Two Thousand Miles (22 page)

I thanked Ray, handed him back his phone and asked him to continue to the address I’d given him. I had to go to Olivia’s and find out what the hell was going on.
I might have to puke before I get there
, I thought, but I had to go.

I asked Ray to stay in the car when we got to Olivia’s. He agreed, probably because he would be able to see me from the road. My nerves flared again and my stomach turned as I climbed the steps to the solid mahogany slabs that were Olivia’s front doors. I breathed out long and hard before ringing the doorbell.

Olivia’s dad, Rick, answered the door. I was relieved to see him, which also made me speechless. My mouth moved, but no sound exited.

“Kat?”
Rick questioned.

I nodded
, wanting to cry.

“Kat, oh, thank god,” he gasped. “We’ve been so worried about you.”

“Is she here?” I asked, tears welling in my eyes.

“She’ll be home in a few hours. Marion said you’d gone to Ojai for the summer, so
Liv went on the school trip.”
Ojai
?
Why the hell did she say I was in Ojai
? Marion must have had a reason for lying about my whereabouts, so I vaguely played along. “Um, yeah, with what was happening with my dad, we decided it would be better for me to get away for a while. I’ve been trying to reach Olivia since before I left. I haven’t heard back from her.”

“
Liv lost her phone someplace between here and France, so I suspended her service. She’s tried to reach you a few times and couldn’t get you either.”

“Really?
I thought she hated me or something.” Mr. Collier laughed. “Hated you? Never. She said the instant she got home, she was going to drive to Ojai and knock on every door until she found you.”

“Please tell her I can’t wait to see her. I’ve missed her so much.”

“Are you back at home?”

“No, I’m staying with Marion. I didn’t want to be alone in the house.”

“How is he doing?” Mr. Collier asked of my father.

“I’m not sure yet. He’s awake, but still a little out of it.”

“Wow, when did he wake up?”

“Last night sometime.
It’s why I came home.”

“Does he remember anything from that night?”

“No. His doctor said he may never remember.”

Mr. Collier gave me a pained grin. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate.”

“Thanks.”

“See you soon,” he said. I nodded and staggered my way down the steps to the car. Once inside, I asked Ray to take me around the corner to my own house.

When we arrived, I got out of the car and stood at the curb, taking in the house. It’d been so long since I’d seen it that it didn’t feel like mine anymore.

Marion had to have been keeping up the maintenance because the landscaping was perfect—not a weed in sight. The yuccas had bloomed, sporting their tall, white flowers on either side of the front porch. English Ivy trailed over the
bermed tiers strategically positioned around the yard, and flowering plants bursting with colorful. The grass was still a little glossy from the early morning watering the automatic sprinkler system had provided. It was the way I should have remembered my house. But what I saw were the dozens of flashing lights and police officers marking the scene with black and yellow tape and paramedics rushing my father out of the house toward the ambulance, dropping a pile of bloody gauze along the way. I closed my eyes and heard the sirens and shouting as clearly as I had that night. Tears wet my cheeks. I opened my eyes and wiped them away, along with the gruesome scene I’d been reliving in my head.

Unconsciously, I walked up the wide
, aggregate steps leading to the wrought iron and glass front door. The last time I’d been in the house was to pack for Slidell. I’d gone inside through a back door and used the staircase off the kitchen to get to my room. The crime scene people were still investigating and cleaning up, so I couldn’t use the main stairs, or the front door for that matter.

I leaned close to the glass in the front door and peeked inside the house. The blood and debris had been scrubbed from the beige travertine floors in the entry hall, just outside of my father’s office. The room
was meant for formal dining, but we never had formal functions at our house, so my dad converted it into a home office a couple years after Isobel left. The room had a beautiful stone fireplace with gas logs. The walls were mossy green and lined with walnut cabinetry. My father’s office was full of leather and trinkets he’d collected from his travels when he was younger. It was the only room in the house he’d changed. Everything else was pretty much the way Isobel had it when she lived in the house.

“Ms,” Ray said, startling me. I whipped around, a frightened look on my face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine!” I huffed. “I’m also eighteen and not in need of a babysitter,” I said, and walked around Ray, following the stairs down to the driveway. I punched in a code on the keypad next to the garage door that made it rise. I ducked under the door and pushed the button on the other side to quickly close it.

The top was down on my Mercedes. It was dusty from having sat for so long. My favorite pair of sunglasses lay on the passenger seat. I picked them up, blew the dust away, and put them on top of my head before going inside the house. I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget them when I went back to Marion’s—if I went back to Marion’s.

The house was eerily quiet. Not that there had ever been a lot of noise in my house before, I guess it was just strange being the only one there after what happened.

I went up to my room using the staircase off the kitchen, pushed the door open and looked around as if I was seeing it for the first time. Almost everything was pink or white. I wanted to laugh; it didn’t seem like me at all. I guess I’d forgotten how girly I’d been before going to Slidell.

I had a lot of beautiful, glossy, sparkly things in my room, but the one thing I was most excited to revisit was the view I’d missed so much. I opened the doors to the balcony and stepped outside, breathing deeply, taking in the scent of the salt and sunshine in the air,
and the sounds of the ocean swishing below. Watching it was hypnotizing. I lay down on my feather bed and stared out at the afternoon sky. It didn’t take long for Mason to creep into my thoughts, for his final words to me to twist my guts into knots. I missed him and wondered if he would even talk to me if I called him. Or what I would say if I did.

I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I was jolted from it by screaming. Olivia’s high pitched happy squeal sliced through the evening’s peaceful lullaby like Jack the Ripper on a murdering spree. Being awakened by such a sound jarred my soul.

