Search for Contentment

by Marlene Bierworth

  Melanie whispered a thank you into the great beyond, having determined that she was now facing the end of her world as she knew it. She tucked the money into a pouch and tossed it in the bag before zipping it closed. Freedom from credit cards would provide the anonymity she required as a breathing-dead-person.

  She threw the bag over her shoulder, wheeled the case into the living room, grabbed her cell and charger, and called a taxi for the second time that day, instructing dispatch to have the driver meet her at the store.

  Melanie strolled into Chrissy’s bedroom and glanced around. Nothing appeared out of place, but she seldom had reason to loiter in there. They’d respected one another’s privacy. She did, however, notice a drawer half-open in an otherwise perfectly clean room. Curious, she walked over. Inside, in full view, was a Ziplock bag filled with a white powdered substance.

  Drugs? Surely not. Chrissy was a nurse.

  Should she leave it? Maybe the intruders had planted it there for some lack-of-character-reveal once Chrissy’s death hit the news.

  Melanie dropped her shoulder bag and stared at it, wondering what to do. Evidence – would she tamper with evidence? All of her police training screamed no. But Drew and his woman friend had a plan, and Melanie did not want the package to be held against Chrissy if they’d planted it. Who knew when Mel would get to go back to the apartment?

  She withdrew her camera, flashed a picture of the bag’s location, and hurried to the kitchen. Melanie grabbed a set of tongs from the utility drawer and rushed back. Without touching the merchandise, she lifted the plastic bag and dropped it into an empty make-up bag she found in the same drawer.

  Keeping the developing case from the police was out of the question now. Drew would have to figure his own way out of this predicament.

  Melanie closed the bedroom door behind her with a firm pull as if demons had chased her from its darkness. Her heart bled for both Chrissy and Drew. Whatever this scheme entailed, he was in the thick of it.

  When prayer entered her mind, Melanie’s shoulders sagged. She’d hadn’t darkened the doorway of a church since the staunch, main line church in Georgia was reflected in her rear-view mirror the day she left home – it had failed to offer the contentment she craved. The voice she heard now was not a formal, demanding meaningless actions, but a personal invitation to prayer, almost like a friend yearning to reconnect. She grabbed the summons eagerly and whispered a petition heavenward. Her heart needed healing before she could ever hope to reach the darkness in her brother’s soul.

  Melanie wondered what she’d tell Trevor Knight about his niece. He’d come all this way expecting to meet with Chrissy, and Melanie didn’t know how to proceed without spilling the entire can of beans and blowing her deceased-cover. It felt terrible to doubt everything and everyone that crossed her path, but caution might be the only factor keeping her alive. She’d continue to keep Trevor at arm’s length until he won her trust.

  Step two in this mess popped into her mind unexpectedly: she needed to allow Trevor to play the gallant gentleman she knew would surface during their encounter later in the day. His mansion would give her a place to hide while she investigated the case. She could play dumb, all upset about Chrissy’s disappearance. There was no play-acting necessary – she truly was upset about Chrissy’s disappearance.

  Melanie refused to follow Drew’s advice to disappear and allow him free rein, not after the lie about the man in the van and his part in ravaging her apartment. His condo was close to Knight estate, and she believed Georgia was at the root of Chrissy’s demise. Backing down from a case was not her norm, and this would not be any different. She’d make a statement with the police after her meeting with Trevor, and before she left the state, in the chance she went missing a second time.

  A quick search of the main rooms offered no clue as to why the intruders had invaded her privacy. Nothing appeared to be missing, so Melanie returned the key to its hiding place outdoors and locked the patio doors from the inside. She may need to sneak home again sometime in the future.

  In prayer, patience, and unconditional love, stand firm and watch for God’s miracles:

  Chapter 7

  Melanie ducked into the convenient store and passed Lorraine the money she’d borrowed. The store clerk was on the phone so she was not delayed with chatter. She smiled and mouthed a big, “thank you,” then left the building. The taxi pulled up and parked, and with her head low she hurried to secure her ride. She gave the driver the motel’s and settled into the backseat. What now? As much as she’d tried to remain firm in her dealings with Drew, he was in deep trouble. She hoped that family priorities were high on his character list but the immature young man had not proven that loyalty to be his strongest asset.

