Enemies & Lovers

by Christine Zolendz

  “Vaughn, save your energy.”

  “You have to believe me. I was willing to give up my life for her,” I slur.

  “Shush and don’t talk. There’s so much blood. Don’t let your last thoughts be of a Radcliffe.”

  My last thoughts?

  Jesus, my mother thinks I’m going to die?

  The back doors of the ambulance burst open and bright lights flood over me. A crowd of people move around me, rushing, running, yanking, pulling. All I see is the ceiling, white and glowing as it flies over me in a blur. One of the wheels of this thing I’m on feels broken, it clicks, clicks, clicks as it rolls. Clicks, clicks, clicks, like Matteo’s gun.

  I wonder if he’s dead. I wonder if my mother lied about Claire. Maybe she’s face-down lying in a pool of blood somewhere all alone. I try to sit up again. Why am I still strapped down?

  Then Claire is here, running alongside me, out of breath, dark racoon-circle eyes. Her chin is full of blood, her eyes are raw and so, so blue. I reach out to touch her, and my fingertips brush over her beautiful lips.

  I want to tell her I love her. I want to kiss her again. I want her to know we need to make up for a lot of lost time.

  Wait for me, Claire.

  Wait for me.

  Chapter 24

  Claire

  Vaughn touches his fingers to the curve of my jaw, and parts my lips with the pad of his thumb. He tries to speak, but it’s too much of a struggle for him.

  “You’re going to be fine,” I assure him, even though my fears tell me otherwise. “We’ll talk again when you feel better, okay?” I grab hold of his hand and kiss his warm fingers. Please God, I pray, please let him make it through this. He’s lost so much blood.

  He smiles tightly.

  Doctors surround us. I know I’m in the way, but it’s hard, it’s terrifying to think this might be the last time I see him. There’s an onslaught of blue scrubs and tubes; elbows and hands shove me from side to side. I step slowly out of the fray and watch as they wheel him away, rushing down the hall screaming medical terms I know nothing about.

  And then they’re gone, shut behind automatic doors that only work one way, and I’m left in the corridor, alone, in tears staring at the long smear of Vaughn’s blood that trails over the shiny tiles of the floor.

  A single nurse jogs past and I jump for her attention. “Will he be okay?”

  “The doctors here will do their very best,” she says as she runs through the doors. Her shoes leave a print in his blood by the door. She didn’t give me the answer I wanted to hear, and her careless step made it all the worse. I want someone to tell me he’ll be fine, that it was nothing but a flesh wound, nothing serious. I don’t want to know that Vaughn could die from a bullet that was meant for me. I don’t want to see the blood that is supposed to be pumping through his body keeping him alive on the cold dirty tiles of a hospital floor.

  I rub the image of it from my eyes and turn away. I want to charge through those doors and do whatever I can to help him, but it’s a foolish thought; the only thing I can do right now is wait. That’s the only thing I’m capable of in this situation, I’m not equipped to do any more.

  In the waiting area, people stare at me. I know what they must think, I’m covered in someone’s blood. They either look down at my feet quickly or their gazes linger, and fill with some sick sort of relief they’re not wearing as much blood as me.

  There’re a few empty seats dotted around the large room, and I sit in one that faces those locked doors and that long hallway. I want to be able to see the doctors the moment they come back out.

  Two uniformed police officers flank Mrs. Montgomery as she fills out paperwork. Her hair is matted and her face is drained of any of her fancy cosmetics. She looks like she’s aged ten years since I first walked into her house to deliver her my mother’s fortune. This is definitely not how I thought the return of the money would go. I knew there would be some harsh words, but I thought those would only be between me and Vaughn, when I rubbed it in his face how I wasn’t the lowlife he believed me to be.

  How silly and petty those thoughts are now as I sit in this hospital waiting room covered in his blood. How different everything would be if I’d only mailed them that envelope instead of wanting to hand it to them in person, with my head held high. I would like to think that Matteo would have sprung his secret on them in a kinder way, one where everyone could celebrate the newest member of the Montgomery clan, and maybe divide the billions between them.

