Uncorked (38 page)

“Are you telling me that someone
intentionally put us in danger?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling
you.”

When Chella told the officer
about the events of the last few months, the emails, the phone calls, and the
explosions, the accident scene turned into a crime scene. Soon after calling
Detective Carter, he arrived on the scene.

Chella was so
worried about Mitch and Emily.
She knew she bore some responsibility for what had happened to that child. If
Mitch knew Chella was being threatened again, he would have never allowed his
daughter to visit him in San Diego. Before the police went to the hospital to
question him, she knew she’d have to tell him. She did not want him hearing
about it for the first time from them.

An hour later when she walked
into the hospital, she found Mitch alone in the waiting room, raking his hands
through his hair. He stood and hugged her.

“How’s Emily?”

“She has a severe concussion and
her hand broke in several places. She’s still unconscious. That might mean it’s
more serious.”

“Oh my God.”

“They’re doing an MRI now. The
doctors will be able to tell me more after.”

“Does Charlotte know?”

“She’s driving down tonight.
There aren’t any more flights.”

“Mitch, there’s something that I
have to tell you. Sit down.”

Mitch lowered himself into a
chair.

“I feel horrible this happened to
Emily…”

“What is it?” he asked, his brow
sharp, serious.

“Someone cut the brake line on
the vehicle.”

“Are you telling me that someone
intentionally put my child’s life in danger?”

“Yes, but I’m sure it was meant
for me. The threats started again about a month ago. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell
you sooner.”

He stood and paced. “Chella, why
would you keep this sort of thing from me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to
worry about me. You were dealing with your father and his illness then his
death, and I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Overwhelm me? Chella, do you
realize if I knew this, I would have never brought Emily here?”

He glared at her. His eyes burned
with rage.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“My daughter is in the emergency
room right now fighting for her life because you didn’t want to overwhelm me?”

She closed her eyes as she
listened to his words, painfully aware that he was right about this.

“If I knew she was coming, I
would have stopped you. I never would have allowed you to let her come here. It
was never my intention for this to happen.”

“You know, for the first time I
feel like you’re a liability. How do you expect me to keep my family safe if you
keep me in the dark about this sort of thing?”

“You were going through a rough
time, and I didn’t want to put you under any more stress, so I just handled it
myself.”

“Yeah, well, great job handling
this one,” he shouted.

“I love that little girl, Mitch.
It breaks my heart that this has happened to her.”

“You tell me to trust you, and
when I do, you lie to me. Chella, I’m sorry but I’m not willing to risk my
daughter’s life because you can’t be honest with me.”

“I thought I was protecting you.”

“I guess you were right all
along. You are a liability.”

She tried to reach out and touch
him, but he pulled away.

“My daughter will always be
number one. It’s over between us.”

“I never meant to hurt you, or
her. Please, let me try to fix this. We can work through this. We love each
other.”

“I may love you, but I love my
daughter more. Leave, before I say something I’ll regret. If she doesn’t make
it out of this…” He couldn’t finish. His words disintegrated on his tongue.

Chella never thought it was
possible to feel so heartbroken. In a matter of minutes, she had lost the man
she loved, as well as his daughter, whom she had grown to love as her own. She
had never seen Mitch that angry—not even when he spoke to his father—and
because of her bad judgment, he was beyond furious.

When she walked into her room,
Emily’s suitcase was still on her bed along with some of Mitch’s things. She
thought the guilt she felt when her parents died was bad. This was worse. An
innocent five-year-old, caught up in her drama. This was exactly what she had
been afraid of months ago. This was exactly why she was afraid to get involved
with Mitch. This was why she seriously questioned if she should be with him
when she found out he had a daughter. Now her fears were realized.

Whoever did this had followed
them. They would have known a child was in the vehicle, but it hadn’t stopped
them. Mitch’s voice rang in her head over and over. He had been right about so
many things. She wanted to call him to see if there was any news, but she
didn’t want to upset him any further. Not knowing what was going on killed her.
She paced around, looking at nothing for minutes at a time, gazing at a framed
picture of Emily, Mitch and her that day in Morro Bay. It scared her when she
realized they might no longer be part of her life. She hoped and prayed that it
was Mitch’s anger talking. She prayed Emily would be fine, and she and Mitch
would talk and work it all out, but she knew that might be wishful thinking. At
three in the morning, she could hold back no longer. She sent Mitch a text
message asking about Emily.

He never responded.

Since she could not sleep, she
decided to go to the gym on the first floor of her building. After a two-hour
workout, she returned upstairs, showered, and climbed into bed to watch TV. She
dozed off.

Her beeping phone awoke her, a
text message from Mitch.

Mitch
Mariani

Friday
November 25, 2011

5:55AM

Emily is
fine. I’ll be coming by later to pick up our things.

If you
could have them ready and left with your concierge, I’d be grateful.

He was still very angry with her,
so angry he didn’t want to see her, but she did as he requested and left their
things with the concierge. She crawled back in bed and fell asleep, but only
for a couple of hours. She decided to check her email and get some work done.
She needed to preoccupy her mind.

She booted her laptop. When it
finally came on, the home screen image shocked her.

A picture of her lying on the
patio sofa, asleep, nude.

