Search for Contentment

by Marlene Bierworth

  Once outside, she headed to the office where they informed her that the gentleman who had registered had paid for two nights.

  “Thank you, Drew,” she murmured while stepping into the bright sunshine. The motel would do for one more night.

  The taxi arrived promptly, and she jumped into the back seat. After providing the driver with the address of a neighboring convenience store, she laid her head back and expelled a deep sigh. Using her palms to massage the back of her neck she willed the knotted muscles into submission. Relaxing in a warm, bubbly bath to ease the pulsating ache of stress was out of the question today. Besides, she anticipated the source of her stress would not go away any time soon.

  When they arrived at the store, she glanced at the meter for the cost and then asked the driver to wait before racing for the door and disappearing inside. Thankfully, Lorraine, a friendly, young cashier, was working that day, and not the nosy Mrs. Sickamore.

  “Good morning, Lorraine.”

  “Hi there, Mel. How’s the holiday going?”

  Melanie swallowed hard. She had no debit card or cash and would need to rely on her good reputation with an acquaintance she barely knew. “The holiday is going well, but I have a rather unusual request.”

  “Hit me.”

  “Could I borrow twenty dollars? I need to pay my taxi fare, and I locked myself out of the apartment this morning without my purse.” She hated to lie, but Lorraine appeared none the wiser.

  “Done that myself before, and a stranger helped me out. Guess it’s time to pay it forward.” She continued talking while reaching for her purse. “Is your car on the fritz?”

  “Yeah. I have to get a rental later. I’m headed home, but I need to ask for another favor.”

  “Sure. Hit me again.”

  “I’ll bring you the money in about an hour, but if anyone asks if I was here today, could you sort of, forget you ever saw me?”

  “My, how mysterious,” Lorraine said playfully. “Never fear – my lips are sealed.”

  Melanie’s hand shook slightly as she took the money from the clerk’s outstretched hand. “Someday soon, I promise to return and bend your ear with all the juicy details.”

  “Juicy? Now you’ve captured my interest. It will stay our secret, for now. Besides, I don’t have many close friends to blabber to. I like to keep to myself.”

  “Oh, right. You’re new here. A student at the college, right?”

  “Nice of you to remember. My classmates say I’m the forgettable type.”

  “Well, I don’t think that at all. And Lorraine, I’d be proud to call you a friend.” Melanie glanced toward the window and recalled that the meter was running and she needed to hurry.

  “Thank you. You’ll never know how good that makes me feel. Today has not been a good day. Feeling rather homesick,” Lorraine said.

  Melanie reached over and squeezed the girl’s hand. “Sorry to rush our visit, but the meter is ticking, and I need to run. Keep your chin up, okay? I’ll be back within the hour with your money. Bless you.”

  She hurried from the store, leaned inside the open passenger’s side window, and handed the driver the money. “Thank you for waiting. Keep the change.”

  “Thanks,” the driver called out as he put his vehicle into drive and sped away.

  Melanie stepped back and collided with a man standing directly behind her.

  He caught her before she tumbled awkwardly to the ground. “My apologies, miss.” He stepped back, and his face beamed. “Why, I can’t believe my luck. Melanie Braxton – it is a small world.”

  Trevor Knight was dressed in a navy, three-piece suit, his black hair was styled short and combed to perfection, and the fragrance of his aftershave released a surging wave to drown her senses.

  A movement distracted her. She noted that Lorraine was standing and waving from the huge storefront window, a broad smile pasted on her face. Melanie returned the smile, waved, and hoped Lorraine would also conveniently forget about having seen her converse with the visiting stranger in town. Melanie focused her attention on the man who stood by, waiting patiently.

  “I’m in a hurry, sir. What can I help you with?”

  “Hardly the greeting I expected from Chrissy’s friend.”

  Melanie bit her lip. “I’m sorry. You caught me at a bad moment.”

  “Days after you left Knight’s Tower, I found a note from Chrissy. I wish she’d have spoken with me directly, but that doesn’t seem to be her style these days. In short, I’ve come searching for my niece.” He pointed at the nearby apartment complex. “This is the home address she included in her letter, but Chrissy forgot to write down the unit number, and her name is not listed on the ground floor’s buzzer system.”

