I Wish You Missed Me Read online

  Breathe … be grounded. Kit took a breath, held it in and took another. Then she slowly got up.

  Move from the kitchen to the great room and turn on the lamps one at a time. Then the overhead light that illuminates the hall and the wooden staircase with the bamboo-print runner up the center. Check the pantry, the laundry room and again the kitchen. Then the outside door. Pull at it. Check the lock.

  At the sound of the doorbell she stopped, uncertain how long she had been going from room to room, turning on lights and talking herself into calmness. John Paul stood outside. Although his jacket hung loosely around his hips, she could have guessed his former job by his stance, and she had never been happier to see him.

  ‘I checked the outside.’ He closed the door behind him, his jaw tight in spite of his calm tone. ‘Your side gate’s open.’

  ‘I always close it.’

  ‘I know. Someone must have been in a hurry. What about the house?’

  ‘I’ve been turning on lights,’ she said. ‘I mean, I haven’t gone upstairs.’

  ‘Good. You wait here.’ Not a question.

  She tried but couldn’t stay put. Instead, she took the stairs behind him to the landing.

  ‘How many bedrooms up here?’ he called out.

  ‘Just mine and a guest room,’ she replied. ‘One bath.’

  He turned on the landing and the outline of his gun showed through his jacket. ‘I asked you to stay down there.’

  No need to remind him why she couldn’t stay put in her own home. ‘Do you really think someone was in here?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet.’ The double doors to her bedroom stood open, just as she had left them. He glanced at her and she nodded.

  He flipped on the light and walked inside the room, jacket open, his hand on the gun.

  ‘Is everything the way you left it?’ he asked.

  Kit looked past him around the room – the bed, coverlet thrown back, water glass on the bedside table beside the open book she had tried to read when she couldn’t sleep last night.

  A rustling from the far corner startled her. Her bedroom curtains fluttered against the wall on either side of the open window.

  ‘Did you leave it that way?’ John Paul asked.

  ‘No. I’d never.’ She started toward it and then stopped at the area rug beside her bed.

  ‘What?’ She tried to make sense of the small pink stain at her feet.

  ‘Don’t touch it,’ he said.

  Kit couldn’t look away. Overlapping the pink, traces of green were ground into the rug.

  ‘Did you call anyone?’ she asked, still staring at the stain.

  ‘My buddy Jasper.’ He moved beside her. ‘You need to report what happened.’

  She made herself glance up from the rug into his eyes. ‘Somebody climbed up the arbor out there and through the window.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  Her eardrums ached; her chest clenched and she had to fight to breathe.

  ‘Kit?’

  She pointed at the floor. ‘That’s a crushed strawberry. The vine outside is full of them.’

  ‘Come on.’ He touched her arm and she jumped.

  ‘Sorry. I guess everything’s just catching up with me.’

  ‘Downstairs,’ he said, and this time she did as he told her.

  When they got to the kitchen, he sat across from her at the table.

  ‘Whoever it was,’ she told him, speaking carefully, ‘whoever climbed the arbor and went in up there left through that door.’

  He got up and crossed the room. ‘It’s locked.’

  ‘It wasn’t.’

  ‘You touched the handle?’

  ‘I didn’t know anyone had been here.’

  ‘Are you sure nothing’s missing?’

  ‘Nothing obvious. All I knew when I came in the house tonight was that something was different. Something was wrong.’

  ‘Because you were worried about Farley?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ she said. And then, because he had always been able to get the truth out of her, she added, ‘I felt as if someone had been or was in here. That’s what made me remember the outside lights.’

  ‘You can’t stay here tonight.’ He took a step toward her. ‘Want me to drive you to your mom’s?’

  ‘No.’ Her voice came out too loud, too panicked. She forced herself to lower it. ‘I don’t want to worry her.’

  ‘You need to stay somewhere, at least until we can take a look around.’

  She started to protest and he took another step, as if not wanting to frighten her more.

  ‘Maybe it’s nothing, but that window up there was open, and if you didn’t walk on that rug, someone else did.’

  ‘I’d rather not worry my mom for no reason.’

  ‘A friend then?’ He stopped and she knew they were both thinking of Farley. Kit realized she was biting her lip. ‘A hotel?’ he asked. ‘I can talk to Jasper.’

  ‘Anyone can follow me to a hotel.’

  ‘I’ll drive you. This one is in plain sight. You’ll be safe.’

  But where would she ever feel safe? Kit couldn’t form the words. She could see only that smeared spot on the rug – evidence that someone had climbed through her bedroom window. She looked out at the backyard and its lights so neatly and strategically placed that they might be ferns and shrubs as well. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Well, I do,’ he said and put out his hand. ‘Come on. It’s only one night. Let’s get you out of here.’

  FIVE

  Located beside the Riverside Promenade, the suite hotel was across from Old Town. John Paul hadn’t been kidding when he’d said it was in plain sight. She had passed it dozens of times. The desk clerk nodded when he checked her in and Kit knew they were expected.

  ‘So,’ she asked John Paul, ‘is this like a safe house?’