  Doubtful. In that parallel universe Mrs. Montgomery would have probably slaughtered the entire family just to have the money all to herself.

  The officers take Mrs. Montgomery into a small alcove, a little private spot separate from the rest of the crowded waiting area. I watch her lips move as she speaks with them, wondering what she’s saying. Curious as to what her sequence of events sounds like compared to mine.

  Without warning, she points at me and both officers turn their attention in my direction.

  Well, that didn’t take long, did it? God only knows what she could possibly be blaming on me. Probably everything that ever went wrong in her life. The officers listen intently, every so often scribbling something down on a small black pad.

  I hope the doctors are helping Vaughn. I glance up at the clock and sigh, it’s only been ten minutes. My knee starts bouncing.

  What’s going to happen when this is all over? What if Vaughn doesn’t make it? I start crying again. A woman sitting across from me hands me a tissue. I need to stop thinking the worst, I need to think positive. “Thank you,” I say softly.

  The woman nods. I can tell she wants to ask me who I’m waiting for, her eyes are trailing over my shirt and pants, formulating in her head her own story of what might have happened to me. I look away. I don’t want to be this woman’s one-ringed circus.

  She remains staring at me.

  I get up and walk over to Chloe and sit in the empty sit next to her. She’s hunched over, hugging her knees. “How are you holding up?” I ask.

  She leans back, clasping her fingers together, and shakes her head. “What do you think they’re asking my mother?”

  I glance up in Mrs. Montgomery’s direction. Again, she’s pointing at me, this time vigorously. “Whatever it is, pointing at me is her answer.”

  “Do you think he’s going to be okay?” she asks, through tears.

  I lock my eyes on hers. “I won’t think of any other outcome, Chloe. He has to be okay.”

  “Is it true?” she asks. “About the house on the mountain? My dad? Your mom?” she sniffles.

  I nod, “I wish is wasn’t, because all of it led to this.”

  “Vaughn…he told me you never knew about them,” she says.

  “I never did, Chloe. How can you think I would be okay with that? You were…you were my best friend, and Vaughn, he was…” My words trail off quietly and all I can do is cry.

  “He was what?” she asks, through her own tears.

  “He was everything to me, Chloe. I thought we were going to get married, I thought I was going to get to be your sister for real,” I sob.

  “Claire?” Mrs. Montgomery’s voice cuts through the room.

  I turn my head and she’s right there, standing in front of me. I jump to my feet, “Is there any news? Did the doctors come out and say something to you?”

  Her lips purse. “No,” she sneers, and waves her perfectly manicured hand at me. “Claire, I think it best for you to leave, and let us take care of things from here.”

  “L-leave?” I stammer, nervously shifting from foot to foot. I can’t leave. I can’t leave him in there alone.

  “Yes, leave. Now. It would be prudent, if Vaughn is ever to recover from this, that you not be a part of his life.” She takes a loud nasally breath in. “You’re the reason he’s here, after all.”

  My eyelids blink spastically. What is she saying to me? This is all my fault? Vaughn got shot because of me?

  I stumble over m
y words, snot and tears stream down my chin. “Mrs. Montgomery, there’s no way—”

  “Ms. Radcliffe,” one of the officers interrupts me, “the Montgomery family would appreciate it if you left without making a scene.”

  I look back and forth between the officers then down to Chloe.

  At least she has the humanity to looked appalled by what her mother and the officers expect me to do. I shake my head in disbelief. I mean, I knew she would never forgive me for the things my mother did to her personally, but I just handed her fifteen billion dollars, and she knew her son wanted to be with me. How heartless of a woman could she be?

  One who trapped a man into a loveless marriage when she was only fifteen. Someone who was never going to let her son be with me.

  “Ms. Radcliffe, at your earliest convenience, we’d like to ask you a few questions, down at the station,” the taller officer says gruffly. Down at the station? Margaret Montgomery gets a nice little alcove in the hospital, allowed to wait for news of her son, and I have to go down to the station like I’m a suspect in this mess. Oh, dear sweet baby Jesus. I dart my eyes to Margaret. What the hell did she tell these police officers?

