Leave Me Love (5 page)

I'D BEEN DREAMING
of Ash, a wonderful dream with waterfalls and monkeys and a hammock, when my roommate slammed the door and startled me awake, heart pounding from an adrenaline rush. "What the fuck, Bridgette?"

She'd been gone all weekend. She looked tired, with bags under her eyes and her hair in an oily ponytail, like she hadn't washed it in days.

I leaned up. "Where have you been?"

She grabbed a change of clothes and headed to the bathroom. "Places. I've been places."

"Brig, you promised the doctor you would keep an eye on me. Concussion, remember?"

Her attitude drained away and she sat next to me, a half-smile on her face. "I'm sorry, Catelyn. I really am. I was just freaking out after everything that happened. We were all worried sick, and I thought you were going to die and I just… I just blew up. It won't happen again." She reached for her bag and pulled out bottles of vodka. "I brought apologies. How about a girls' night?" She looked at the sun streaming through the window. "Err, day. Girls' day."

I checked the time. It was still early, which meant Ash was probably asleep, lucky dog. I almost protested, wanting to check with him about our next date, but I saw her eyes, how much she wanted this, and I relented. "Sure. That sounds fun."

"Awesome!" She threw her arms around me and hugged hard.

"Damn, Brig, you smell like cigarettes and old wine."

She sniffed her armpits and scowled. "Yeah, I need a shower. Be right back." She stopped, staring at her bag, and pulled something out. "I almost forgot. I saw Ash on the way here. He asked if I could give this to you. He was heading over to see Jon."

I took my jacket from her hands. I must have left it at his house, but why didn't he bring it to me himself? "Thanks."

"Okay, give me a few minutes, and we'll start our screwdriver and sappy movie marathon."

I tried to fall back asleep while she showered, but my brain was already too awake. Fortunately, Brig took a fast shower.

She started Netflix and found an appropriately sappy movie, pouring us drinks that I only sipped at for fear of becoming drunk off my ass by noon. We'd watched three movies and were on a marathon-watching-frenzy of
Sex and the City
, the beams of sun through our dorm window turning to moonbeams, when I finally found the courage to hint at what I wanted to ask. "Brig, if there was something serious going on, you'd tell me, right?"

Her eyes widened as she looked at me. "Of course. What do you mean?"

I didn't want to accuse her of anything, didn't want to imagine her and Ash as anything but friends, didn't want her to think I didn't trust her. "Just, you know, we're best friends, right? So you'd tell me if something was weighing on you, right?"

A tear slid down her cheek. "Of course." Her words were slurred.

I looked at the vodka bottle and realized she'd had a lot to drink.

"Hey Brig, maybe it's time to call it a night and get some rest. We have class tomorrow, you know?"

She dropped her head onto my shoulder, the closing credits playing on the latest
Sex and the City
episode. "You're so lucky, Catelyn."

"How's that?" I couldn't imagine why she'd think I was lucky, given our disparate lives.

"Because, you have Ash. Sexy, rich, bad-boy-in-a-good-way Ash." She closed her eyes and my pulse raced as she continued. "I never told you, but I had the biggest crush on him for the longest time."

SEEING BRIDGETTE'S HANGOVER
the next morning, I patted myself on the back for only sipping my drink, even though it meant I'd been painfully sober for her late-night confession.

My phone rang as I left my dorm, bag packed full with wordy law books. "Hello?"

"Hi, sweetheart."

"Ash, hi!" His voice made my heart happy. "I missed you yesterday."

"Me too. How about I make it up to you tonight? Dinner, romance, maybe some kissing?"

"I'd love to. But only if I can bring my books. I have to study or I'll never get caught up."

He sighed dramatically. "Fine, but I reserve the right to distract you at every opportunity."

"Sounds fair."

The campus smelled like cold and rain and wet trees and I loved it. I loved seeing familiar faces rush to class, texting and talking on their cell phones, nodding to each other as they passed. I loved the tap of shoes on the pavement. It was familiar and comforting. It was home.

I avoided Harvard Square and Lucky's old kiosk, taking a different path to my class with Professor Cavin. On the way I called Detective Gray for an update.

"Hello." He sounded hung-over when he answered, and I wondered if he'd been partying last night too.

