Two Thousand Miles

by Jennifer Davis

  I leaned close to the glass in the front door and peeked inside the house. The blood and debris had been scrubbed from the beige travertine floors in the entry hall, just outside of my father’s office. The room was meant for formal dining, but we never had formal functions at our house, so my dad converted it into a home office a couple years after Isobel left. The room had a beautiful stone fireplace with gas logs. The walls were mossy green and lined with walnut cabinetry. My father’s office was full of leather and trinkets he’d collected from his travels when he was younger. It was the only room in the house he’d changed. Everything else was pretty much the way Isobel had it when she lived in the house.

  “Ms,” Ray said, startling me. I whipped around, a frightened look on my face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m fine!” I huffed. “I’m also eighteen and not in need of a babysitter,” I said, and walked around Ray, following the stairs down to the driveway. I punched in a code on the keypad next to the garage door that made it rise. I ducked under the door and pushed the button on the other side to quickly close it.

  The top was down on my Mercedes. It was dusty from having sat for so long. My favorite pair of sunglasses lay on the passenger seat. I picked them up, blew the dust away, and put them on top of my head before going inside the house. I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget them when I went back to Marion’s—if I went back to Marion’s.

  The house was eerily quiet. Not that there had ever been a lot of noise in my house before, I guess it was just strange being the only one there after what happened.

  I went up to my room using the staircase off the kitchen, pushed the door open and looked around as if I was seeing it for the first time. Almost everything was pink or white. I wanted to laugh; it didn’t seem like me at all. I guess I’d forgotten how girly I’d been before going to Slidell.

  I had a lot of beautiful, glossy, sparkly things in my room, but the one thing I was most excited to revisit was the view I’d missed so much. I opened the doors to the balcony and stepped outside, breathing deeply, taking in the scent of the salt and sunshine in the air, and the sounds of the ocean swishing below. Watching it was hypnotizing. I lay down on my feather bed and stared out at the afternoon sky. It didn’t take long for Mason to creep into my thoughts, for his final words to me to twist my guts into knots. I missed him and wondered if he would even talk to me if I called him. Or what I would say if I did.

  Chapter 32

  I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep until I was jolted from it by screaming. Olivia’s high pitched happy squeal sliced through the evening’s peaceful lullaby like Jack the Ripper on a murdering spree. Being awakened by such a sound jarred my soul.

  Olivia leaped onto the bed and strangled me with a hug while I was still lying down. “Oh my god, Kat! Your hair smells terrible,” she said, backing away. “What the hell?” She reached over me and switched on the lamp on my nightstand. “It’s brown,” she frowned. “Why is it brown?”

  “It’s great to see you, too,” I complained and sat up, putting my back to her.

  “Don’t get pissy.” Olivia bounced off the bed and stood in front of me. “I’ve just been used to you being blond, like, forever, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  I said nothing.

  “Didn’t you miss me?” Olivia asked.

  “Of course I missed you. I tried calling you a lot while I was gone.”

  “My dad told me. I lost my phone. I’m still not sure how that happened.” Me either. Her phone was like an appendage. “My dad refused to send me a new one. He said I should be taking in Europe, not staring at a screen. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he hid it from me before I left.”

  “How was the trip?” I asked.

  “Nice, but too long. I have so much to do before school starts.” Ugh. School. I didn’t want to think about it.

  “So, how’s your dad?” Olivia asked.

  “Awake, finally. He doesn’t remember anything though.”

  “Maybe it’s for the best,” Olivia shrugged.

  “Maybe,” I muttered, unsure I believed that.

  “Let’s go out tonight,” she chirped, excited.

  “Aren’t you tired from your flight?”

  “Nope, I popped a couple Benadryl and slept through most of it.” Olivia flipped the light switch on the wall and started digging through my closet. “I hate all of my clothes,” she griped. “When I got home, I went straight to my closet, and hated everything. What was I thinking when I bought some of that stuff?”

  “Didn’t you shop in France?”

