I have one more favor to ask, Ms. Martin.”

“Yes?”

“Whenever you’re ready, we need someone to make a positive ID of the body.”

“Okay,” I said, standing. Surprisingly, my legs weren’t wobbly at all. I followed the detective to the morgue, calmness prevailing. The world had stopped spinning and it was very still. Juliet stayed by my side the entire time, occasionally sniffing. I didn’t allow myself to think about anything other than what I needed to do. The body looked like a wax image, and when they pulled back the sheet, I was surprised to see Christopher’s face. I guess part of me hadn’t processed it. Hadn’t believed it. Juliet didn’t look instead she held onto my arm waiting for me to react.

I nodded at the detective that it was him. He walked us out, asking if he could contact me if there were further questions. I gave him my cell phone number, and he gave me his card.

Juliet and I drove home in silence, which made everything seem dream-like. Neither of us could find the words, but mutual feelings of guilt hung heavily in the air between us.

We sat in her parked car, neither of us moving from our seats. “It really wasn’t your fault, Olivia,” Juliet said, repeating her sentiments from the police station.

“I know.”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“
I know
.”

“Are you okay?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. I opened the door and got out of the car. Juliet followed me to the elevator. Again we rode in silence. When I opened my door, she filed in behind me.

“I’m okay, Juliet.”

“I’ll stay with you anyway.”

“I’d rather be alone, I think. You’re next door. I’ll beat on the wall if I need you.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving you alone tonight.”

“I don’t want to talk about any of this.”

“Fine, but you’re not going to be alone. Neither of us are.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue. I knew she was right—now was not the time to be alone. I nodded and gave her the only smile I could manage.

“Come with me to my place. I want to get some stuff, then we can come back over.”

I followed Jules to her apartment and sulked in the doorway while she went into her bedroom to grab a bag. Everywhere I looked, my eyes were attacked by bright, bold colors. Everything about her apartment was vibrant and energetic—and normally I loved it, but tonight it was too much. I sought reprieve from the onslaught of Urban Outfitters and Crate and Barrel cheeriness in the snapshots Jules had hung everywhere—us in every phase of life, from junior high with our brightly colored jean shorts and matching shirts, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, to high school dance divas with sunglasses and big hair—basically her bookshelf was a scrapbook of our lives. Then my eyes rested on a small black and white photo in an expensive frame, set apart from all the pictures that chronicled our antics: Jules’ mom.

I sighed heavily.

While we were in college, Juliet had to institutionalize her mother because of a suicide attempt. A couple years later her mother succeeded where she had previously failed. It occurred to me that Christopher’s suicide was probably dragging up a lot of memories for her. She might need me to be with her more than she was worried about my well-being. And if Jules needed me, of course I’d be there for her.

She came out of her bedroom dressed in pajamas, her face freshly washed. She had a handful of DVDs with her, and she went into the kitchen and grabbed a couple bags of popcorn.

I had moved across the room to study a different picture and she came over to see which one I was looking at.

“Oh, I remember that night all right.” She laughed, taking in the details—her, me, and a few other girls from our dorm floor our freshman year of college.

I smiled at the memory. “Yes. We’d just watched the MTV movie awards and got inspired to mimic the hair styles.”

“Yours was Gwen Stefani.”

“I’m not sure what we were trying to do with yours. It’s a little Flock of Seagulls.” Another girl, Beth, had a faux-hawk and Kathy had dreadlocks. We all wore serious faces and made mock gang signs.

“Have you talked to Beth or Kathy lately?” Jules asked, her smile faltering a bit.

“No. I’m so bad at keeping in touch. Have you?”

“Yeah, Beth is expecting and Kathy’s oldest is starting school next year.”

“God, that makes me feel old.”

“I know, but I can’t imagine my life like that. I can’t imagine having kids, or that sort of responsibility. I can’t imagine growing old.”

“Me either.” I moved towards the door, just ready to go home. “Have you talked to the reporter again?”

“No. He called and left a message, but I haven’t called him back.”

“Are you going to?”

“I don’t know … I think so. He wasn’t my type, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe I should be looking for a guy who’s different from the ones I normally date.”

I nodded. She was right. She should branch out—I never cared much for any of her old boyfriends. Juliet finally moved away from the old photographs.

“Have you seen the guy from the bar, was it Holden, again?”

“Um, I had another dream about him—does that count?” I couldn’t decide if I should tell her about him coming to Mom’s house.
God that seemed like years ago.

“You mentioned that earlier. What happened in this one?”

“Nothing really. It was pretty much the same as the first one, minus the town and the red man.”

“You have such strange dreams.”

“You’re telling me.”

Juliet got sidetracked by her DVD shelf, “How about
When a Stranger Calls
? We used to love that movie.”

 “No, anyone but that one. After last night, I don’t think I can handle it.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Damn.

Juliet raised her eyebrows. “What
about
last night? What have you not told me?”

“Oh, nothing really—I just freaked myself out a bit before I went to sleep.”

“Uh huh, keep talking.” Juliet made an impatient motioning sign with her hand.

“I was looking through my pictures and saw a hand on the ledge outside of my window in one of the pictures.”

“What? Liv, we’re on the ninth floor!”

I shrugged. “It was there. I don’t know what it was. It doesn’t look like a double exposure, but there was most definitely a hand. Then I went to the window to check it out and saw a face.”

“A what?”

“A face, but when I looked back it was gone.”

Juliet’s eyes darted around the room, and she looked completely freaked out, though she was trying to hide it. “It could have been your reflection. Or an owl.”

“Possibly. I figured I imagined it.”

“I think we’ll stay in my apartment tonight. A night away won’t hurt you.”

I laughed. “Are you seriously scared? That’s silly. And like you said, it’s impossible. All we have to do is Scooby Doo this mystery, and I’m sure we’ll figure it all out.”

 “Right—and you can work on that tomorrow. Tonight we’re staying here with the curtains closed,” she declared, shuddering.

“Fine. I’ll get my clothes. I’ll be right back.”

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not leaving me,” she followed me out of her apartment and into mine.

I quickly changed and got what I needed for the night. Jules barely moved out of the doorway—obviously still spooked. We went back to her apartment and made popcorn for our eighties movie night. We started with “Pretty in Pink,” followed by “The Breakfast Club,” and rounded it off with “Say Anything.”

By the time the last movie was over, neither of us could keep our eyes open. I went to the guest bedroom, though it seemed silly to not be sleeping in my own bed when it was only a hundred feet away from me. Tired though I was, I couldn’t fall asleep. When I closed my eyes, I pictured Christopher with his wrists sliced open and blood pumping out. We’d done such a good job distracting ourselves tonight, but now alone in the dark it was all I could think about.

 Eventually, I gave up, got out of bed, and went prowling for a book to read. Juliet didn’t have a huge selection, but what she had was good. I selected
Jane Eyre
and read it cover to cover by the time Jules woke up. We had a quiet breakfast. She called in sick to work, I cancelled my appointments, and we went shopping. We were willing to do anything to not think about Christopher and how neither of us showed him compassion.

We went to Plaza Frontenac and the Galleria and looked at clothes, shoes, home accessories, anything they had. We both made a few purchases and had a nice lunch at PF Chang’s, followed by a movie. It was a nice relaxing day, but I was dead tired. I needed a good night’s sleep; I was beginning to feel like a zombie. We had dinner at Juliet’s apartment and watched yet another movie—“St. Elmo’s Fire
”
extending our eighties theme. My eyes were heavy and kept closing.