The Boulder Loop trail at Daley Ranch, where he took me, turned out to be the perfect date hike. It was long enough and steep enough that I was able to prove that I could be sporty, and beautiful enough that I could actually enjoy it despite a lack of trees. We wandered off the trail in parts to mosey among the large tan rock formations, laughing together at suggestively shaped boulders. We climbed together on the more accessible formations, and made out in the shadow-cooled dust of an enormous boulder that kept us entirely out of view of the trail.
Adam dropped me off at home around dinnertime and topped off the day with a sweaty, dusty embrace before leaving. I breathed in the scent of him. Rugged. Manly. I soaked it up, hoping I could keep it with me. Rugged Adam. My man.
* * *
On Monday, the tow truck met me at the impound yard. The driver, a tall, sturdy woman in her late forties or early fifties, was there just in time to see me break down just a little. After settling the paperwork, I’d found the misshapen heap that used to be my perfect-for-me car. It was so mangled on the driver’s side that I could hardly imagine how Liam survived.
As I ran my hand over the crushed metal, the tears began to flow. The tow truck driver approached me and rested a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “Honey, you are lucky to be alive,” she drawled with a slight Southern accent. “It doesn’t seem right to mourn over an inanimate object when you’re alive after an accident like this.”
I looked over my shoulder at her. “Are you an author?”
She looked at me blankly. I took that as a no.
“Anyway, I wasn’t in the car. It was my roommate.”
She bowed her head. “Oh, your roommate. I’m so sorry.” Her hand rested even heavier.
“He’s alive. He almost didn’t make it. Some people deserve what they get,” I thought of Donnie, “but my roommate didn’t deserve this. It was a miracle that he even survived. I didn’t realize how much of a miracle until now.” I waved my hand at the wreck.
“I’ll say it’s a miracle,” the driver agreed, and moved back towards her truck. “Now, where are we taking the car?”
“Let’s bring it to my place for now. I guess I didn’t realize it was really this bad. In the end, I may just have to have it totaled.”
“Definitely should be an option for you, honey. This is in pretty bad shape. Now, let me get it hauled up on the flatbed. Is there anything in there that you want to get out before I put it up? Anything that might fly off on the freeway? How far are we going?” She was setting up the device that would pull my car onto the truck.
“Not far. But, of course, this is California so there’s definitely a freeway involved. Let me check in the car.”
I managed to get the trunk open and retrieve the manuscripts and paperwork from before my trip to Greece. I placed them in the passenger side of the tow truck, and then got the passenger side door open.
When I leaned inside I saw big, black stains dried into the upholstery and carpeting and splattered across the dashboard. For a moment it didn’t register.
“What is all this?”
Then my eyes moved up to the windshield. The parts of glass that hadn’t shattered had stains as well, and with the light shining on them, I saw the hint of red. Deep red. Blood red.
“Oh, my God,” I muttered as nausea spread over me. I backed out of the car in a flash, and began pacing, breathing deeply, and whispering, “Oh, my God.”
The tow truck driver saw me and called over, “Hey! You okay there, honey?”
I nodded, but kept pacing.
“You need me to get something out of the car for you?”
I stopped and considered taking her up on the offer. But why should she have to face all that blood when Liam is my friend, and this is my car? I can do it.
So I answered, “I think I can do it,” and stared at the passenger door. The driver went back to her work.
“Okay,” I whispered to myself. “You can do this. In and out. Real quick. Face it once and it’s over.”
Four large steps and I was at the car again. I leaned in without touching anything, trying to keep my eyes from the seats and carpet and dashboard. I grabbed the few manuscripts, a jacket, and my umbrella from the back seat. I pulled out, dropped them on the ground unceremoniously, and from outside the car, I gazed at the glove compartment.
A few droplets of blood stained the edge, but the handle was clean. I reached in, opened the glove compartment, and with one movement scooped everything out and into my arms. My insurance information, my vehicle handbook, a handful of CD cases.
Then I shut the door and turned my back on it. “It’s over,” I told myself, and immediately tried to erase from my memory what I’d seen inside.
“I think that’s all,” I said to the driver as I made my way to the front of the truck again. “Should I just climb in, or do you need my help?”
“Honey, I’ve been doing this for twenty-three years. And unless you can do something this automatic crank can’t, go ahead and hop in the cab.”
I passed the minutes in the cab looking through the CDs. Crossroads. Bringing It All Back Home. The Living Sea soundtrack.
The Living Sea? That wasn’t my CD, and finding it unsettled me.
My mind flashed back to Liam, upset and crying for us to stop the DVD we’d rented of The Living Sea.
Cleo had suggested that the other driver might have been playing the CD when he hit Liam.
I was furious at Liam! How could he have made us believe that it was someone else playing this music when he crashed? How could he have given us that false lead? And why did he pretend not to know this music? He was obviously listening to it when he was in the accident or it would not have freaked him out. So why the hell had he assured us that he hadn’t heard the music before the accident?
I dialed his cell phone, not caring if he was resting or getting his groove on with his new love. He was going to have to explain this.
“Liam?” I asked when he picked up the phone without a salutation.
