by Lisa Bilbrey
“Really?” Elle asked, leaning forward and picking up her cup. “That must have been one hell of a donation if he can afford us.”
“Yeah, well, about that,” Samuel muttered, shifting uneasily in his chair. “I was thinking maybe we could, you know, do it at cost.”
“At cost,” she echoed. “Hmm, okay.”
“Look, I know this is a lot of income to write off and normally, I wouldn’t even look twice at this type of a proposal, but well, I’ve known Neil for a long time. He’s a good guy, who goes without a lot so those kids can have more.”
“Okay —”
“I’ve already met with the Asciari Brothers, who said they’d be willing to take the contract at cost, too.”
“That’s good —”
“And this would be really good publicity for the company, Elle. I mean, we’d be providing a better life for dozens of children, for fuck sake!”
“Will you calm down?” she laughed. “I agree with you.”
“You . . . you do?”
Elle smiled and nodded. “If you’d let me speak, I could have told you as much.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” she teased. “Break it down for me.”
“All right,” he said, digging a folder out of his briefcase and holding it out to Elle, who took it and laid it in her desk. She opened it as he said, “The current children’s home in Big Sur is only sixty-five hundred square feet and houses fifty-two children when they are at max capacity. It was closed last year due to code violations and Neil hasn’t been able to get everything fixed, but then he got the anonymous donation. The plan is to tear down the old building and rebuild something bigger and better.
“Zoning laws would allow adding an additional thousand square feet and if we arrange the layout just right, we can open another two dozen beds. That would make such a huge difference.”
Elle nodded and flipped through the semantics he’d drawn. Samuel, like Callum, had struggled to use the tablets and refused. She didn’t fight him knowing he could snatch the company away from her if he wanted.
“I like what I’m seeing. Practical layout, and really, rebuilding with better materials will be cheaper than just patching outdated materials. What’s the timeline look like?”
But before he could answer, the phone on her desk rang. Sighing, she snatched it up without looking at the caller ID.
“This is Elle Davis.”
“Hello, ma’am, can you hear me?” the person on the phone sounded like they were standing in the middle of the interstate. “Ma’am?”
“Yes, I can hear you. Who is this?” Elle said, putting her finger against her free ear as if that was somehow going to make her hear better.
“My name is Officer Greenlee. I’m sorry, ma’am, but your husband Derek has been in an accident.”
“What?” Elle gasped, scrabbling to her feet. “Is he okay?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. He’s been airlifted to University Medical Center.”
“Okay, thank you,” Elle whimpered, ending the call as she dropped the phone back onto the base. She brought her hand up to her mouth as she shifted her attention to Samuel. “Derek was in an accident. They’ve taken him to the hospital.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, standing up and laying his folder on her desk. “Okay, come on, let’s go.”
“Samuel, I . . .” But Elle couldn’t finish speaking.
“Shh, I know, sweetheart.”
Samuel wrapped his arm around her and helped her out of her office, down the hallway to the elevator. When the doors slid open, Greta stepped out along with Mike, David, and John, three of their interns.
“Call Lydia,” Samuel told her. “Tell her Derek is at . . .”
“University,” Elle cried.
“University Medical,” Samuel said. “Tell her he was in an accident and then call Felicia and Carlos. Their numbers are in my address book. And see if you can get a hold of Lucia. I’m not sure where Taj is this week.”
“Jersey,” Elle said. “They’re playing Jersey this week.”
“I’ll handle it.” Greta placed her hand on Elle’s shoulder, but didn’t say anything else.
Samuel thanked her and led Elle into the elevator. The ride to the lobby was awkward and tense, and all she could think about was Derek. He had to be okay. He just had to be. She needed him. Callum and Sadie needed him.
As they approached her car, Elle’s legs collapsed under her, and even though Samuel was holding onto her, she dropped to the floor. Her car, which had been perfect just an hour beforehand, looked like someone had taken a tire iron to it. All the windows had been broken, her tires slashed, the headlights busted in. Long scratches had been dug into the paint along the sides, and etched on top were the words: Two down, two to go, whore.
