Half Empty

by Catherine Bybee

  Reed stepped around the mess and back out the door.

  “This isn’t good.”

  Reed dialed 911 on his phone. “The one thing I doubt even more than random acts of violence, it’s any kind of coincidence.” He turned away to talk to the operator while Wade stared at the quiet of the turbulent night.

  Trina hated to leave the hospital, but Avery’s parents had arrived, so at least she knew there was someone there every time she opened her eyes.

  Jeb was a machine. The man hadn’t slept at all, and he was the one driving them to the Hamptons house in the early morning light.

  When Reed had called to say the office was vandalized, Trina knew, in her heart, that somehow the dots connected to Avery. As the night had worn on, it seemed Avery was a little more aware of where she was and had grasped why she was in the hospital. But there was still no memory of what had happened.

  Trina closed her eyes for only a minute when they pulled out of the hospital parking lot, and the next thing she knew someone was waking her up.

  Startled, she assessed where she was.

  Jeb had pulled into the driveway, along with what appeared to be half of the Suffolk County police force.

  “We’re here,” Lori said from the back seat.

  “This is my house,” Trina told the uniformed policeman who attempted to stop them at the door. “Bodyguard.” She pointed toward Jeb. “Attorney.” She moved her thumb in Lori’s direction.

  The officer stepped aside.

  Wade and Reed were in the kitchen, along with two plainclothes police officers. Both of them wore badges attached to their belts.

  Wade noticed her about the same time that Reed noticed Lori. They both stood and met them halfway.

  “How is she?” Wade asked once Trina was in his arms.

  “Tiny improvement. They said they were going to do another scan of her head this morning to make sure there weren’t any changes overnight.”

  “Did you get any rest?” Reed asked Lori.

  “In the car, you?”

  He shook his head.

  Trina turned to Jeb. “Jeb, there are plenty of guest rooms upstairs. Please make yourself comfortable. Get some sleep.”

  Jeb looked at Wade.

  “We’re good.”

  “I’ll only need a couple hours.”

  “Mrs. Petrov?” One of the officers interrupted them.

  She winced, no longer wanting to use the name. “Yes.”

  “I’m Detective Armstrong and this is Detective Gray.”

  “Good morning,” she said on autopilot. She glanced around the kitchen. “I should make coffee. Anyone need coffee?”

  Lori led Trina to a chair. “I’ll get the coffee, you talk to these men.”

  Then the questions started.

  When was the last time she was in the house? Who had keys and who knew the security code to turn off the alarm system? Because the alarm was monitored by the company Reed worked for, he’d already told the police that it appeared that Avery did set the alarm when she left the day before, and sometime around two, the alarm was disengaged. The cameras on the front gate and front door didn’t show anyone coming or going.

  Lori pushed a cup of coffee in front of Trina.

  “Thank you.”

  Wade rubbed the back of her neck as she answered questions. The touch did two things, it soothed the ache, but more than that, it filled her soul. The poor man picked the wrong woman up in a bar, and now he was sitting in her Hamptons dungeon instead of sleeping off what should have been a decent buzz from the night before. She apologized to him with her eyes and hoped he understood.

  “As you may already know, we don’t think anything was taken from the office, but you’ll have to confirm that.”

  She closed her eyes, saw Fedor’s lifeless body in her head. Trina took a drink of the coffee. “I doubt I can tell if anything is missing. I didn’t go in there a lot, and it’s been a year.”

  “Can you try? It will help quite a bit.”

  “Of course.”

  Wade rubbed her shoulders.

  She held the cup with both hands, surprised at how cold they felt. “Is this related to what happened to Avery?”

  There was silence in the room.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “How? Why?”

  Reed filled in the blanks.

  “Your text from Avery came in at one thirty-five. The alarm here was deactivated at two, almost on the nose.”

  “You can’t get from the city to here in twenty-five minutes.”

  “Right. Avery was on her way back here.”

  “How could anyone know that other than me? She sent the text to me, and I didn’t even see it until after all this had happened.”

  “It could be any number of things. She told someone she was on her way home, maybe her phone was bugged. We might never know, since it was destroyed after a car ran over it in the garage. The working theory is someone wanted to keep her from coming home too early.”

  “They could have killed her . . . and for what?” Trina almost yelled her question.

  “Has anyone ever threatened you, Mrs. Petrov? Anyone that comes to mind that is capable of this?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “That’s not true,” Lori said in a quiet voice.

  Everyone in the room turned at the same time.

  “Ruslan,” Lori said, looking directly at Armstrong. “Fedor’s father stood in the front door of this house and threatened to get back at Trina for the death of his son. There were half a dozen witnesses.”

  “Not to mention him threatening you,” Reed reminded them.

  “What?” Wade asked.

  “Ruslan blamed the women in Fedor’s life for ‘ruining him.’” Lori made air quotes when she spoke. “He’s a big, scary man, but he hires people to do his dirty work. I’d be shocked if you found anything you can pin on him, including a traffic violation.”