“Why are you calling me?”
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“All right, I guess. Why are you calling? Can I call you back later?”
“I’m picking up my car right now and found a CD of yours in it.”
“Cool, just bring it home with you. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Don’t you want to know which CD it is?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just bring it home.”
“I think you’ll want to know.”
Liam sighed, “Just a sec.” I heard him speak softly, away from the phone, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. When he returned to the phone he sighed again before speaking. “Okay, Eliza, which CD is it?”
“The Living Sea!” I declared.
“I don’t even know what that is. Must be yours.”
“It isn’t mine. And you were the last person in my car.”
“I told you, I don’t know that album.”
“It’s a soundtrack.”
“Listen, Lizzy, I really can’t talk right now. I didn’t bring any CDs into your car, and unless you borrowed one of mine, then I can’t imagine why any of my CDs would even be in your car.”
I backed down at his logic. “Okay. I guess you might be right.”
“It isn’t a question of who’s right. I don’t own that CD, and that’s plain fact. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Is that all?”
“Yeah. Sorry for bothering you.”
“Okay, Lizzy. I’ll be home later tonight. See you then.”
We hung up and the tow truck driver hopped in the cab and started the engine. “Okay, honey, ready to get this thing home?”
“I sure am,” I assured her, still thinking about the CD.
“Were you on the phone with your mechanic?”
“No, no, just a friend. My roommate, actually. He’s the one who was borrowing my car when it was crashed. I thought this CD was his, but it isn’t.” I held up the CD
case, then set it back on my lap.
“Well, if it isn’t his, and it isn’t yours—”
“Exactly,” I interrupted. “Whose is it?”
“I was going to say that no one can say no to me popping it in the CD player for the ride to your place.” She laughed and I opened the CD case. She grabbed the CD inside and fed it to her CD player.
It began playing as we pulled out of the impound yard and initiated a nice and uncomplicated conversation. The driver was married with no kids but a handful of pets, dogs, cats, and a ferret that she made me swear never to tell the California State Government she had. I told her the broad outline of my situation, living with an ex, dating someone new.
“How does your new man feel about you living with your ex?”
“I think he’s all right with it.” I thought back to Adam’s reaction when he found out I was living with Liam. Had I even told him that Liam and I had been a couple? If not, how would he feel if he knew?
The driver, keeping her eyes on the road, continued, “At least you told him. If he’s continued to see you, then it must not bother him too much. If you hadn’t told him already, I was just going to say that you’ll have a confrontation sooner or later about why you’re living with an ex-lover. And why you hadn’t told him. So, it’s good he knows.”
I nodded, anxious to talk to Liam about selling the condo. I had been afraid of the hassle of selling it and finding a new place to live when he first brought it up. But now with Adam in my life, the fear had been replaced with a sense of urgency. We had to get this done before Adam found out how deep my relationship with my roommate had once been. Before he took me for some kind of liar. Again. And besides that, I was really ready now to get on with my life.
The driver seemed to know that she had sparked a train of thought and fell silent. I rested my elbow on the edge of the door and looked out the windshield. To the left heading north on Interstate 5, there was a beautiful ocean view with the setting sun turning the sky shades of orange, red, and purple. I glanced away to the passenger-side mirror to check the traffic behind us. We were in the slow lane and I could see people in the passenger seats of the cars behind us pointing at the wreck on the back of the tow truck before passing.
Just then I saw a familiar face in the car behind us, but one that I couldn’t quite place. I turned around to look out the rear window, but my crushed car blocked my view. I returned to the mirror. Long blonde hair surrounding pale skin. Who was this?
Not someone from work, at least not anyone I knew personally. Not a college classmate either, that I could remember.
Where have I seen this girl? I kept studying her in the mirror, all the while trying to push down the sick feeling in my stomach.
Why is she following us, and where do I know her from?
“What is it?” the driver asked.
“There’s someone in the car behind us that looks familiar. But I can’t seem to place her.”
“An old friend maybe?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, you seem too worried for it to be a friend.”
“Sorry, I’m just…”
“Worried. Right. But why are you worried?”
This wasn’t helping. What was I supposed to say? That she might be a murderer who’d found me before I found her? That maybe I’d been followed before? The driver would think I was crazy. Paranoid. And maybe I was, but I wasn’t going to let on to a complete stranger.
“It’s just annoying me that I can’t remember where I’ve seen her before.”
“Let me slow up a bit. They’re sure to pass us, and you’ll get a better look.” She did, and I saw the car move slowly to the left and out of my mirror view. I leaned forward past the driver and she leaned back against the seat to give me a better view out her driver’s side window.
The picture on Adam’s wall!
This girl, at least from my memory, matched up perfectly. The beautiful blonde wrapped up in Adam’s arms in Zihuantaneo.
Crystal.
How could she still look so perfect? How many years ago had that picture been taken? Crystal didn’t seem to have aged at all. Had the picture been taken much more recently than Adam had led me to believe?
The car was passing us slowly, and I now turned my attention to the car itself. I gasped. A burgundy-maroon Mustang. I leaned over even more, but from the height of the tow truck, I could only see the passenger seat.
