by Willow Rose
“Really?”
“Yes, in 2009, six years ago, the body of a man was found floating in a canal in Boca Raton, north of Miami. His stomach was also ruptured. The ME concluded back then that he had simply overeaten and fallen into the canal, but when I looked into the autopsy report, I noticed the same trauma to the mouth as Daniel Millman had.”
“Sounds like we should take a closer look at that,” I said.
“I’ll send over the details for you to look at. The victim’s name was James West.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
March 2015
Katie wasn’t feeling well. Ever since the incident in the water, she had stayed away from everyone else as much as possible. She hardly left the room at the motel and didn’t talk to any of the girls. All she wanted was for this break to be over so they could go back home. The girls kept laughing and giggling at her. After she had come out of the water on the day it happened, she had been so embarrassed, she had picked her things up, then ran to the room to get dressed. The girls had come in afterwards, while she was still in the shower, and she had heard them talking about her, thinking she couldn’t hear them.
“I kind of feel bad for her,” Irene said.
“It’s her own fault, if you ask me,” Britney said. “Her breasts are way too big for her to wear such a small bikini. It was bound to happen.”
“Did you see how everyone was looking?” Leanne asked. “It was soooo embarrassing. I’m so glad it wasn’t me.”
“You would never be so stupid as to go out and try to surf in a bikini,” Britney said. “She only did it because Greg told her to. She thinks he likes her. So stupid.”
“Don’t you think he might like her?” Irene asked. “I mean, he did invite her here, and he seems interested in her.”
Britney scoffed. “Nah. Not Greg. Remember Dianna that he brought last year? Same story.”
“I’m not sure it’s the same,” Leanne continued.
Katie could tell that Britney was annoyed with her. She could tell by the tone of her voice.
“Come on. It’s exactly the same. Don’t you see it?”
“I think it’s different with Katie. He seems to really like her. If he hadn’t been so far out in the water, I think he would have been the one to help her, not that surfer dude from the motel.”
Katie had stepped out of the shower and stood behind the door, listening, while the water was still running to make them believe she couldn’t hear them. She couldn’t help smiling at what Leanne had said. Could it be? Could it really be that Greg liked her? It wasn’t just an illusion? It wasn’t just in her head? She put a towel around her body.
“He just feels sorry for her because she’s so pathetic,” Britney said. “I mean, how else can you feel for her? She is really sad. I can’t see how they could ever be together. Greg is in a completely different league than her.”
“You’re jealous,” Irene said.
Britney snorted again. “As if. I can get any boy I want. I could get Greg without even trying.”
Katie pushed the door open. The girls all turned and looked at her. “You stay away from Greg,” she said with a courage she had no idea she had. “He’s mine.”
Britney looked at Katie with a frown. Then she chuckled. “Yours? He’ll never be yours. He’ll use you for sex and then throw you away like a used towel.”
Leanne stepped forward: “Just because it happened to you, doesn’t mean he’ll do the same to Katie.”
Britney threw her a glare. “That was told to you in confidence.”
Katie felt her heart race. So, that was what this was all about? Greg had used Britney once, then thrown her away. It made sense.
“Well, I’m going for him,” Katie said and looked with confidence at the girls. Britney cupped her mouth and laughed. Leanne and Irene looked at her with compassion. Leanne made a grimace while they all stared at her legs.
“You might want to wipe that blood off your legs first,” Britney said with loud laughter.
Katie looked down. Three drops of blood had run down the inside of her thighs and was approaching her knees.
“Guess there isn’t going to be any sex for you and Greg this week, after all,” Britney said and laughed again.
Katie blushed, then ran back into the bathroom and closed the door, while panting. She put her back up against the door, then slid to the ground while crying.
Why did she have to come on this trip? Why?
Chapter Forty-Nine
March 2015
I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m still alive and no one knows!
Shannon felt sick to her stomach as she walked around her condo. She and Angela hadn’t been outside the door since Joe had died. They had stayed inside for several days, simply watching movies and talking. Jack had stopped by and brought them groceries, and she had told him she needed time, that Angela needed time. It was, after all, the truth. Angela was watching some cartoon when Shannon finally saw the chance to get into the bathroom and relieve the pain a little.
She found the bottle wrapped up in a towel under the sink and took off the top. Her hands were shaking heavily as she brought it to her mouth. It felt so good when those drops hit her tongue.
She knew it was a slippery slope, but so far, she had managed. No one had known that she had a few sips of vodka every day. It made her calmer and relaxed and a better mother, she believed. Jack hadn’t seen it on her or smelled it when he stopped by, and she had made sure to keep his visits short, since she didn’t want him to suspect anything. The pain would go away soon, and then she would stop again. It was no problem; it was just the way she would deal with this.
It was what she needed right now.
Shannon gulped down the vodka, then removed the bottle from her lips. She closed her eyes and let the drink do its job inside of her. Her hands soon became steadier, her thinking calmer. She could now focus on just one thing at a time and not have her mind race with the millions of thoughts flickering through her mind.
