Girl Taken: A Detective Kaitlyn Carr Mystery

by Gable, Kate

  This isn't the first time that she’s brought it up. She applies a new coat of lipstick. I pull my knees up to my chest, perched at the edge of the bench at the foot of her queen-size bed. I never realized that a kid could have a bed like this. It is meant for two; it’s so adult. I think this is the size of my mom's bed, since a king wouldn't fit into her bedroom.

  "I don't know why you want me to do this," I say. "I mean, Neil is your boyfriend. You love him, right? I mean, you two are together."

  "Yeah, but he keeps wanting to take it further."

  "Like sex?” I say, whispering the word, even though the door to her bedroom is closed.

  Natalie looks at me and rolls her eyes.

  "You're so immature," she says and I bite my lower lip.

  I get off the bench and sit down next to the huge mirror next to her. She makes room, and I look through her makeup bag, applying a little bit of eyeshadow.

  "No, no, no," Natalie says, grabbing the brush out of my hand, and dipping it into the dark blue shade, the one that she never wears.

  "This will really bring out your eyes," she insists, putting on a heavy dose on each lid.

  "I look kind of cheap," I say, wiping a bit off, pulling at my eyelid.

  "Don't do that. You're going to get wrinkles."

  "I don't care," I say, but it doesn't really come off. It's waterproof.

  "You have to use one of the pads in my bathroom."

  She points to the ensuite behind her.

  Back home, not even my mom has an ensuite. We all share one small bathroom and shower. My sister's not home anymore and it's not really a big deal, but I wonder what it'd be like to have the privacy of your own place, in your own room, and how liberating and adult it would be.

  My mom always talks about the charm of old homes, and I guess they are romantic. But there's something really nice about a new place, with everything fresh, the paint, the crown molding, the design, tall ceilings, new toilet, ample heating. Don't even get started on insulation and the heating.

  "You have to at least try," Natalie begs me. "Neil wants to take it further, and I just have to know if I can trust him. I mean, if he says no to you, then I can say yes to him."

  I interrupt her. "That's all that means? It doesn't mean that he wouldn't say no to someone hotter, someone taller, or someone more fun."

  "Yes. But if he says no to you, then, well, it means something, right? It means that he loves me."

  I stare at her, dumbfounded. This is crazy to me. Why would anyone want to put their boyfriend to a test? She says she wants to measure his worthiness.

  Natalie keeps begging me. When I say, "No" again and again, she gets mad.

  "I'm not going to talk to you anymore if you don't do this."

  She finally lays down an ultimatum.

  "I need you to be a friend. I need you to do this for me, okay?"

  I swallow hard.

  We haven't been friends long enough for me to know if she's kidding one way or the other, but I want to hold onto this friendship. There's something nice about being friends with someone you never knew you could be friends with. It's like you're cool by association.

  I know that she may not be the nicest person, but she makes me feel important. And I want to hold onto this feeling for as long as possible because it's been a long time since I’ve felt important.

  I bite my lower lip.

  Our eyes meet.

  She leans forward and grabs my hands, squeezing tightly.

  "Please, Violet. Please do this for me. Please," she begs.

  I want to say no, but I can't.

  I don't.

  I tilt my head to one side and give her a slight nod. She reaches over, wrapping her arms around me.

  "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you," Natalie whispers over and over.

  Chapter 24

  I walk out of Trish’s house and back to the car crossing a busy street. There's a traffic ticket for staying in the loading zone for more than fifteen minutes. Out of frustration I crumple it up and toss it in the back and then retrieve it and put it into my wallet so I don't forget.

  I look through my phone after starting the engine and starting the air conditioning. I zoom in on each page of the documents that the Islingtons and the Carlsons have signed, transferring the title for the boat. We will have to get a warrant for the bank records and whether there was actual money underneath the sale, but it looks legit.

  I continue to scroll through the pages and then lean over to sit up and start the engine. When I turn my head back to make sure that I don't hit the car parked very close to my back bumper, I tweak something in my back.

