We stayed out there for another hour or so, catching up on other things. Her job, my motorcycle, the homicide detective she was dating back in Portland, David’s show and movies, and the new Back Street café that had opened up on the south side of town.
The more she talked, the more that bright energy danced around her. It was good to see Kate happy.
Her phone buzzed.
“Text from David,” she said, shaking her head.
“What’s it say?”
“‘Tell Abby Craig I’m on my way! Plane about to take off. Hottie steward boy is trying to take away my…’”
I laughed.
“I’m sure he’ll talk your ear off for the next few days, but maybe it will be a nice distraction.”
“What about you, Kate? How long can you stay?”
I hoped the words didn’t sound as desperate as they felt. But when she caught my eyes, I knew she could see the melancholy rolling through me.
She smiled.
“As long as you need me to.”
CHAPTER 61
“Abby Craig! Abby Craig! Abby Craig!”
I could hear my bones cracking from the force of the monster hug he laid on me.
“David Norton,” I said, trying to free myself. “I can’t breathe.”
He let go and started laughing so hard that it triggered that familiar wheezing, which made me laugh too. It was good to see David again. So good. And he looked great. He was muscular and strong, with the whitest, most perfect teeth I had ever seen.
His energy bounced off the walls.
“Wow, David,” I said. “Look at yourself. You look amazing, just like a movie star.”
“It’s all that kale and spinach. And I work out every day. Can you believe that? And no more gluten, except on Sundays for donuts. I do it all for my fans!”
He took a step back, held his chin in his hand, and shook his head.
“I wish I could say the same for you. You look like something the cat dragged in. I mean, I think I see the ghost of a tan but your skin looks absolutely corpse-ish. And those ghastly black bags under your eyes… You poor thing.”
“Tell me what you really think,” I said.
“All I can say is that it’s a good thing I’m here.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Kristy right now. She’ll take care of you. The works. Hot stone massage, full facial, body moisturizing, pedi and mani. We’ll get you in tomorrow morning and in less than twenty-four hours we’ll have the real Abby Craig shining through!”
“Not tomorrow,” Kate said, coming in from outside. “She’s booked.”
David made a face and I looked over at her.
“She’s talking to the cops,” she said. “I just got off the phone with the attorney. It’s all set. David, did you seriously bring these four giant pieces of luggage for two and a half days?”
“I know. I hope I remembered everything. Thank you, Sista Kate. I guess you might as well roll those puppies right into our room.”
He winked at her and she shook her head before disappearing down the hall.
“I wanted to stay longer, but I have to get back. I’m shooting a sex scene with my costar, Delilah Gilmore. She’s not my type, obviously, but when she’s on top of me grinding my surfboard, I don’t even care! I can’t believe I’m getting paid for this! The life of a celebrity.”
“I’m just glad you’re here now.”
He came up to me for what I thought was another hug, but after he draped his arm around my shoulder, he lifted his phone in front of us.
“I love my fans and they’ve been waiting for this for way too long! Say chimichanga.”
“No, David, no,” Kate said, coming back in the room. “No pictures.”
But she was too late. He had already posted it. Kate blew out some air, grabbed the last suitcase, and headed down the hall again.
David twirled me around and we both landed on the sofa. He held both my hands in his.
“I’ve hated not seeing you all this time! I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s been a great year and all, but with my bestie on the road running from the popo, it colored all my success black.”
I laughed.
“Come on, David. Black?”
“Oh, all right. Maybe dark gray. I’m a star, Abby Craig! A star living the dream. Can you believe it?”
“Yes,” I said. “I always knew you would be.”
“You were my number one fan when I only had one fan,” he said, the smile on his face wavering a little. “Tell the truth. You had a vision of me a long time ago, didn’t you?”
I shook my head.
“No, I just saw how talented and determined you were.”
He looked at me and was actually quiet for a moment and then I saw his eyes water up. He pinched his nose and held up a finger.
“I just need a moment,” he said in a shaky voice. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to the bar.”
He ran off to the kitchen just as Kate came back.
“Where is he going?”
I shrugged and got up and we walked over to the doorway, but stopped abruptly when we saw David hanging off the freezer, sobbing.
Kate smiled and then turned to me.
“I told you,” she whispered. “He missed you, Abby, missed you like crazy.”
I nodded and after a moment we went into the kitchen, pulled him toward us and stood there in a group hug, David smiling through the tears.
CHAPTER 62
He didn’t stay down for too long.
“Let’s order Mondo!”
“Good idea,” Kate said. “But I’ll go get it. Last time they took forever to deliver it. You guys want the usual?”
I nodded.
“Extra anchovies on mine, please, and gluten-free crust,” David said.
“Got it. I’ll be back in about an hour. Abby, don’t answer the door. I saw a news van drive by a little while ago.”
“Deal.”
When Kate left, David filled up two shot glasses with vodka and handed me one.