"It's Catelyn Travis. Did you find anything on the guy who left the note?"

"Yeah, about that…" I heard the clicking of a keyboard and someone shouting at someone else in the background. "We had a sketch made from the nurse's description. It looks like Ash."

My heart stopped. "Did you show her a photo of him?"

"Yeah. She said she wasn't sure."

I sighed. "Someone dressed up like him."

"Or maybe Ash is just messing with you. Rich boys can have a twisted sense of fun."

I started biting my nails, then stopped. "Did you ask her if she switched the note?"

He started chewing something, his lips smacking. "Yes. She didn't."

"She might be lying."

"Maybe."

"Get her to take a polygraph."

Smack.
"Catelyn, she's not being charged with anything. I'm not asking her any more questions."

I bowed my head, resigned. "What's next?"

"Let me know if you get another note. In the meanwhile, you should really consider seeing a—"

I hung up before he could finish. "Jackass."

A scrawny guy in front of me turned around, startled.

"Not you."

He shrugged and walked off, probably texting his friend about the crazy lady talking to herself.

My head spun as the anger built in me, and I leaned my forehead against a brick building for support, my eyes closed. I took deep breaths to calm down. My temper had never been this volatile, but ever since my mini-coma, I felt this rage living just on the surface of my skin, crawling over me like frenzied ants.

Once my heart rate returned to normal, I opened my eyes and recognized the wall I was leaning against. Curious, I ran my palm over the textured and worn bricks until I found the loose one. I pulled it out and stuck my hand in the small hole, smiling when my fingers grazed a piece of paper. Covering my actions with my body, I freed the paper—folded multiple times like a note passed around class—and replaced the brick. Brig and I had used the loose brick to pass secrets to each other through undergrad. Four years of jokes, laughs and tears, all held by this silent wall. I still had a box of the notes, but hadn't checked the brick since last year.

I opened the note and read Brig's fancy scrawl.

Hey,

What's the difference between a teacher and a train?

The teacher says, "Get that gum out of your mouth," whereas the train says, "Chew, chew."

I know, it's lame. But you try doing better.

I laughed at the random nature of it, grateful for the small memory between friends. I considered writing a reply. A joke I heard in—

"Catelyn!"

I forced a smile, shoving the note into my pocket, as Jon approached me. "Hi," I said.

"Hi. You're looking good." He smiled and for a moment I saw the resemblance between him and Ash.

"Thanks. Trying to recover. Oh, did you have a nice visit with Ash yesterday?"

He frowned. "No, why would I have seen my brother?"

"No reason. I just though he stopped by." Because that's what Bridgette had said.

"Nope. Can I walk you to your class?"

"Um, sure." We headed that way while he made small talk about classes, the weather, other stuff I wasn't paying any attention to.

"Hey, Jon, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Ash was arrested a while back, when he was a teenager. My mother was the DA on the case. Do you know much about it?"

His face closed down, just like that. All the warmth gone. "No, I don't. I gotta get to class."

"Okay, thanks for—"

He walked away before I could finish my sentence. I shook my head, forever perplexed by the moods of men.

I shrugged it off and took my seat in class, waving to Professor Cavin who smiled at me from his post in front of the projector.

Cavin began his lecture. His words started slow, but sped up; the writing on the overhead blurred until I couldn't make it out. The buzzing started in my head again, this time louder than before. Pain spiked behind my eyes. Someone called my name as everything went black.

THE DOCTOR WITH
the bushy black eyebrows and thin lips stared down at his clipboard. "We're scheduling you for an MRI. This is likely a result of brain swelling from the concussion. I'm prescribing a medication that should help, but you need to be very careful and get a lot of rest this week while we run some tests." He looked up at me, his eyebrows coming together like a caterpillar over his eyes. "I'd prefer to keep you overnight for observation."

"I know," I said, "but I'd rather sleep in my own bed. I don't sleep very well in hospitals."

He nodded sharply, tore off a prescription and handed it to me. "The nurse will be in with your discharge papers and instructions. You can get dressed."

When he left, I slipped off the gown and put my own clothes on while Brig checked out the medical supplies in the drawers.

"You're such a snoop," I said.

