Rock Her

by Inglath Cooper

  It hardly makes sense, given how little time we actually spent together. But the connection I feel with her is one I’ve never known with any other woman. And I’ve known a lot of women.

  The difference with Lizzy is that she knows next to nothing about the life I’ve lived in the spotlight. When she looks at me, I think she sees the me before all of that, without all of that. And yet, I’m not diminished in her eyes.

  As for her reaction to the truth about my brother’s death, I had expected her to look at me completely different. To see me as I see myself.

  But that hadn’t been the case.

  I could see that she felt compassion for me. But not blame. Only the quiet insistence that I eventually needed to forgive myself.

  I want to.

  I want to go on with life.

  That much I do know now.

  I look down at the puppy snuggled in the curve of my arm. I think of what a small thing it was to offer her safety and a home. A small thing for me, but a big thing for her. Doing that for her has given me a satisfaction I haven’t felt in a very long time. And I realize that I want my life to be more of that kind of thing and less of what it has been for the past dozen years. If I’m going to stay on this earth, I’d like to work at changing things for others, making lives better in whatever way I can.

  I have more money than I will ever be able to spend on myself. Money that can do a lot of good. I realize that continuing my career in any way will only mean something to me if I use it as a catalyst for good. And somewhere, deep in my heart, I think Colby would agree.

  50

  Lizzy

  WE MEET WITH the police for several hours. I never imagined how many questions they could come up with to ask. They want to know everything. Her habits. Her friends. Any trouble she might ever have been in. Whether she’s promiscuous. Does drugs. Drinks alcohol.

  Detective Haley, the woman who asks most of the questions finally appears to take pity on us. She runs a hand through her thick auburn hair and says, “I think that’s everything for now. I apologize for the intrusive nature of the questioning, but sometimes it’s the smallest detail that helps us find a missing person.”

  “We understand,” Ty says, his voice clipped in the way it gets when he wants to be done with a conversation.

  The detective’s phone rings. She picks it up. “Detective Haley.”

  We wait while she listens and finally says, “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “That was Detective Miller with the police department in Alexandria, Virginia,” she says, putting down the phone and looking across the table at us. “They located the singer from the band. He’s been questioned thoroughly. It sounds as if she did leave the room sometime during the night. He passed a lie detector test.”

  I absorb her words, at first relieved to know that he didn’t have anything to do with her disappearance and then almost instantly sick with fear for all the other possible explanations. I lace my hands together in my lap, searching for the courage to ask my next question. “Will you find her?”

  The detective looks at me with compassion in her eyes. I wonder how many other families she’s had ask her this same question. “We’re doing everything we can,” she says. “Please. Know that we understand every hour counts. Your daughter’s case has my full attention.”

  “Are you a mother?” I ask, my voice breaking across the word.

  “Yes, I am.”

  We hold each other’s gaze, and I see that she knows the place I’m in.

  Ty stands abruptly, sliding his chair back, the legs making an awful screech against the tile floor. He reaches for my arm and pulls me to my feet. “Call us if you have anything,” he says. “Anything at all.”

  And we leave the room.

  ~

  WE WALK DOWN the hallway, silent all the way to the rental car. Once we’re inside, we sit, staring out the windshield while cars pull in and out of the parking lot around us.

  “I can’t believe this has happened,” I say, my voice barely audible. “What if they don’t find her, Ty? What if we never see her again?”

  He shifts in his seat, reaches out and pulls me to him. I press my face against his shirt, and the tears gush up and out of me. My sobs are painful, wrenching from my chest with volcanic force. I cry until I have nothing left inside me. I’m limp with grief, and in contrast, Ty holds himself stiff as if it’s up to him to keep me from completely dissolving altogether.

  “You can’t think like that, Lizzy,” he finally says, rubbing the back of my hair with the palm of his hand. “We have to stay strong for her.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” I say. “The waiting. It’s horrible.”

  “I know. But let’s think of it as every minute that passes is a minute that brings us closer to seeing her again.”

  “Will we?”

  “See her again?”

  I nod, mute. “Yes,” he says. “Yes.”

  And I hang onto that. Like it’s the strongest limb on the strongest tree standing right in the tornado’s path.

  51

  Ren

  SOMETHING HITS ME in the face, and I come awake from a dead sleep.

  I sit straight up in bed, forcing my eyes open.

  Sophia starts barking from the pillow next to mine. I reach for her, telling her to hush, only then realizing someone is in the room.

  Gretchen stands a few feet away, holding a newspaper in her hand, fury altering her normally placid expression.

  “Did you just hit me with that?” I ask, rubbing my jaw. And then, awareness settling in, “What are you doing here, Gretchen?”

  “Good question,” she says. “If I had an ounce of common sense, I’d put myself on the opposite end of the globe from you.”

  I run a hand through the back of my hair, and say, “You’re most likely right about that.”

