The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (148 page)

“You didn’t trust me,” he states flatly.

“You didn’t trust me, either,” I remind him.  “I’m not the only one keeping secrets.”

“No, you’re not.  But I never invited another woman up to my hotel room.  And I never even thought about allowing anyone else into my bed.”

Evan gets up, grabs his keys and walks out the door.  His words hurt me badly, as truthful and honest as they may be.  But seeing him walk away from me hurts a thousand times worse.

I
spend the majority of the day avoiding ... well ... everyone. 

I don’t know how people do it, how they live with themselves and carry on as if nothing has changed.  Everything has changed. 

The guilt is weighing heavily on me like a dark cloud.  It feels like I have a tattoo across my forehead that reads,
Liar, cheater, fraud
.  Evan has every right to be mad.  I may not have slept with David, but I was unfaithful.  I invited him into my bed.  He watched me undress.  He touched me.  I crossed the line.  I let it go too far.  I fucked up, royally.

The workout room is my perfect retreat.  I turn on the television and, for the first time ever, I violate Evan’s strict policy forbidding anyone to turn off ESPN.  Flipping through the channel guide, I settle on one of my favorite uplifting movies,
Pitch Perfect
.  It’s got a great soundtrack and the surround-sound speakers fill the room with music.

I can lose myself here for hours.  The side of the room facing the beach is wrapped in large windows, giving me a panoramic view of the ocean.  It’s beginning to snow and the water is eerily calm.  The slow and constant ebb and flow of the waves helps soothe my frayed nerves.  In no time at all, I realize my breathing has matched the roll of the tide.

The room is full of equipment.  Everywhere I look, I see ghostly images of Evan working out on each and every one of them.  I can picture him on the rowing machine, flexing his muscles as he moves gracefully forward and back, over and over again.  If I close my eyes, I can smell him, his uniquely masculine scent dripping with testosterone and virility. 

I need to run, even if running here on the treadmill literally gets me nowhere.  I discover that if I slow my pace just right, I can sing along with the Bellas as they perform on the screen.  I know the words to every song by heart, and there is no one here to judge me when I’m off-key. 

There was a time when I could barely string together a coherent sentence as I ran; now I’m singing an entire song, chorus and all.

It’s hard to focus on any one thing – the plot, the songs, or even the stats on the treadmill.  My eyes wander around the room. Sometimes I lose all traces of thought as I gaze out the wall of windows. 

I never bothered to look out any of the other windows on either side of the room.  There is no competing with the view of the ocean.  But I have a new reason to look out one window in particular; my new neighbors.  I have a birds-eye view of Derek’s house.  There are two cars parked in the driveway.  I recognize one as Derek’s and I surmise the owner of the small SUV is Shea.  It’s been parked there all day. 

I’m so glad he’s found someone to share his life with, but I can’t help but wonder if Shea will become a part of Evan’s life as well.  Solving the mystery of Kai’s parentage has been put on the back burner – indefinitely.

I think it’s time to change to the spinning bike.  The moment I climb onto the machine, it’s obvious its settings are primed for someone much larger.  My feet barely reach the pedals and the handlebars are entirely too high for me.  I hop off and begin to fumble with the adjustments, doing my best to estimate the proper height and distances.  Before getting back on, I pause the movie, grab my water bottle, and head downstairs for an icy-cold refill. 

Maddy alerts me that something or someone is here with very aggressive barking.  Her suspicions are confirmed when the front doorbell rings.  I peek cautiously out the front window and see a strange car sitting in my driveway. 

Even though it’s only five o’clock, it’s getting dark out.  I hesitate to answer the door when I’m home alone.  While I debate with myself, there’s a rather forceful knock on the door, followed by a deep male voice.  “Point Pleasant Police.”  The voice is a familiar one, and I recognize it as belonging to Officer Harper, who helped me last summer with my stalker.  But what is he doing here, and why isn’t he wearing a uniform?  There’s only one way to find out.

