by Rimmy London
She looked crazy.
The fight vanished inside her, silenced by the shock on her face.
A chair fell in the dining area, and there was the sound of Ava's small gasp. Abby whipped around, seeing her daughter sitting on the kitchen counter amongst the cookie dough, and a pile of flour and toppings scattered on the floor along with the chair.
"We need to start thinking more about Ava and less about… everything else," Chase whispered, casting glances at their daughter. "Maybe an inn isn't the best place to live right now."
The way Chase said it had Abby's eyes stinging, but she couldn't argue with his logic. With a quick brush of her cheeks, she sealed away the conversation, pushing her despair down deep.
With no small struggle, she found the will to smile back at the big, curious eyes of her daughter. "Should we bake some cookies?" She hurried to set a cookie sheet next to Ava, not risking a glance at her husband for fear it would crush her. The next words stung in her mouth before she'd even released them. "Daddy can help us."
Chase's arms came around her, and she spun around, clinging to him. Holding tight to his neck, she lifted on her toes, afraid of so many things. What if her mind wasn't right? What if she was putting Ava in danger? Could they actually leave Poppyridge? She held onto him, soothed by the way he kissed her neck and hugged her close. It wasn't the action of someone who planned to leave, someone disgusted by her delusions. His love for her was written in every perfectly tender touch.
"Tookies?"
Abby couldn't let go, not yet. Her voice was trapped somewhere inside, but Chase's deep voice answered smoothly.
"Should we bake some, Avey?"
Ava giggled, and Chase leaned back enough to touch Abby's face, trailing his hand through her hair and kissing her softly. "I'm sorry I raised my voice."
"Me too," Abby whispered. She was finally able to breathe slowly and turned around to help Ava with her cookies. A few had been clumsily but enthusiastically rolled out, smashed into the counter until they were the thickness of a sheet of paper. Abby couldn't help but smile as she carefully worked a spatula under them to transfer one by one to the parchment paper.
The evening went quickly, filled with bathtime and bedtime and stories. Chase stayed close to her, touching her hand, gazing into her eyes, giving her the strength she needed to lock her tears away. It felt good to have him there, different from the rest of the week had been. It wasn't until she stood in her cotton pajamas and reached for her toothbrush that she remembered—she'd forgotten to take a pill.
Discouragement came rushing back at the realization that she might have made up the image of her dad. But even if her mind was playing tricks on her, she'd discovered something. Her feelings for Chase had vanished with the medication. The way he looked at her, the touch of his hands, nothing felt the same when she was taking the pills. Like she didn't even know him, or couldn't care one way or the other. And she refused to live like that.
Standing in their bathroom, she could hear Chase coming up the stairs, slowly and calmly like nothing was wrong. The way things had been before the birthday party. Just as he reached the door, she threw a pill in the toilet and flushed it. She turned on the water and plunged her hands in, pretending to wash while her heart raced at the deception. But it didn't matter. She wouldn't live like a robot. Her life had changed drastically since the day before. Today she felt it, she knew it. No more dull overshadowed mists of fabricated calm. The moment she'd felt his arms around her and heard his voice, she'd realized something.
Her mind… it had never been clearer.
"Are you ready to go, Mrs. Roberts?"
Abby stood outside her Southern California hotel, smiling back at her driver. "I am, thank you." She reveled in the respect she saw in his eyes, along with a small dose of admiration. It felt good to be whole again. She didn’t need the pills to tell her that fantasies and nightmares weren’t real. It was as if the moment she’d decided to stop believing her fears, they’d left her. She climbed into the taxi.
Chase's parents had picked up Ava that morning, right on time. Abby crossed her fingers that they hadn't felt the need to talk to Chase about it. Guilt flooded through her at the thought, but she hadn't lied to him--technically. She'd just avoided talking about it. After their last little confrontation about her emotional state, he probably assumed she wouldn't even think of going to the warehouse in Mexico. Not after all that. But to Abby, there was no other choice. She would get to the bottom of why she kept imagining her dad and what exactly had happened at Ava's birthday party, but until then, she had to keep living. She'd be sure to call Chase that afternoon.
Over the phone, Daylen had treated the visit like it was nothing, just a quick scout out of the warehouse for them as new clients. It was easy. And she wasn't about to go making a big deal out of something that should be a simple, routine trip. Chase had patients to see and she didn't. Done deal.
Her taxi pulled up to the curb outside a bustling airport. Everywhere she looked, it seemed there were professional women traveling alone. And in the back of her mind, she kept an eye out for a familiar blue plaid shirt. She thanked the driver and stepped out of the cab, enjoying the warm, humid air and salty scent of the ocean. Palm trees spotted the horizon, painting the scenery everywhere she turned. It was a beautiful skyline.
Reviewing the instructions in her head, she went through them like bullet points. Check-in at Gate 4 under his name. They would take the short flight together and land in a small town called Siempre. The warehouse was a quick twenty-minute drive from there, where they would spend the rest of the day touring. Drive back that evening. She was to fly home late, stay the night in San Diego, and fly back to San Fran in the morning.