Seven
Elle sat and watched as dozens of police officers swarmed the parking garage, taking pictures of what used to be her car, searching for fingerprints, watching the security tapes to see who destroyed said car.
Samuel stood a few feet away, giving his statement to Detectives’ O’Reilly and Benson, who had been called to the scene after they called nine-one-one. Elle heard them ask him why someone would trash her car.
Why? Elle thought. Why indeed?
Someone wanted to make sure she knew they were watching her. Someone wanted to hurt her. They’d taken Thomas — that much she was sure about, and she had a sneaking feeling they were responsible for Derek’s accident, too.
Derek, she thought tearfully.
They’d gone after Derek, her lover, her husband. Elle dug her cell from her pocket, expecting a text from Callum or Sadie assuring her that everything was okay, that Derek was okay. But there was nothing. No text, no missed calls, and that scared her.
“Mrs. Davis,” Detective Benson called, drawing her attention away from her phone. “Do you have any idea who could have done this?”
Elle shook her head. “No. I . . . I don’t know. I mean . . . The day Thomas Warner disappeared, a woman at the airport came up to me and gave me a note that said ‘Always knew you were a dirty whore’.”
“What?” Samuel gasped. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“We didn’t think it was anything to worry about,” Elle argued. “We’ve gotten dozens of nasty notes like that since we got together. People are cruel, they don’t hide their prejudices.”
“Do you still have this note?” Detective O’Reilly asked.
“At home,” Elle replied.
“Why didn’t you tell us about it when we talked to you the other day?” she pressed, raising an eyebrow.
“I didn’t think anything about it,” she told them. “Like I said, it wasn’t the first time we’ve been on the receiving end of such hatred.”
“You said a woman gave it to you? What did she look like?” Detective Benson asked.
“Um,” Elle paused. “She was kind of tall, and thin. She had dark brown hair that she wore up in a bun. Dark eyes. I thought she was a flight attendant because of what she was wearing.”
“Do you remember what airline her uniform was for?”
Elle sighed and shook her head. “I didn’t think to take notice.”
“Okay,” Detective O’Reilly said, but there was something in her tone that struck Elle wrong.
“How was I supposed to know it was important?” she snarled. “She was just another flight attendant.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she was quick to mutter.
“Are we done? I need to get to the hospital,” Elle groused. “My husband needs me.”
“We’re done for now,” she said, closing her notebook. “We’ll be in touch soon.”
“I’m sure we will,” Elle quipped before following Samuel to his car and climbing into the front passenger seat.
As Samuel slid in behind the wheel, he shifted his attention to her. “You don’t . . . don’t think . . .”
“What don’t I think?” she pressed.
“Trixie Maxw
ell,” he whispered. “You don’t think . . . She’s still locked away, right?”
“As far as I know,” Elle said, but an uneasy feeling filled her. “They would have let us know if she’d been released early, right?”
“I would think so.” Samuel brought his hand up to his forearm, covering the thin, but still noticeable scar from where Trixie had cut him.
The day after Elle married Callum, Sadie, and Derek, they’d received a call from Samuel. Trixie Maxwell, who had been on the run since she shot Elle twice and nearly killed her, had broken into his house. Not only that, but she’d had changed her appearance so that she looked like Elle, wore clothes she had stolen from Elle, demanded that Samuel call her Elle, that he touch her sexually.
Trixie had it in her mind that Elle and Samuel had been lovers, that that was why he hired her, why he gave her his company. It was ridiculous, of course. Elle and Samuel had never been anything other than family.
“It can’t be her. It just can’t be,” Elle mumbled.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Samuel didn’t press the topic as he reversed out of his parking space, out of the garage, and into traffic. Elle wondered, though, if Trixie Maxwell was behind Thomas’s disappearance, Derek’s accident, and the notes/damage to her car.
