I Wish You Missed Me Read online

  ‘I asked you to sit down.’ Monique slid into one side of the booth and motioned toward the other. ‘He’s my guy, all right? All of a sudden he lies to me, and I know only one person who might know where he is.’

  ‘Except that he lied to me too.’ Kit sat down on the other side of the booth. Virgie still stood as if trying to decide. ‘You scared me, Monique. No wonder Farley ran from you.’

  ‘You see!’ She pounded the table. ‘You knew he was running from me.’

  ‘I didn’t know anything. I told you that. But now I’m sure he did.’

  Virgie made a noise of agreement and sat down beside Kit. ‘How’d you break into Farley’s place that day?’ she asked.

  ‘What day?’ Monique folded her hands around her glass.

  ‘You know,’ Virgie said.

  Monique looked down as if summoning more lies.

  ‘Don’t,’ Kit said. ‘You broke into his house and tried to break into his bedroom when we were in there.’

  ‘You were in there?’ Monique’s voice rose and she pressed her fingers over her lips. ‘He said no one had the new keys.’

  Virgie sneaked a smile at Kit.

  ‘So how did you get in?’ Kit asked.

  ‘I had the old keys and he hadn’t changed the front door yet.’ Monique wiped her eyes. ‘Believe me, I know how pathetic I sound, but I know he loves me and I was desperate to find out where he was.’

  ‘And now?’ Kit asked.

  She wiped her eyes again and expertly removed the black streaks beneath them. ‘I just want him to be safe.’

  ‘So do we,’ Kit said.

  From outside, the music turned bluesy and a saxophone played Harlem Nocturne.

  ‘And you really don’t know anything about where he is?’ Monique asked.

  ‘I really don’t,’ Kit said. ‘If I did, I’d tell you. It can’t be fun going all the way to Malibu to meet your boyfriend only to find he’s not there.’

  Monique stared into her drink.

  ‘Wait,’ Kit said. ‘You told me you two exchanged romantic text messages. There weren’t any on his phone.’

  ‘You have his phone?’ Monique stood. ‘Give it to me.’

  ‘I don’t have it with me.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  Virgie got up and Kit slid out behind her. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ Virgie said. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  ‘I want his phone.’ Monique attempted to block their way back to the bar.

  ‘That’s not a good idea.’ Virgie’s voice was flat. ‘You go back to your drink, lady. We’ll be leaving now.’

  ‘Don’t you tell me what to do. I love Farley and I will find him. We need to talk, work things out.’

  The music outside stopped abruptly.

  Monique turned toward it and Virgie and Kit walked past her just as Mickey moved from behind the bar into the collection of people now speaking and shouting outside.

  ‘A body!’ one of them yelled. ‘I saw it right out there.’

  Kit could barely breathe. She grabbed her phone and called John Paul. ‘Get out here,’ she said. ‘Someone saw a body in the creek outside the Gas Lamp.’

  TWENTY-NINE

  On the dance floor, Megan and Chuck move closer, dancing to a song that makes her think that this one will be easy. All she has to do is pretend it is more than it is.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispers in her ear. ‘Guess everyone tells you that.’

  She wraps her arms around his neck and looks up into his eyes, which in this light are not just as black as his hair but tinged with blue-green. ‘You’re pretty nice yourself,’ she says. The motel is a short drive down the road. Three hours max and she and Will can laugh again about the easy money that Priscilla, Michael and the others know nothing about. But it’s different now. For just this night, Megan wishes she had a forever man, someone like this guy.

  Across from them, Will slumps against the wall, his glare like a weapon that’s losing its power by the moment. Just then, Megan decides to let Will see what it’s like on her end of their arrangement.

  She pushes closer to Chuck and brushes her cheek against his.

  ‘Megan.’ He pulls her tighter and kisses her right there.

  Nice lips. Decent man.

  She opens her eyes to see Will stalking across the room as the guitar player begins another song.

  ‘Want another drink?’ Chuck asks.

  ‘We need to get going.’ Will nods toward the door.

  ‘I was asking the lady,’ Chuck says. ‘Would you like another drink … a margarita?’

