Remember Me

by Rainwater, Priscilla Poole

  Could he know something about Cassandra? Please God, don’t let my child be dead! Was the first thing that crossed her mind, since he was usually very direct and forceful about what he had to say. It simply wasn’t like him, and his behavior had spooked her badly. “Is something wrong? Have you heard from Cassandra? Is Regan alright?” she asked bluntly, her heart gaining speed and her mouth suddenly turning dry.

  Seeing her sag against the doorframe, he knew she was feeling faint. Quickly, he grabbed her arms to steady her, stepped inside, closed the door and locked it with one hand, then led her to the living room. Easing her down to a sitting position on the couch, he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, don’t be afraid. It‘s nothing like that, no one‘s hurt, and no, I still haven‘t heard from her. Relax.”

  Relieved, she took in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Picking up some flyers from the couch, she placed them on the coffee table and motioned for him to have a seat.

  “So you haven’t come to say you’ve heard anything new about Cassandra, and Regan is all right, I take it? It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.” she said bitterly, giving him a hard look. Things had been so strained between them that it had been months since she had seen her grandson.

  Taking out his wallet, he handed her a recent photo. “He’s doing well. He’s excited about school, and beginning to take an interest in sports. He’s playing softball this spring. I took him snowboarding a few weeks ago, he’s a natural.”

  Looking at the picture of her grandson, who was standing next to a tree, she smiled warmly. His blue eyes stared piercingly into the camera, and he had the same devil may care smile his father had worn so often, during happier times. He could be a clone of his father; their features were so similar, except for his mocha skin.

  Eyes cast downward, he cleared his throat and said, “Listen, the reason I came to see you is because, well, I hired a private detective to find Cass. Regan needs to know has what become of his mother. He’s asking questions, and I think he needs, and deserves, answers.”

  Nodding, she tried to hand the photo back to him.

  “Keep it, there are plenty more where that came from.” he replied.

  She didn’t want to be angry or start an argument, although his help had been a long time coming. Don’t say anything! He has more than enough money to find her, just be thankful he finally IS helping! She told herself, trying to keep her resentment at bay. “So, you’re finally going to look for her. I guess I should thank you.” she said stiffly.

  He knew that she would always hold a grudge against him for not aiding her in her search for Cassandra, years ago, but he had been absolutely certain that she had left of her own free will. He still was. Leaning forward, he took one of the flyers from the table and studied it. He remembered when the photo had been taken, it had been only a few weeks before she left. It was taken at their cabin, the one he had had built just for her. It was one of the few places she had been truly happy at. I know I shouldn’t even care, after all, she was the one who left US, but God I do I miss her… he suddenly thought, a lump rising in his throat. In the picture she was smiling, her long hair blowing in her face. She was leaning against the back deck rails, a spectacular view of the mountains in the background.

  “I’ve always loved that picture, it’s one of the best ever taken of her.” Jocelyn said quietly.

  Looking around the room, he thought about how she had put all her money and time in her search for her only child. The furniture needed to be replaced, along with the worn carpet, and he had noticed that the outside of the house needed to be painted. “Jocelyn, please, l would like to help you out. I know your search has been hard on you, financially, and I would like to…”

  His word were cut off as she shot him a withering glare and said, “I don’t care about the money, I just want my child back, safe at home. So if that’s all you came to tell me, I need to get to bed, I’m putting up flyers in Tennessee tomorrow.”

  Without another word, he nodded his head, then got up and left.

  Chapter 3

  “Amy, why don’t you come and sit with me?” Karen said softly as she got on her knees and looked underneath the table. She could clearly see the frightened little girl, her head down, with her small arms wrapped around her legs.

  “Ms. Karen, she’s a freak, she’s been under the table alllll day long.” Danny Mitchell, the class clown/tormenter said, causing several of the children to laugh.

  Turning, Karen gave the little red headed boy a look of reproach. Pointing to an area where children were painting, she said in a stern voice, “Go, Danny! I don’t need any help from the popcorn stand, alright?”

  The little boy looked as if he was about to say something more, but spotting someone else he could torment, he shrugged his shoulders, then turned and ran off.

  Deciding she would have to win the child’s trust, she crawled under the table and laid on her stomach, resting her elbows on the floor and putting her chin in her hands, close to the little girl, but careful to stay out of the child’s personal space. “You know, it’s Ok to be afraid. When I first came here I was really afraid, someone had hurt me too, but the nuns and the other people were so nice, they would talk to me even when I wanted to be left alone. They told me they would take care of me, and little by little, I felt safe. And I want you to feel safe too.”

  The little girl didn’t react, just remained motionless, head bent downwards, her eyes hidden by her long hair.

  “Can we be friends, Amy?” she asked softly.