  “Mine is,” Melanie said. “Am I so unforgettable, Mr. Knight?” That came out wrong. Irritation at being delayed in her mission was shredding her mind in thin layers. She sounded uncouth, even to her own ears.

  “Not at all, Miss Braxton. In fact, quite the contrary.” Trevor’s eyes spewed kindness and Melanie felt guilty at her remark. “I did note yours on the board, but no one answered my ring, so the main doors remained locked.”

  “As you can see, I’m not home and Chrissy is likely off to work by now. Her vacation is over.”

  Melanie swayed under his intense scrutiny. Was he the enemy, fishing for answers or should she trust that he just so happened to show up the day after his niece’s murder? She held his stare and could not detect any surprise from him at his seeing her alive. That fact alone helped her believe his story about the letter.

  As if he’d read her mind, he reached into his pocket. Melanie flinched and he noticed.

  “You’re nervous? Please, it’s not my intention to frighten you. I just wanted to show you the letter to satisfy those serious, doubting eyes. Chrissy remains under my guardianship until her twenty-first birthday. When her folks died, it hurt that she refused to accept my help, but I respectfully backed off – until now. She’s reached out to me, so I’m here to help however I can.” He waved the envelope in the air. “Do you care to read it, or will you simply point me in Chrissy’s direction so I can let you continue on with your business?”

  Melanie bit her lip, a sure-fire indication of her embarrassment. “You’re young to be responsible for a twenty-year-old woman,” she muttered, wondering if she could put her foot in her mouth any more during their brief conversation.

  Trevor merely grinned. “So glad you noticed. It so happens, I was a surprise arrival for my middle-aged parents who were told they’d never get pregnant again after Charles, my older brother. Chrissy’s father led a rather flamboyant life. He’s deceased, and so are our parents – it’s a rather tragic circumstance. That leaves me alone to watch out for Chrissy.” Trevor Knight said this matter-of-factly, like he’d had to clarify his responsibility countless times in the past.

  “Chrissy is blessed to have someone watching out for her. She’s been through a lot.” Melanie bit her tongue to stop the words from flowing. In her mind, she murmured, “but you’re a little too late to do the right thing now.” Her impatience returned. Melanie had no time for a friendly chit-chat when snooping was her destination.

  The need to arrive before her uninvited guests left the apartment spurred her on. She glanced nervously at the building to see if anyone was exiting and said the first thing that entered her mind. “Can we meet later, Mr. Knight?”

  He raised his eyebrows at the obvious snub. “Heading me in the direction of her workplace will be sufficient. I don’t want to interfere with your day.”

  “No! I mean she won’t be able to talk. You’ll have to wait for tomorrow.” Melanie had responded too quickly and she watched his guard go up, and the questions swirl behind his eyes.

  “You’re keeping secrets from me, Melanie? In my line of work, the best have tried their hand at conning me.” He spoke in a tone she interpreted as being slightly flirtatious. Chrissy’s uncle was hitting on her. It had been a long time since a man
had looked at her the way he did now. He was only eight years her senior, so the idea wasn’t so far-fetched. He also knew she was a cop, and it didn’t faze him one bit. Most men felt undermined and on edge around her – even law-abiding citizens would rather not date a policewoman.

  “I really can’t talk any longer.” She scanned the area, fearful that her resurrection-from-the-river might tip off her kidnappers should they be lurking nearby.

  The man appeared intrigued. “As you like, Miss Braxton. I’m staying at the Inglis Hotel. Shall we say, supper in the dining room at seven?”

  Melanie had to admit she was hungry and she couldn’t resist the invitation to dine with this handsome man and pick his brain about her roommate. She felt strangely safer standing next to him, which was absurd because he’d done nothing to keep Chrissy safe.

  “Fine. I’ll be there. Good day, Mr. Knight.”