  “This is your father-in-law?” Wade asked Trina.

  “There was no love between Fedor and his dad. The two never spoke,” Trina told him.

  “That gives us something to go on,” Armstrong said.

  “Let’s find out if anything is missing from the office. Forensics will be here in a couple of hours to start dusting for prints.”

  Trina pulled herself out of the chair and turned toward the door.

  God, she was tired.

  The backyard buzzed with officers, most of whom stopped and moved aside when they walked by.

  Her legs started to shake.

  Wade stopped her. “You okay?”

  She closed her eyes, opened them. “The last time I was in that office was when we found him.”

  “You don’t have to do this.” He looked at the police officers. “She doesn’t have to do this.”

  Trina placed a hand on his arm. “I’m okay.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  “Yeah, I am. But I’ll survive.”

  Wade kept an arm around her waist when she continued walking.

  She took the final steps through the door and cringed. It would have been harder to see the office in its normal state and imagine exactly how she’d seen Fedor. This way, with the desk sitting in the wrong place and the chairs in places they never were . . . it was easier, somehow.

  Wade squeezed her shoulder.

  “I’m okay.” Yet as she said those words, she saw the wall behind the desk and remembered the blood splatter.

  She swallowed hard.

  “Can you tell if anything is missing?” Detective Gray asked.

  “I wasn’t in here very often. Uhm. His desk. A chair, only I think the original chair was removed with him. The wall was painted . . . after.” It had been a lighter color, the whole room. But that wasn’t what they were asking. “He liked pens, there was an old inkwell set on his desk.” Not that they could see it under all the clutter. “I don’t know if it was here after they cleaned up the room.”

  “Do you have a cleaning lady
?”

  “Yeah, Cindy . . .” Trina looked at Lori. “You remember her?”

  “I do.”

  “She comes twice a month. She’d probably know if anything was missing more than I would.”

  Detective Armstrong wrote something down. “We’ll need her number.”

  “It’s in the house. I’ve been trying to get ahold of her the past few days, but she hasn’t returned my calls.”

  The detectives exchanged glances. Armstrong wrote a note in his small pad of paper.

  Detective Gray pointed to the safe behind the tilted painting on the wall. “Do you have the key?”

  “No. I didn’t have any of the safe combinations or keys.”

  “Really? That’s odd.”

  She shook her head. “Not necessarily. We’d only been married for a year. I didn’t see the need for that kind of thing.”

  The detectives were silent. “Your husband was a wealthy man.”

  “He was. He had everything to live for, it made no sense for him to kill himself.”

  “So why do you think he did it?” Armstrong asked.

  Lori interrupted Trina before she could answer.

  “The investigation that followed Fedor’s death determined that he was distraught over his mother’s impending death. They were very close. She passed shortly after Fedor’s funeral.”

  While all that was true, Trina felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end when Lori delivered the information in her lawyer voice.

  Armstrong scribbled in his notebook.

  “Gentlemen. If that’s all, I think it would be good for all of us to get some rest. We’ve been up for over twenty-four hours.” Lori cut everything off.

  The officers exchanged looks.

  Trina was too tired to figure out what had gotten up Lori’s butt.

  “You’re Wade Thomas,” Detective Gray said as if he was just figuring it out.

  “Yeah, we talked about this a few hours ago,” Wade said.

  Trina looked up at Wade, then back to the officer talking.

  “So you two are . . . dating?” he asked.

  Wade opened his mouth and Lori stepped in front of him.

  “Are you a fan, Detective?” Lori asked.

  Gray tilted his head. “No. I’m more of a Guns N’ Roses guy. I just, ah . . . I don’t know. The man who owned all this is dead for only a year.” His eyes traveled to Trina.

  “Okay, that’s enough!” Lori pushed Trina and Wade out of the room.

  “You’re out of line.” Wade pointed two fingers at the detective.

  Reed moved to stand beside Lori.

  “Okay, everyone, relax. We’re just doing our job.” Gray looked at Reed. “You of all people should know that.”

  “Yeah, I do. If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking . . . you’re digging in the wrong hole.”

  Trina’s head spun while she tried to catch up on the hidden conversation running all around her.

  “We’re going to go upstairs and get some sleep. If you gentlemen have any more questions, you make sure and wake both of us.” Lori pointed between herself and Trina.

  Gray started to grin . . . and not the kind of grin that made you smile, but the kind that made you worry. “You’re a lawyer.”

  “Very perceptive, Officer. And he’s a famous singer,” she said, pointing to Wade. “And he’s an ex-detective, and before the end of the day, you might meet the former first lady of California and a duke. Friends in this circle are seldom the gardener.”

  Detective Gray stepped back. “Yes, ma’am.”

  They were several feet away when Trina turned to Lori. “What the hell was that all about?”

  “They were questioning you like a suspect,” Reed answered for Lori.

