“How do you know it’s Spencer Salvatore?” I asked, ignoring her questions.
“Look at this,” she said, pointing to the files.
“I don’t get it, what am I looking at?”
“This little boy Spencer Phillips died on this night, and then the next day Spencer Salvatore pops up, same age, same healed fractures, and same injuries as this one?” she said, pointing to the file of SpencerPhillips. “This is really Spencer Salvatore, like the millionaire?”
I thought about lying, spinning some sort of excuse but, honestly, I was tired. I was tired of lying to people and trying to keep my stories straight. So I just nodded yes.
“I can’t believe this kid turned into Spencer Salvatore. He must be traumatized,” she said in a sad, depressed voice.
I couldn’t agree more with her in that moment. I didn’t know what to do next, did I stay, did I go? Was the puzzle solved? Was this the big secret he had been keeping from her? It all seemed a little strange and honestly not as grim as I had originally thought.
But what I read next had my head spinning. There written on Spencer Phillips file was a name I’d seen only once before. Frances Phillips was listed as Spencer Phillips next of kin. I’d seen that name on a file on Natasha’s desk months ago. I remembered her covering it up quickly. Looking back, I never did hear about a celebrity named Frances Phillips. This woman was connected to Spencer. I didn’t know how, but if Natasha had a file on it, it was bad news. I grabbed my phone and called Elizabeth.
Chapter 32
Elizabeth
I tried calling Spencer as I made my way through the hospital, but he didn’t pick up. I jumped into the first cab I saw and headed as quickly as I could to Spencer’s place. When I got there, I ran right for the elevators. I pulled my keys out and prayed that he hadn’t changed the locks. The elevator opened and there in front of me was the door to Spencer’s home.
My hands were shaking. I could feel sweat beading on my upper lip. All sorts of thoughts went racing through my mind. What if he changed the locks and I can’t get in. What if he gets even more furious that I know he was abused as a child? I threw in a few good scenarios like him scooping me up in his arms and never letting go. Him telling me he was sorry and that he should have trusted me with his secret. I decided for the benefit of my trembling heart to just stick with the good scenarios.
I let the key slide into the lock, so far so good. I squeezed my eyes closed as I turned it. It turned without me having to force it. The lock clicked open with ease. I pulled the key from the door and shoved it back in my bag. I knocked once but there was no answer. I knocked again and called Spencer’s name. Still, it was silent on the other side of the door. I did have an idea, one that could backfire, but it was worth a shot.
I pulled out my phone again and dialed Spencer’s cell number. If he was in there, I’d hear his phone ringing and know that he was ignoring me. I pulled the phone up to my left ear and placed my right ear on his door. It rang on my end first, then as if it was a flashing neon sign over his door saying, “I’m Home and Ignoring Your Call,” his phone rang from the other side. Jerk, I knew you were in there.
I should have sat back and thought things through a little more, but this was me and I might have had a tendency to overreact and run on pure adrenalin. I white-knuckled the handle, turned it, and flung the door open. “Salvatore, you coward! Why the hell--” I had taken one step into the room, when I quickly shut my big mouth.
The room looked like it had been ransacked. Lamps were on the floor, pillows were ripped, and their feathers were everywhere. Pictures were crooked, the few decorations that sat on a nearby table were scattered and broken on the tile floor. The ringer on his phone was still going. I looked down at my own and saw that it was still calling him. I searched the room a moment and found his phone glowing from under one of the strewn pillows on the floor. I kicked it with my foot and watched as my picture lit up his screen.
Suddenly it got quiet again. Both phones had stopped ringing, my picture faded, and ultimately the screen on his phone went black.
As I stood there, that eerie feeling I had when I first surveyed the room got worse. I saw it out of the corner of my eye. There on the wall to my left was hole, after hole. Blood speckled the white paint. Thin drips ran down the wall and stopped just before it reached the molding at the bottom.
I walked over to the holes. I reached out, my hand just about to touch them. I could feel the rage that must have gone into them. It was captured in the wall, forever, to stay there as a reminder of what had happened in this room. But what happened in this room? Is Spencer okay? Is he hurt? Was he in a fight?
I backed away from the wall and, as I did, my foot slid on something. When I looked down, I saw I had stepped on a crumpled piece of paper. I knelt down and picked it up. I spread it out and saw my own handwriting. But I hadn’t written anything. The paper looked like it had been crumpled up multiple times. There were water stains on it, old and knew, some still damp. My eyes flashed up to the top of the paper, and I read what someone had written in my handwriting.
Spencer,
I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be followed around and harassed anymore. I wish I would have never met you. You’ve ruined everything for me. You’ve stolen my trust, my love, and run off with it over and over again. I can’t go on anymore, I can’t be happy. I can’t move on from you. You’ve ruined me. Tell my brothers I love them, tell my Gran I’m sorry and tell Nick I should have listened to him. You can find me finally at peace at the address below. When you see me, know that you’ve caused me to do it, you caused me to end it all.
~Elizabeth
Who would do this? I knew deep down who had done it. I just didn’t want to believe that someone would go to such lengths to hurt another human being. But I wasn’t dealing with another human being. I was dealing with Natasha and whoever else she dealt with.
