“I don’t think so,” Daylin murmured, putting her head on her knees, the sudden weight had become too much for her to bear.
“Miss Montgomery, can you tell me where you were at the time of Mr. Hargrove’s death?”
Daylin’s head snapped up at the accusatory question and tone. Her heart raced; her gaze bounced between the EMTs and Detective Voorhees as the technicians lifted Elijah’s body and placed it in a black body bag.
“I went shopping,” she replied. “We had an argument, so I thought some retail therapy was in order.”
Detective Voorhees lowered a cool gaze on Daylin as a tall man, with a tawny complexion, dressed in career blue shirt and slacks came over and whispered in Detective Voorhees’s ear. The new comer’s face remained neutral as he glanced in Daylin’s direction. The detective’s eyes flickered from Daylin back to the officer’s gloved hand that held a letter-sized envelope. She recognized that it had been on the carpet near Elijah.
Voorhees shook a pair of gloves from her pocket and slipped them on before she took a letter-sized envelope from the officer.
“Miss Montgomery, are you aware if Mr. Hargrove was depressed? What was his behavior before you left the apartment?”
Daylin didn’t want to discuss anything about her strained and often violent relationship with Elijah. Before she left the apartment this morning he had punched her in the thigh for wearing one of his t-shirts.
“I don’t know if he was depressed,” she admitted. “He didn’t get any type of diagnosis from a doctor. He was upset that his job let him go. He said the manager didn’t like him,” she murmured, her anger diminishing as she thought about how this explanation was a typical response for an involuntary loss of employment.
Detective Voorhees flipped the paper open, examined the contents, and turned it to face Daylin who scanned the handwritten letter that delivered a gut punch to her soul.
“Oh my God,” she groaned, nearly gasping in an effort to get enough air.
“Is there anyone else that you can think of that we can talk to about his state of mind?” Detective Voorhees inquired.
“Just his family.”
Daylin offered the names and phone numbers of Elijah’s closest family members, ones who had turned a blind eye to the bruises, broken nose, and bald patches, all signs of when Elijah had taken out his frustration on her.
“Thank you for your cooperation, Miss Montgomery,” Detective Voorhees said as she handed Daylin a business card, “Please be advised that you shouldn’t leave town until this investigation is over.”
Daylin nodded as she moved to take the small card from the detective. Once she was alone, she leaned on the door and closed her eyes, remembering the contents of the letter.
Daylin my Love,
How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me, but you had me fooled. I went out and bought a ring. I was finally ready to propose and make you my wife. I’m sorry that I wasn’t good enough. I trusted you, but I shouldn’t have. I found the texts about your pregnancy. I thought we would be a family, but you had to go and mess everything up. I hope you’re happy now. Congratulations, Daylin! This is all your fault.
Good bye,
Elijah
Chapter 2
Heat built up around Daylin’s face as Elijah’s last words bounced around in her mind. Not only had he chosen to end their relationship this way, but also blamed her for why he decided to end his life and he had ended it on a lie.
Daylin and Elijah had a chaotic relationship, but could never be said that the high school sweethearts ever experienced the sweet part of what love was supposed to be. Desires of leaving their hometown died as Elijah’s childish tantrums and pleas grew into full on abusive episodes every time Daylin talked about moving on. Only God knew what she was going through and felt betrayed that her prayers didn’t make Elijah a better person. If there was a wish that had been granted, it was one that only her heart uttered—to be loved by a man she could call a friend.
Daylin took in the mess Elijah had left for her to clean and a pitiful groan escaped her lips.
“Selfish bastard,” she said through her teeth to the chilled space as she went to retrieve her cell phone from her purse. “I’ve never cheated on you even though you’ve given me reason to.”
All Elijah had to do was love her instead trying to make her as crazy as he was. His melodramatic existence took precedence in something as simple as ordering pizza.
Daylin read through the texts that Elijah used as the reasoning for his dramatic life exit.