  “What? Me? Why?” She started to turn around.

  Wade redirected her toward the house. “Another time, darlin’. You need to sleep.”

  Within half an hour, Trina sat curled in her bed, with Lori sitting beside her.

  “I’m not guilty of anything, Lori.”

  “I know that.”

  “Other than not loving my husband.”

  “I know that, too. But keep that to yourself, Trina. It will only raise suspicion.”

  “This is all so wrong. Everything about this is just wrong,” she cried.

  Lori patted her knee. “Get some sleep, even a few hours will clear your head.”

  “We should be at the hospital.” Yet even as Trina said those words, she knew if she didn’t get a few hours of horizontal time, she’d only make herself sick.

  Lori grasped Trina’s hands.

  “What room did Wade take?”

  “Across the hall. He left his door open, so if you need anything . . .”

  “This is so unfair to him. We barely know each other.”

  Lori smiled. “Maybe, but he doesn’t seem to be itching to leave. Which says a lot about his character.”

  “I told you he was a good guy.”

  Lori patted her hand. “Get some sleep.”

  She didn’t have to be told twice. Lori left the room, and her head hit the pillow and she was gone.

  Nightmares startled her awake almost as quickly as she’d fallen asleep.

  Her door shot open and Wade crossed the room in a pair of boxer shorts.

  “What was that?” She looked around the room, expecting to see that something had crashed to the floor.

  “It was you,” Wade said while he sat on the edge of the bed.

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Not long enough, hon.” He brushed her hair from her eyes and smiled.

  “I’m sorry about all this . . . you don’t deserve—”

  “Shh, stop, stop.” He crawled on top of the covers and pulled her head to his chest. “Go back to sleep.”

  “This is all wrong.”

  He stroked the side of her hair, and the heaviness of her eyes pulled her under.

  “Shh, I’m right here. It’s okay.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Wade booked several suites at the closest hotel to the hospital where Avery was recuperating. He’d called Ike and asked him to pack a bag and get it to the hotel as soon as a plane could fly it out. While Trina was at Avery’s bedside, Wade took a moment and called his mother so she wouldn’t worry.

  She was already beside herself.

  “You left in the middle of your own party, that isn’t like you. I don’t like what this woman is doing to your head.”

  “Did you miss the part about how her best friend was beaten within an inch of her life and is in the ICU?” It was unlike his mother to be so cold.

  “No, I didn’t miss that, Wade. And don’t take that tone with me. I’m not heartless. I just don’t see how any of this is your problem. How long have you known this woman, a couple of weeks?”

  Wade was starting to see the end of his rope with the conversation, and they had only been talking for five minutes. “Someone I know very well once told me to follow my gut when I was hungry and my heart when someone made me smile. Well, Trina makes me smile.”

  “I didn’t say that, I said follow your gut when it came to women and leave the heart out of it, that organ only gets you into trouble.” Ahh, there his mother was.

  He chuckled. “Spoken like a scorned woman.”

  “Your father left for cigarettes and never came back.”

  “I’ve heard the story. I even wrote a song about it.”

  Vicki sighed. “I worry.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Women have always wanted to get at your money.”

  He switched his cell phone to his other hand and turned away from a group of people that were walking out of the elevator. “I promise you, Trina isn’t like that.”

  “Oh, and who paid for the emergency flight to New York?”

  His mother was trying hard to find fault. “Neither one of us. She knows someone with a private jet.”

  “Oh, that’s right . . . she’s a flight at
tendant.”

  He didn’t see this conversation ending until he gave his mother enough to nibble on.

  “You know how much I hate it when people name-drop to get what they want?”

  “W-what? Yes, and what does that have to do with this conversation?” she stuttered.

  “Everson Oil, Mama. Trina is worth more than I am. She isn’t using me. We met, we’re both attracted and would like to see where this goes. There is nothing for you to worry about, so I’m going to ask that you end this entire conversation.”

  The line was silent.

  “Mom?”

  “Fine.”

  When a woman said fine, it was never fine. “I love you for your concern. Hold down the ranch a little longer without me.”

  “If I must.”

  Wade wanted to laugh. “Bye, Mother.”

  “You know I hate it when you call me Mother.”

  He chuckled. “Well, stop acting like a mother and more like my mama.”

  “You always were ornery when you had your mind set on something.”

  “Yeah, remind you of someone you know?”

  “Wade Michael Thomas!”

  Ohhh, the middle name.

  Wade laughed.

  “Bye, Mama.”

  She backed down. “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  The waiting room had started to fill with nearly a dozen of Avery’s friends and family. Trina was back in the unit with Avery’s parents for the brief visit until they were all kicked out again. Wade poured himself his fifth cup of coffee for the day and was walking back toward his seat next to Lori when a short, balding, middle-aged man nearly knocked him over to get to Lori. Coffee splashed on his hand.

  “Oh my God, how is she?”

  “Bernie . . . what are you doing here?” Lori stood when the man approached.