  She can feel Will’s gaze burning into her back. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I would. Let’s have another round.’

  ‘I told you no.’ Will grabs her arm so hard that his grip feels like fire.

  ‘Easy, buddy.’ Chuck’s smile is pleasant enough. Still, he puts his arm around her and brushes the pain from her skin. ‘We’re having another round and you’re welcome to join us.’

  They have another drink. They dance again. They defy every plan Will has dictated for this night. Although Megan doesn’t know where they are heading, she feels free for the first time in a long time.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ she tells Chuck. Even as Will approaches, Chuck takes her arm and they walk outside.

  The cool air hits her and Megan grabs Chuck’s hand.

  ‘Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea,’ she says.

  ‘The best idea I’ve had all year.’ He squeezes her hand and she realizes he is just thoughtful and careful in a way that Will won’t ever be.

  His watch is unusual and old fashioned, made of a lovely rose gold with a curving face.

  ‘Why are you smiling?’ he asks.

  ‘Your watch. No one wears them anymore.’

  ‘It was my dad’s Waltham. You ever hear of that company?’

  She shakes her head. ‘No.’

  ‘My dad worked for them for a while. I’ll tell you about it.’ He glances at Will, who has stalked out behind them. ‘Later.’

  He motions toward his pickup, which is parked a few spaces down from Will’s bike. ‘I’ll be right back,’ he says. ‘Wait here until he and I finish our business.’ Then he heads down toward the creek where Will is standing.

  ‘Wait.’ She reaches out, kisses him one more time and then gets in the truck.

  ‘Hey!’ Will walks up to them. Something is wrong with his voice, with his eyes, which can’t seem to focus.

  You’re supposed to wait. That’s what Megan wants to say. I’m not supposed to be around for this part.

  ‘I have one thing to say to you before I take your money.’ Megan feels her face heat at the mention of it.

  ‘What’s that?’ Chuck seems to rise up even taller. Will seems to shrink.

  ‘Inside there, you told me how to touch my woman. Don’t think you can do that.’

  ‘You didn’t touch her,’ Chuck replies, his voice calm. ‘You grabbed her.’

  The anger that had been building in Will is getting close to the surface. ‘Don’t think you can tell me how to treat my woman. I tell her what to do and who to do it with. Give me the money and let’s get this thing done.’

  Chuck reaches for his wallet. ‘I’ll give you the money, all right. But I’m also going to show her how a woman should be treated.’

  Megan shivers inside his truck. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. As the two men stand off against each other, she realizes that Chuck has left his keys in the ignition and she wonders if she should just drive away. It would be the perfect solution, if she had anywhere to go.

  ‘Keep your money,’ Will tells Chuck. ‘I’m calling this off.’

  ‘Too late for that.’ Chuck turns his back on him. Through the open passenger window he squeezes her bare arm, and the touch makes her feel safe in some crazy way. ‘I’m going to get you out of here,’ he tells her. ‘You don’t need to be with this little creep.’

  ‘You’re the creep.’ Will reaches into his saddleba
gs, pulls out a wrench and swings it at Chuck.

  ‘Stop it!’ Megan shouts.

  ‘Shut up.’

  Chuck grabs his arm and they struggle, Will still gripping the wrench.

  ‘Get in there,’ Will tells her. ‘Don’t let anyone come out.’

  She hesitates.

  ‘Go,’ Chuck says, and pins Will against the driver’s side. ‘You need to just chill for a bit, buddy,’ he says as Will struggles against him. ‘No one saw anything. We’re going to be just fine.’

  Megan gets out and runs back inside the bar.

  The guitar player must be on a break. Mickey is talking to a couple at the end of the bar. No one seems to know what has gone on. Good. She heads back outside and sees Chuck and Will struggling down on the creek bank.

  She runs out just as Will smashes the wrench into Chuck’s head.

  ‘Someone help!’ she shouts. ‘Help!’

  ‘Shut up.’ Will looks up at her, his face a river of sweat. ‘Go back inside.’

  ‘No.’ She rushes down to them, crouches and grips Chuck’s arm. But it is not Chuck. It’s the guitar player, passed out on the bank, blood soaking through the tangle of hair covering his forehead.