—FA—
Callum and Sadie were seated in the emergency room waiting room with Helina and Lydia when Elle and Samuel arrived at University Medical Center. The moment everyone saw her limp into the building, they were on their feet and rushing toward her. Elle didn’t remember making the choice to scream, or to stumble backward, or throw her hands up, but she did all of them, causing her to fall back against Samuel. He quickly grabbed her by the hips to keep her from hitting the ground.
“Elle?” Helina whimpered, her feelings clearly hurt. “Honey, it’s okay.”
“I . . .” Elle sighed, feeling foolish. “I know. I’m sorry. I . . . How’s Derek?”
“The doctor says he’s stable for now,” Callum said, stretching his hand out to her, which she took. He helped her over to the chairs, sitting next to her. “He has a couple of broken ribs, a busted shoulder, but their main concern is his liver. It was damaged, so they took him into surgery to see if they could repair it.”
“How did this happen?” Elle asked.
“I don’t know,” Sadie murmured. “The police said something about him being hit from the side, but I didn’t really ask a lot of questions about the accident. All I cared about was him.”
“Of course,” Elle said, softly. “I just . . . I don’t know. Something seems really fucked up right now.”
“Is your car okay?” Callum asked.
“No,” she said. “It was totaled, I think. The windows, the tires, the headlights, the body . . . Someone made their feelings about me quite clear.”
“Who the hell is doing all this?” Sadie whimpered. “First Thomas, and now Derek? Why? I just don’t understand why?”
Elle didn’t have a reply, at least one that would have made her happy. The why seemed pretty clear to Elle. She was the why. Whoever was after her, whoever wanted to hurt her, saw her as a whore and was taking those who cared about her away one by one by one.
“You don’t . . . you don’t think . . .” Elle blew out a heavy breath as she shifted her attention to Callum and Sadie. “Trixie. Could it be her?”
“I don’t see how,” Callum said, slowly. “She’s still locked away at Napa State Hospital, isn’t she?”
“I think so,” Elle murmured. “But it’s been five, almost six years. She could have been released on good behavior. You hear all the time about people getting out early.”
“Well, yeah, but don’t they have to notify us if she’s been released?”
“Pretty sure,” Callum said, clearing his throat and dragging his hand over his face. “I’ll, um, I’ll make some calls.”
“I’ll do it,” Samuel pipped up, drawing everyone’s attention to him. “You three have enough to worry about. I’ll make some calls, see if I can find out anything about Trixie. Also, who is picking up the girls from school?”
“Oh, um, Ivy said she’d get them when she picks up Elliot. She’ll take them to her house and keep them for the night if needed. Claudia and Bruce were going to grab them some clothes from the house and then meet Carlos and Felicia at the airport. The label won’t let Taj cancel their next three shows, which is what Derek would want,” Lydia rambled on.
“Okay, I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Samuel gave the three of them a sad, pitiful smile before he walked outside.
Elle sighed, drawing Callum and Sadie’s attention to her. “What do we tell Flora and Willow? How do we keep them safe? I mean, there’s someone out there willing to hurt those close to me.”
“To us,” Sadie said.
“No, me,” Elle lamented. “The note, my car—”
“What happened to your car?” Helina asked, interrupting her.
Sighing, Elle turned her attention to her mother, knowing that she had no choice but to tell her and Lydia. “When Samuel and I left the office to come here, we found that my car had been vandalized.”
Helina and Lydia gasped.
“What? How?” Helina cried out, covering her mouth with her fingers.
“I don’t know how they did it, but they busted out all my windows, the headlights, taillights, and it looked like they took a tire iron or something to the body. Lots of dents and damage. But the worst of it, is that they carved into the top a little note.”
“What did it say?” Lydia asked, sounding almost too scared to actually know.