  “Yes! But the stores are shipping everything to me. Ms. Whitlove said we could only bring one extra bag on the flight home. I know that cranky bitch didn’t buy anything that wasn’t a necessity.” Ms. Whitlove was our French teacher, and I was sure that on her salary, she couldn’t afford to buy anything that wasn’t a necessity. “I can’t wait to show you what I got! Oooh, can I borrow this?” Olivia asked, holding up a black and turquoise strapless Prada dress. “Sure.” She took the dress from the velvet hanger, and then began scavenging through my jewelry. She picked a few pieces out. “These are mine; I’ll be back in thirty. Be ready,” she said and left.

  I didn’t feel like going out, but I knew that tonight there would be no saying no to Olivia. I walked into my closet and looked around; it was sort of overwhelming. Although it was impeccably organized—I’d always kept my room straight, even when I was a kid—there was so much of everything. I’d forgotten how many pieces of clothing I had; how many purses, belts and shoes. How much of it went unused. It felt like such a waste.

  I didn’t feel like getting dressed up, so I put on a pair of white shorts and a navy and white tunic. I stepped into a pair of navy heels, but stepped right back out of them and opted for a pair of flat, white sandals instead. It had been a long while since I’d worn heels and I didn’t like how awkward I felt in them.

  I went to my bathroom and pulled out the center drawer of my vanity. It was full of makeup. Many of the products hadn’t been opened yet. I tied my hair back and applied a little foundation, lip-gloss, a few strokes of blush and a tiny bit of mascara before leaving to meet Olivia.

  Without thinking, I ran down the front staircase, the way I had a thousand times before when I was on my way out, but I wasn’t ready to be in that part of the house, in the place where I had begged God, the police, and paramedics to save my father’s life, to not let him die on the floor and leave me an orphan.

  Standing there, suddenly, facing it didn’t feel so hard. Maybe because my dad had survived, and the person responsible for shooting him was no longer a threat.

  There were no doors going into my father’s office. When he’d made that old formal dining room his office, he’d left it open. I stepped off the travertine in the foyer onto the jewel toned multicolor oriental style carpet in his office and ran my hands over every piece of furniture I walked past. Leather, wood, and glass filled my hands. The room itself looked like a showpiece, staged with an open book on his desk with nothing else out of place. Nothing like the way I’d last seen it. I was sure Marion had taken great care in putting his misplaced paperwork and such back where it belonged. I still had no idea how his office had wound up such a mess that night. I guess because everyone there was more concerned with saving a man’s life than why his office looked like a tornado had swept through it.

  Olivia’s horn blared outside. I left the house through the front door and got into her custom painted, midnight blue convertible BMW. “Aye, aye, Cap’n,” she giggled and saluted.

  “Okay?” I said, hesitantly. I had no idea what the hell she meant.

  “You look like you’re going sailing,” she gasped. I glanced down at my clothes and didn’t see a problem. “We’re going to a party, a nice one.”

  “Like I knew where we were going,” I said.

  “I’ll wait if you want to change,” Olivia said, applying her trademark bubblegum lip-gloss with
out a mirror.

  “I don’t,” I said, curtly.

  “Flats make your legs look short.” She sounded like a singer practicing scales. Her voice got higher with each word.

  “Maybe, because they are short.”

  “What’s with you?” Olivia asked, before rubbing her lips together, making sure that both her top and bottom lip were amply covered with her favorite color.

  “I’ve been away from home for two months, my father has been in a coma—” “So, how was Ojai?” Olivia interrupted. I wasn’t sure what I should say, play along with the Ojai lie or tell her the truth. “Well,” she nudged, her marble blue eyes wide. “Boring,” I said. The lie rolled out of my mouth easily, but the way she’d been acting didn’t exactly made me want to open up to her about what’d I’d really been doing. At that point, I didn’t care if she found out I’d lied or not. I secured my sunglasses over my eyes and clicked my seatbelt into place. Olivia dropped her lip-gloss into the glitzy sliver clasp bag on the seat between her legs, snapped it shut and tossed it into the back seat before driving away without another word.