  ‘Where’s Chuck?’ she screams.

  ‘Call the police,’ the guitar player moans. ‘Tell Mickey.’

  She rushes back inside, where Mickey hurries over from the bandstand. ‘Where’s Farley?’ he demands.

  ‘Out there.’ She keeps her voice low. What happens next could destroy Will and her, but if she doesn’t tell Mickey the truth, Will could harm Chuck. ‘They’re fighting.’ She doesn’t add that the guitar player told her to call the police.

  ‘You stay here.’ Mickey rushes around the bar. ‘Don’t tell anybody anything.’

  She nods.

  With the guitar player gone, the couples on the dance floor seem lost. Several drift over to her with empty glasses.

  ‘Where’s Mickey?’ one of them asks.

  ‘He’ll be back in a minute.’

  The sound of a gun explodes outside. Everyone rushes for the door. Megan stands as they go, hand against her stomach as if she is the one who has been shot. Finally, she inches toward the door just as Mickey heads back in holding a pistol.

  ‘It’s OK,’ he tells her. ‘No worries. Just a little fight I had to break up.’

  But Megan does worry. Megan wants to scream.

  He leans down and whispers into her ear. ‘Your friend needs you out there.’

  THIRTY

  Kit rushed outside with the others.

  ‘Farley!’ Monique shouted and burst into tears.

  ‘Shut up,’ Virgie told her and ran ahead, pausing at the front door. ‘Come on, Kit. You OK?’

  Her short, labored breaths seemed to come from the top of her chest. ‘I’m fine,’ she said.

  The noise outside grew louder.

  ‘Pull him in,’ a deep male voice shouted. ‘Someone jump in there.’

  ‘Oh, God, no.’ Monique sobbed and crowded next to them.

  John Paul’s truck pulled to a stop in front of the pub. Kit ran to him.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Someone saw a body in the creek. Monique’s out there. She’s screaming that it’s Farley.’

  ‘No one knows that.’ He put his arm around her. ‘Come on. Someone needs to contact law enforcement. Has the owner called anyone?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She couldn’t get rid of the fear or of the tears almost out of her control.

  Monique caught sight of them and ran to John Paul. ‘So glad you’re here,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m scared.’

  She wrapped her arms around him and he expertly released himself. ‘You need to get it together,’ he told her in that law-enforcement voice he used when he wasn’t pleased. ‘There’s no way of knowing what anyone saw out here tonight, if they saw anything at all.’

  ‘A man.’ She wiped her eyes and seemed to sober up on the spot, almost as she remembered that these people worked at the station her father owned. ‘If it’s Farley, I don’t know what I’ll do. We were going to get married. Even my dad was on board.’

  ‘Right.’ John Paul strode up to the crowd and then put his arm around Kit again. He leaned down and whispered, ‘This could get ugly. Why don’t you go inside?’

  ‘Can’t,’ she said.

  ‘OK, then, stay here. Where’s Virgie?’

  ‘Over there.’ Kit pointed to the edge of the green cover of the creek where Virgie, along with a few others, was following the murky water that was already up to her waist.

  ‘Got him!’ Virgie’s sharp scream shot up Kit’s backbone. She started back, holding onto something, someone.

  ‘God, no.’ Monique ran to the water’s edge.

  Kit pressed her face into John Paul’s shoulder, unable to stop the tears.

  ‘I can’t,’ she sobbed.

  ‘It’s OK.’ He patted her back. ‘Might be nothing. Might be anything.’

  ‘Not Farley. Please not Farley.’ With her eyes squeezed shut, Kit saw him clearly – Farley laughing after they did a great segment. Farley risking his job to help her when she searched for her mom. He was her best friend. This could not be happening.

  ‘I know you love him.’ John Paul squeezed her arm. ‘Just don’t get carried away. We don’t know anything yet.’

  The crowd shouted and Kit pulled away from him. Virgie and Mickey stood on either side of a lifeless body they pulled onto the shore. The first thing Kit saw was the man’s boots. The second was his dark hair.

  ‘Law enforcement is on the way,’ John Paul said. ‘You wait right here.’