I quiet down Maddy’s barking, but keep her close by.  When I open the door, I am greeted by the familiar and friendly face of Officer Harper.  “It’s so very nice to see you again, Officer Harper.  What brings you out here tonight?”

He offers his hand for a friendly greeting.  “Miss Fletcher, always a pleasure.  It’s now Detective Harper.  Do you have a moment?”  His presence is anything but intimidating.  He has a wide smile, wavy hair in desperate need of a trim, and a prominent nose.  He’s only a few inches taller than I am and only slightly older than Evan, dressed in a leather jacket covering his dress shirt and dark Dockers.

He introduces his partner, Detective Guardino.  He, on the other hand, has a starkly different energy.  His face is round, with a scruffy beard and mustache that are most likely the result of several days gone by without shaving.  He’s dressed in a suit and tie, but none of it quite fits him.  His hair is thinning and there is no hint of kindness in his eyes.  He doesn’t need to say a word to be intimidating.

There’s no way I’m inviting these men into my home right now.  “I’d invite you in, but I’m on my way out.  Evan is expecting to meet me for dinner shortly.  I hope you don’t mind.” 

“We don’t want to keep you.  We just have a few questions for you,” Detective Harper explains.

Detective Guardino nods, and his eyes are trained on me as if he’s studying a puzzle.  “Miss Fletcher, can you tell us if you’re familiar with a man named David Jorgenson?” he blurts out.

My vision narrows and I feel as if the air has just been sucked out of my lungs.  I hold on tightly to the doorknob, trying to steady my wobbly knees, hoping I haven’t already given away too much.  “Yes, of course.  We dated in college.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Officer Harper asks.

“I don’t understand,” I tell him.  “What is this all about?”

Detective Harper hands me a business card.  “Can you stop down at the police station tomorrow to answer a few questions?”

“I don’t think so,” I tell him.  “David and I broke up a long time ago.  I can’t imagine what this could possibly have to do with me.”

It’s Detective Guardino who explains.  “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, really.”  He reaches into his pocket and removes a small leather-bound notebook and flips through the pages looking for something.  “Oh, yes.  Here it is.  It seems that Mr. Jorgenson disappeared from his hotel room in Indianapolis yesterday.  His room was ransacked and all his personal possessions were left behind.  They found his phone, and yours is one of the last numbers to appear in his call history.  We’re hoping you can tell us what he was doing there.”

I can feel the blood drain from my face.  Detective Guardino must have noticed, because he takes one look at me and smiles.  “I’m sure this must be a shock to hear.  Please call the station tomorrow and we’ll set something up for you.”

The two turn to leave, but before they get very far, Detective Harper turns and adds, “And please bring Mr. McGuire if you can.  We have a few questions for him as well.”

I close the door behind them, lock it tightly, and set the alarm.  The house is deathly silent and the rooms are filling with the darkness of night.  No one is here to help me.  I have never felt more alone. 

There are a few things I am certain of.  First, that Evan has the right to know what just happened without delay.  The police want to talk to him and I need to tell him immediately.

The second thing I know for sure is that even though I have no idea what’s happened to David, I cannot speak to the police without a lawyer present.  And Evan is the only one who knows how to contact our lawyer.

What makes matters worse is the fact that I haven’t spoken to Evan since he left early this morning. I seriously doubt he would answer the phone if I called.

I consider calling Adam.  Surely he could get Evan on the phone.  But then I remember my treacherous confession and reconsider.  Evan is probably not speaking to Adam either.

It might be cowardly, but I decide to stop wasting time and just send Evan a text.

Jette:  please come home.  The police were here.  Something happened yesterday.

Evan:  im on my way

I don’t know how much more I can take.  Another confrontation with Evan might just put me over the edge.  I feel like the world is crashing down around me and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.  I’m just a passenger, strapped in and dragged perilously along, constantly being thrown by violent bends and turns. 

I drag myself through the house so I can feed the dog and clean up from my workout while I wait for Evan to arrive. 