“Two down, two go, and then they called me a whore.” Elle shuddered and wrapped her arms around her torso. “Someone is attacking those I love as a way to get to me, but why? I don’t understand why me? What is it about me that people look at and think, ‘Hey, she seems like fun. Let’s ruin her fucking life’!”
“Elle,” Sadie hissed, shifting her eyes around the room. A woman glared at Elle as she dragged her son, who couldn’t have been more than three, to the other side of the waiting room.
“Sorry,” she murmured, but then she paused and scoffed. “You know what? I’m not sorry. I’m done being sorry. I’m scared shitless. They came after Derek,” she whimpered. “Derek!”
“Hey, he’s going to be okay,” Callum said, sliding his arm around her waist and nestling her against him.
“You don’t know that,” she cried, grabbing the front of his dress shirt.
“Yes, I do.” Callum placed his fingers under his chin, tilting her head up and back so that she was looking at him. “Derek won’t go out like this. He’s too damn stubborn, too damn pigheaded. Hell, he’s going to be furious that he can’t fuck us for the next few weeks.”
Elle and Sadie laughed quietly.
“And I don’t know who is after you, Elle, but I will give my life to keep you safe.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Elle’s imagination got the best of her as they fell into an awkward silence and waited for news of their injured husband. Over and over the accident ran through her mind, or at least how she imagined it went. She could picture Derek behind the wheel of his car, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he drove. Loud, classic rock would have filled the air. Derek was a lover of eighties rock bands. She imagined him listening to Guns N Roses, Def Leopard, or Bon Jovi. He probably was singing along, too.
But then, in a heartbeat, the car would have come out nowhere. It would’ve slammed into his side, jostling him like a rag doll. Even with his seatbelt on, and Derek always wore his seatbelt, the impact would have been harsh. He would have cursed and screamed, his arms reaching for anything that would cushion the embrace.
Callum, Sadie, Elle — they would have been the first people to cross his mind, wondering how they would be able to manage without him. They wouldn’t, of course. Elle knew losing Derek would tear their little family apart. Without Derek, they’d never be whole again.
“What’s taking so fucking long?” Elle murmured, gripping her cane as she stood. Her thigh hurt from sitting so long, yet as she stretched her legs, the ache intensified.
“I’ll see if I can get an update,” Callum said, standing and sliding his arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. “Do you have your pills?”
Elle bit her lip and shook her head. “I was in a hurry.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks,” she whimpered, leaning against him. “I’m scared, Cal.”
“Me, too, baby.”
Callum shifted her into Sadie’s arms, who held her tight. Elle could feel her trembling and knew she was just as worried about their husband as she was. More so, even. While Elle always saw the cup as half empty, always expecting the worst, Sadie was the definition of an optimist. In Sadie’s eyes, the world was beautiful and accepting to their love.
“I had just talked to him,” Sadie whimpered, causing Elle to shift her attention to him. “Derek had called and said he was on his way to the office, asked if I wanted to have lunch. Just him and me. It’s been months since the two of us had a one-on-one.”
“He loves you,” Elle murmured.
“He loves us,” Sadie corrected.
“Yeah, us.”
Sadie removed her arm from around her, taking hold of her hand instead. “You have to promise me something.”
“What?” Elle asked, biting the inside of her lip.
“Don’t pull away from us again.”
Elle sighed and tried to pull her hand out of Sadie’s, but she held on tighter.
“Just hear me out,” Sadie pleaded.
“Okay.”
“After Leo, you shut down,” she said, quietly. “And I don’t blame you. Hell, I would have, too. But then Trixie came after you and you pushed us away, and . . . Well, I don’t want you to do that again.”
“I promise I’ll try not to,” Elle said. “I’m scared, Sadie. Feels different this time. With Leo and Trixie, they just attacked, but this person, whoever they are, they’ll playing a game. Thomas, Derek — who’s going to be next?”
“Wish I knew,” Sadie whimpered. “I really wish I knew.”