“To you, Abby Craig. I don’t know what in tarnation you were doing out there all this time, but because you’re Abby Craig, I know that you were probably saving the world.”
I smiled and we toasted, the vodka burning as it made its way down my throat. He quickly filled his glass again.
“Hey, David. I want you to know that I’m going to pay you back. As you know I’ve run up quite a tab on that credit card, but I’m paying back every cent.”
“Please.” He held up a hand. “Just stop.”
“No, I mean it. It might take me a year or two, but I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Okay, if you insist. But we’ll just take it out of your royalties.”
“My what?”
“I’ve talked to my agent and he’s all in. He thinks he can turn your story into gold. He’s pitching it as Ghost Whisperer meets The Fugitive. He’s shooting for a book and a movie deal, maybe a Netflix series.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your story, Abby Craig! Hollywood eats this sort of thing up. A woman who sees ghosts, wrongly accused of a crime she didn’t commit, forced to live as a fugitive, always one step ahead of the law, trying to track down the real killer. It just screams blockbuster!”
“David, I’m not writing a book about my crazy life.”
He smiled.
“We’ll discuss all this later.” He grimaced at the nearly-full bottle before pulling out his phone again. “Katie, stop off at the liquor store while you’re out. We’re running dangerously low on the Goose.”
All of it made me smile.
CHAPTER 63
David had the director’s cut of his movie, the one that was coming out at the end of the month, and we put it on while we ate the pizza. We watched his three scenes, replaying them over and over again while he narrated.
“Hey, I have a present for you,” he said. “It’s actually for both of you. Kate’s already seen it. It’s a framed poster-size still
of me from the bathtub scene. Autographed and everything.”
Kate laughed.
“I wanted to put it up in the foyer, but your sista here wouldn’t let me. She said it would scare you away. It’s in the garage. We can hang it tomorrow.”
“It was a good move to wait,” Kate said, zeroing in on another slice of pizza.
“Not everybody thinks that. Mike, for instance, has three of my posters up. And he has four coffee drinks named after me.”
“Can’t wait to see it, David. I’ll have to stop by Back Street when things die down a little. How is everyone?”
David started laughing uncontrollably and Kate shot him a serious look.
“What? You didn’t tell her?” he said.
“Tell me what?”
“There’s a little Lyle on the way,” he said.
“No? That’s amazing news.”
“Yeah, but what are the chances that Baby Lyle will get papa’s crazy big hair gene?” David said. “I’d say one hundred percent. Poor Paloma. Can you imagine her there in the hospital, her legs spread, and all the doctor sees coming out is—”
For the third time that night I put my hand up to his mouth. But it didn’t stop the giggles and wheezing and laughter. Not for a long time.
I insisted that Kate choose the next movie and she went with Bullitt, the Steve McQueen movie with the epic car chase. It was a strange choice for her, but when she went to the kitchen for a beer, David lifted up his eyebrows to the top of his forehead and whispered, “It’s because of the cop she’s in love with.”
“Have you met him?”
He nodded.
“Hottie, but crazy intense,” he said, his eyes growing super big. “Kind of like you know who.”
“What are you talking about?” Kate said, sitting down.
“I was saying Stevie is so hot and intense.”
“Well, yeah,” she said. “But it’s Steve.”
“My point exactly,” David said.
I hadn’t had this much fun in a year and even though I was having trouble staying awake, I wasn’t ready for the night to end. After the movie I took them out to the garage to show them my ride, hoping that moving around would wake me up a little.
“You’re such a bad ass, Abby Craig,” David said as he inspected the motorcycle. “When did you decide to ride a hog?”
I laughed. My motorcycle wasn’t exactly a hog.
“I picked it up in New Mexico,” I said.
Kate wasn’t quite as happy as David. She circled the bike twice, crossed her arms over her chest, and sighed.
“I guess there’s no point in me telling you that it makes me nervous, right?”
“I’m careful,” I said. “It’s been a good friend all these months.”
“Well, he’s still here if you want him,” David said, pointing to his muscle car, parked in the other bay.
“Thanks, David. I’m sorry I had to abandon it the way I did.”
“No one’s holding any grudges,” he said. “Come on, let’s watch another movie and keep the party going.”
I went with Ten Little Indians. Just because. Something about Hugh Lombard and Ann Clyde just said home. We started it just after eleven but I fell asleep before the second little Indian met her doom.
Kate shook me awake and announced bedtime.
“David, I’m warning you only once that you better keep your hands to yourself.”
“Oh, honey,” he said before yawning. “I’m way too tired tonight. But I’ll take a raincheck!”
Kate leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“Goodnight, Abby. Get some good sleep. And don’t worry about tomorrow. Everything will be fine.”
CHAPTER 64
It was only two o’clock, but it had already been a long afternoon.
I sat in a small interrogation room with my attorney, J. Barry Hart, as detectives from the Bend Police Department asked me questions about the night almost a year earlier when I had watched Benjamin Mortimer die.