  A slight shrug was her only reply, and she smiled to herself. Deciding not to push the girl any further, she looked around and said in a confidential tone, “You know, I can see why you like it under here. Why don’t we hang out here for a while, it can be our little place, until you’re ready to make friends with the others.” Turning, she grabbed two coloring books and a big box of crayons she had brought along, hoping to lure the child out, and placed them at her feet. She then opened one herself and began coloring.

  Her heart soared when the little girl lifted her head shyly, saw what she was doing, then laid on her stomach as well, and began coloring.

  ****************************************************

  Brett stood watching Karen interact with the child, amazed by her patience. Women like her were meant to be mothers, because of their loving and nurturing nature. Maybe someday……he thought, but knew, deep in his heart that if he had her, he wouldn’t want to share her with anyone, not even a child. She would be all I need. Children would only spoil things, they would take her attention away from me… he amended. He had come to get her for their scheduled dinner, but decided not to disturb her as she was trying to lure the little girl out from under the table. He liked watching her when she didn’t know he was, he had done it countless times before.

  He had brought Karen to the Sisters of Hope home for children to recover from her attack, and had worked with the nuns himself, counseling the troubled children there. Like the little girl Karen was reaching out to at the moment. The girl came from the home of a mentally unstable mother; the woman had tried to drown the child, thinking that she was a demon. Luckily, Amy had managed to break free and run to a neighbor’s house for help. She was staying in the home until other immediate family members could be located, but at the moment it seemed as if her mentally disturbed mother had severed all ties with her family, and locating them was proving to be a difficult task.

  “She’s wonderful with the children; I think being with them fills some sort of void in her.” Sister Katherine said to him as she watched the child nodding at something Karen said.

  “Perhaps you’re right.” he replied, careful to keep a pleasant look on his face as dread welled up within him. After a certain phone call he had received earlier, he knew time was running out. The truth would be exposed, and he had to find a way to convince Karen to give up her life and leave with him. It was the only way he could keep her…Desperate times call for desp
erate measures. I need to start working on her, soon… he thought as he clutched the bottle of medication in his jacket pocket. He had used it before, and had to be very careful, because too much could be fatal. It had happened before, to another woman, but it had been an accident. He would genuinely prefer to not give her such a large dosage at one time, but he had to act fast….

  ****************************************************

  Raidon Bishop, a private detective, showed the resort owner a photo of Cassandra Mortenson. “She would have been here in the month of May, about three years ago.” he said.

  Giving the photo a cursory glance, she looked at him and rolled her eyes. How did he expect her to remember that far back? It wasn’t as if the woman had been a celebrity or anything. How could she possibly be expected to remember an anonymous face from three years earlier? She was used to sleazy tabloid reporters, coming around and trying to find out about the people that stayed at the exclusive adult resort. “Sir, I really don’t remember this woman. Besides, due to our patron’s desires for privacy, we can’t give out any information of any type, anyway.” she replied in a haughty and dismissive tone.

  Tucking the picture back inside his leather jacket, he reflected on the fact that, thus far, the case had been one false lead after another. But he had at least managed to trace Cassandra Mortenson’s credit card to the swanky adult resort. It surprised him, because from what he had learned of the woman during his research, she would never have been caught dead in a place such as this. She had too much class. This place was strictly for people who had some of the most deviant sexual tastes out there. He had snuck onto the grounds the day before, and snooping around, had discovered the resort had its own dungeon, and he also knew that high-priced prostitutes, both men and women, plied their trade here. Time to do a little arm-twisting…. he thought.

  “You're still here?” she asked, clearly annoyed.

  “Listen, Miss, my client is a very wealthy man, very powerful, and his wife went missing here. He wants answers, and he told me to use any means necessary to get the information. Now, as much as I would hate to disturb your guests, I can and will get the police and some news crews here, asking your ‘patrons’ if they knew that a woman, the wife of a very important and wealthy man, seemingly vanished off the face of the earth, from RIGHT HERE. How would that be?” he asked, letting the question hang. Then, snapping his fingers, said, “Oh yeah, I almost forgot…I also managed to snap some very interesting photos of some important people, doing some very naughty things here. Involves lots of leather, some whips and gags, hell, maybe even a Collie and a treadmill here and there. All I know is, it was so nasty my mind has blocked it out. But my camera remembers, of that you can be certain. And you DO know pimping is a big no no, don‘t you?” he finished, praying the bluff would work.

  Suddenly paling, her eyes grew wide. Her business was built on privacy and anonymity for her customers, in order to live out their darkest fantasies without fear of being exposed. If just one rumor got out, she could lose a very profitable business, and she wasn’t planning on going to jail anytime soon. “May…maybe I can check the computer. What was the name again?” she asked, suddenly eager to oblige and be rid of the fly in the ointment.

