by Lilly Black
“Anything for my Domina,” he whispers without even a hint of that sarcastic tone, and I melt into him. Sometimes loving him is bittersweet. I don’t know how he always knows just what I need without realizing how I came to be the way I am. It’s like he knows my darkest secrets, the ones that make me feel so used inside.
Please, God, never let Cain see how unworthy I am.
Morning of September 22
Sunday Cain and I wake to a loud banging on the front door. I look at the clock. It’s 7:05 am. We have only been asleep for a few hours.
“What the fuck?” Cain growls, grabbing his robe from the floor by the bed, but I stay under the covers listening as he makes his way down the hallway and opens the door.
“Cain Tolbert Ballantyne?”
“Yeah,” Cain answers, audibly groggy.
“I’m detective Calderón, homicide. This is Detective Vega. May we come in?”
Homicide? What the fuck, indeed!
“Sure,” Cain says, and I hear the door close.
“We just have a few questions for you.”
“Yeah, okay…wait. What?”
“There’s been a murder, Mr. Ballantyne. Miss Elizabeth Chadwick.”
“Oh, God! What happened?” He’s suddenly alert. So am I.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” the detective says. “You were Miss Chadwick’s former fiancé, right?”
“Something like that,” Cain says.
“What does that mean?”
“Can we sit down? Can I get you something to drink?” I hear Cain open the fridge.
“No, thank you.” I hear the clinking of glass as Cain pours something, but when they go into the living room, I have trouble hearing. Grabbing my robe, I creep down the hallway, staying just out of view.
“And how long has it been since you and Miss Chadwick were lovers?” the detective asks.
“I broke it off over a month ago.”
“And then you started seeing Evan Lucien. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“I understand that she and Miss Chadwick had an altercation last night at the Torrey Crest…”
“I wouldn’t call it an altercation. Liz and several of her friends cornered Evan in the ladies’ room, trying to…I don’t know what the fuck they were trying to do, but Evan handled them elegantly. These are petty, spoiled, little rich girls, Detective Calderón. Evan is not.”
“Not?” the detective asks.
“Not any of those things,” I say as I appear from the hallway. I extend my hand as I walk toward where Detective Calderón and Cain are sitting. The other cop with him, a brown-haired woman, is taking notes as she lingers by the breakfast bar while Calderón, a stocky man of Hispanic heritage whose lack of an accent betrays that his family has lived in the States for at least a couple of generations, shakes my hand.
“Evan Lucien,” I introduce myself.
“Detective Calderón,” he says. “Miss Lucien, could you tell me more about the exchange with Miss Chadwick last night?”
“A group of women Cain used to date, led by Sunny Meriwether…” I hear a stifled snort of a laugh from the other detective by the door. “…wanted me to know that I was unwelcome on their turf as far as I can tell, though I’m not entirely sure if that turf was the country club or Mr. Ballantyne.” It makes the detective chuckle. Good. I want him to like me. I am very sorry that Elizabeth is dead, but I don’t want my name dragged into this shit.
“I see, and how did that end?”
“I…”
“She set them straight and walked away. Sunny followed her into the hall shouting, I shut her down, and we left.” I nod in agreement with Cain’s version of the story. It’s vague but true.
“And how exactly did you shut her down, Mr. Ballantyne?” Calderón asks.
“I dated Sunny ten years ago, and I told her I had been fucking her sister the whole time.” He’s so aloof and relaxed as he says it, it makes me want to laugh, so tired I have to keep reminding myself that Elizabeth was murdered. Cain seems to keep forgetting that, too.
“According to the valet, the two of you left around 10:45. Is that correct?” Calderón moves on, unaffected.
“I have no idea,” Cain says.
“I’ll get my phone,” I say. “I texted Cain about fifteen minutes before we left.” I grab my phone from the charger and show the detective the message. It was sent at 10:17.
“So probably more like 10:30?” he asks.
“I’d say so,” Cain replies.