"It's my job." She glanced up from her rummaging. "How are you feeling, for real? You scared the crap out of me."

"I'm feeling fine right now."

My phone buzzed again and I checked it. Ash. Again. I had to call him back and let him know I was okay.

"My parents are expecting us this weekend," Bridgette said. "I'll make sure it's a relaxing evening. No major parties."

I shook my head. "Definitely not, or I won't go."

"Agreed. We'll just rest, eat a lot of yummy food and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist for a few days."

"That actually sounds wonderful," I said, meaning it. "But Ash might come by. He wanted to spend time with me this weekend."

She smiled. "I can't get over you having a boyfriend. It's crazy!"

The nurse came in and handed me a stack of papers with a lot of scary warnings, and then we were free to leave.

"God, Brig, these hospital visits are going to break me. Now they want an MRI. How much do you think those run?"

She shrugged in a way only the rich can. "You have insurance through school, don't you?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't cover everything."

She linked her arm through mine. "I'm sure it'll be okay."

Right.
I rolled my eyes but said nothing.

Ash called Cat that night, and once again paid a lot of money to have a conversation with his girlfriend. I ended my shift early; the doctor thought my late nights had contributed to my blackout.

The new medication made me loopy that week and school and studying suffered. I did get a lot of rest and started feeling better, to the point where I almost canceled my MRI, but Ash insisted I have it done and took me to the appointment. It seemed almost like a date, especially when we fooled around while I was in my hospital gown.

By Friday I was ready to leave town and head to Brig's house. It had been a few weeks since something truly awful had happened, and with no word from the killer I'd started to let my guard down.

A laziness I would soon come to regret.

BRIDGETTE AND I
didn't talk much during the thirty-minute drive to Dover, which suited me just fine. My head hurt, and I didn't want to have to carry on a conversation, particularly one that would likely lead to fighting, since she was determined I quit my job and I was equally determined to make my own way.

Instead, I texted Ash, smiling as he recounted his own day and asked about mine.

The snow had almost melted away, but you could still see the cold in the air, our breath turning to white smoke before us as we carried our overnight bags into the mansion. Mrs. Beaumont greeted us both with quick hugs and cheek kisses. "Oh Catelyn, we've been worried sick about you."

"I'm okay, Mrs. Beaumont. Thanks for letting us stay for the weekend."

She flipped her hand dismissively. "Any time, dear. Any time. Our house is your house." She fidgeted with a string of pearls around her neck as her eyes landed on my new necklace. "Oh my goodness, where on earth did you get that?"

I looked down at the diamond heart. "Ash."

She raised an eyebrow. "I had no idea you two were so serious. That piece is worth a small fortune. It looks lovely on you." Her eyes darted around in a nervousness I'd never seen in her before. "Let's get you girls settled. Your father is in his study," she said to Bridgette. "We don't want to disturb him. He's been in a mood."

As if on cue, Mr. Beaumont stomped out, a frown on his face. "It's too late for that. You three are like cackling hens chattering about nonsense. Please keep it down, I have work to do."

He looked at me, his eyes unreadable. "Good to see you, Catelyn." Making eye contact with his daughter, he scowled. "You two try to stay out of trouble, will you? The Beaumont name has enough drama for a lifetime."

Mrs. Beaumont tried to apologize but Brig was already dragging me upstairs. "God! My dad just gets worse with age. I think he and Mom need a weekend away. A good lay would do them both good."

"I thought most kids didn't like imagining their parents having sex." I couldn't remember what I imagined at fifteen.

She shrugged and tossed a pale blond strand of hair over her shoulder. "They're humans. They have needs. I mean, I don't want to see it or anything, but I get that they need to get it on now and then. My dad's been spending more and more time in his office lately. I think Mom's feeling neglected."

"That sucks," I said, lacking any better response.

I went to the guest room and flopped on the bed with a novel, not even bothering to unpack my bag, instead shoving it under the bed.

I didn't get far in the book, and honestly couldn't remember what I'd been reading, when Brig came in and sat down next to me. "How's your head?"

"Fine."

