Love you to Death

by Shannon K. Butcher

  “The hell I wouldn’t. I’d do it just for the entertainment value. I love to see you squirm.”

  Squirming twice in one day. That had to be a record. “You’re a horrible brother.”

  Sam grinned. “That sounds a lot like defeat to me. So, spill it already. Why are you late? You’re never late.”

  “My neighbor’s sister came to town last night.”

  “Oooh. I like where this is going. ‘Dear Penthouse,’ . . .”

  “My neighbor has gone missing, dickhead. Have a little sympathy.”

  All the humor in Sam’s face fell from his expression, leaving it bleak and barren. “You’re not talking about Ashley, are you?”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “How long has Ashley been missing? Has anyone talked to the police? Filed a report?” Sam slung the questions at him like closed fists.

  “Since Friday. Yes, and yes. What the hell, Sam?”

  Sam pulled his shovel from the ground. “We should be out there looking for her. That girl doesn’t have two brain cells left to rub together. All those paint fumes killed them. Someone’s got to look out for her.”

  “The police know what’s going on. It’s not our business.”

  “I don’t care. Let’s go look for her.” Sam turned to leave.

  Trent stepped in his path. “The police have it covered. They’ll find her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” lied Trent. He knew the kinds of things that could happen to a young, beautiful woman, and he didn’t want his little brother to witness any of them.

  Sam’s posture relaxed somewhat. “We should still go look for her.”

  “I already have. That’s why I was late. Her sister and I were cruising around, looking for her car.”

  “That screaming-green Volvo? Shouldn’t be hard to find.”

  No, it shouldn’t have been, which only made Trent worry more that Elise was right and something bad had happened. But, since his brother was already getting riled up, he skipped stating his worry and stuck with the facts. “We didn’t see it.”

  “Maybe she’s out of town.” Sam sounded hopeful and worried all at the same time.

  Trent shrugged. “That’s what I told Elise, but she’s sure there’s a problem or Ashley would have called by now.”

  “Well, hell,” spat Sam. “Like I needed one more thing to worry about.”

  “Then don’t worry. The police are on it. So is Elise.”

  Sam’s body relaxed more, deflating him. “Let’s hope she’s smarter than her sister.”

  “She is. Cuter, too.”

  “Like hell she is. God doesn’t make ’em any cuter than Ashley. That’s why no one’s killed her yet.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Elise has a bad feeling.”

  “People have bad feelings all the time.” Sam sounded like he was trying to convince himself.

  “Last time I had one was two years ago.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Trent regretted them. He hurriedly added, “But I’m sure you’re right. It’s nothing.”

  Sam buried his shovel in the ground and leaned on it. He stared intently at Trent, speaking in a low voice. “You can talk to me about it, you know. About what happened.”

  No, he couldn’t. Not to Sam. Not to anyone. That part of his life was locked up tight, sealed and buried. It was the only way he could keep moving each day, keep living.

  Trent gave his head a brief shake. “Won’t help. Why bother.”

  “John called me again last night. He said he tried to get ahold of you several times, but the number he had was disconnected. Apparently, he doesn’t have your cell phone number.”

  A sick sense of panic flooded Trent’s stomach. He couldn’t talk to his former partner. He couldn’t face the mistake he’d made and the lives he’d ruined. “You didn’t give it to him, did you?”

  Sam sighed. “No. I figured I’d talk to you first, make sure it was okay.”

  “It’s not. I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “You shot the man. I think you owe him the courtesy of a fucking phone call now and then.”

  No. The best thing he could do for John was leave him in peace. Anything he tried to do now would only make matters worse. “Leave it alone, Sam. I mean it.”

  “I can’t. Your life is a pile of shit. Do you think I like seeing you live like this?”

  Rather than see the look of pity on Sam’s face, Trent focused on the sun-dried ground, biting into it with his shovel. “If you don’t like it, then don’t look.”

  “You’re my brother. I can’t let you go on punishing yourself for an accident.”

  Accident. It was funny how such an innocuous word could symbolize the devastation of so many lives. John’s, his wife’s, his kids’. Tyler Craft’s and his mother’s. Trent’s. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Like hell it’s not. How much longer do you think Mom and Dad can stand to see you moping around? They should be enjoying their retirement, not worrying about you.”

  “Are you telling me I should leave town?” He’d thought about it a lot lately. Maybe it was the right thing to do. Sam had taken over the family business, and it was once again running smoothly under his vigilant care. The transition from father to son was complete, and Sam didn’t need Trent’s help so much anymore.

  “No, dickhead, I’m telling you to get some help. Talk to someone.”

  “I’m not going to get my head shrinked.”

  “Fine, then talk to me. I’m standing right here.”

  What good would talking do? It wouldn’t change anything. “I just want to get back to work. Can we do that? Please?”

  Sam shook his head. “You’re losing it, man. You’re not like you used to be when you were a cop. You used to care. About everyone around you. About yourself.”

  “I still care.” It was another lie, but an easy one to tell.