This explained the mess in here and the holes on the wall. He obviously believed it, leaving his phone behind, and the place a mess. It was clear he rushed out and went to the address on the bottom of the page. I gave the place a once over just in case I missed anything else, any other signs, but there was nothing--just the aftermath of a man who was blaming himself for what was written in this letter.
My ringing phone broke through the quiet of the room. It was Nick calling.
“Nick, something’s really wrong.”
“Where are you?” he asked with urgency.
“I’m at Spencer’s, but Nick there’s a letter here and it looks like I wrote it, but I didn’t. It’s basically a suicide note--”
“Elizabeth--”
“There’s an address at the bottom of it, I’m leaving now to go there--”
“Elizabeth!”
“Nick, he thinks I’m going to, or that I already have, killed myself. His phone’s still here, I have to get there and show him--”
“Beth!” he yelled at me.
I stopped with my rant and took a deep breath.
“Listen. It’s a trap, you can’t go there,” he said.
“What do you mean I can’t go there? Nick, I’m going. I have to--”
“Please don’t be stubborn right now. Just listen to me.”
“I’m not being stubborn. I’m trying to get to the man I love and show him I’m not suicidal and that I didn’t write that note,” I huffed.
“Can you wait for me there? I’ll be right over and then we can go over together.”
“Nick, there’s no time, I have to go now--What if it’s a trap?” I said, sucking in air at the thought that this was bigger than me finding out Spencer’s secret.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Now stay where you are until I get th--”
I hung up the phone and ran out the door as fast as my legs could carry me. I dropped the letter where I had found it. I’d committed the address to memory and, as I jumped in a cab, I rattled it off to the driver.
“Are you sure that’s the add
ress?” the driver asked.
“Yes, now go,” I said, shoving my hands in a forward motion.
“It’s an abandoned building, ma’am, and it’s not in a good area are you--”
“Yes!” I yelled again. “I’m positive. Please just get me there as fast as you can.”
He nodded in the rear view mirror and sped off from the luxury building that housed not only Spencer’s home but Blue the popular night time hot spot of New York.
Chapter 33
“Should I wait here?” the cab driver asked when we pulled up to the abandoned building. In the spot next to us sat Spencer’s SUV. He’d driven here himself. He’d left the lights on and the driver’s side door open. He was here, which meant I would be safe.
“No. Thank you, though.” I said, handing the driver a wad of cash.
He’d turned around in his seat to look at me. “Are you sure, miss? I don’t feel right leaving you in a place like this so late at night.”
“I’ll be fine.” I smiled before exiting the cab. I walked over to Spencer’s car. The keys were still in the ignition. I took them out and closed the driver’s side door. The cab drove away slowly, and I suddenly felt like an idiot for telling him to leave.
This is how those Lifetime movies start, with a stupid girl telling the cab driver to leave her at the abandoned building where she knows a crazy woman is probably lurking around inside, waiting to kill her and her boyfriend.
I looked down at the keys in my hand. At least I had a getaway car. The door to the building was wide open and beckoning me toward it. It was dark and musky as I walked down the hallways, calling Spencer’s name. Paint was curling off the walls, windows had been smashed in. Glass crunched under my feet as I walked down the hallway. A few emergency lights were on, here and there, making it easier to see.
I couldn’t have been that far behind Spencer. The water stained, fake suicide note was still damp with what I assumed were tears. He had to be somewhere in this building. I called his name again, louder this time than all the times before.
I stood in the middle of the hallway and waited to see if I could hear anything, and I did. Above me I could hear footsteps shuffling around. I ran down the hallway to the door I had passed earlier that said stairs. As I ran, I called Spencer’s name. My heart was racing, and my adrenaline was pumping through my veins. I had one mission in life right then, and that was to find Spencer. The hallway was longer than I thought and, as I was about to reach the door that lead to the staircase, it swung open hitting the wall and sending dust flying in every direction.
I had been running so fast that, when I tried to stop, my feet slid on the broken glass, paint chips and dust that covered the floor. I was panting and scared that it might have been Natasha on the other side of the door, but it wasn’t.
There standing in frame of the doorway was Spencer. He too was catching his breath. His chest moved vigorously as he took in air to fill his lungs.
We keep still a moment, staring at each other. It had only been a weekend but it felt longer than that. I’d learned more in that weekend about Spencer Salvatore than I had in the months and months we were together. Through all that knowledge, one thing still rang true, and it was the fact that the moment my eyes landed on his, I felt weightless. I felt those wonderful butterflies fluttering within my stomach.
The moment passed and Spencer ran at me. I’d never seen him move so quickly. One second he was in the doorway, the next he was wrapping his arms around my waist. I held on to him like I never had before. My feet left the ground and his head rested over my heart. I slipped through his hands and, as I did, he adjusted his arms up my back to hold me closer. His eyes were red rimmed, his hair fell over his forehead, and, as I reached up to move it off his face, he brought his own hand up to cover mine. Our were hands fused as one and I never wanted it to be any other way.