She tapped the screen and waited for the call to be answered.
“Hello, Maurice,” she said when he picked up. “Can I meet you somewhere? We need to talk.”
She never wanted to return to the place where heaven and hell met her each day.
Chapter 3
A broad, flirtatious smile and runway model swagger made Maurice the breath of fresh air that Daylin needed. He was the friend she never had in Elijah. Common interests in travel, music, and the occasional debate about Daylin’s Wolverines being better than Maurice’s Buckeyes made for frequent and sometimes raucous lunchtime breaks at Atwater Bank and Trust.
More than a few women in the building were envious of how well the two worked together even knowing that he was spoken for with a baby on the way. Maurice was confident, supportive, and creative—everything that Elijah was not.
Sitting in the dimly lit corner booth of Shane’s Bar and Grill, the restaurant was packed like it was Valentine’s Day. Daylin didn’t know if she would pass out from fear or happiness when the six-foot tall ebony superman made his way to the booth.
“Hey handsome,” her voice trembled as she stood to hug her friend, ignoring the ogling eyes from the women who surrounded them
“How are you, Beautiful?” the bass voice sang from a wide smile from a handsomely chiseled face.
The words to explain her situation became caught in her throat.
“Did he hurt you again?”
“He’s dead.”
Maurice’s gray eyes widened to the size of half dollars as he shifted to wrap his arms around her trembling body.
“Are you okay?” Maurice tilted his head as if he was hit with a sudden thought. “Did you?” He slowly released Daylin and lowered his gaze so their eyes met.
“Did I what?” she snapped.
“You know…”
“I would never,” she replied, twisting her face in horror that her best friend would think that she could harm Elijah, even if he deserved it. “We got into a stupid argument. I didn’t do anything to him even after all he’s done to me. He killed himself and left a letter blaming me for it.”
Maurice closed his eyes and exhaled.
Embarrassed, Daylin looked away from the man who’d been her rock when life became overwhelming.
“He found our texts about the baby.”
“But it was his baby.”
One wayward tear set the path for more to fall and Daylin couldn’t stop the flow if she tried. A server ambled toward the couple, but Maurice waved him away.
“It … It was,” she stammered and then took a deep breath. “I didn’t get the chance to tell him because I miscarried. At some point he went through my phone and found the texts. I guess that sent him over the edge and he …”
Scooting into the padded bench, Daylin fixed her gaze on Maurice. His eyebrows creased the middle of his forehead, something that always happened when he was thinking of how to solve a problem. The type of man who kept a cool head he was always the voice of reason. The only advice that Daylin hadn’t followed was to report the abuse and leave Elijah.
“I’m here for you,” he whispered. “What do you need? A lawyer? Money?”
“Can I crash at your place for a while,” she asked. “Or at least until the investigation is over. I mean, I can’t stay at the scene of a crime, right?” She braced herself as the smile that didn’t reach Maurice’s gentle eyes held little hope of assistance.
> He reached across the table and took Daylin’s hands in his strong hands, his thumb caressing hers.
“That can’t happen,” he said shaking his head.
Daylin’s breath quickened as if a sharp pain hit her chest. She wiped the pool of moisture from her cheeks.
“We’ve been friends for how long? Three or four years?” she admitted. “You’ve let me hang out with you before until the smoke cleared. What’s so different now?”
“You know that my fiancée is expecting,” Maurice explained as he leaned back in his seat.
Daylin felt a twinge in her stomach as she considered the loss of her own baby. “I remember. Are Faye and the baby okay?”
“She’s really close to her due date,” Maurice informed. “The doctors are trying to regulate her blood pressure. She’s been ordered to go on bed rest. So, I’m making sure she’s comfortable and the house is quiet. I need to focus on her.”
Daylin withdrew her hands from Maurice’s hold and crossed her arms across her chest. Despite her tumultuous relationship she hoped for a future with Elijah. She wanted her baby. She wanted Elijah to care for her the way that Maurice cared for his family.