  She’s a conniving, vindictive woman. She seduced and manipulated a twenty-year-old when she was only fifteen and got herself pregnant for his money. What the hell could she do to me to make sure she keeps that money?

  “Yes, of course I’ll go down to the station.” I tighten my bag to my chest and back away. “I’ll go straight from here. If—” I look down at Chloe, her eyes are full of tears, “if you hear anything, can you call the station? Let me know?”

  “I’m sure we’ll be too busy to call the police station, Claire.” Margaret sighs loudly. “I’m sure my family’s tragedy will be breaking news today. You can watch it on television like everyone else, and allow my family some privacy.”

  There are so many curse words I want to scream in this woman’s face, but I bite down on my tongue to stop myself.

  “How about we give you a ride?” one of the officers offers.

  “Sure. That would be lovely,” I lie. And without saying another word to the Montgomerys, I walk out of the hospital doors with two police officers trailing behind me.

  I’m grateful they aren’t handcuffing me in front of Margaret and Chloe. The smug expression on her face would have killed me dead.

  The officers escort me to a squad car, and I’m surprised when they open the door for me and allow me to sit in the car without restraints. I’m even more taken aback when we arrive at the precinct, and I’m offered a warm cup of fresh coffee and some chocolate chip cookies.

  I’m led to a small gray room furnished with one small table and three chairs.

  I drink my coffee and nibble at the cookies while I wait to be questioned.

  I don’t have to wait long.

  The door swings open almost immediately and a tall, unbelievably good-looking muscular man walks in. He has a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a legal pad in the other. “Miss Radcliffe? Hello, I’m Detective Fury.” He swivels around and another handsome man walks in behind him. “This is my partner Detective Cage.”

  I stare at them awkwardly and break out into a cold sweat. Fury and Cage, sounds like a good idea for a steamy book series full of sexy men in uniform.

  “Have you heard anything from the hospital? Anything about Vaughn?” I blurt out.

  Both detectives shake their heads. “No, I’m sorry,” Detective Fury says in a gentle voice. “That was the twenty-five-year-old male victim that was brought to the hospital, Vaughn Montgomery, correct?”

  I nod sadly.

  “Okay, if you can, why don’t you start from the beginning,” Detective Fury says, sitting in the chair across from me.

  My mouth goes dry and I take a sip of my coffee. “I guess the beginning would be when I was fifteen and walked in on my mother and billionaire Silas Montgomery having an affair.” I rub at the nape of my neck, my spine tingles. I feel a massive migraine coming on. “After the affair our families were at war. Then a few weeks ago, Silas Montgomery died of a heart attack, which left my mother so distraught she ended her life.”

  This is where I start to cry.

  I tap my fingers along the table and try to quell the emotional hurricane that’s been brewing inside me, but there’s no calmness to be found. “The minute I was called about my mother, I started receiving text messages from her phone. Each message demanded I go to her house—which I seriously had no idea she was living in—and find the offshore bank accounts that were her and Silas’s. If I didn’t do that, the caller said they would send images they made of me—I swear those are not really me doing those sexually explicit things—they were going to send them to my entire school. Parents, students, faculty.” I blink up at the detectives and shift uncomfortably in my chair. They probably saw the pictures. They both think they know what I look like naked.

  I sip at my coffee trying not to vomit.

  “Take your time,” Detective Cage says gently.

  “Uh…So, I drove up to my mother’s place. Turns out it was a secret home she and Silas shared. They were still having the affair even after all these years. There were pictures of them all over the walls, smiling. Happy.” I shrug. “Maria Lowell was there when I arrived, she was Mr. Montgomery’s housekeeper. She knew about the affair, about everything. But she left me there because she was afraid to get stuck in the storm.” I take a long deep breath in and out.