  My back spasms and locks up. It's in the middle section to the right of the main vertebrae. It's the kind of spasm where you can still breathe and do everything but you're very, very uncomfortable.

  I curse to myself and then slowly move my torso back facing forward. I have to bend a little bit at the waist just to feel comfortable. When I reach for the door to get out, the pressure to pull it open is too much and my back spasms even more. I take a few deliberate breaths and tell myself to calm down. It's going to pass. I've had something like this happen before when I didn't get enough liquids and was feeling dehydrated. I try to think of the last time that I had anything to drink. It was just at Trish’s house.

  Maybe I'm not getting enough salt in my diet, who knows? I start the engine. I put my hands on the steering wheel again, trying to decide where to go. Both the office and my apartment are a bit of a drive, but at least at home, I can lie down and take a rest.

  I know that backaches are a problem when you start to get older, but I've had them since I was in my early twenties. One time I woke up, twisted my neck and it just spasmed and I couldn't move. I had feeling and the ability to move the rest of my body, but it just sent the worst pulsing waves to my neck and I couldn't handle it.

  Somehow in the half bent over position, peering over the steering wheel and wincing every time I hit a bump on the freeway, I make it back to my place and carefully walk up the stairs. I flex my stomach so much that I realize how much a strong core could provide support for my back and vow to do more Pilates and yoga.

  Every step that I take is deliberate. For some reason, turning right is easier and less painful than turning left. I flex my stomach, holding my breath, and move my whole body all at once as I walk up my stairs. My next-door neighbor, Cynthia Callie, who usually opens her front window to chat when I walk by isn’t there, probably taking her golden retriever on a walk.

  After closing the front door, I plan everything five steps ahead. I want to have some water with salt and a lemon to try to get my electrolytes up. I want to take some Advil. I need to charge my phone. When I get everything ready, I place it on the coffee table and then bring over a pillow as well. I sit on the couch, put my feet up and lean into the corner. The pain gets worse so I make my way to the other side. I can't figure out if I should lie down flat or sit up straight or do something in between. I wince my way around as I try to make it right.

  Finally, I find myself with my feet up on the couch, my knees folded to the right side with my phone cord extended. I can reach my water, my iPad, and phone, and I let out a brief sigh of relief. And then I remember about the Advil. I flex my stomach, beating myself up for why I don't do more sit-ups and core exercises. I lean into the couch and push myself up with my legs and much to my surprise, no pain originates.

  "Okay. Okay. It's going to be fine," I say quietly, trying to convince myself of the impossible, but then it is.

  I walk over to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom. The only time that I feel the acute force of the pain is when I struggle to open the bottle. After that, flexing my stomach helps a bit.

  After downing three pills, I make my way back to the couch and carefully sit down, putting my feet up in the exact same position. There's a numbness that starts to form around my back, but it's not too bad. The pain is still there, not like before, it's duller now.

  Wh
en Luke calls I tell him what happened and he sympathizes, asking me if there's anything he can do. I don't want to take any opioids, but I need to have some relief. So, he offers to bring me over a bottle of anti-inflammatory prescription, stronger pills than Advil. I can't say no.

  Luke comes over a few hours later, as we try to decide what to do about Big Bear. I call into work, let them know what I've done and what to expect in my report, but also tell them that I can't make it in the rest of the day due to this back pain. Captain Medvil calls me back after getting the message, and I repeat everything I just said. He asks about Big Bear and I tell him that I had plans to go up later today. But now, I'm not sure that I can sit in the car for that long.

  I can almost see him nodding his head, giving me one of his understanding looks. He tells me to just keep him updated no matter what happens. I hang up and ask Luke to put a hot pack on my back.

  I hate feeling this incompetent and useless. My job is to help people, to find answers, to be involved and suddenly one little tweak from turning the wrong way has put me completely out of commission.