“Why were you texting each other at the same event?” the detective asks.
“Cain was onstage accepting an award,” I say, then I realize that I never saw the plaque after Aldous Meriwether handed it to him at the podium. “What happened to the plaque?” I ask Cain.
“I must have laid it down somewhere when I went looking for you. I’ll call about it later.”
“The text, Miss Lucien?”
“Right. When Cain was called to the stage…”
“Unexpectedly,” Cain adds.
“…unexpectedly called to the stage, I got nervous being there alone, so I left the ballroom. I sent the text because I didn’t want him to worry if he looked out into the crowd and didn’t see me.”
“And Lorraine Meriwether was with you when you left the ballroom. Is that correct?”
“Yes. She warned me about her sister.”
“And she stayed with you until you left the country club?”
“Yes.”
“And where did you and Mr. Ballantyne go after you left?”
“Umm…” I hesitate.
“Evan, would you mind getting my wallet? I want to see the time on the receipt from breakfast,” Cain says, rescuing me from having to admit what we did after we left. As soon as my back is turned, I hear Cain speaking low to the detective.
“I couldn’t wait to get her home, so I took her to a parking spot I used to go to in high school…” While I’m in the office, I can’t hear him until I come back out into the hallway. “…ate breakfast and got home sometime after 3:00 am,” Cain says.
Yes, that’s what time we got home this morning, and by the time we both showered and made the bed, it was almost 4:00 am - just three damn hours ago, Detective Calderón! - before we got to sleep.
“So you were having sex in a car for almost four hours?” Calderón asks, skeptical. I’ve about had it with this guy.
“The five women who came at me last night had all dated Cain. There’s a very good reason his exes can’t seem to let go, Detective,” I say, raising my voice as I saunter into the room and hand Cain his wallet. I see him smile as he watches me, and there’s nothing sheepish about it. It’s pride on his face, and though I thoroughly enjoy it, I realize that we’re probably not coming off well to these cops at all. Angrily, Detective Vega finally joins the conversation.
“Mr. Ballantyne, you don’t seem very choked up about the murder of a woman you were intimate with just a few weeks ago.” She’s pissed.
“I’ve had three hours sleep. If you want emotion, get out and come back later.”
“I don’t think that will make a difference, Mr. Ballantyne. I don’t think you have it in you,” Vega taunts him.
“Probably not.”
“What about anger? Maybe directed at Miss Chadwick for cornering your new girlfriend? Maybe for the holes in the condoms?”
Holes in the condoms? I don’t remember Cain mentioning that.
“We’re you angry, Mr. Ballantyne? Angry enough to…”
“That’s enough,” Calderón reins her in.
“It’s okay,” Cain says. “I’ll answer her questions. What Liz did last night was Sunny’s doing. I’m more angry with you for waking me up than I was at Liz for last night. I’m very sorry she’s gone, but you expect too much of me. I just wasn’t that attached.”
“You slept with this woman for ten years and were engaged to marry her, for God’s sake!” Vega clearly does not like
Cain, and now Calderón is just sitting back watching it play out.
“Who gave you that information? My mother?” Cain asks, but neither detective answers him. He goes on. “I see. Liz and I had an arrangement that could have ended in marriage, but that didn’t mean I loved her.”
“Then why were you going to marry her?” Calderón asks.
“Because of all the women I had dated up to that point, I found her most tolerable,” Cain says coldly.
“Why get married at all?” he asks.
“Casual dating and one night stands were starting to bore me.”
“You’ve slept with all seven women who were in that ladies’ room last night. That hardly sounds like someone who is bored with casual dating,” Vega quips.
“Detective Vega, since you are so interested, you may as well know that there were far more than seven women I’ve fucked at that country club last night, and they’re not dead, so how is harassing me about my sex life helping solve Liz’ murder?”
“I’m trying to eliminate suspects.”
“Am I a suspect?”