Every part of my body hurts.  My head aches and I’m bone-crushingly tired.  I take three nighttime painkillers that I find in my bathroom medicine cabinet.  All I want to do is sleep.  Maybe when I wake up, I’ll discover this was all a dream.  Evan will be in bed beside me, his legs tangled with mine and his breath caressing my cheek.

I grasp the sink and gaze into the mirror before me.  I hardly recognize the person staring back.  Tears trickle down my face as I stare at the gaunt, pink-eyed creature in the mirror. 

I strip off my clothes and step into the shower, letting the hot water wash away my salty tears.  It’s too damned much. I sink to the floor and surrender to the overwhelming emotions I can no longer contain, weeping huge chest-wrenching sobs, finally letting my tears flow unrestrained.  I bawl into my hands as the sound of the water cascading from the shower echoes off the walls. 

“Shhh,” Evan says as he steps into the shower with me, still dressed in a T-shirt and sweat pants.  “Please don’t cry,” he begs.  Kneeling in front of me, he pulls my hands away from my tearstained cheeks and cups my face in his hands.

I gaze at him, blinking away my tears.  “What are you doing here?”

“You told me to come home.”  He pulls me into his arms and holds me for the longest time as the water gushes over us.  He lets me cry into his chest. Occasionally he kisses my hair, but he doesn’t let go.  He just rocks me gently beneath the warm water.  What a sight the two of us must be; Evan fully dressed, sitting on the floor of the shower, holding his pathetically tearful and naked fiancée. 

I put my arms around him and weep into his neck.  Humming softly into my hair, he gently strokes my back. “I’m here,” he whispers, and that makes me cry harder and hug him tighter. We sit like that forever. Eventually, when I’m all cried out, Evan staggers to his feet, holding me, and wraps a thick white bath towel around me.

“Do you think you can dress yourself?” he asks as he stands with me in his arms, his clothes dripping wet and clinging tightly to him.

My head is still fuzzy, but I nod and mutter a barely coherent, “Yes.”

Evan strips off his clothes and tosses them into the shower.  I stand frozen in place as he opens drawers, gathering clean, dry clothes and placing them on our bed. 

By the time I stumble into the bedroom, Evan is fully dressed.  His hair is wet and tousled in every direction.  I pull on my clothes and stand there, staring him.  “We need to talk,” I tell him.

“Let’s go sit down and you can tell me what happened.”  Evan leads me into the living room.  He pours each of us a glass of white wine.  My body shivers as an icy chill runs down my spine.  I can’t seem to get warm or comfortable.  Evan responds by igniting the fireplace, bathing the room in a warm, soft glow.

He sits on the opposite end of the couch from me, depriving me of his touch and comfort.  But he’s here.  He came when I called and he held me when I needed him.  That will have to be enough for now.

I decide it’s best if I just cut right to the chase.  “Evan, I think we’re in trouble.  The police were here asking questions about David.  They want to interview us at the police station tomorrow.”

“Do you know why?” he asks.

“All I know is that David disappeared.  He’s missing, and my number was one of the last ones he called.  They want to know why he was in Indianapolis.”

“Juliette, think very carefully.  Did you tell the police anything at all?  Did you tell them anything about our situation?”

I don’t have to think.  “Absolutely not, Evan.  I’m done making bad decisions.  I’m not going to say or do anything until our attorney tells me I should.”

“Good.  I’m going to call Gavin Wolff, but before I do, I need to know everything.  Why do you think the police want to talk to you?  If the police read your texts, what would they find?”

“I only texted him twice.  Both times were to set up places and times to meet.  That’s not good, is it?”

“Probably not,” he agrees.  “And they told you they wanted to speak with me too?” he asks.

“They did.”  He can’t look at me.  It’s tearing me up inside.  “I don’t blame you for hating me.  I know how badly I fucked up, Evan.  I really do.  But I need you.”  I pull the blanket off the back of the couch and wrap it around myself.