  "Back pain is awful. It’s so debilitating," Luke says.

  He's been with me long enough to know my issues with working out and my never-ending promises to work out more.

  "I was on a roll running for a while. It felt good. It was really hard to start every time, but it felt nice to do it. Then I don't know, I just got busy with everything again. It's just easier not to do it, you know?"

  "Yeah, I know, but don't worry about that," he says, patting my hand. "What do you want for dinner?"

  "I don't know. Nothing. I'm just so uncomfortable. I can't sit one way or the other and I'm just so angry with myself. If I’d just been doing something for half an hour, three, four times a day, this wouldn’t have happened. But I was lazy. And then things like this happen and it just reminds me of how fragile everything is."

  "I know," Luke says, nodding his head, "but maybe you’ll do it next time, after you feel better in a couple of days."

  "Yeah. In a couple of days, I'll just forget all about it. I'll just be like, ‘Oh, it's fine. I feel great now. Why bother?’ And then it'll happen again and again.”

  “Maybe fitness is just something you have to really put in your schedule. Maybe it's just not something that you can do once in a while. It just has to be a part of your life."

  "Yeah. I'm getting that,” I say.

  Luke tries to put his hand around me, but the extra weight makes me give off a little groan and he recoils. Hating to not be of use, he pesters me about what I want for dinner.

  "Surprise me with something or we can order something."

  Luke disappears into the kitchen. I listen to him play classical music, chopping onions and banging pots. My back starts to ache again and I change the position of my legs and back, leaning forward with a pillow. It helps a little bit, but when I bring my hand up to my face to brush a loose strand of hair away, the pain returns and this time doesn't go away. I’m frustrated and annoyed to say the least, it's really the helplessness that I hate most.

  I prop my phone up on the pillow and scroll with my left hand. The pain originates on my right, making it difficult to put weight on it. Even the simple scroll, every time I press my finger to the screen, I feel it in my back, but it's not too bad and I keep going just a little bit.

  As I make my way through the documents for the boat, my mom calls. The small talk, which had been kept to a minimum before, now barely exists. She dives right into the conversation about them finding Natalie's body. I expect her to sound frantic and out of control, but she surprises me.

  If anything, she sounds distant. Her voice is originating somewhere far away from here and sounding like she's clear across the country. I ask her what she knows and she says just what was written in the paper.

  "They don't know if Natalie has been sexually assaulted, or how she was killed. She was found fully clothed in a ditch and forensics have confirmed that it's her,” Mom says.

  Her voice is a little robotic like she's reading something and I quickly pull it up on my phone. Big Bear news, front page story, laying out all of the details that Captain Talarico had told me about.

  "I was going to come up today,” I tell her "But I had this thing with my back and I don't think I can make the drive up."

  "Don't worry about it," Mom says. "I'm not sure there's anything you can do."

  "This definitely ignites the investigation. I mean, Natalie's dead now. There are more clues."

  "Are there?" Mom asks skeptically.

  I know that if we were on a video call, she would be tilting her head to the side, smirking, puckering her lips in disapproval.

  She's gotten a strangely combative attitude with me as if it's my fault that the case is going cold and that there are no clues. I don't know if she blames me for Violet’s disappearance, but she probably does.

  She asks briefly about my back and I tell her what happened. She tells me that it's one of those things that you have to be careful about as you get older but offers nothing else in terms of help or support.

  "I'm going to try to come up as soon as I feel a little better, maybe tomorrow,” I promise.

  "Don't worry about it," she says.

  "Mom, of course, I'm going to worry about it. This is a major development. Natalie's dead."

  "Natalie's death is not a development. It's a tragedy,” she snaps. "Something that happened hours ago and I still haven't heard from you about.”

  Suddenly, I realize why she sounds so distant.

  "I was busy. I'm investigating a case here. I had to interview people. It's hard to know how long the questioning will take."