  “Then you’ll tell Mom you’ll show up this weekend, make nice with Busty. And get a damn haircut. You look like a junkie.”

  “If that’s what it takes to get all of you to leave me the hell alone, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  Sam uttered a low curse. “If that’s the way you feel about it, then it’s already too late. You’re already dead.”

  Finally, after two years, Sam was catching on.

  After spending the day in Ashley’s home, Elise was finally starting to figure out her filing system. She found her sister’s phone bills under the phone book in the kitchen cupboard. Her credit card bills and bank statements were in her closet with her purses. Her unopened mail was on top of the washing machine, which didn’t make any sense to Elise, but probably made some to Ashley.

  The bills weren’t current enough to cover the past few days, but she was able to use them to create a pattern of Ashley’s normal routine. Nearly every weekend night, she went to Sally’s. The weeknights she spent mostly near campus at one of three coffee shops.

  Ashley had saved all of her account passwords on her computer so she wouldn’t have to remember them, which made Elise’s job of getting the most current information easy.

  What she found left her reeling in shock.

  Ashley used her bank card or credit card for everything. There were charges for a couple of dollars here and there, proving Ashley still forgot to carry cash around. Nearly every day, Ashley had purchased something, even if it was just a cup of coffee. Friday night, there was a charge at Sally’s, then nothing. Not one of her cards had been used since just before midnight on Friday.

  It was as if Ashley had fallen off the face of the planet.

  Panic grabbed Elise by the throat, cutting off her air. That sick feeling in her gut welled up until she had to sprint to the bathroom to throw up.

  Elise retched into the toilet and sank down, her knees too weak to hold her up. She sat there on the worn vinyl f
loor, tears streaming down her face, shaking.

  Ashley was gone. There was no hint she was still alive. No scrap of hope to which Elise could cling.

  Despair hung over her, blocking out the light and air in the room. If Ashley was dead, how could Elise go on?

  “You left the door unlocked,” said Trent from the bathroom doorway. “You should be more careful.”

  Elise jumped at the sound of his voice, but couldn’t find the strength or the will to get up. She sat with her forehead propped on her arms, which muffled her voice. “You should have knocked.”

  “I did. Guess you were too busy puking to hear me.” He stepped into the bathroom, wet a washcloth, and filled a paper cup with water. He handed her the cup, and Elise was grateful to wash the taste of bile from her mouth.

  She flushed the toilet, but her arm felt too weak and heavy for even that small task. Getting up wasn’t going to be fun, but sitting here with an audience was too much for her pride to bear.

  Elise moved to get up, but Trent pressed his hand to her shoulder. “Stay put, just in case you’re not done yet. Neither one of us want to clean that up.” He lifted her hair off the back of her neck and draped the cool, wet cloth at her nape. “This will help.”

  Miraculously, it did. The cloth sucked away some of the nauseating heat coursing through her body and eased her stomach.

  He sat down on the edge of the tub, making himself at home. The room was small, and the hair on his legs brushed her bare arm. “Any better?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  He nodded. “Do you have some sort of Asian stomach flu, or was it a case of nerves?”

  “Definitely nerves.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Elise shook her head. “Not really, but I guess I have to.”

  He waited in silence, his elbows propped on his knees, his hands dangling down between his shins. A fine layer of dirt clung to his shoes, socks, and shins. The scent of the sunshine and hot male skin swirled in the air around him, somehow calming her nerves.

  Pride or not, she was glad she was no longer alone in Ashley’s house. Sure, she didn’t really know this man, but he was real and solid—something to grasp onto when the rest of the world seemed to be spinning out of control.

  Trent sat there, watching her, casual and patient as if he had all the time in the world. It was probably some sort of interrogation skill he’d learned as a cop.

  Elise pulled in a deep, steadying breath. “You said to look for changes in her spending habits. Ashley hasn’t used her credit or debit cards since Friday night. Before that, she used them every day.”

  His mouth flattened and she thought she saw his shoulders drop a fraction of an inch. “What about her phone?”

  “The phone company wouldn’t tell me anything, but Officer Tindle said he’d call and see about getting them to release the information.”

  “That’s good.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s not enough.”

  “Let me call Bob and talk to him for you. Once he finds out that her spending habits changed, it will light a fire under him. It’s proof that something has happened and it will get the police to work harder to find her.”

  “He told me he’s already doing everything he can, but he was evasive on the phone, like he didn’t want me to know what he was going to do.”

  “He doesn’t want to worry you.”

  She let out a scathing laugh. “Like I could be any more worried. I’d feel better if I knew what he was doing.”

  “Would you really?” asked Trent. “Or are you just saying that?”

  “I’d rather know than not. I’m tough, but I need some kind of hope to grab onto—something to focus on so my mind will stop eating away at itself with worry.”

  Trent sat silent for a moment, studying her, like he was trying to decide if she was lying. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he let out a resigned sigh and said, “Bob will contact area hospitals to see if anyone matching her description has come in for treatment. If she was in an accident, she could still be unconscious or unable to tell the doctors who she is.”