It’s your fault those people died. It’s all your fault. Now Angela is fatherless because of you. You should never have taken the stage. Maybe if you hadn’t sung that song, maybe if you hadn’t touched that guy’s hand, maybe…
There were a lot of maybes in her thoughts these days. She couldn’t stop them on her own. She kept wondering about that guy that was shot right in front of her, right when she touched him. What if she had touched someone else? Would that person have been killed instead? Was it an accident that he was killed? Was the shooter aiming for her instead? And what about Joe? Why did he have to die?
Shannon grabbed the bottle and took another large sip. She was beginning to feel the alcohol, the delicious warmth it left inside of her body, then the serenity. Finally, her thoughts were numbed enough to quiet down. Finally, she felt at peace. At least for a little while.
She took another sip to make sure she could stay this way before she put the top back on and hid the bottle under the sink wrapped in its towel. She washed out her mouth and brushed her teeth to make sure Angela didn’t smell anything, then opened the door.
Angela looked up from the couch. “What took you so long, Mommy?”
Shannon felt the buzz and the earth spun for just a second under her feet. She grabbed the door to not fall.
“Mommy! Are you alright?” Angela shrieked.
“Mommy’s fine. Don’t worry. Just a little tired, that’s all. I’ll just lay down for a little while.”
Shannon found the couch and put her head down on the soft pillow. She drifted away into a happy dream and soon didn’t hear the TV, not even when Angela accidentally zapped onto a news channel and saw her mother’s face plastered all over under the headline:
BREAKING NEWS: COUNTRY SUPER-STAR SHANNON KING STOLE LYRICS TO HER FIRST ALBUM AND KILLED THE ORIGINAL CREATOR, HER EX-HUSBAND REVEALS IN LETTER AFTER HIS DEATH
Chapter Fifty
March 2015
I couldn’t believe what I was looking at on the screen of
my computer. A news-ticker had brought me to CNN’s main page, where the story of Shannon was plastered all over the screen in blinking yellow and breaking news signs. According to the news channel, Joe had left a letter with his lawyer telling a story of how Shannon had stolen the lyrics to her first album, Struck by Love, the megahit that made her the star she was today, and then allegedly killed the person who originally wrote it. According to the letter, the person’s body had been buried in a location that the police in Nashville were now examining.
Now, the news channel was speculating on the theory that maybe Shannon was also behind the killing of her husband, that she hired someone to kill him, since they were facing a custody battle. They had interviewed a friend of Joe’s, who was also a police officer, to tell the story of how saint-like Joe was and how he wanted to be there for his child, but Shannon was trying to keep him away from his own daughter and how devastated he was.
“This is bull…” I said and leaned back with a deep sigh. “I don’t believe this guy!”
Richard looked at me from across the room. I didn’t care what anyone else thought. I grabbed my phone and called Shannon. She didn’t pick up. Her phone was turned off and went straight to the answering machine. Of course it was, with all that was going on. She had been in hiding from the world, and especially the press, for days as it was.
It was almost four in the afternoon and I was supposed to pick up Abigail and Austin at surf-camp at four o’clock. So, I decided to call it a day. I drove the Jeep to the camp, which was only a few blocks south of where we lived. I tried hard to not show the kids how I felt and smiled as I grabbed their surfboards and threw them in the back.
“What’s wrong, Dad?” Abigail said as soon as she saw me.
I could never hide anything from her.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m happy to see you. Did you have fun today?”
“No,” Austin said.
It made me sad. I really wanted him to enjoy surfing as much as I did, but somehow, it didn’t seem like he could really get into it.
“I had a lot of fun,” Abigail said. “I caught the biggest wave ever. Open-faced, Dad. It was so much fun. I paddled out in the back on my own too. Reached my goal of catching seven waves on my own. No more being pushed into waves for me.”
“Wow, that’s two more than yesterday,” I said impressed.
Catching your own waves and paddling out on your own was a huge step, they were the hardest parts of surfing when starting out.
Abigail got in the car. Austin followed. I looked at him. “I tie-dyed a pillowcase,” Austin said. The surf-camp was surfing in the morning and art in the afternoon. “I made a heart.”
“That’s great too, buddy. But, didn’t you surf?” I asked.
Austin sniffled as an answer.
“He did,” Abigail answered for him. “But only on the inside.”
“That’s good,” I said. “There is nothing wrong with surfing whitewater.”
“No, but he got tumbled really bad,” Abigail said. “He cried.”
“I got the board in my face!” Austin almost yelled at his sister.
“Hey, let’s not fight here. At least you tried,” I said and started the car. I felt bad for Austin. He was always beat by his sister, no matter what they did. It wasn’t fair.
“I’m gonna drive you to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s; I have to go see Shannon.”
“Yay,” Abigail said. “Can I go surfing?”
“If someone watches you.”
“I’ll get Grandpa to look after me. He loves to watch me surf.”
“Sounds good,” I said, and drove the four blocks to my parents’ place, where I dropped them off.