She folded her arms across her
body, feeling completely violated. Someone had been in her condo, in her
personal space. Someone had been on her computer. Someone had put hands on her
body and God alone knew what else. She realized why she had been knocked out
the day before—she had been drugged.

Falling onto her couch, she
bawled. She didn’t know what to do or who to call. She wondered if this person
had been through her things or sat on her couch. Everything around her felt
dirty, and all she could think to do was to tear away her clothes, sit on her
shower floor and cry.

Two hours later, she called Kacy,
Craig and Detective Carter. He arrived first with six uniformed officers.

Chella had never felt so
humiliated in her life. It took everything within her to open her laptop
screen, and to show them with she found. She felt like she was going insane.
This person was determined to torture her and hurt the people she cared about.
When she had calmed down a bit, the police questioned her about what happened
two nights earlier.

A female officer from the
cyber-crimes unit of the SDPD worked on her computer. Chella wondered who took
the pictures. Were there anymore? What did they intend to do with the pictures?
Would they publicize them? The thought overwhelmed her again. Moments later,
some of the very questions she had were answered when the female officer called
Detective Carter to the computer.

There were hundreds of pictures
of her, some clearly showing her face. Some of the body positions were crude,
others risqué, and some she was sure they took to amuse themselves.

She wanted the ground to open up
and swallow her. She excused herself to her bedroom. The last time she moved,
she promised herself she’d stop running. But everywhere she turned was a
reminder she had been violated in that space.

Someone knocked on the door.

Chella opened it a crack. A woman
in her late forties to early fifties stood on the other side.

“Hi Chella, I’m Dr. Torres. I
work closely with that SDPD. Can I come in?”

Chella hesitated, then eventually
said, “Sure, come in,” opening the door to let her enter.

At first Chella thought she might
have been a psychiatrist, but she had an aluminum briefcase in her hand.

“I know this is difficult, but
I’m here to help you the best way I can.”

“Sure. Tell me what you need.”

“We can start with a urine
sample.” The doctor handed her a specimen cup.

 Chella provided a sample.

“Chella, the morning after, did
you feel like you had sex? Or do you have any vague images in your mind of you
having sex?”

“No.”

“Would you like me to examine
you?”

“I guess that’s what I need to do
to know for sure, right?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“I took a really long shower a
while ago.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll work
with what we have. This happened two days ago, correct?”

“I guess. A day and a half to two
days…”

“I’ll need you to remove your
clothes.”

As the doctor examined her,
Chella’s chest tightened and sadness overcame her once more.

When she had completed the exam,
the doctor smiled and said, “I think it’s safe to say you were not raped, but
you were definitely drugged.”

“How can you tell so quickly?”

Holding up colored paper strips
in her hand, she replied, “This is like litmus paper. Once it comes into
contact with the drug, it changes color.”

“Thank you for doing this.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll take this
to the lab for further testing.”

“I just remembered—the glass of
wine I drank from might still be on the patio. And there was a little wine left
in the bottle in the refrigerator.”

“I’ll be sure to let Detective
Carter know. Ms. Noon, I’m sure you’re feeling violated. Please feel free to
contact this doctor if you wish.” She handed Chella a business card.

“Thank you.” Chella replied.
“There’s a bathroom next to the foyer door if you’d like to wash your hands.”
She escorted the doctor to the living room.

“Ms. Noon, who else has a key to
this place?” asked Detective Carter.

“Just Mitch.”

“Do you know if he still has
them?”

“Yes. When he couldn’t reach me
yesterday, he came in with his key. He’s the one who woke me.”

“Do you leave an extra copy of
the key anywhere? Your concierge, maybe?”

“No, but for Mitch’s birthday
party I did. They let Jade in here, but I got the key back that very night.”

“Someone could have easily stolen
the key, made a copy and return it undetected or made an impression of the key
within seconds. Whoever got in here had a key. There are no signs of forced
entry. I’d change the locks—today.”

“I’m not staying here another
day.”

“Chella, where is Mitch?” Kacy
asked.

“We were involved in a car crash
last night. Emily was injured. I assume he’s with her at the hospital.”

“Ms. Noon, we’re done here for
now. We swept the place and didn’t find any bugs or anything suspicious. Your
computer has been thoroughly checked for any spyware software. I’ll be in touch
after I review the surveillance cameras from this building.”

“Thanks, Detective.”

“Darling, I’d like you to come
stay with Maggie and me,” said Craig. “You shouldn’t be alone at a time like
this.”

“I really appreciate it. No
offense, but I need to be alone. I can’t handle being around people much
longer.”

“Chella, he’s right.” Kacy said.

“I love you two, but I need to
get out of this condo. There are ugly reminders everywhere I turn.”

“Chella, I insist you stay with
me. If you don’t want to see us that’s fine. You can have the pool house all to
yourself.”

“Only for a few days until I
decide what to do next. Maybe I need to take a leave of absence from work. If
those pictures get out, it will negatively affect the company.”

“Let’s cross that bridge when we
get to it. Come on. We’ll help you pack your things and get you out of here.”

Minutes after the
air ambulance landed in L.A.,
Emily was taken to the children’s hospital where she would start her recovery
process. Mitch did not want to take the chance and leave her in San Diego. Who
knew what this mad person was capable of?