  Ray was still parked in front of my house.

  “Who’s the tail?” Olivia asked.

  “My bodyguard,” I deadpanned.

  Olivia laughed, “Seriously?” Her tone implying that my body didn’t need guarding.

  “It wasn’t my idea,” I snapped.

  “Chill out,” she demanded. “You’re going to get premature wrinkles or high blood pressure if you don’t.”

  I shook my head, biting my tongue. I wanted to get out of the car. I knew Ray couldn’t have been too far behind us. He would pick me up.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” Olivia said, as if she’d read my mind.

  “I didn’t say a word.”

  “I know you, you didn’t have to.”

  I exhaled hard and sat in silence until Olivia stopped the car. I didn’t recognize the house she’d parked in front of.

  “Who lives here?” I asked.

  “Do you remember that guy I was crushing on last summer?”

  “That guy everybody called Mav?” I frowned, hoping it wasn’t.

  “Yes, him. This is his house.”

  “Are you and Maverick a thing now?”

  “Not yet.” Olivia winked at me. I rolled my eyes as I got out of the car.

  I reluctantly followed Olivia to the back of the house. A crowd of people was gathered around a small fire in the yard. Girls mostly. Figured. Any guy who nicknamed himself after a character in one of the all time greatest chick flicks was bound to get laid a lot. In my opinion, he looked more like Goose than Maverick, but he was still cute—in a pretty sort of way. His looks weren’t what had the girls in a tizzy though. What incited such an attraction to Mav—real name Gary Bruster—was that he had been an actual pilot in the air force. No one bothered with the fact that he had retired from that job at twenty-two. He was twenty-five when Olivia met him. She’d had a fit over him; he was all I heard about for two months solid.

  “Hey, why are you trying to get with Mav now?” I asked.

  “Because now,” she griped, “I’m eighteen.”

  “You’re not here to sleep with him are you?”

  Olivia laughed, “So what if I am?”

  “You’re a virgin,” I said, my voice hushed so no one would hear. She couldn’t lose it to an ex-pilot manwhore in a house full of people.

  “I’m not a virgin.”

  “What—when?” I gasped. Olivia had not only been famous around Malibu for the color of her lip-gloss, she was also known for being a monumental tease. She’d always said that being a tease was better than being a slut—until now, apparently.

  “Cannes or Paris. Paris—I think. It was sort of a blur. The boys there loved me.” She shot me a glowing smile. “Since my daddy made me go on that trip, I took his advice to take in everything France had to offer.” Gross.

  “Jesus, Liv,” I frowned.

  “You can’t judge me, Kat,” she snapped. “You just lied to my face. My dad told me you weren’t in Ojai.”

  “If you knew I wasn’t in Ojai, why did you ask me how it was?”

  “Because I thought you might tell me where you actually were instead of lying.”

  “Kind of like your dad, I guess. He asked me about Ojai, too. It’s none of his business. Where I was is nobody’s business.”

  “Fine,” Olivia snapped. “Just like what and who I did in France is none of yours.” Olivia walked away from me and straight to Mav, who was surrounded by a group of bobble heads—super skinny girls wearing hardly anything, agreeing with, and laughing at every dumb ass thing Maverick said.

  I wondered why Olivia had brought me with her. She didn’t need me to talk Maverick into taking her to bed. He wasn’t picky. He pretty much gave it to any girl who wanted it.

  I looked around the yard, spotting a couple people I’d known of in high school. I would gravitate toward them if I got desperate for someone to talk to. I didn’t see anyone I actually knew and felt so out of place, like an outsider.

  I was about to tell Olivia I was leaving when Caleb Brasheers stopped me. He smiled at me, obviously not recognizing me with dark hair. I’d elbowed Caleb in the gut junior year for pawing me like I was his possession when we were out on our one and only date.