  Melanie pivoted and disappeared down the alley next to the store, never looking behind her to see if the man was watching or if he had simply climbed into his black limousine. She’d do well to remember that Trevor Knight was the type of man of which her father would approve. He was also the same kind she’d escaped upper-class society to avoid.

  Where He leads, I will follow. Stand firm and watch the Lord do wonders.

  Chapter 6

  Melanie weaved her way behind the massive building, scooted across a weed-infested field, climbed a fence, and within a matter of three-minutes was leaning, panting, against the back wall of her apartment building. So far, so good.

  She looked toward the windows of her apartment to see if there were lights or activity within. The front entrance was no longer a safe option, so Melanie dragged a barrel from the garbage area and placed it under her second-floor balcony. She’d never gone this route before, but she had considered it a good option if she ever locked herself out. That was before Chrissy had come to live with her, and they’d decided to find a good hiding place for the key in the hallway.

  It turned out that it was far too easy to gain access to her balcony. She should have considered the ease of a break-in long before this. One tends to drift along, comfortable and carefree, believing good people overpopulate the bad, until evil comes knocking on the door. Melanie’s mind now teetered on a lop-sided scale. Even the eye-opener of police work hadn’t inflicted such disparity. The change inflicted on a trusting soul after a single day saddened her. She felt violated and less world-wise.

  She crouched in the corner of the balcony behind an artificial palm tree and peered inside at the living, dining and kitchen areas – the open concept was modern and stylishly decorated. No movement caught her eye, and she feared she’d arrived too late to witness the intruder in action. Disappointment overwhelmed her. Melanie needed to go inside, but ill-timed memories chose that moment to flood her being, freezing her to the spot. She shook from the chill, recalling the vision of the two kidnappers from the night before, standing at the front door. One had been Asian, a karate-kicking, gun-toting kind of guy, and one had been a typical American hillbilly. She’d matched their voices to the two that had argued at the river, and she’d bet her bottom dollar that the poor, backwoods chap had received a bullet from the trigger-happy Asian. Suddenly, it became all too personal. The incident should have been reported to the police before she attempted to investigate it on her own.

  Melanie sighed. Typical of her to act first and think later. It was too late for second thoughts now – she was already here.

  To maintain her sanity, Melanie detached herself from the familiar and honed in on her stake-out experience to de-personalize the case. She shook herself free from analyzing her position and studied the apartment. Only the two bedrooms and bathrooms lay beyond her careful scrutiny. One hand tipped the heavy pot housing a growing fern, and her fingers reached under it to extract the spare, patio-door key. She lifted an overdue prayer for strength.

  “Chrissy,” she told herself, “just concentrate on Chrissy.”

  The key turned in the lock, the click amplifying in her ears. She backed off and crouched again, watching for signs of interference from someone she might have overlooked in one of the back rooms, but there was nothing. Apparently, she’d missed the opportunity to confront the intruders, and although that brought relief to the fear building within, it would not aid with finding Chrissy.

  Melanie had almost moved into position to swing the door open wide when the profile of a woman’s backside standing in Chrissy’s bedroom doorway reflected in the entrance mirror. Hope surged, then dwindled; it wasn’t Chrissy.

  She pushed back against the outside wall to rethink her position, risking another glance after a few seconds.

  In the main living area, the woman was rifling through the storage drawers in the television stand; then she switched her efforts to the rolltop desk, the only piece of furniture Melanie had brought with her from home. She didn’t recognize the intruder.

  As her scrutiny intensified, another figure exited her bedroom, strolling into view, shuffling through the pages of a bedside novel. A rebuke from the woman sent the book sprawling to the floor. Melanie’s heart skipped a beat.

  Drew was in her apartment.

  Melanie collapsed against the brick wall, scraping her manicured fingernails against the hard surface. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as the ultimate betrayal sunk in.

  What could it all mean?