  “You ass!” she screams, throwing the whole newspaper at me now. “How could you, Ren?”

  I pick up the paper, see myself in a photo with Lizzy. We’re kissing in San Gimignano, the sun setting just behind us. I feel a stab of longing in the pit of my stomach, longing for Lizzy. I miss her so much I have to close my eyes against the wave of pain.

  “I wanted to come here with you. And you said no. You wanted to be alone. Right! Did you have her planned all along, Ren?”

  “Gretchen, no—”

  “No? Who the hell is she anyway? Some housewife from Virginia? That’s my competition?” She starts to laugh then, and I realize she’s been drinking.

  “Hey,” I say. “Why don’t you get a shower and some sleep and then we’ll talk?”

  “Oh, sure,” she says, waving a hand in the air and stumbling backward in her heels. “As long as you can put me off, you’re fine. Right, Ren? Well, you’re not putting me off anymore. I’m a model! A supermodel! I have fans! Guys hit on me all the time.”

  “Gretchen—”

  “What does she have? How did she get you? It doesn’t even make sense! How could you do this to me? I’m so humiliated, Ren!” As if her knees have given way beneath her, she sinks to the floor and buries her face in her hands, sobbing.

  I get out of bed and walk over to her, dropping down beside her. I put a hand on her shoulder, but she jerks away.

  “Don’t you dare touch me,” she says.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” I say.

  “Does it matter whether you meant to or not?” she says, looking up at me with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “No, I don’t guess it does. But I’m sorry for it.”

  She stares at me for several long seconds and then reaches out to cup the side of my face with her hand. “Can we fix this?” she asks softly.

  I don’t want to say it, but I know I owe her the truth. I shake my head. “You didn’t break it. I did. You deserve better treatment than what I’ve given you. I’m really sorry, Gretchen.”

  Her tears increase, and I hate myself for hurting her like this.

  She gets to her feet, w
alks into the bathroom and closes the door behind her. In a few seconds, I hear the shower start.

  52

  Kylie

  IT HAS BEEN a very long time since Kylie prayed.

  But from the moment the idea comes to her, she doesn’t stop praying that the next time one of the men comes into the room to check on them, it will be the one she needs it to be.

  At least a couple of hours pass before she hears the door lock slide open, and a man steps inside the room. “Do you think I could ask you a favor?” she says.

  “Probably not,” the man says.

  Recognizing his voice, she breathes a sigh of relief along with a silent thank you for the answer to her prayer.

  Kylie forces herself to look directly at his face, manages a small smile when she says, “Is there any way I could possibly take a shower?” She waves a hand at the bottom of her dress. “I’m kind of a mess. It would be really nice to clean up a bit.”

  “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble with your friend,” Kylie says, “but I’m kind of miserable.”

  He frowns, considering her words before saying, “Well, it’s not like he’s in charge or anything.”

  “I mean . . . you could watch if you’re afraid I might do something.” Kylie holds her gaze steady against his. More than anything, she wants to reel away in disgust, but she keeps her expression compliant and waits for his answer, not wanting to appear too pushy.

  He glances at his watch and looks as if he’s struggling with an answer. “There’s a bathroom down the hall. I guess if I go with you, it can’t hurt anything. I imagine where you’re going, they’ll prefer you clean anyway.”

  “I prefer me clean,” Kylie says. “Thank you.”

  He crosses the floor, leans over and inserts the key into the cuff attached to the bed. He puts it on her right wrist, locking her hands together.

  Erin, quiet until now, says, “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

  “I’ll be back,” Kylie says.

  Outside in the hallway, he closes the door behind him and locks it with a key. “This way,” he says, waving her left.

  She follows him to a door at the end of the hall. He opens it, and then waits for her to step inside.

  The bathroom is small, a sink, a toilet, a shower.

  He closes the door behind them, looks at her and raises his hands in the air. “Well, hurry up if you’re going to do it.”

  “Okay,” she says. Her heart is pounding so hard, she can feel it in her throat. She holds up her handcuffed wrists and says, “I’ll be a lot more effective without these.”

  He looks at her as if trying to decide what exactly she means. She forces her mouth to smile. “Or so I’ve been told,” she says.

  He doesn’t take his eyes from hers as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a key chain. He inserts the key in the lock one wrist at a time and removes the cuffs. “That should do it,” he says with a half-grin on his mouth.

  She reaches around to unzip the back of her dress, turning so that she can close her eyes as she lowers first one side and then the other. She tells herself she has no other choice. “Could you unhook my bra?” she asks.

  She feels his fumbling fingers at the clasp, her skin rebelling to the touch. She slips out of it, dropping her dress with it. Her panties are last, and she hears his quick intake of breath as she slides them down.

  He reaches around her and turns the shower on, the water spurting hard once and then falling in a steady stream. His arm brushes her breast as he pulls back, and she doesn’t know if it’s intentional or not, but she feels him tense.