  Caleb grabbed Olivia’s arm to get her attention. “Who’s your friend?” he asked. She turned around and laughed when she saw me. “That’s Kat, stupid.”

  “Kat Parker?” His eyes bugged out.

  “Duh,” Olivia bellowed.

  Caleb looked at me and laughed. “If I were you, I’d be incognito, too—if I even dared to show my face at all.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard the SEC is going to investigate Manger because of your dad.”

  “What—where did you hear that?” I asked.

  “My dad is a client. Duh,” he growled at Olivia. “And apparently the Securities and Exchange Commission thinks your dad is a lying, filthy thief, Parker.”

  “My father is no thief!” I barked at Caleb. I looked at Olivia “Did you know about this?” I asked, feeling somehow like she’d set me up.

  “How would I have known? I was on the other side of the world until three hours ago.”

  “Because if the SEC is talking to Manger clients, your father knows why and he hasn’t been shy about sharing everything else he knows about me and my dad with you.”

  “He doesn’t tell me everything, Kat. I didn’t know, I swear,” she said, and for the first time that night, the Olivia I’d missed all summer had surfaced. The best friend I remembered.

  “I have to get out of here,” I said, and started to walk away.

  “Her dad’s still in the hospital, dickhead,” Olivia spit at Caleb.

  “So!” he snapped back. “That shit’s his fault too. It’s called personal responsibility.”

  I was thankful I’d walked far enough out of earshot to hear the rest of their argument. I was also thankful that Ray was sitting out front waiting for me. Having a babysitter had its perks, I thought as I helped myself into the car. “Where to?” Ray asked. “Marion’s,” I said. I had a shitload of questions for her.

  Chapter 33

  Marion was sitting on her couch with her legs stretched out, resting on the glass coffee table in front of her. She was wearing black yoga pants, a baggy gray top, and had a large glass of red wine adhered to her mouth.

  “SEC investigation,” I said, angrily.

  “How do you know about that?” Marion asked. She put her glass of wine on the table and sat up straight on the couch.

  “Because I went out with Olivia, and some jerk-off that I couldn’t stand in high school, called my father a filthy, lying, thief. He said Manger was going to be investigated because of my dad.”

  “Sit down,” Marion said, and patted a place on the couch next to her. “About a week before your dad was shot, he caught Veronica rifling through the files in his office a
t Manger. She said it was because she thought he was cheating. He didn’t buy it, but let her think he had. He knew that keeping a close eye on her would be the best way to find out what she was really after.”

  “That night…his office was a wreck,” I said.

  “Your father came to me several months ago and told me he had some information that could be damning to the company, but felt he couldn’t ignore it. Someone at Manger was stealing money from clients by reporting investment losses when there had been gains—” “And that person was pocketing the gain,” I interrupted. “But who was it?”

  “He didn’t tell me and now he doesn’t remember any of it. My firm did some digging into Veronica’s background. She lived in Vegas. She danced in one of the clubs out there.”

  “She was a stripper?”

  “A showgirl.”

  “Why was she here?”

  “We think whoever was stealing from clients at Manger knew your dad had evidence against them that he planned to turn over to the SEC and hired Veronica to get close to him and find it before that could happen. I feel like my team and I are very close to finding out who hired her. We’re still in dangerous territory here, Kat, which is why I don’t want you to go anywhere without Ray until we figure it out.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. “But what about my dad, is he being protected?”

  “I’ve got a plain clothes surveillance team planted in the hospital to keep him protected. And his room is bugged, so don’t say anything you wouldn’t want me to hear,” she smiled.

  “Thanks for the head’s up. Can I have some of that wine now?” I asked.

  Marion laughed, shaking her head no.

  “Your sister would let me,” I taunted.

  “I’m not my sister,” she warned with a smile before getting up and taking her glass of wine to her bedroom.

  Chapter 34

  The landline rang twice, a minute or so later Marion peeked her head around the corner of the living room. “That was the front desk, Olivia’s on her way up,” she said.