She reached Gate 4 and gave the flight attendant at the counter Daylen's name. The woman's eyes twitched, and her gaze swept from Abby's eyes to her mid-heel sandals. Her demeanor changed, as if she’d just been given a pair of stinky socks. It gave Abby the impression that this woman was more closely connected with Daylen than she would have thought. She felt a tightness in her stomach, but the woman spoke up before she could pay it too much attention.
"Over there, miss." She pointed to a corner of the lobby. "That's the reserved waiting area. Daylen will be here to escort you to the tarmac and his private jet in a few moments."
Private jet? He hadn't said anything about that. But then, why else would she give his name at the check-in counter? It made sense that way. Still, the discomfort in her middle continued.
"Also, he asked me to give you this to browse while you wait." She handed Abby a small brochure and turned to the next person in line.
"Thanks." Abby's voice was quiet, matching her off-kilter state. She sat down in a rather plain faux-leather chair and gazed about the airport. Travelers were lined up at the gate next to her, and she caught another critical glance from the attendant just as the woman disappeared up the ramp.
With a sigh, Abby opened up the brochure. It was a promotional pamphlet for Daylen's business, filled with photographs and five-star reviews. Abby browsed the pictures and began to relax, enjoying the thought of visiting Mexico.
It wasn't until she'd admired the images a few times over that she even paid attention to the reviews. The first one on the top left was short, simply stating,
After years of neglect, my inn is finally getting what it deserves!
—Gail Abe
She read it over a few times, thinking it was a strange way to describe a refurbishing project. The next review was a little longer, and she read it over slowly.
There was a time when I waved goodbye to my bed-and-breakfast, but now that I have the chance, I'm going to make sure to keep it, Always.
—California Native
The wording was a little off. Strange, like it had been translated incorrectly. Abby thought back to the website and how professional it had been. Perhaps this was an old brochure. She couldn't help but read over the last three reviews.
This place will stand
the test of time.
—Ender Finley
I would never go with anyone else, there's no other choice but this one. At first, I wasn't sure, but once I'd seen with my own eyes, there was no doubt.
—Stuart Toddy
It took so much searching and planning, but you can't blame me. The result is something I will cherish for the rest of my life.
—Kyle
She gasped when she saw the name, her head swimming a little. She'd never met another Kyle in her life. Still, it wasn’t a completely uncommon name. Just because she happened to only know one Kyle, that didn’t mean there weren’t a thousand more. Her face felt cool, and her hands were clammy. She rubbed them on her jeans, reading over the cryptic reviews again while her mind jumped from memory to memory.
The birthday party note that she'd started to believe was spontaneously sent off as a kind gesture. No harm there. And when she’d seen Daylen, her mind could’ve been wandering at the same time, jumping to conclusions. She had to admit, she was horrible at remembering faces. Was it so impractical to believe she’d mixed his face up too?
"Have you had a chance to read through the company reviews?"
Abby jumped, dropping the brochure to the ground with a flutter.
"Here, let me get that for you." Daylen sat on his heels and picked up the papers, handing them back. He didn't stand right away and only watched her quietly.
"Uh, yes." Abby took the brochure and stood, ready to be on their way before her nerves got worse. "I finally read through them. Everyone sounds very happy with the company."
"Oh, indeed."
He stood, sinking his hands in his pockets as his toes turned in simultaneously. Abby felt a cool dread trickle up her neck. His stance was one she remembered well. It had looked so adorable when he stood like that, except back then he always wore a denim jacket.
No, stop. It's not him. Don't let your imagination go too far.
She smiled back, if perhaps a little stiffly. "Are we ready to go, then?" she asked. If he was Daylen, he had to be busy. No doubt he wanted to get the day moving.
"Mmm," he murmured, finally stepping out of the stance he'd adopted. "Yes, I'm ready. Are you?" He stopped in his tracks, nearly tripping, and glanced back at her as if prepared to abandon the whole idea.
Abby's head swirled in confusion. "Er—I am, thanks."
"Yes, well…" He gazed across the building almost affectionately and began a slow, ambling walk. "I suppose we should get on with it. It's been such a long time to wait, really."
Abby snuck a glance at him, feeling awkward. It hadn't been that long.
"I wonder if your father would like to be here too. He reached out to me, you know. It was nice catching up, but he doesn't have it in him to try to mend so much stilted time, I'd wager. Or am I wrong? Have you seen him yet?" His eyebrows lifted, and he turned a mildly interested face in her direction.
Fear exploded inside, and her head began to spin, a nauseating lightness she knew accompanied fainting. She stopped, swaying a little. "We never spoke about my father."
Daylen didn't pause his slothful walk. His arm lifted, brushing her forward with him. She stumbled over her feet and continued walking, her mind in a panicked haze. She’d spent so much time doubting herself; she was afraid of messing up again.
"I tried to be cute, but I'm sure you spotted it, sharp as you are. It all comes back to you, as it should. Gail Abe, really!" His laugh was a deep chuff, and it died away quickly. "Don't pretend you didn't see that one. The other reviewers were special as well, so you’ll have to give it another look."