Drawing in a deep breath, I leaned back to wait for the car to pass us completely so that I could look at the bumper stickers.
Don’t love Steinbeck! Please!
They passed us. I saw the sticker: I – heart – Steinbeck.
In the driver’s seat I could make out the figure of a man, the setting sun throwing him into silhouette.
Either some random stranger and Crystal had stolen Adam’s car, or that was Adam out with her.
I shook with disappointment and with fury. How dare he? Either they’ve gotten back together, or he never stopped seeing her.
I’m the other woman.
The driver looked at me and then back at the road. “Not someone you were hoping to see?”
I didn’t reply, but bit my lip hard, and she let it go. We didn’t speak on the rest of the way to the condo. My mind was filled with curses for Adam and his waif-like little blonde.
After I paid the driver and she left, I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Cleo’s house. I sat there in the driveway next to my crushed car, tears in my eyes. When her answering machine picked up, I remembered that she was on her way to San Diego today. I hung up without leaving a message and dialed her cell. If she was still driving, she wouldn’t answer. Ever since the accident with Dad she’d been a careful driver who did not approve of distractions while on the road, and that included talking on a cell phone. I was not surprised when her voicemail picked up.
“Cleo, it’s me. I’m really, really upset right now. Can you call me back when you get a chance? And I’m not overreacting. So don’t say that when you call or I’ll be really mad. Okay, call me. I’ll be up late.”
I paused, wondering how much to tell her. I didn’t want her to think I was hurt, so I decided to go ahead and tell her the upsetting news via voicemail. “Okay, here it is. I saw Adam with his supposedly ex-girlfriend Crystal. Crystal! And yes, her looks match her perfect little name. I’ve seen a picture of her in his house and he said it was from a long time ago, and that she was an ex. Right! I think he’s been cheating on me with her. Or cheating on her with me, which would be even worse. I’m not even in the ‘real’ relationship. I feel like going over there right now and…I don’t know what! Kicking him right in the groin or something. Damn it, Cleo, I am so upset. How did I get so wrapped up in him so quickly? And to think he flipped out when he thought Liam and I were a couple! He said it was because his ex had lied and now he’s the liar! Sorry for this disjointed message. Call me when you get this. Please, just give me a call. I’m so upset.”
I hung up and wanted to sit in the driveway and wait for her to call back, not go inside with my tear-streaked face and have Liam ask what the matter was. I didn’t want to admit that my new romance was a fake.
But I didn’t even know if Liam was home yet. And who knew how long it would be until Cleo could call me back? And I didn’t want to explain myself to any neighbors taking their dogs for evening walks. I hardly knew any of these people, but they’d ask if I was okay and I didn’t want to explain it to them. They wouldn’t want to hear it all anyhow.
So I left the wreck in the driveway and went inside. I didn’t want the sight of it to frighten Liam or upset our neighbors so I covered it in sheets and decided that if I did not have a plan for the thing soon, I’d invest in a car cover.
Of course, the best option would be to make a plan after the guy who hit my car was caught and his insurance could pay for the damages. Or a new car. Maybe a hybrid. Maybe a cute little Miata. Maybe a huge Hummer to smash into Adam’s Mustang. Mentally giving myself
a shake, I extracted the spreadsheets and manuscripts from my bag to read while I had dinner. Liam wasn’t home yet, and I wondered if he’d just said he’d be home tonight to get me off the phone. I didn’t want to have the talk with him tonight anyway. I was too damn angry.
With the spreadsheets under my arm, a glass of pineapple-orange juice in one hand and a plate of quesadillas in the other, I climbed to my room and planted myself on the floor. If Liam came home and decided to check on me, fine. But if he didn’t, that was even better. I needed to use my time wisely.
I’ll figure out this mystery and catch this asshole, no matter how long it takes.
My fury at Adam came out in the compulsive search for a murderer.
* * *
After many hours, I was exhausted. My plate was greasy and empty, and I’d continually refilled my glass in the bathroom sink, despite my distaste for unfiltered water. I gulped down the remaining tap water and lay back on my bed. My eyes were starting to blur from reading name after name and title after title. I’d come up with nothing suspicious, but then I hardly knew what I was looking for.
I should just quit.
Someone at the police department was probably doing the same thing, getting paid to do it, and looking at it with a trained eye.
I’m not a detective. I’m a mystery editor. I don’t know whodunit until I read the last pages of a manuscript.
But the two alternatives to my headache were far worse. I’d either obsess over Adam and Crystal, or I’d have to try to hide my anger and talk with Liam about the condo. I’d heard him come in through the front door and call my name, but I hadn’t answered. I told myself that if he knocked on my door, it would be a sign that I should talk to him. But he hadn’t, and I’d left it at that.
Through the pain I pressed onward with the mystery. I decided to give myself to the end of the hour. Then I’d toss out the rest of the stack and leave the detective work to the detectives.
I kept reading.
Name: Tabas, Ian.
Title: “A Far Voice”
Reader: Intern Office
Notes: 3+ spelling errors in cover letter, automatically rejected per standard procedure.
Best of Luck Elsewhere Page 20