  ‘A few steps away from that and much more relaxed.’ They headed through the two-story lobby to the elevator and his limp seemed less pronounced. ‘You’d probably be fine at home but there’s no sense in taking chances.’

  They arrived at the second floor and he guided her down the row of rooms overlooking the Sacramento River and the golden lights of the Tower Bridge. At another time, they might be strolling across the vertical lift bridge the way other couples did now.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked. Then he stopped, looked out at the unhurried world she had been observing and his gaze met hers. ‘Never mind. I know.’

  For a moment, she considered asking him to come in and talk, but this wasn’t the time.

  ‘If you find out anything at all about Farley tonight,’ she said, ‘you will let me know, won’t you?’

  ‘Of course.’ He put in the key and, when the tiny light on the door flashed green, opened it. ‘No need for me to check it out, but I will.’

  He stepped in ahead of her and she waited.

  His walk-through took only a minute, if that. ‘Everything’s cool,’ he said and gave her a one-armed hug. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.’

  ‘And—’

  He wouldn’t let her finish the sentence. ‘I already told you. I’ll let you know if I hear anything about Farley.’

  Once he left, Kit had to tell herself that she was better here than at home. With her back pressed against the bed pillows and two blankets piled on top of her, she tried to make herself comfortable. Instead, she imagined how easy it would be for someone to walk into the hotel, into the elevator and inside this room, the same way someone had climbed into her bedroom at home. But John Paul wouldn’t have insisted on her staying here if he hadn’t been convinced of how secure the place was. Besides, if anyone had wanted to harm her, they wouldn’t have broken into her home in the middle of the day. They would have waited for night when she was alone, the way she was now.

  She glanced at the tightly drawn curtains and reminded herself that she was safe here. Closing her eyes, she tried to drive the images from her mind. Giving into the fear would ultimately d
estroy her. It was the true danger.

  Farley was at the heart of this. That’s why she had been followed, why someone had broken into her house. It had something to do with where Farley was and who, if anyone, was with him. Figure that out, find him, and she could put an end to this nightmare. That’s what she had to do – just stop being a coward. No more fear. No more hiding.

  A soft knock on the door jerked her awake. She glanced at the bedside clock. Almost eight-thirty.

  ‘It’s John Paul. You up?’

  She had fallen asleep swearing off fear, and she had awakened full of it.

  ‘Be right there,’ she managed to reply.

  Sunlight filtered through the drapes and Kit realized she was fully dressed, right down to her shoes. She had kicked off the covers during the night and they bunched at the foot of the bed. In the bathroom, she tried to smooth the frizz out of her hair. Then she rushed back to the bed, pulled up and smoothed the covers just in case he wanted to go through the place again. Kit took a deep breath, closed the bedroom door behind her, walked through the living room/kitchen and opened the front door.

  ‘Good morning.’ John Paul stepped inside and they exchanged glances. ‘Didn’t get much sleep, did you?’ he said.

  He hadn’t shaved, and in the light of the room his weary eyes were a dull pale brown.

  ‘Not much.’ She picked up her bag from the table in front of the window. ‘I’m feeling better, though. Thank you for insisting I stay. Did you find anything else at my house?’

  ‘Everything seems back to normal. You should probably change your locks, though.’

  ‘Even though whoever it was climbed through my window?’

  ‘Just to be safe. I’d prune those vines too.’ He glanced at her suitcase. ‘I can take that for you.’

  ‘It’s fine.’ She should probably offer him coffee but the place seemed to be closing in on her. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘I parked across the street,’ he said. ‘In Old Town. A friend of mine has a little yogurt place on Front Street. He’ll open for us.’

  ‘I need to get to the station.’

  ‘On Sunday?’

  ‘Monique will be there. I want to talk to her.’

  She stepped outside and saw the same view of the bridge, only in daylight now, its reflection an iridescent blur in the river.

  ‘Coffee will just take a minute,’ he said, ‘and frankly, I could use some.’

  Kit knew he had probably spent the night parked in front of her house. ‘So could I,’ she told him. But more than coffee, she needed to question Monique.

  They took the elevator to the ground floor and crossed the street onto the wood-plank sidewalks of Old Town. The weathered lumber creaked and gave way slightly beneath her shoes as she and John Paul passed the tattoo parlor and old-time photo booth with sepia-tinged prints in the window. The place never changed. Except for the buildings in the distance rising into the sky and the border of vertically parked vehicles surrounding it, the rustic street must look the same as it had when this district was thriving thanks to its proximity to the river and its abundance of agricultural crops and gold.

  ‘In spite of everything,’ John Paul said, ‘it’s good to be spending some time with you again.’

  ‘I know what you mean, and I’m afraid it won’t be much time. I really do need to get to the station while I know Monique is still there.’

  ‘Let’s wait to do that that once you’re feeling stronger.’

  Kit lifted her face to the breeze and realized that her palms were damp. She rubbed them together and tried to remember what she’d been taught. If she didn’t stop it now, the panic would attack her breathing next. John Paul would know and he wouldn’t share anything with her.

  ‘You OK?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m fine, and I’ll be better once I see her.’

  ‘Let’s at least get some coffee first and talk about it.’ He motioned down a side street, which had already started to fill with visitors holding ice-cream cones and doughnuts.