“You’re a person of interest at the moment, but since I’m having trouble making sense of what you’re telling me…” She trails off as if to imply that Cain’s status could easily upgrade to suspect. “So how is it that, with all of the women at your disposal, the one you caught trying to facilitate an accidental pregnancy is the one you chose to marry?” Curious choice of words, disposal.
“Most of those women were at my disposal because of who I am and what I own. They’re predators - the pretty, little, blonde daughters of my mother’s country club asshole friends hunting me for sport…”
“Yet you dated them anyway?” Vega asks, her disdain for him clear.
“They were convenient, and I always knew what I was getting.”
“And what is that, Mr. Ballantyne?” Calderón asks, leaning forward in his chair.
“Someone safe to fuck until I got bored.”
Seriously, Cain!
“You said these women were safe, yet you used condoms with Miss Chadwick?” Calderón asks.
“That’s not what I meant by safe, but yes, I always used condoms with her. She insisted.”
“Yet even after you found out that she was trying to get pregnant, you stayed with her?”
“It worked for me at the time.”
“And you broke up with Miss Chadwick when you started seeing Miss Lucien?” he asks.
“Yes,” Cain says. “I broke it off with Liz the day after I met Evan, even though Evan wanted nothing to do with me.” He looks at me and smiles.
“I can’t imagine why,” Vega grumbles as she glares at us. I think she’s the first woman I’ve ever seen who wasn’t mesmerized by Cain.
“I just have a couple more questions, and I’ll let you get back to sleep,” Calderón says. “Have you seen Lorraine Meriwether since last night?”
“No,” Cain and I both say.
“Do you have any idea where she might have gone?” he asks.
“She went home with her grandfather. That’s the last we saw of her,” I say. “Do you need her contact information? I have her card.”
“Her grandfather gave us everything we needed.”
“If we speak with her, we’ll ask her to call you,” Cain says, and Calderón pulls out his card and lays it on the coffee table.
“Thanks. Now if I could just get the address of the spot that you and Miss Lucien were parked for four hours?” The way he says it reiterates that he does not think it is reasonable that we were having sex for that long, but since Cain doesn’t mention falling asleep, neither do I.
“I don’t know the names of all of the roads, but I can give you directions.” Cain does his best to give directions with landmarks instead of street names.
“Very good,” Calderón says. “And I understand that you were in a hurry, but why exactly did you go there instead of getting a room at one of the nearby hotels?”
“Evan has just the tiniest streak of jealousy, and since I have such a history in San Diego, I have decided to take her everywhere I’ve been with women in the past so my memories of these places are of her.”
Awww… I look at him with a warm smile. I didn’t know he was doing that. It’s sweet.
“Then that about does it for me,” Calderón says.
“I have one more question,” Vega says. “Why was your chauffeur replacing your mattress after midnight last night?” She comes off like she thinks it’s her Sherlock Holmes moment, but Cain can’t be rattled.
“For that same reason. When Evan and I got home, there was a big, gold bow on the new mattress for her.”
“I see, and where is the old mattress?” she asks.
“You’ll have to ask Lucy. She lives next door.”
“We will. Thank you for your time,” Calderón says, extending his hand to shake Cain’s, then mine. “If you’ll both just jot down your phone numbers in case we need to speak with you again, we’ll be on our way.” He offers me a pen and the small notepad he was using to write down our answers to his questions. I write mine and Cain’s cell numbers.
“And your address, Miss Lucien.”
“It’s the same as mine,” Cain says.
“I see. Well, good day, Mr. Ballantyne, Miss Lucien.” They head toward the door, but they stop when Cain calls out to them.
“Detective, how was Liz…how was she killed?” Cain asks.
“I can’t release any details yet, Mr. Ballantyne, but I can tell you that she was found alone in her car on a deserted stretch of road not far from the club.” Cain becomes distant as I walk with the detectives to the door.
“Goodbye, Miss Lucien,” Calderón says on his way out. “I apologize for waking you.”