  “Cassandra Mortenson. Although it’s possible she could have registered under the name Cassandra Ames.” he said, relieved that his ploy had worked.

  Something about the name sounded vaguely familiar to her, but at the moment she was too rattled to place it. Her long red nails moved quickly over the keyboard, and moments later she spotted the name. “Ok, you’re right, the woman was here alright. She had booked one of our best suites, one for customers who prefer more privacy than the average patron. People who…we shall say…. desire the more intense experiences we can offer here.” she finished, and then looked at him with a wicked smile that looked more like a snarl.

  Freak! He thought.

  Continuing, she told him about the room. “There’s a private entrance that’s separate from the rest of our normal guests. She had booked the suite for two weeks, but stayed only one night. It’s six thousand a night, and non-refundable.” she said, trying to pitch the room, but his disinterest was clear. Well, he probably couldn’t afford it anyway.. She thought sourly as she returned her gaze to the computer screen.

  Absorbing the information, he stood silently, contemplating his next move.

  “Hey, wait a minute, there‘s something else here…”she said, interrupting his thoughts. “There’s a comment that was left by … a former manager here, it seems personal items of hers had been left behind. They were requested to be packed and shipped to an address in ….Windsor Virginia. I‘ll print up the list of things that were shipped, I guess he was being thorough, and wanted proof, in case she claimed it was never sent.” she explained, then pressed the command key to print up the information.

  Feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, he knew something was very wrong. He knew women very well, and very few of them, especially wealthy ones, ever left anything behind unless they had no choice. “I’ll need that manager’s contact information also.” he said, still disturbed, yet pleased that he would have something positive for a change to report back to Granger Mortenson. He knew finding this woman would mean a huge bonus. A ‘go out and pay cash for brand new Corvette’ sized bonus, at that.

  “I can give you the information, but it won’t do you any good. Around the same time, he was killed in a botched carjacking. He was found on a country road, stabbed multiple times. I tell you, drugs make people do horrible things. His murder is still unsolved.”

  But he didn’t need to hear more. He would bet his last dime that the death of the ’manager’ had something to do with Cassandra Mortenson’s disappearance.

  “Will that be all…?” she asked hopefully.

  Nodding his head, he thanked her, then turned and left.

  *****************************************************

  “Karen, you have to believe that I only want what’s best for you.” Brett said as he moved closer to her and touching her arms, causing his own body to tingle in anticipation.

  She was stunned he was asking her to leave with him, to go overseas, where he was planning on doing research work on a depression drug.

  Desperate to convince her, he said, “The business trip I have to go on will only be for one day, and when I return we could get your passport. I have connections, so we could have everything you need in a matter of days. We could be on a plane to France by the end of the week.”

  Speechless, she shook her head and her body stiffened in shock. She would never have expected him to ask her to leave the home she had made here, especially since he knew how hard it was for her build something. He had to know she wouldn’t want to leave, after all, he had been by her side while she struggled to begin a new life. “I can’t leave, you know how much the children need me.” she stammered, and felt guilty immediately afterwards when she saw the crestfallen look on his face. She owed him so much for caring for her, but she wasn’t willing to give up what little life she had. She wished she could actually love him, it would make it so much easier to accept, but deep inside, something unknown to her, made her feel unable to commit to him, or any other man.

  Touching her arm again, his eyes flashed with a hint of impatience. “Please, just think about it.” Smoothly changing the subject, he held up a bottle of wine he had brought with him and said, “How about a drink before I leave?”

  Without waiting for an answer he stood, and being very familiar with her small apartment, went directly to the cupboard where she kept her wineglasses, and took down two. Opening the bottle, he poured into both glasses, making certain her view of them was obstructed. Pulling a bottle of clear liquid from his pocket, he quickly emptied the contents into her glass.

  Rejoining her, he handed her the glass. “Alright, no more talk about moving, for now, anyway. Let’s enjoy our wine.”

  Smiling gratefully, she took a sip a
nd wrinkled her nose, not liking the bitter taste.

  Sipping from his own glass he carefully studied her reaction, then said, “I hope you like it, a friend of mine sent it to me from Italy, for my birthday. I understand it’s a very expensive brand.” he finished, knowing that after telling her that, she would never waste the gift he shared with her. It was in her very nature to be both kind and trusting, she had a never-ending need to please him, and others around her.

  Putting on a false smile, she said nothing, took several more sips, and felt her eyelids suddenly become very heavy. Seemingly in slow motion, she set the glass on her coffee table, fearing she would drop it. Feeling her face heat up, she put her hands on her burning cheeks, and felt her entire body go numb. Dropping her hands, she tried to get up, and found it was impossible. It felt as if there was a heavy weight pressing her into the seat.