  She wondered what mess Drew might have gotten them into now. During her brief visit to his home last week, he’d hadn’t mentioned knowing Chrissy or her family. He’d treated her as nothing more than Mel’s roomie – an interesting one, of course – but she’d taken it with a grain of salt. In one way or another, Drew found something of interest in every woman he met. When Melanie had left home four years earlier, Drew also moved from the estate into a condo. He had been content to downsize – it spared him the work of full-scale entertaining and freed him to hang out with the more outlandish crowd in their ritzy residences; Drew could be both lazy and cheap when it suited him.

  Chrissy had accompanied Melanie to visit Drew. When they’d met for the first time, Chrissy had flirted, toying with his boyish-cuteness and laughing when Melanie warned her that Drew was not her type. Melanie had enforced her disapproval by casting a firm, hands-off glare in her brother’s direction, but they both seemed to be feeling reckless that day. She couldn’t wait for the visit to end. Melanie did not pretend to understand her brother. In fact, most times, she was embarrassed to call him family. And Chrissy? Well, she sometimes left Mel feeling outdated, old-maid material.

  Melanie figured that leaving his apartment would end their little game, but, the next day, when Chrissy had said she had an errand to run before they left, she’d wondered if Drew had been that errand. She couldn’t prove it, but the questions Chrissy had fired at her on the trip home caused her to suspect the worst – that her roommate’s interest in Drew had increased. They’d only been back in South Carolina for two days before the kidnapping, so where the relationship would have headed was anyone’s guess.

  She thought back on the last couple of months, feeling regret that she hadn’t addressed Chrissy’s closed off stance. She’d grown more restless by the day, snappy and not her usual joyful self. Melanie had been so preoccupied surviving the pressures at work that she’d ignored the signs of change taking place in her own apartment. Now, she saw it, but it was too late. Chrissy was no longer there to talk to, and Melanie feared she was lying dead at the bottom of the river. The screams and the shot that had silenced them still tormented her mind.

  Melanie heard a door slam, jolting back to the present. Both Drew and the woman had left the main room, and by the sounds of it, they had left via the apartment’s door. She heard the deadbolt snap into place. That left Melanie free to go inside, but her legs remained fixed to the cement.

  She pushed past the memories of the night before and opened the patio door. A stagnant, closed-up odor greeted her, and she longed to open the windows to freshen th
e air, but she would not be staying long.

  Melanie hurried into her bedroom and reached for the top closet shelf for a suitcase. She threw clothes and toiletries into it and added personal papers and cards into the zipped pocket. She emptied the contents of her clutch purse on the bed and searched in the bottom drawer for a larger bag with a shoulder strap. In it, she put her laptop, cellphone, and passport, just in case. Who knew where this adventure might take her before it ended? She dumped in the remaining contents of her small purse and headed for the closet.

  Standing on tippy-toes, she made contact with the metal box stashed in the far back corner of the shelf, inched it out, and placed it on the bed. A key dangled from the necklace tucked under her shirt, and she used it to unlock the box. Inside were neat piles of cash, each stack held in groups of ten twenty-dollar bills with a clip. She could thank her Mom for that. Sylvia Braxton had given her the money box many years ago with strict instructions that it should only to be used in case of an emergency, like the collapse for Wall Street, or the end of the economy as the world knew it – that woman was forever the profit of doom.

  Born on the other side of the tracks, her mother had experienced a rags-to-riches story, and her husband had repeatedly thrown it in her face. She was the result of his drunken mistake, one that refused to leave in the morning. How she ever managed to get a ring on her finger in one night was a mystery to them all, or so the story went. Then came the children and their twisted display of happily-ever-after continued until her unexplained passing.

  Now, Melanie faced similar questions; to be or not to be, rich? Mother had chosen the chains of wealth with its upper-class expectations, whereas Melanie hoped to find fulfilment in the middle class. It required her to knuckle down, obtain a post-secondary education and specialized training as a law enforcement. There was a certain satisfaction resulting from the career preparation, and when she earned her first paycheck, she thought there was no better feeling in the world…until the bills started pouring in. It appeared that changing locations – the job, the apartment – had done nothing to settle the unrest in Melanie’s spirit. Discontentment reigned in both worlds and naïve disillusionment had tainted her success parading through life as the eternal penny-pincher in designer clothes.