As much as I hated it, I had to tell them what they wanted to hear, that Ben had killed himself. My answers had to support their psychological break theory, even if it wasn’t true.
“So you’re saying that he just fell apart in front of you? That you were standing there when he pulled out a knife and stabbed himself?”
“Yes, that’s what happened.”
“And you did what after you saw what he was doing?”
“I tried to stop him,” I said. “But it was too late.”
The one with the pencil thin mustache and steely eyes shook his head.
“It doesn’t sit right, Ms. Craig. Why would the doctor kill himself in front of you like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Unless the two of you were having an argument of some sort,” the other detective said.
“No, there was no argument.”
“She’s already answered this question four times,” the lawyer said. “I think you have what you need here. My client has been nothing but forthcoming and truthful these last two hours. If you start going down this road and accuse her of killing a man who clearly committed suicide, we’re leaving.”
Hart was a short, thin man with piercing eyes and a groomed beard. When I had met him in the parking lot earlier, I thought he would be too quiet to keep the cops in line. But the opposite had proven true. He was good, making the detectives rephrase or drop a lot of their questions.
“We believe that he committed suicide, Ms. Craig, but we’re trying to piece together why. Were you two lovers? Is that what really happened? You broke it off because you felt bad about your sister, he couldn’t take it, and he snapped?”
I shook my head.
“He was just a friend.”
“So he wasn’t himself that day?”
“No,” I said. “He wasn’t himself at the end. I don’t know what was wrong, but he was jittery and strange. He wasn’t acting at all like the Ben Mortimer I knew.”
That part, of course, was true.
It went on like that for a little while longer, but I gave them solid answers and painted the picture they wanted to see: Dr. Benjamin Mortimer, a man who lost his mind and ended up stabbing himself to death.
My attorney stood up.
“We’re done here. My client has answered your questions. Charge her or let her go.”
There was a long pause and the two cops looked at each other. Finally, one of them broke the silence by shuffling papers into the file and closing it abruptly.
“In the future, Ms. Craig, if ever you’re involved in something like this again, you need to stay in town until we’re able to complete our investigation. Running off like you did made you look guilty, not to mention all the taxpayer money it cost trying to find you.”
“I understand,” I said. “I’m…”
But I stopped, remembering that Hart had told me not to admit or apologize for anything.
“I can’t tell you whether or not we’re pressing charges yet,” the lead detective said. “We’ll meet with the DA and go over our options. Just sit tight and don’t leave Bend this time in case we have any more questions for you.”
“She’ll be here,” Hart said.
We left the room and walked out to the waiting area, where Kate was sitting, looking at her phone.
I shook the lawyer’s hand.
“That went well, Abby,” he said. “They don’t have anything and they know it. There won’t be any charges. Now, let me handle the circus.”
We walked out of the station and into a sea of reporters, microphones and cameras pushed in my face. Hart stopped at the curb.
“Thank you,” he said. “Abby Craig has answered all the police department’s questions. What happened last year was a tragedy. Dr. Benjamin Mortimer was a fine man and an excellent doctor, but he was human. He found himself suffering from mental illness and he couldn’t cope. In the end, the only solution he saw was to take his own life. Abby considered him a brother and is still dealing with
this horrible loss. Please give her some privacy as she tries to piece her life back together. Thank you.”
The reporters started bombarding me with questions as Hart and Kate ushered me toward the car.
“How does it feel to be home after almost a year of running?”
“What are the police going to do?”
“Were you and Mortimer lovers?”
“Why didn’t you stop him, Abby? You were right there. Why didn’t you help your friend?”
It was a question that I still asked myself, another one of those things that kept me up at night.
“Abby, where have you been this last year?” someone else asked.
“To Hell. And back.”
CHAPTER 65
“It’s sad, Abby. The two of us are the only ones who know what really happened to Ben. No one else will ever know the truth.”
Kate shifted gears and weaved the Subaru through downtown traffic. She stopped at a light, switched off the news, and put on some Diana Krall. She listened to a few seconds from several songs before turning it off.
“God, this album sucks,” she said. “What was she thinking?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Hey, we can head home, but you know that’s where they’re all going. You want to grab some burgers at Pilot Butte?”
“I’m not hungry,” I said. “But if you want to.”
“No, I’m good. How about we go for a drive?”
“Sure.”
She took the Cascades Lakes Highway for a few miles and the sign for Big Eddy came up on the right.
“Can we stop there?” I said.
“No problem.” Then Kate hesitated. “Wait, are you sure?”
I nodded and she turned onto the dirt road that led to the parking lot. I was surprised that there weren’t more cars at this time of day. We got out and took the short path that led to the river.
It was beautiful, just as I remembered it. It reminded me of better times, rafting on warm summer days, the feel of the paddle in my hands, and piña colada sunscreen.
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