  "You couldn't call?" she asks. "All this time passed. What if they’d found your sister, you think that you would have ignored that, too?"

  "I'm not ignoring you, Mom. I'm not ignoring anything. Captain Talarico told me what happened, but I wanted to talk to you when I had more information."

  "How are you going to have more information if you aren’t up here? You don't care about this. Don't you see? I'm the only one who does."

  Her voice breaks. I can practically see the tears rolling down her cheeks as she gasps for air.

  I know that this isn’t about me. She’s in pain and she wants to hurt me to feel better. But when she hurls these insults, I just want to run to my room and shut the door like I used to do as a kid. The more I talk to her, the more the pain in my back acts up, becoming unbearable. When Luke comes out of the kitchen, he sees me curled in half on the couch, my body wrapped around the pillow, trying desperately to stretch out the pain in my back much to no avail.

  "Mrs. Carr.” He takes the phone out of my hand. "This is Luke Gavinson. I just want to let you know that Kaitlyn is in a lot of pain right now so I'm going to hang up and try to help her with her back. Okay? We probably won't call you back until tomorrow or later."

  Before she can respond, he hangs up, and I don't think I've ever loved him more than in this moment right now.

  Chapter 25

  My back continues to hurt all evening, but I manage to get a few stretches in. Luke has a massager gun in his trunk and he uses it on my back.

  I fall asleep in a very peculiar position, my legs folded to one side, back perfectly straight, propped up by pillows, and manage to get some sleep. In the morning, I feel sore, but better. My body is still twisted up, but mainly it's the memory of having the pain that is the worst.

  "What's going to happen to your trip to Kansas?" I ask. "I'm not sure if I can make it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I had to postpone. I'm being sent up to Big Bear to help with the Natalie D’Achille investigation. Hopefully, there're some clues that will lead us to your sister, but you know how these things go, a lot of unpredictability."

  "What about your mom?" I ask.

  "I'm going to go there if I have a free day. I might go little bit earlier or later, but it's not going to be a big trip so, don't worry about coming."

>   I bite the inside of my lip.

  "I feel bad,” I admit.

  He shrugs.

  I want to offer him something else. I head to the kitchen to make him some tea. Right before I lift up the teapot to take it to the sink, he stops me. "Just because your back is better now, doesn't mean you should be lifting heavy things."

  "It's a teapot,” I say.

  "Yeah, but once it's filled with water, it's a bit heavy. What exactly caused this again? Turning around and looking at a car behind you?” He mocks me and I smile.

  "Okay. Okay.” I wave my hands in defeat to get him to shut up. The mood shifts and we laugh.

  It's hard to describe how I feel about being with him except to say that it's very easy and peaceful. Given the state of my life and how complicated things have been, I like that a lot.

  There's a stability, not in terms of what he can offer me, like marriage, or financial support, or anything like that, but in his approach to life. Luke’s here for me. He doesn't ask questions; he doesn't put pressure on me and I like that.

  I lick my lips and realize that my mouth is dry again. I need to drink more water. This stuff is going to keep happening, if I don't. I pour myself a big glass and gulp it all down.

  "Why are you laughing?" I ask.

  Luke shakes his head a little bit and then puts the teapot back on the stove and starts it up.

  "Not very ladylike of me, is it?" I ask and we both chuckle.

  "I have to be in Big Bear this afternoon at the latest,” Luke says as we sit down at the dining room table.

  My back is perfectly straight and I’m trying to keep it protected from the pain. I've been flexing my stomach muscles for so long that they actually feel sore.

  Breakfast is scrambled eggs with a bit of spinach, an orange juice for Luke, and plain black tea for me. I'm not particularly hungry and I push the eggs around for a while before taking a bite. I look out the window, just past him at the elementary school on the corner.

  A series of bells ring, and a mom dressed in heels, her hair pinned up in the way that women do for business meetings, pulls on her child's hand trying to usher him inside. He doesn't exactly resist, but he doesn't make things easy either.