  Once Melanie crossed the neighboring town’s limits, the motel sign came into view. Why had Drew registered there instead of going to Langley? The town had at least three motels of much better quality than this dive. After gathering her bags from seat beside her, she paid the cabbie, swiped the card and hurried inside the dingy room. Should she stay there and wait for Drew? Part of her said no, leave him to fight his own battles, but curiosity kept her stationary, for at least one more night, if only to hear the excuse he’d offer for abandoning her to search her apartment.

  The clock on the night table showed six p.m.; about the same time, her stomach set up a hunger mutiny. Melanie sighed. She was apprehensive about meeting Trevor Knight for dinner but starving at the same time.

  After a quick shower, she rummaged through the wardrobe she’d thrown into the suitcase. A woman never knew what she might need, and she’d been taught to over-pack. That night, she’d have something descent to wear. She pulled the printed dress over her head, wriggle her arms into a light summer sweater, clipped the sides of her hair loosely, and let the rest tumble down her back. A pair of yellow sandals with spike heels completed the casual, yet distinct style.

  Melanie called for a cab. Three times in one day was more than she’d ridden on public transit her entire life. When it pulled up ten minutes later, it was the same driver.

  “Not too settled, are you?” he said in fun.

  “Busy day.” After closing the backdoor, she said. “Take me to the Inglis Hotel in Langley, please.”

  He chuckled as he started the meter. “Trying to decide which place has better accommodations?”

  “Hardly. There’s no comparison.”

  “Meeting some gent there, are you? Looking mighty spiffy tonight.”

  Spiffy? She cast a weak smile in his direction, one she hoped would tell him to mind his own business, and then focused her attention in a scribble pad she’d brought with her. The driver pulled into traffic and remained quiet for the rest of the trip.

  Melanie began to document the events of the last couple of days. Maybe if she viewed it in black and white, she might be able to make some order and sense of the mystery. Her musings began:

  Friday: Work, home, supper with Chrissy, Hallmark movie, 10:30 – time to prepare for bed. (Note to self: what happened to life-after-eleven that most single girls enjoyed?). Then came the unexpected knock on the door, when all things normal ended. I was the first to the door. Two men – one Asian and one hillbilly American – claiming they were friends of Chrissy’s, barged in. A quick yell for my roomie brought her head peeking out the half-closed bathroom door. Chrissy seemed surprised. She didn’t know them at all. When one grabbed her arm, I jumped on his back. (Note to self: stupid move). He pushed me off like a nuisance fly, and I crashed to floor. The stab of pain when my skull hit the casing flared my anger. I shook my head to clear the fog and tried to fight off the Asian. He was a karate-guy and overpowered me while the other poked a long needle into my arm. Strange, but all I could think about was dirty needles, infections, drugs – I’m dead. As I collapsed in a heap on the floor, the last thing I saw was Chrissy with her hand covering her mouth to stifle a scream, as a newly -entered third bad-guy held her secure.

  Melanie wracked
her brain. At the river, her abductors had implied they’d asked her questions, but she knew nothing, when in truth, they’d drugged her right from the start. Chrissy had definitely been the target. She scribbled that in her account and continued:

  When the bullies came up empty, the men tossed us into the trunk. (Note to self: never witnessed that last part. Just speculating). Woke up en-route: three men, one named John, Charlie is dead and I never heard the name of the other guy. The female in the second body bag, whom I assumed to be Chrissy, was also shot just before they dumped us in the river. (By some miracle, should I survive, note to self: return to church to ask the Almighty why He saved me that night). I escaped the weighted bag, cut the binds that held my hands, fought the currents, and navigated the woods. Found myself on the gravel road where Drew, of all people, rescued me. He took me to a cheap, run-down motel. There, I learned he arrived in town for my birthday (note to self: rather a stretch), and he drove up to the condo, as my car and a van left the parking lot. It was late – so much for the birthday party (but I suppose there is life after eleven p.m., somewhere). I consider his story a lie. Another hole in his story occurred later, when I saw him tussle with a man who arrived in a van. He denied this outright, but during our conversation, he asked me to trust him. I weakened my resolve, (as is my usual, stupid response to the messes he gets into), knowing that time, he was in deep. Then he mentioned the woman and it all fell into place - Drew does not have a good track record with women.

  Melanie looked up as the sign for Langley came into view. She’d best hurry. She wanted her recap to be fresh in her mind when she met with Trevor Knight and the police the next day.

  She scanned the document on her lap, and continued:

  The next day, I phoned the apartment, and someone actually answered – if you call breathing an answer. I decided to investigate on the sly, (remembering that I am supposed to be dead), and before I get there, who do I run into but Chrissy’s Uncle Trevor? He claimed his niece had smuggled a letter into a desk drawer during our brief visit last week while on holidays. I ditched him and hurried with my mission. From a hiding spot on the balcony, I see Drew and a woman nosing around inside. Later, after they’d left, I found the stash of drugs in Chrissy’s room. Was it hers, or had the intruders left it for some purpose of their own? I needed to find out. Common sense and training told me to go to the police to report this incident. I will not put it off any longer. I wonder what I will discover tonight at the Inglis Hotel when I meet Trevor Knight for supper?

  The words stared Melanie in the face, providing little hope. She didn’t know much at all, but what she did know shone an unfavorable light on her brother. When she reported it to the police, he’d surely become a prime suspect. It pained Melanie to be put in a situation to choose between her family and the law. She scolded herself at the indecision. It was typical, big-sister stupidity on her part. She’d hoped that moving to the next state would have spared her his ongoing drama, but obviously, it had not.

  The taxi stopped, and she noticed the driver staring at her. “We’re here.”

  Melanie fumbled in her bag and handed him a bill. “Keep the change.”

  She got out and stretched her legs. “Here we go,” she mumbled to herself as the uniformed doorman reached for the handle.

  With a wide smile that revealed his stark-white teeth, he said, “Good day, miss. Welcome to the Inglis Hotel.”

  Melanie returned the smile and went inside. Above a large entranceway and to the left of the door, she saw the sign for the diner – the best food in town – or so the establishment claimed.

  Trevor Knight was watching for her arrival, and hurried over. “You look lovely this evening, Miss Braxton.”

  Melanie grinned. “You mean as opposed to the track pants I wore earlier?” When he reached for her arm, she added, “I recall that we agreed to use first names last week.”

  “We did, Melanie. Thank you for coming.” His dark eyes flitted with something akin to stars twinkling in a night sky – like a light in the darkness.

  “I said I’d be here.” Melanie tore her gaze from his probing eyes. Their intensity possessed the power to reach inside her soul and dredge up all the unwanted trash she sought desperately to keep from him.

  He escorted her to a table at the far end of the room next to a picture window framing the oceanfront and a setting sun. “A very romantic spot you picked.” Now, why had she said that? Her brain appeared to be malfunctioning.

  “I love a gorgeous sunset, but if you want to think romantic, I can handle that, too.” Trevor did not attempt to hold back his grin.

  “Mr. Knight,” she began, “I barely know you, but I do apologize for my Georgia sass. It gets me into trouble far too often. I shall attempt to be more careful in the future.”

  Trevor laugh was rich and contagious. After she was seated, he joined her his face still smiling from her comment. “You do have sass. I prefer that to a boring, old maid.”

  “And now I’m labelled as an old-maid? However, will you recover from such blunders so early into our meeting?”

  “I shall order the best Champagne the hotel has to offer to make up for it.”

  “Get me drunk? Is that your intention, sir?”