  ‘I don’t want to wait around here,’ she told him, more forcefully this time. ‘Would you mind driving me over there now? Monique left me some messages, and if we speak she might remember something she didn’t tell you. You have already talked to her, haven’t you?’

  ‘Of course I have.’ He stopped as a flurry of people conversing in German streamed past them. Kit had been like them once, excited about absorbing the history and secrets of this city. Unafraid.

  ‘I’d still like to talk to her as well.’

  ‘Not today.’ Before she could ask why, he added, ‘Have you told me everything you know about Farley? Everything he might have shared with you?’

  ‘Why would you ask me that?’

  He squinted at her as if staring into the sun. ‘Have you?’

  ‘Everything I can think of that might possibly be important.’ When he didn’t respond, she said, ‘I know I haven’t acted all that stable lately, but I’m all right now and I know what I need to do.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I’m good at finding missing people, John Paul. I think I’ve proven that.’ She was breathing just fine now, keeping up with his long, uneven strides, intent on finding out what had made him doubt her. ‘Why don’t you want me to talk to Monique?’

  ‘I don’t mind if you talk to her.’ He touched her elbow, as if to remind her that they were arguing in public. ‘Just not right now. Not this morning.’

  They reached his truck and he opened the door for her. ‘Why not?’ she asked.

  ‘First of all, her boyfriend is missing. She’s upset.’

  ‘So am I. So are you.’

  A tour bus stopped behind them and passengers crowded off and onto the street. The breeze grew stronger and fanned the red, white and blue bunting over the narrow shop doorways. Kit climbed inside the truck and John Paul walked around to the other side as if the conversation had made him weary.

  She waited until he was behind the wheel and asked, ‘What’s really going on? Are you saying you won’t drive me to the radio station?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘What if I am?’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to drive myself,’ she said. ‘You’re probably busy anyway. Go ahead and take me home. I can handle it from there.’

  He turned, and his eyes were once more the clear lie detectors she knew all too well. ‘Before I do, isn’t there something you’d like to tell me – something you haven’t gotten around to mentioning?’

  There was no way he could know what she and Virgie had done, unless he had been the other person in Farley’s house. Of course. That’s what was going on. John Paul had been at Farley’s and had figured out she had been as well. He might even have followed her there.

  Maybe it was lack of sleep. Maybe it was the anxiety demon she tried to destroy or at least tame. Or maybe she kind of trusted John Paul, which for now was the only way she could trust anyone.

  ‘Once you told me Farley was missing, I went to his house,’ she said.

  ‘You have a key?’

  ‘I broke in.’

  ‘With his new security system?’ His eyes widened. ‘How’d you manage that?’

  ‘I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Not even if I guess?’

  ‘Especially if you guess,’ she said.

  ‘You should have called me.’ He started the truck and shook his head. ‘So you and Virgie broke into Farley’s house? That woman must be a technological wizard.’

  ‘I broke into Farley’s house,’ she said. ‘Alone. You were there too, weren’t you?’

  ‘No.’ He clutched the steering wheel. ‘I wasn’t at Farley’s.’

  Chills prickled along Kit’s arms. ‘Someone was. They rang the bell and knocked. Then later, someone came down the hall and tried the knob on the bedroom door.’ Her voice trailed off and she knew that he was thinking the same thing she was. ‘If you weren’t there, how did you know I was?’

  ‘I didn’t.’ The light switched to gree
n but he continued to stare at her. ‘All I knew was that you were holding something back. Like you, I’m good at what I do.’

  SIX

  Even though no vehicles are allowed here, everyone, including Megan, knows about the battered blue pickup hidden behind the trees for emergencies only. The last emergency, right after she and Will moved in, was Callie, the breech birth daughter Priscilla and Michael almost lost. Now that Priscilla is pregnant with their third daughter, Michael seems to spend more time working on the truck. She and Will pass the trees where that truck is hidden and they stumble over stones and broken dirt paths until they come upon the grove where he keeps the motorcycle.

  ‘Be careful,’ she says, as she climbs on the back, which is still so cold that it numbs her thighs through the jersey dress.

  ‘You’d better hang on.’ Will’s laughter is the same as when they make love.

  She shuts down her mind, shuts off the sounds and feeling of the short drive. A jolt tells her they have arrived, and she knows where.

  Will extends an arm to help her off the bike, and she can smell his strong scent like something out of these woods, something feral. Her imagination, probably. They have one of the few showers in this place, and he took one just this morning.

  Now, she’s placed her feet on the ground. He’s lifting her face in his hands, even though they are almost the same height.

  ‘You know what you need to do?’ he asks.

  ‘It’s the last time, right? That’s what you said.’

  ‘We’re not talking about what I said.’ Will puts his arm around her and nudges her forward, toward the muffled noise of the pub. ‘We’re talking about what you need to do right now, in about five minutes. What you need to say. How you need to act.’

  ‘I know all that. I just want you to promise me that this is the last time.’

  ‘Have I ever lied to you?’ Standing beside the bike, he reaches out and arranges her hair around her face, her bare shoulders. ‘Answer me,’ he says.