“Are you real?” he asked. His eyes welled up and glistened in the dim light. Mine did the same as I nodded yes. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you, I was scared,” he pleaded.
He released his tight hold and cupped my face in his hands. I knew it was stupid but, as his warms strong hands wrapped around the back of my neck and his thumbs brushed over my flushed cheeks, I forgot about everything. I forgot that we were dealing with the devil herself, the fact that I did know Spencer’s secret, and, most importantly, that we had lots more to overcome.
Spencer studied me and, after a moment, his eyes narrowed in on me. He held my neck tighter and the tone in his voice changed to the one I knew all too well. “Why did you leave that note? I thought you were dead.” His jaw was clenched so tightly he could have cut glass with it.
“I didn’t write it,” I said sternly.
“Then who--why would someone do that?” He was still in his work clothes, tailored slacks and button down shirt. He’d rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie. He looked like a million bucks, even though he was sweating, dirty, and his hair was out of place. The man was a waking sex billboard and, most of the time, I didn’t think he even realized it.
“Spencer, there’s so much I need to tell you, but you have to trust me. You’re in danger,” I said, trying to get dirty images out of my mind while I forced my brain to focus on explaining everything to Spencer.
“I’m in danger?” he asked, clearly not believing me.
“Yes! I told you I didn’t write that note. Someone--well, I know who, but they wrote that note to make it look like I was going to kill myself so that you’d come here and--”
I couldn’t finish my thought because someone had started clapping their hands. We both turned in unison to see a shadow move from one of the rooms. A slender woman dressed in black, with jet black hair to match Spencer’s, stepped out of the shadows. She was still clapping her hands together when she made it to her final destination in the middle of the hallway. I was standing in front of Spencer when she made her appearance. He quickly took hold of my arm and moved so that he was a half-step in front of me.
“Isn’t this just--nauseating?” Natasha said as she slow clapped her hands for the last time.
“Who are you?” Spencer’s voice echoed off the barren walls, filling the hallway with his deep resonating voice.
She snickered. “All in good time.”
“What do you want, Natasha?” I asked from beside Spencer. He turned to me, brows pulled together in question. I squeezed his arm. “This is the woman who left you that nice little note. She’s the reason everything’s gone to shit,” I explained.
“Oh--now, Elizabeth, darling, if it weren’t for me, you would have never of met Nicky or become this modern day Jackie-O that everyone just seems to love. Let’s not forget the pitiful excuse for a man next to you,” she said, nodding in Spencer’s direction.
“We’re leaving--now,” Spencer said over his shoulder in my direction. He slid his hand from my wrist and entwined his fingers with mine. I nodded up at him and made ready to leave. As we moved to pass her, a man the size of Spencer came out of the shadows, blocking our path out.
Spencer and I looked up at the man. He flashed us a smile before pointing a gun in our direction. I turned when I heard rustling coming from the left. I’d like to say I was surprised, but I wasn’t, when another man stood in that direction also wheedling a gun. I squeezed Spencer’s hand tighter and tried to swallow, but my mouth was dryer than the Sahara Desert. We were caged in, stuck between a sharp pointy rock and a bitch of an ice queen.
“I don’t think you’re going anywhere,” Natasha mocked.
Chapter 34
Elizabeth
We didn’t have a choice. We followed Natasha down the hall. We’d made several turns and went down a few stairs. The two men walked behind us, guns still pointing at our backs. I held on to Spencer’s arm for dear life. This wasn’t what I was expecting.
I knew Natasha was behind all this, but I figured the worst she could do was have the media and paparazzi covering the building. I never thought for a second that she�
�d be in league with men like the ones forcing us down the hall with guns to our backs.
We were ushered into a huge room. The ceilings must have been two, maybe three, stories tall. The room was vacant, except for a few huge machines off in the back. The abandoned building we were trapped in was right out of a movie. As we walked into the room, I noticed a figure in the middle, squatting down or maybe sitting in a chair.
The closer we got to the figure, the faster I wanted to wake up from the nightmare I seemed to be stuck in. I’d only seen images like this in movies or on TV, and I was terrified.
Spencer’s grip on my hand tightened as the scene before us became clearer. There was a man slumped over in a chair. Spencer and I recognized him at the exact same moment. We both called his name. “T.”
The bloodied face of Spencer’s best friend lifted slightly from its sagging position. Dried blood made a line from his nose to his lips. A deep, nasty cut was on his cheek. One of the corners of his swollen eyes was split open. We were standing in a modern day torcher chamber. I recognized the clothes he was in and realized that this was what I’d seen him in the last time we’d talked in Vegas.
His shirt was ripped away from his body and cuts were strategically placed over his chest. His ribs were red and dark purple. He’d been beaten, and I felt guilty because it was my fault that Natasha knew who he was. She’d seen me talking with him and probably heard that he knew everything. His hands were bound behind him as he sat bleeding and broken in the chair.
“Let him go!” I yelled.
Natasha chuckled as she made her way over to T. The two men followed her and stood one on either side of him. With his head hanging again, fresh blood dripped from his nose, landing on his knee.
“Why are you doing this?” Spencer demanded.
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