  Trevor grinned. “I see you are a handful, and without alcohol. I should hate to see you under its influence.”

  “Then skip the Champagne – I don’t drink,” Melanie said.

  “A girl after my own heart,” Trevor said. “I keep it in my home for guests or business, but I never touch the stuff. Orange juice in a wine glass fools the best of them.”

  “Are you afraid to show the world that you have the gumption to say no to the glow?” Melanie asked.

  Trevor relaxed in his chair. “And you, my dear, are black and white in your beliefs – a wonderful attribute.”

  “Don’t put me on a pedestal, Trevor. These days I’m more confused than absolute. It’s a condition that gives my sassy nature far too much rope – enough to single-handedly hang myself on numerous occasions.”

  Melanie opened the menu as the waiter came forward.

  “Drinks, sir?” he addressed Trevor.

  “Yes. Two large Champagne glasses of pure, untainted, orange juice.” The server nodded and walked off.

  “Thank you,” Melanie said without glancing up. “The steak looks delightful, with a baked potato and steamed mixed vegetables.”

  “Perhaps an appetizer to start? They have a combination plate that includes a variety of tasty morsels. Or salad? A girl needs her greens,” Trevor said.

  “The appetizer is enough with the meal, thank you,” said Melanie.

  Two stemmed goblets of juice arrived, and Trevor placed their order with the waiter then lifted his glass to toast. “To a wonderful surprise meeting, so soon after your brief visit to Knight Manor.”

  She clinked her glass against his and smiled. “I did enjoy it, despite Chrissy’s determined efforts to maintain a vast chasm between our two worlds. Do you and she have history that might fuel such a need for division?”

  “Nothing I am aware of, except that she sees dollar signs when she looks at me and suspects I am as corrupt as her father turned out to be.”

  “She doesn’t discuss her past with me to any great extent, but she does get her back up in any discussion centering around wealth,” Melanie said. “Perhaps that was the similarity that bound us. I recognized the turmoil raging inside and couldn’t leave her rebel-butt to live on the streets.”

  “So, you invited her into your home. That was a kind gesture.”

  “She used to…” Her voice trailed off. She warned herself to be careful not to use the past tense. “She does pay her half of the rent. We’ve learned together how to live within a tight budget.”

  “Totally unnecessary. Chrissy has access to a trust fund that would allow her to live comfortably and still discover her destiny.”

  “I suppose not using one’s tainted inheritance speaks highly of one’s character.”r />
  “I suppose, but it’s all hearsay. No one is demanding her father’s funds back, so I have no reason to suspect her inheritance is in jeopardy.”

  “Perhaps you don’t know everything,” she said, testing the waters.

  “No perhaps about it. My niece is as tight-lipped as her father was. I’m just the little brother that inherited the confusion when Father, Mother and Charles passed away quite suddenly.”

  “How convenient for you to hold the reins on the family dynasty.” She smiled, but when he took a reflective stance and gazed out the window, she continued in a different direction. “I understand Chrissy has a sister as well?”

  Trevor focused on his dinner guest. “Yes. An angry sister, Chelsea. Although my parents and brother both provided her a substantial legacy, she also wants the Manor and everything my spoiled, big brother managed to set up for Chrissy. I understand why Chrissy wanted to leave such a volatile atmosphere, but I dare to believe God can intervene to bring Chelsea’s heart around. It was my parents’ wish that I be patient and love them all into the Kingdom.”

  “You’re a devout Christian?”

  “Yes. It’s the only sanity I can offer this misguided world.”

  “I ran from such sanity, disillusioned by my own set of troubles on the home-front.” Melanie straightened in her seat, grateful when the appetizer arrived. “Oh, my, such an assortment to nibble on. I’m famished.”

  “Do you mind if I give thanks before we partake?”

  She quickly withdrew her eager hand from the plate in the center of the table. “Certainly. Please, go ahead.” She bowed her head and concentrated on the fingers that squirmed on her lap. Her prayer life was sadly lacking.