  “I tried looking for the accounts. Then Vaughn showed up. He was just as shocked about the house and the affair as I was. Then, um—” There’s no way I’m telling them we had sex. I mean, I don’t have to, right? “Anyway, there was a storm, and an avalanche, and we got stuck there, and when the weather calmed down, he called Matteo. They grew up together, we all did. He picked us up and dropped me home.”

  The detectives looked at each other and back to me. “And how did this end with a homicide?”

  “A…homicide?” I stammer. Who died? “You just told me you didn’t hear any news from the hospital! Vaughn’s dead? He’s dead?” I can’t breathe. I’m hyperventilating.

  Detective Cage lays his hands flat on the table between us. “No, Miss Radcliffe, take a deep breath, we’re not talking about Vaughn Montgomery.”

  “Then who are you talking about? Vaughn was the only one who Matteo shot. He was aiming for me, but Vaughn…he pushed me out of the way, he saved me.”

  “And Paul Luger? What about him?”

  I’m confused, and my pulse pounds in my temples. “Paul Luger is…is a colleague with me at St Maria’s. But what…what does Mr. Luger have to do with any of this?”

  “His body was found, slumped over the steering wheel of his car, parked on the corner of your street.”

  “Mr. Luger is…dead?”

  “So is Willard Martin, the Montgomery’s butler. He was hit by a stray bullet to the back of the head in the Montgomery’s kitchen.”

  “Who…who k-killed Paul? Did Matteo?” I stammer, trembling uncontrollably.

  “We were hoping you could tell us why he might have been parked on your street today,” Detective Fury says, clicking his pen continuously.

  “He came over yesterday, when the pictures of me were sent out. He…stayed over so I wasn’t alone. He accused me of sending out the photos myself, he didn’t believe me, so when I woke up in the morning and he was still there, I asked him to leave.”

  “And did you shoot him?” Detective Cage asks, without emotion, without judgement.

  “No, I didn’t shoot anybody. Why would I shoot Paul? I don’t even have a gun!” I feel faint. Poor Paul.

  “So, you’re positive we’re not going to find your fingerprints at all on the murder weapon?”

  Oh shit.

  Chapter 25

  Claire

  “I picked up the gun.”

  That was the sentence that did it. The one that implicated me in a double homicide, attempted murder, and a staggering pile of other
charges I didn’t understand.

  I was asked to hand over my belongings.

  Take off my belt, and shoelaces.

  I took a mug shot.

  Wait here.

  No talking.

  Stand here.

  Don’t speak.

  Now I’m sitting here in a cell, watching the detectives pass around some funny social media post they all got a good laugh from. Half of me thinks they were sharing the images Matteo photoshopped of me, the other half thinks they forgot all about me as soon as they locked me in this cage.

  Hours and hours pass.

  Detective Fury and Cage come and go, intermittently completing forms detailing my transgressions. Even more hours pass, each one longer and more drawn out than the one before, infinite.

  At midnight, a dozen boxes of pizza get delivered, but not one slice is offered to me or any of the other people stuck behind these cold steel bars. I’m so hungry I feel sick.

  I try to sleep but I can’t. I spend the majority of my time wrapped around the dirty steel toilet, dry heaving into it.

  At nine in the morning an officer pulls open my cell door and calls my name. Bleary-eyed, I follow him out and collect all my belongings. My messenger bag with my wallet and the only cash I have left to my name, fifty-six dollars and a handful of loose change. I sign a bunch of papers and get mandated to make a court appearance at ten. I don’t have a lawyer. I wouldn’t even know where to get one or how to pay for one. I walk out into the courtyard in a confused, terrified haze.

  Chloe Montgomery is waiting for me. She looks disheveled and exhausted, but I can’t read her expression. I don’t know what’s happened to Vaughn, no one has told me anything, and I rush to her, forgetting all about charges and court appearances and my dismal future. “Please tell me he’s he okay,” I cry.

  “My mother doesn’t want me to tell you how he’s doing, she wants you to think he—” she swallows hard and my knees go weak. “He’s going to be okay, Claire, really. She wants me to lie to you, but I don’t think it’s right, nothing that you guys went through is right.”