  That sounded smart. In fact, she should have thought about that herself. She was just so tired. She hadn’t had time to adjust to this time zone yet, and she’d worked all day during the hours she’d normally be sleeping. “Why wouldn’t he want me to know he was doing that?”

  “Because it logically leads to the next step.”

  “What next step?” she asked.

  “Checking morgues for any Jane Does that have come in since Friday.”

  The image of her sister’s lifeless body lying on a cold metal slab slammed into her, making her sway. The room spun around and Elise held on tight to the toilet to keep herself from spinning away with it.

  “Easy,” said Trent. His voice sounded like it came from a long way off, even though she could feel his strong hands on her arms, anchoring her in place.

  Her stomach gave a heavy lurch, like she was going to be sick again, but nothing came up. Her eyes watered until all she could see was wavering blobs of color, which made her feel even worse. She closed her eyes to shut out the nauseating sight and felt hot tears stream down her cheeks.

  His warm, work-roughened hands slid up and down her arms, holding her steady. His soft, low words of comfort seeped into her, but she didn’t understand them. They gave her something to focus on, something to think about other than the horrifically real images of her dead sister.

  Ashley wasn’t dead. She couldn’t be. Elise would have known if her sister had died, wouldn’t she?

  Elise frantically clung to that notion, gripping it tight in desperation. She needed a shred of hope to help her move on—to keep her strong—so she would use this one. She’d hold it close and let it give her strength.

  Ashley was alive, and Elise was going to find her.

  Slowly, she regained her composure and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Her skin was cold with sweat and her hands vibrated with tension, but at least she could see again.

  Trent was crouched beside her, stroking her spine with a repetitively soothing sweep of his wide palm.

  “Better?” he asked.

  Elise gave a weak nod. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Trent. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No. I needed to know. I don’t want to be coddled. If I’m going to find her, I need to know how to do it.”

  “The first thing you need to do is take care of yourself. It’s important that Ashley has a voice to make sure everyone remembers she’s still missing.”

  “Are you saying the police will forget?”

  “No, of course not, but this isn’t their only case. Every time a new one comes in, it pushes Ashley down farther on the list of priorities. You need to be there to keep her at the top.”

  “Believe me, I know how to make myself heard.”

  “I’m sure you do, so long as you don’t get sick. If she is in trouble and something happens to you, no one else will be here to champion her.”

  “I’m the wheel that needs to keep squeaking. I get it. This was just a temporary case of nerves. It’s already passed.”

  She pushed away from the toilet, needing to put some distance between her and the nauseating reminder. Trent’s hand fell away, leaving her feeling oddly chilled.

  She washed her hands, rinsed her mouth, and felt him standing behind her. When she glanced in the mirror, she saw the gold flecks in his eyes glittering with concern.

  “I get that. Believe me. But what starts out as a case of nerves can get worse fast. Why don’t you come over to my place for some dinner?”

  The idea of food was immediately revolting. “No, thank you.”

  “You’ve got to eat. Besides, you can show me what you found today. A fresh pair of eyes never hurts.”

  Elise shook her head as she dried her hands and walked to the kitchen for a drink. “I appreciate the offer. I really do, but I have plans tonight.”

/>   “What kind of plans?”

  “I’m going to Sally’s Bar to talk to anyone who might have seen her Friday.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Researching her credit card charges is one thing, going out asking questions is something best left to the police.”

  “I’m not going to sit around and do nothing. I can’t. Someone there might know something.”

  “Suppose they do,” said Trent. “Suppose you find whatever guy she was with Friday. What then?”

  She reached into the fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, and handed one to Trent. “Then I start asking questions.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like where she went after she left, who she was with.”

  Trent ran a hand through his shaggy hair in frustration. “We searched for her car between here and the bar. There was only one stretch of road where her car would be hidden if she’d had an accident. We saw no signs of bent guardrails or tire marks. I checked again on my way to work, just to make sure we didn’t miss anything in the dark.”

  “So? All that means is we know she didn’t drive her car off the road there.” She opened the bottle and sucked down about half of the cold liquid. It did nothing to ease the worried burn in her stomach.

  Trent watched her mouth as she drank, like he was dying of thirst, but didn’t take a drink. “It also could mean she didn’t drive her car off the road at all. Sure, she could have had an accident driving home from some guy’s house, but the longer she’s missing, the more likely it is that she… met with foul play.”

  Elise was pretty sure he was going to say something different but censored himself for her benefit. “You mean that someone hurt her.”

  He cracked open the bottle and drank. She watched his throat move, watched his tongue lick away a drop left on his bottom lip. “It’s possible. What if you start asking questions of the guy who did it? You’re putting yourself in unnecessary danger.”

  “I may be putting myself in danger, but I don’t think I’d call it unnecessary. You know as well as I do that the longer she is missing, the more likely it is she’ll be found too late.”

  Or not at all.

  Elise couldn’t bring herself to say the words, but she knew it was a possibility. So would Trent. It just wasn’t one she could deal with yet. Not if she wanted to stay sane.