Olivia leaped onto the bed and strangled me with a hug while I was still lying down.
“Oh my god, Kat! Your hair smells terrible,” she said, backing away. “What the hell?” She reached over me and switched on the lamp on my nightstand. “It’s brown,” she frowned. “Why is it brown?” 

“It’s great to see you, too,” I complained and sat up, putting my back to her.

“Don’t get pissy.” Olivia bounced off the bed and stood in front of me. “I’ve just been used to you being blond, like, forever, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I said nothing.

“Didn’t you miss me?” Olivia asked.

“Of course I missed you. I tried calling you a lot while I was gone.”

“My dad told me. I lost my phone. I’m still not sure how that happened.” Me either. Her phone was like an appendage. “My dad refused to send me a new one. He said I should be taking in Europe, not staring at a screen. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hid it from me before I left.”

“How was the trip?” I asked.

“Nice, but too long. I have so much to do before school starts.” Ugh. School. I didn’t want to think about it.

“So, how’s your dad?” Olivia asked.

“Awake, finally. He doesn’t remember anything though.”

“Maybe it’s for the best
,” Olivia shrugged.

“Maybe,” I muttered, unsure I believed that.

“Let’s go out tonight,” she chirped, excited.

“Aren’t you tired from your flight?”

“Nope, I popped a couple Benadryl and slept through most of it.” Olivia flipped the light switch on the wall and started digging through my closet. “I hate all of my clothes,” she griped. “When I got home, I went straight to my closet, and hated everything. What was I thinking when I bought some of that stuff?”

“Didn’t you shop in France?”

“Yes! But the stores are shipping everything to me. Ms. Whitlove said we could only bring one extra bag on the flight home. I know that cranky bitch didn’t buy
anything that wasn’t a necessity.” Ms. Whitlove was our French teacher, and I was sure that on her salary, she couldn’t afford to buy anything that wasn’t a necessity. “I can’t wait to show you what I got! Oooh, can I borrow this?” Olivia asked, holding up a black and turquoise strapless Prada dress. “Sure.” She took the dress from the velvet hanger, and then began scavenging through my jewelry. She picked a few pieces out. “These are mine; I’ll be back in thirty. Be ready,” she said and left.

I didn’t feel like going out, but I knew that tonight there would be no saying no to Olivia. I walked into my closet and looked around; it was sort of overwhelming. Although it was impeccably organized—I’d always kept my room straight, even when I was a kid—there was so much of everything. I’d forgotten how many pieces of clothing I had
; how many purses, belts and shoes. How much of it went unused. It felt like such a waste.

I didn’t feel like getting dressed up, so I put on a pair of white shorts and a navy and white tunic. I stepped into a pair of navy heels, but stepped right back out of them and opted for a pair of flat, white sandals instead. It had been a long while since I’d worn heels and I didn’t like how awkward I felt in them.

I went to my bathroom and pulled out the center drawer of my vanity. It was full of makeup. Many of the products hadn’t been opened yet. I tied my hair back and applied a little foundation, lip-gloss, a few strokes of blush and a tiny bit of mascara before leaving to meet Olivia.

Without thinking
, I ran down the front staircase, the way I had a thousand times before when I was on my way out, but I wasn’t ready to be in that part of the house, in the place where I had begged God, the police, and paramedics to save my father’s life, to not let him die on the floor and leave me an orphan.

S
tanding there, suddenly, facing it didn’t feel so hard. Maybe because my dad had survived, and the person responsible for shooting him was no longer a threat.

There were no doors going into my father’s office. When he’d made that old formal dining room his office, he’d left it open. I stepped off the travertine in the foyer onto the jewel toned multicolor oriental style carpet in his office and ran my hands over every piece of furniture I walked past. Leather, wood, and glass filled my hands. The room itself looked like a showpiece, staged with an open book on his desk with nothing else out of place. Nothing like the way I’d last seen it. I was sure Marion had taken great care in putting his misplaced paperwork and such back where it belonged. I still had no idea how his office had wound up such a mess that night. I guess because everyone there was more concerned with saving a man’s life than why his office looked like a tornado had swept through it.

Olivia’s horn blar
ed outside. I left the house through the front door and got into her custom painted, midnight blue convertible BMW. “Aye, aye, Cap’n,” she giggled and saluted.

“Okay?” I said,
hesitantly. I had no idea what the hell she meant.

“You look like you’re going sailing,” she gasped. I glanced down at my clothes and didn’t see a problem. “We’re going to a party, a nice one.”

“Like I knew where we were going,” I said.

“I’ll wait if you want to change,” Olivia said, applying her trademark bubblegum lip-gloss without a mirror.

“I don’t,” I said, curtly.

“Flats make your legs look short.” She sounded like a singer practicing scales. Her voice got higher with each word.

“Maybe, because they are short.”

“What’s with you?” Olivia asked
, before rubbing her lips together, making sure that both her top and bottom lip were amply covered with her favorite color.

“I’ve been away from home for two months, my father has been in a coma—” “So, how was Ojai?” Olivia interrupted. I wasn’t sure what I should say, play along with the Ojai
lie or tell her the truth. “Well,” she nudged, her marble blue eyes wide. “Boring,” I said. The lie rolled out of my mouth easily, but the way she’d been acting didn’t exactly made me want to open up to her about what’d I’d really been doing. At that point, I didn’t care if she found out I’d lied or not. I secured my sunglasses over my eyes and clicked my seatbelt into place. Olivia dropped her lip-gloss into the glitzy sliver clasp bag on the seat between her legs, snapped it shut and tossed it into the back seat before driving away without another word.