“Daylin, I want to help,” he declared reaching into his jeans pocket, pulling out his wallet, and placing a credit card on the table in front of Daylin.
“This card is clean and has a five-thousand-dollar limit. You can stay in a hotel for the duration of the investigation. Maybe get a massage to help you relax. Just please don’t max it out,” he said with a chuckle trying to make Daylin smile; his friend’s watery gaze wasn’t lost on him.
A stocky blonde man dressed in dark slacks and a crisp white shirt advanced through the dimly lit restaurant toward the couple, his expression wary given the emotional scene he walked upon a few minutes earlier.
“Hi, I’m Justin your server,” he said avoiding eye contact with Daylin. “Can I start you out with something to drink?” Daylin lowered her gaze to the table and shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Justin,” Maurice said sliding the menus in. “We’re leaving. We apologize for any inconvenience.”
The server inched back as Maurice stood and handed him a ten-dollar bill. Daylin sighed, feeling overwhelmed by the day’s events.
He reached for Daylin, took her hand, and led her out of the restaurant to the less noisy area of the off-street parking lot.
“Listen,” he said, placing the card firmly in her hand. “Get a room. Get you some room service and take it easy.”
Daylin slid the plastic inside one cup of her bra; her mind was in other places. Body bag. Don’t leave town.
“What am I supposed to do, Maurice,” she cried as she tucked a loose lock behind her ear. “Elijah’s gone.”
“You’re better off,” he said with a harshness she had never heard from him before. “Black eyes, busted lips, and bruises. Stressed out. He’s shown up at the job and caused a scene after scene. Need I go on?” Maurice’s eyebrows shot up as if to let Daylin know he had mentally recorded every offense made against his friend. “Now you can be with someone who deserves to have you, the way that you gave your heart to Elijah.”
Daylin’s bottom lip quivered as shame washed over her for agreeing with the facts he presented. Even though she was valedictorian of her graduating class, matters of the heart overrode commons sense and logic when it came to Elijah.
Maurice wrapped Daylin’s curvy frame in his massive arms while she fell apart. Squeezing her as if by his strength he could put the pieces of her broken world together, he splayed and wove his fingers through her dark tresses and cradled her head.
Dailyn’s tears fell relentlessly, wetting the white t-shirt that covered his chest. She looked up at the only person who helped whenever she needed to find some type of peace.
“I’ll call you in a few days to see how you’re doing,” Maurice said placing a heated kiss to Daylin’s forehead. Feeling safe in his hold, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so good in a man’s arms. When he released her, she immediately missed the heat that holding her so close had created. A cool breeze blew between them, sending a chill racing up her back while directing heat to other places.
Maurice walked Daylin the distance down the crumbled blacktop to her car, which was parked in a dark area of the lot.
“Thank you for everything, Maurice,” she whispered, her words working past the lump in her throat.
“What are friends for,” he asked his smile not reaching his eyes.
Daylin slid behind the steering wheel of her Malibu as Maurice closed the door and stepped back. Turning the key in the ignition, she avoided his gaze as he waited for her to leave. As she drove away, Daylin glanced in the rearview, her stomach in knots. Thoughts about the investigation, life without Elijah, and wishes of trading places with Faye swirled around in her mind.
How had fate been so cruel?
Chapter 4
Some amount of serenity should’ve been a part of Daylin’s world now that her abuser was dead. However, peace was elusive as she could only find it in stolen moments at a nearby park while writing in a hot pink leather-bound journal, a birthday gift that she had received from Maurice.
The days following Elijah’s death proved to be even more troubled than when he was alive. Police questioning her at the hotel made for a less than relaxing stay and prank calls from blocked callers kept Daylin awake at night.
Cars whizzed up and down busy Harbor Avenue during lunchtime traffic as Daylin returned from a break away from her job and friend.