  ‘Not Farley.’ That was all she could say. This poor dead man they had pulled from the creek was not Farley. And that meant – it just might mean – that Farley was alive.

  John Paul became the cop again, shouting instructions, making sure everyone knew not to touch the body, not to leave the premises.

  Virgie walked up to Kit, thoroughly soaked, her eyes wide. ‘Wasn’t Farley,’ she choked out. ‘Some other guy but not him.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Kit hugged her so hard that they both laughed and cried.

  ‘You’re gonna stink like I do,’ Virgie said and pushed her away. ‘It’s horrible, but you’ll be OK now. Farley too.’

  Kit looked up and saw John Paul watching them.

  ‘Hey, JP.’ Virgie waved him over and he approached with a stern, professional expression.

  ‘They’re going to want a statement from you,’ he told her.

  ‘That’s fine.’

  He looked at Kit in a way she couldn’t define. Until then, he had either been in cop mode or had seemed to care for her.

  Now he just looked tired. That and something else she couldn’t find words for.

  ‘You’ll be out of here soon,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you two go inside the bar for now?’

  Kit stared at the body on the shore, the one Virgie had helped to drag in and said, ‘We’re fine here.’

  ‘All right then.’ Without another word, he headed back down toward the dead man, who was face-down on the ground.

  Kit watched him and fought tears again.

  ‘Come on.’ Virgie nodded toward the bar. ‘He’s right about one thing. We need a drink and some time away from this mess.’

  Kit looked from her to John Paul, who took charge of the situation on the creek bank with the impersonal, professional approach of someone who was focused on doing his job.

  ‘What’s wrong with him?’ she said.

  Virgie rubbed the back of her neck. ‘Probably just the way he is. Let’s not worry about him right now. Let’s go in and wait. We don’t need to watch any more of this.’

  Together, they walked back inside. Mickey had beat them there. Clearly too busy to worry about stamping hands or collecting fees, he handed out beers and mixed drinks.

  ‘I didn’t know anything about this,’ he said. ‘We never have any trouble around here. You know that, right?’

  No o
ne paid any attention to him, yet, compared to the manic fear and uncertainty outside, the bar felt almost normal. Kit didn’t. She had driven herself most of the way to panic because she feared the man they’d pulled out of the water was Farley. John Paul had held her, comforted her, and yet she had sobbed too hard and revealed too much of her pain to him. Now he had a reason to convince himself that she was too unstable to trust.

  ‘Here you go,’ Mickey said. He’d taken off the Loggers Jamboree sweatshirt. The black T-shirt underneath it was dark with sweat across the chest. He shoved two mugs toward them.

  ‘I know you don’t drink beer,’ Kit told Virgie.

  She shrugged. ‘Tonight, I drink anything. John Paul will tell us what they find, won’t he?’

  ‘I think so.’ But Kit no longer knew what John Paul would share with her.

  They tried to return to the table in the back, which overflowed with people. Monique now shared it with three men Kit hadn’t seen before.

  She nudged one of them and got out when she saw Kit and Virgie. With her hair pushed back from her face, Kit spotted a shading of dark roots. So much for natural blonde. That should have made Kit happier than it did. Still, all she could feel was relief that it hadn’t been Farley’s body in that water.

  ‘He’s alive.’ Monique wiped her swollen eyes.

  ‘We don’t know that,’ Kit told her.

  Virgie made a noise of disgust and returned to the bar.

  ‘Well, that’s kind of a negative attitude.’

  ‘Not really.’ She stepped back from the table. ‘I know now why Farley scheduled this trip.’

  ‘You’d love to have me be the problem, wouldn’t you, Kit?’ She leaned against the narrow wall and held her drink in both hands. ‘Have you ever considered that he might be worried that you were going nuts and unable to work on the air? That all you could do was volunteer at some homeless shelter?’

  ‘Only one thing wrong with that,’ Kit told her. ‘He wasn’t having a relationship with me. He was having one with you.’

  ‘That depends on who’s telling the story.’ She tilted her head and flashed Kit a smirk. ‘I know you had a relationship. He told me so.’