  She has no idea whether she can go through with this. She steps into the shower, letting the spray pummel her face and soak her hair. She feels him watching her. She makes herself look at him, as if inviting him in. She can see him breathing hard.

  “Want to join me?” she asks, not even recognizing her own voice.

  She glances at his pants for confirmation of exactly how much he would like to say yes. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and starting on his zipper when a scream breaks through the door.

  The sound is like a knife cutting through the air, a death scream, like someone’s life is ending.

  The man yanks up his zipper and roars at her, “You stay put!”

  “Okay,” she says.

  He jerks out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. She hears a key in the lock.

  There’s a very small window across from the toilet. She knows they’re on the second floor of the house because she’d heard the men coming up the stairs. She stretches on tiptoe to look out the window, but she can’t see how far down it is.

  It doesn’t matter though. She knows this is her only hope. She glances at the door and sees a slide lock at the top. She slips it into place so that it is locked from inside as well.

  She looks around for something to break the glass. A plunger stands just behind the toilet. She picks it up and holds the bottom with both hands, and then slams the wooden end into the window.

  The first time, it doesn’t break, and she feels the jarring in her elbows and shoulders.

  She tries again, and this time the glass shatters. She punches as much of it out as she can.

  Footsteps sound in the hall, and she knows she only has seconds. He’s coming back. She struggles into the opening, sticking her head through, first one shoulder and then another, praying the rest of her body will fit.

  Now that she can see outside, she realizes the ground is two very high floors beneath her. A large boxwood sits just to the left of the window.

  She wriggles her way through the opening until she is all but hanging by her feet. If only she could turn around and drop feet first, but there’s no way to do it.

  She hears him shoving against the door now, cursing the lock on the inside. She’s so scared she can barely breathe. She can’t do it. Can’t make herself let go.

  She hears the splintering of the wood as the door starts to give beneath his pounding shoulder. Within seconds, he’ll be inside.

  No choice.

  She makes herself let go.

  She falls.

  53

  Ty

  YOU WONDER HOW you ever considered Winn a friend.

  She’d arrived at the hotel a couple of hours ago, instantly establishing herself as protector over Lizzy. She refused to even meet your eyes, barely speaking at all. She’d led Lizzy inside the room that adjoins yours, all but closing the door in your face.

  You stew in your own room for a bit, and then send her a text.

  Meet me at the ice machine on this floor. Now.

  You wait at the end of the hall a full five minutes before she finally shows up, ice bucket in one hand.

  “What do you want, Ty?” she asks, sticking the bucket inside the machine and pushing the button.

  “I want you to stay out of my marriage, Winn.”

  She turns around and glares up at you. “I’m here for Lizzy, Ty. In whatever capacity she needs me.”

  “I’m the one she needs here. She doesn’t need you filling her head with stuff that doesn’t matter now.”

  “Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it? Kylie disappears and your infidelity gets a pass?”

  “That’s beneath even you, Winn.”

  She actually looks ashamed for a moment before saying, “I never wanted to be put in the position of discovering your fling, Ty. But you know my loyalty is to Lizzy. And she deserves way better than what you were doing to her.”

  “Do you even know what she was doing in Italy with that—”

  “I saw what some paparazzi reporters said. Do I believe Lizzy would have been unfaithful to you first? No. I don’t believe that for a second.”

  She picks up the ice bucket and walks down the hallway, back to Lizzy’s room.

  You want to go after her, yell at her to mind her own damn business. But you stay where you are. Silent. Because the truth
is, she’s right.

  54

  Ren

  IT’S SIX IN the morning there. Midnight here. I know I shouldn’t call her yet, but I can’t stop myself.

  I dial the number and wait in silence for a few moments, and then the ring.

  Her voice, when she answers, is low and tired-sounding.

  “I’m sorry for waking you,” I say.

  “You didn’t,” she answers.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hey.”

  “How are you?”

  “Not so good just now.”

  “No word yet?”

  “No.”

  She sounds defeated and grief-stricken, and I wish I could find something to say that would erase both from her voice. Something to give her hope. “What can I do for you?” I ask.

  “Nothing,” she says softly. “I just want her back so badly.”

  “Can I come there? Just to be with you while you wait?”

  A long pause follows my question. And I know I shouldn’t have asked it. “Ren. My life has completely fallen apart. Some of it is my fault. I’ve got to do what I can to put it back together again.”

  “You’re not being fair to yourself.”

  “Somehow, in the scheme of things, that doesn’t seem so important right now.”

  “Lizzy, I miss you—“

  “Ren. Please. We can’t be. We. Can’t. Be.”

  “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?” I say, hearing the frustration in my voice.

  “You know it’s true.”

  “No. I don’t.”

  She sighs, and after a few seconds, says, “Even before this happened, we knew it. Two different worlds. We live in two different worlds.”

  “I want us to live in the same world.”

  “We don’t always get what we want,” she says, and I hear the resignation in her words.