“So you mean to tell me that you’re fine having a murderer work for this establishment,” a petite and portly woman with a dark complexion yelled in the lobby of the bank that was jammed with customers.
The balding middle-aged manager had seen this woman on a few occasions under more friendly circumstances, but now he stood with his face so red it looked as though the woman may have slapped him on both cheeks.
Daylin rushed to the woman, brushing past customers to try and calm her down. The sweet floral scent that wafted from the well-dressed woman didn’t match the unpleasant twist of her lips as Daylin reached out to touch her.
“Ms. Hargrove? Why are you here,” Daylin whispered observing all of the onlookers in the area.
Elijah’s mother snatched her arm away from Daylin’s contact as anxious observers moved away from the trio. Two customers held up their phones to record the drama.
“Listen, Joan,” Mr. Shelton said, defending his star employee, “Daylin is a great worker and I have no problem with her. And as I understand it, your son’s injury was self-inflicted.”
“And you believe the lies she told you?” she screamed. “She killed my son. What you need to know is you’ll have more than a problem if I come back tomorrow and she’s still employed here,” Ms. Hargrove warned, her large protruding eyes narrowing on Daylin’s face. “She’s still under investigation for my son’s death. She shouldn’t be walking around free while I have to bury my only child.”
Daylin’s mouth dropped as sweat beaded on her forehead. How could such an accusation come from the only woman she felt close enough to consider a mother since her own mother was killed in a car accident before high school graduation?
“Let me come back and see her here, Mr. Shelton.” Ms. Hargrove’s angry gaze flashed over to the bank manager’s weary expression, “Channel 7 will be here to film your regret for the evening news.”
Ms. Hargrove turned on the heels of her black church mother pumps and stormed out the door. Silence hung in the air as though the bank were devoid of customers.
“I apologize for the commotion ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Shelton declared. “We’ll get you taken care of as quickly as possible. Thanks again for banking with Atwater Bank and Trust.”
Business resumed, customers shooting accusatory glances toward Daylin and murmuring amongst themselves.
Heat blew up Daylin’s neck, blood rushing to her golden cheeks. Her clinched fist shook as her c
hest ebbed and flowed like the waves of the ocean.
“Come with me, Miss Montgomery,” Mr. Shelton directed as he walked toward a corner cubicle at the back of the bank.
Daylin trailed the manager fighting back her tears. Neither sat down as they reached the desk, instead huddling in a corner that was obscured from the customers’ view.
“I understood when you said that your boyfriend killed himself. What is Ms. Hargrove talking about?”
Mr. Shelton wipes his hands over his face as Daylin explained at length life with Elijah, his family, and the unnaturally close relationship he had to his mother.
“He was her only child and she had him late in life. He was twenty-eight years old and it was like he couldn’t breathe if she wasn’t a phone call away. And believe me that’s all she needed to be at my door.”
Exhausted, Mr. Shelton leaned on a wall near him and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Listen Daylin, you’re a great worker and the customers love you, but this kind of disruption is bad for business. I’m not inclined to suspend you, but clearly you need to keep a low profile. I’m transferring you immediately to the Centerline branch. There’s an opening for a loan officer that’ll be good for you.”
Daylin loved where she worked, however she knew that Ms. Hargrove’s words were not a threat, but a promise. She didn’t want to make any more bad press for the company.
“Take the rest of the day off while I figure out what to do,” Mr. Shelton advised.
Daylin scrambled to gather her jacket and golf umbrella from her desk and exited the front door before co-workers could stop her for their own personal interviews.
She hoped that things wouldn’t get any worse, but she soon found that was too much to ask.
Chapter 5
“Daylin, have you been on Facebook yet?” Maurice asked from the other end of the phone, his voice full of concern.
Daylin rolled from her back to her side in the king-sized bed that cradled her sleep deprived body to check the time—5:32 a.m.
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