"Good. Look, Catelyn…” She paused, then cleared her throat and plunged ahead. “I know you're trying to be independent and all, but you have a rich boyfriend."
And queue the arguing.
"You can't keep doing your phone job. It's gross. Besides, it's not fair to Ash, even you have to admit that." She said this like a teacher schooling a young child who's been naughty.

My temper flared behind my eyes, literally making me see red. "You seem awfully concerned about
my
boyfriend, Brig. Why is that?"

She stood and faced me, small fists on hips. "What is
with
you? It's like you're a different person since… everything."

"Maybe I
am
a different person, have you considered that? Maybe being kidnapped and tortured changes someone."

She rolled her eyes.
Rolled her fucking eyes!
"You were barely tortured. Ash saved you, and you repay him by continuing with a job that is basically cheating on him."

I pulled my bag out from under the bed and reached in for the manila envelope I'd brought. "Let's talking about cheating, shall we?" I shoved the pictures into her hands. "Care to explain why you're cozying up to
my
boyfriend at his fucking house?"

Her face went pale as she looked at the photos, and her lower lip trembled. "It's not what it looks like, Catelyn." Then she looked up, her face defiant again. "Where did you get these?"

"Doesn't matter where I got them. I see you throwing yourself at a man you admitted having a crush on. Is there anything you want to tell me?" I was shouting now, completely out of control, and I couldn't stop this feeling that I was about to explode.

Mrs. Beaumont pushed open our door, her face etched with worry. "Girls, Mr. Beaumont left for the office, said it was too loud for him to focus. I'm heading out for a few hours. Are you two okay?"

I avoided eye contact, hiding my enraged face, but Brig smiled, always able to put on a mask when needed. "Yes, Mom, go have fun. We'll be fine."

Mrs. Beaumont hovered there a moment, her handbag clutched to her side like a shield against our angry words, then nodded and left the room. "The house is empty, so lock up if you leave," she said from the hallway.

I sunk to the bed, drained from the fighting, from all these unwanted emotions surging through me like poison. Before I could say anything to Brig, before I could figure out what I wanted to say or should say, my phone rang.

I listened to the man on the other end, nodding as he spoke. "Okay, I'll be right there." I hung up, staring at Bridgette. "I have to go. The impound lot called about the Bruiser. I have to go sign some paperwork. Can I borrow your car?"

She pulled the keys from her pocket and tossed them at me a little too aggressively. I didn't bother thanking her, just stormed out of the house, slamming the door—which would have felt more gratifying if the door had slammed properly, but it was heavy and big and seemed weighted against me, so it lacked the proper crash-bang of a good slam. I felt stuffed full of fireworks. I wanted to punch something.

Instead, I took to the slick roads, turning up the music until I couldn't hear my own thoughts anymore.

I arrived at the impound lot just before they closed and introduced myself to the twenty-something hippie-looking guy working the front desk. "Hi, I just got a call to come here and sign some papers about my car? Catelyn Travis?"

He typed something into a computer, his grease-stained hands leaving trace marks on the plastic-covered keyboard. "Um, hmm, yeah you already signed for this. No one from here called you today."

I checked my phone and showed him the incoming call. "That's your number, right?"

He scratched his head. "Yeah, no, that ain’t us. Sorry. Your car's already been handled."

"Are you sure? Why would someone call me pretending to be you?"

"Dunno."

"Can I talk to your supervisor?" I asked, my stomach clenching into a pit.

"Um, hm, not really, you know? Because, like, I'm all alone here today."

"Right. Okay, thanks." I turned and got into Brig's car, pressing dial on my phone to see where this number lead. All I got was a disconnect message and more questions than answers.

My hands shook, and I started the ignition and pulled out of the gravel parking lot and onto the street.

The entire way back to Bridgette's my mind turned the strange scenario over and over. Did the Midnight Murderer call me? Was it a mistake?

I had nothing concrete when I pulled up to the house.

I knew something was wrong immediately when I saw the front door open.

I ran through the house, calling for Bridgette.
Crunch.
I'd stepped on glass. A broken cup was scattered on the floor. The coffee table had been flipped over. An ottoman had been upturned. Red words—

My throat closed up.

Red words covered the wall.

I have your friend. Find what I need and you might see her alive again. Fail, and I'll send her back in pieces.