“No problem. If there is anything we can do to help your investigation, don’t hesitate to call anytime,” I say as Vega glares at Cain until the door is closed.
“What the hell?” Cain asks, mirroring Vega’s face.
“You came off like a misogynistic pig,” I say.
“I’m just being honest. I don’t want to have to remember what parts I sugarcoated if I have to answer these questions again down the road.”
“Why would you have to?”
“Didn’t you feel like we were part of the suspect pool?” he asks.
“We were amongst the last people to see her. It’s probably routine. Fuck, I don’t know. I’ve never been questioned in a murder investigation.”
“By the way, thanks for not mentioning falling asleep in the car,” Cain says.
“I didn’t think it was important. Did you fall asleep, too?”
“Maybe for a minute, but most of the time, I was just watching you sleep.” I smile, shyly, hoping I didn’t snore. “I’d rather not say anything to them about what happened at Qualcomm with Liz either.”
“They’ll find out if they ask Arianna or Steph.”
“That’s not what I meant. That was clearly said in anger. I’m talking about what I said to you privately with Liz on the phone.” I have a flash of anxiety as I remember Cain telling me he would bring me her head or heart to defend my honor.
“What if Elizabeth told someone?”
“She would never admit that to anyone.”
“Neither will I.”
“Good.” Cain kisses me quickly, then his eyes grow dark and hooded as he puts his hands on my shoulders. “I would have killed her for your honor, Evan,” he says, and I freeze. It’s beautiful and terrifying but too intense a compliment to accept. After a moment locked in an intense embrace, his demeanor shifts, and I chalk it up to lack of sleep.
“Can you see if you can get a hold of Lorraine?” he asks, as if the mood never turned dark. “I need to call my attorney to make sure we don’t become a part of this front page spectacle.”
“Can your lawyer do that?”
“I’ll buy the all the local media if I have to.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yes
.”
“By the way, what did you mean when you said you wanted to take care of both me and Nicole?” I ask when Cain comes back to bed. I thought I agreed to quit my job, but after he told the detectives that my address was the same as his, I’m not sure what I’ve agreed to.
“I meant that I will cover the overhead on the house you share with Nicole whether you live in it or not. I want you to quit work and move in with me. I need you here, even more so after what happened to Liz.”
“Okay,” I agree.
“You’re surprisingly acquiescent,” Cain says suspiciously.
“I’m too tired to argue,” I tease.
“Good, and Evan, don’t let Detective Vega get to you,” he says, tracing my jaw line with his fingers. “None of the things I’ve said about Liz or any of my other exes could ever apply to you. Please say you understand that.”
“I do.” It goes against all reason, but I do.
Afternoon of September 22
It’s almost 2:00 pm when I wake to sunlight streaming through the windows facing the bed. Cain is standing there naked, staring at the city below, and I go to him, slipping my arms around him from behind.
“I can’t sleep,” he whispers.
“It’s okay to admit that you cared about her.”
“That’s not it. I don’t even know how to feel about Liz, but I know she didn’t deserve that.” He looks toward his tablet, which is propped up on the seat of a chair by the drapes. It’s open to this morning’s headline.
La Jolla Socialite Brutally Raped, Stabbed to Death
“She was tied up, raped, beaten, choked, and stabbed. Her face was slashed so many times, her father had to identify her by the birthmark on her back,” he says, his voice wavering, and I squeeze him tighter, the side of my face against his back as he falls silent for a long moment.
“And Rain is still missing,” he finally says, turning to face me.
“Did you try her again this afternoon?” I ask.
“No answer at home or on her cell.”
“You don’t think…”
“That something might have happened to her, too? Yeah, I do.”
“But Rain left the club with her grandfather. It doesn’t make sense for Elizabeth’s murderer to…”
“That’s not what I’m afraid of,” Cain says as he begins slowly pacing around the room. “You don’t know Sunny. I shouldn’t have told her that last night, Ev, not where anyone could overhear it.”