I tried to call Shannon again as I drove up to our condominium, while cameras flashed and reporters knocked on the windows of the car. I tried to call Emily, but she didn’t pick up either. I had no idea what she had done all day. It was spring break for her as well, and I had a feeling she hadn’t done anything all day, except sleep in and then play on the computer. I knew she hadn’t been at my parents’ to eat all day, so I figured she had eaten at the condo if she had eaten at all. She had been so into healthy eating lately, I got a feeling she’d hardly touched anything. I didn’t like it.
I left a message on her machine telling her I loved her and I would be at the condo after dinner, and that I hoped she would join us for dinner at the motel. I felt like I had hardly seen her all week, except for in the evenings when we watched The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon together before bedtime. It had kind of become our thing.
Chapter Fifty-One
March 2015
It was a drag getting through the horde of reporters camping in front of our condominium, but somehow I succeeded in elbowing through and avoiding answering questions like:
“Did Shannon King kill Robert Hill?”
“Is your girlfriend a murderer, Detective?”
“Did she kill her ex-husband Joe Harrison too?”
“How can you, as a detective, date a murderer?”
It was Angela who opened the door when I rang the doorbell. She looked sad. “Mommy’s all over the news,” she said when she saw me.
The TV was on in the living room and Shannon’s face was plastered all over it. I walked in and shut it off. “Don’t watch that garbage,” I said. “And don’t believe a word they say, you hear me?”
Angela nodded. I turned and spotted Shannon on the couch. She was heavily asleep.
“She’s been sleeping all morning,” Angela said.
Looking at her left me with a bad feeling. I felt her forehead; she wasn’t warm. I leaned over and smelled her breath. Just as I suspected. It stank of alcohol.
“Goddammit, Shannon,” I whispered. “Not in front of your daughter.”
“Is Mommy alright?” Angela asked. I could hear the anxiety in her tone of voice. The girl was terrified. She had just lost her father. She had enough on her plate, I thought. I grabbed Angela in my arms and held her.
“Mommy will be fine. She just needs some rest. How about I take you to my parents’ place? Abigail and Austin are there. Maybe you can play together? Would you like that? You could go in the motel’s pool if you like.”
Angela lit up. “Are you kidding? I would love it! But, what about the reporters? Mommy said we had to stay in the condo and close the shutters so the reporters wouldn’t see us.”
I kissed her cheek. “You let me worry about them,” I said, as I grabbed my phone and made a quick call.
“Will you take care of Mommy while I’m gone?” Angela asked when I had hung up.
I glanced at Shannon. She was sleeping heavily still. Probably wouldn’t wake up for a few hours.
“Sure thing.”
I helped Angela pack a backpack with her swimsuit, goggles, a towel, and her favorite pool toy. I wrote a note for Shannon, in case she woke up while I was gone, then grabbed Angela’s hand and we walked to the elevator.
“No,” I said, when Angela went to press the button. “I know another way.”
I opened the door to the fire escape and we walked down the stairs till we made it to the basement. Every condo had a garage in the basement. I opened mine and saw the impression on Angela’s face.
“Wooooww!”
“I know,” I said and walked closer to the old red Ducati Streetfighter. I’d had it for many years and spent many hours fixing it up. Until Arianna left us, that was. After that, I had other more important things to attend to. I felt a pinch in my heart as I looked at the old lady. Arianna and I had ridden her together. It had been our thing. She had loved it, loved the feeling of the wind in her hair.
God, I miss you, Arianna.
I missed her and resented her at the same time. It was confusing. I missed what we used to have, but I was so incredibly angry with her for cheating on me and leaving me the way she did.
I pulled the bike out of the garage, then found a helmet for Angela. It was a little too big, but we weren’t going very far, so I figured it w
ould do. Her small hands held onto my back really tight.
“Okay, sweetie. Hold on now. Once they spot us, they’re going to try and follow us to see where you’re going, so I need to lose them, okay? Hold on to me really tight.”
“Okay,” Angela said.
“Here goes nothing.”
I started the engine with a roar, then opened the gate, and the Ducati sprang out of the garage. The entire media corps was focused on something by the front door and didn’t notice us at first.
“Look!” Angela yelled through the sound of the engine. “It’s Emily!”
I nodded as I swung the bike into the street, and before the reporters realized it was us, we passed the scene. I was the one who had called Emily, and luckily she had picked up this time. I had told her to go down and talk to the reporters. Stall them. Create a diversion. They knew she was my daughter. I knew they would throw themselves at anyone who was vaguely a part of it all, and I would rather it was Emily than Angela, who would only be hurt by their questions. It worked. By the time I had passed all of them, they hadn’t even found their car keys yet. Not one of them managed to follow us. I owed Emily big time for this. But it was worth it.
Chapter Fifty-Two
March 2015
I dropped off Angela at my mom and dad’s and told them she couldn’t be seen by any reporters, and that she should stay away from the beach area, where they might be lurking. My mom promised to take good care of her, and Abigail and Austin immediately grabbed her and pulled her inside the motel to be a part of some game they had started. Angela laughed as she ran off with my kids. It calmed me down. The poor girl needed a break.
I drove through the garage into my building and parked the bike, then ran up the stairs, opened the door to the front entrance, and pulled Emily inside, out of the claws of the press.
“Thank you!” she moaned. “Those people are awful! How does Shannon put up with them?”