He held up the brochure in front of them. "Let’s read a few lines together. I’d bet your subconscious picked it up instantly, but you’ve been lying to yourself for so long you didn’t notice." He shook the paper. "Getting what it deserves. Keep it always, which by no small coincidence, is the translation for Siempre. I couldn't resist." He took her wrist, securing his hand around it tightly in a way that had her feeling chained. They stopped just outside a plain metal door, like all the rest they'd passed. Only, this was the last one. There was nowhere else for them to go.
Abby's sense of dread expanded, filling her until she was sure she'd been the biggest fool on Earth. He wrote all the reviews. All of them. The reviews that spoke of getting what they deserved and of waving goodbye. They were messages for her.
"The last one was especially forward because I couldn't stand to pass it up. A personalized note specially from me. And it has taken a lot of planning, believe that. Something I will cherish for the rest of my life," he said dramatically.
Abby stood rigid. He opened the door and tried to pull her forward by the wrist, but she didn't budge. Every ounce of effort focused on holding her emotions in, on not gasping for breath and breaking down into tears. She would never give him that satisfaction. Her chest felt heavy, steeled, and unbreaking. By the time she looked into his eyes, her body was screaming vengeance.
"Kyle." Her voice came out in a whisper, and she cursed it. But perhaps it was better to let him think she was cowering before him instead of igniting into someone she’d never been before.
His lips flicked into a curve. Not exactly a smile, but more an expression that showed he was utterly pleased with himself. "Hello, dear. Did you miss me?"
Chapter 14
Chase felt worse by the minute, wrung through with each speculation his mind made. By mid-morning he gave in and resorted to canceling his afternoon patients, telling his receptionist he was feeling ill. And it wasn't exactly a lie. He couldn't get past the way Abby had insisted she'd seen her father, again. Was it the right thing to temper those feelings with medication, or should he be digging into them with her, helping her explore them? Obviously, they were doing something wrong, because it was only getting worse. And they had Ava to think about.
He left work deep in thought, not driving home right away. Instead, he made his way slowly through town, to one of his favorite spots along the shore. Or at least, it used to be his favorite spot… before Abby… before the inn.
Parking in the semi-circle parking lot, he stayed in his car and gazed out at the sea. A memory was working away at his thoughts, coming to him in pieces. His uncle who had suffered from depression, something that no one would have been talking about at that time. But he'd overheard his parents’ whispered conversation one night and realized the uncle he idolized had tried to end his life. It had been difficult to accept, crushing his childhood perspective and leaving him feeling like he was falling through the floor.
What if there was something similar going on now? Despite Chase's time in school studying psychology, sometimes a personal experience taught more than books ever could. He picked up his phone to call his parents.
Abby's ears were filled with the loud whoosh of blood through her veins. It pulsed frantically as she walked alongside Kyle. He was towing her with him, keeping a grip tight enough to bruise her skin. But she hardly thought of it.
"I've made many treasured connections to people who don't exactly value… well, values. Did you know you can work your way up the ranks in the criminal world? If you’re dedicated and willing to do the work. You can make millions. But money was never my motivator, it just supplied opportunities I needed." He turned to her, and she felt sick meeting his eyes, the eyes of a deranged man.
"And anyone under you will do just about anything for pay, including posing as a thrilled business partner or client. Did you enjoy your phone calls with them?" He didn't wait for a reply. "The car dealership, now that was impressive, even for them. Authentic, too, because they weren’t even our guys. But apparently, even honest companies will oblige strange requests if you pay them enough.” He shook his head. "I didn't believe they could do it at first. But watching you return with your husband, looking absolutely out of your wits. That was worth it."
Abby ignored the insult, focusing instead on trying to slow her pumping heart. They were walking down a long hallway with a door at the end. A narrow window on one
side showed an airport lobby with a few people sitting or wandering about. Abby hoped desperately that one of them would be able to help.
"Oh, and one more thing,"
Abby glanced over when Kyle pulled his suit coat back, revealing a sleek silver pistol strapped to his torso.
"I wouldn't draw too much attention to yourself if that's what you're thinking. It would be a shame to have to kill all these nice people. You don't want to be the cause of that, now do you?"
He was mocking, but behind the fear that had welled up inside her, the anger was still boiling. It gave her the strength to keep her mind working, planning. Let him say what he wanted. One thing she knew for sure, once they left the country, she might as well be dead. She needed to make a move.
"I need to use the bathroom," she said, even though she knew what his answer would be.
"No." He didn't turn to look at her, his eyes remaining fixed on the door. He pulled it open and ushered her inside.
The sound of travelers was welcome, and she felt the tension in her body ease as she glanced around at everyday life. Small children climbing about their parent's luggage, an older couple reading magazines in a group of corner chairs. As Kyle towed her to the counter, Abby noticed the same response from the two faces that stared back at them. The women practically sneered at Abby from across the room.
"Have they been paid off?" she asked with as little emotion as she could manage.
"These two? No, no, they're just familiar with my crew. They're a rowdy bunch, for sure."
"And the stewardess from before?"
"Oh, her?" His head swung back the way they'd come. "She's angry for more personal reasons. You wouldn't be interested."
"You're right."
He flinched, glancing at her before laughing briefly. His eyes strayed to the window. "Looks like our ride is here."