Shattered Hearts

by Coral McCallum

  “Lori, there’s a whole load more to this,” replied Grey softly. “But I’m not the one to explain the details to you. You need to talk to Jake.”

  “No!” she stated instantly then, tears filling her eyes, asked, “Is he ok? Did she hurt him?”

  “He’s not great,” said Grey honestly. “Physically, he’s ok. A few scratches. Mentally…. well, this is killing him. Will you at least think about hearing him out?”

  Silently, Lori nodded before saying, “But I’m not ready to yet.”

  “Well, he’s staying with Jim until the album’s done,” said Grey, encouraged by her reaction. “We’ve still a shit load of work to do out there.”

  Sitting on the porch of the studio house on Dr Marrs’ rocking chair, Jake stared up at the red sunset streaked sky. He took a chug on his beer and gazed down hopefully at the blank screen on his cell. Still no word from Lori. Four days had passed since he’d spoken to the police; four days since Lori had also apparently spoken to the police. He had listened to Grey telling him about taking Lori a new phone and trying to persuade her to hear him out with a tiny flicker of hope in his heart. Now, four silent days later, that little flame of hope was dying.

  Taking another chug on his beer, he flicked the phone onto his photos and scrolled through the pictures he had of the kids. He missed them, missed them more than he ever did when he was away on tour. Knowing they were only a short drive away was breaking his heart. He missed his music lessons with Melody but smiled as he knew she would still be practising even though he wasn’t home.

  For a moment, he wondered how Lori had explained why he wasn’t home to the kids.

  “Can I join you?”

  Dr Marrs’ voice startled him.

  “Sure. It’s your house after all.”

  “Just didn’t want to intrude,” said Jim, taking a seat on the top step. “Still no word?”

  Jake shook his head then smiled sadly, “One of the things I love most about her is her stubbornness.”

  “She just needs more time, Jake.”

  “I know,” he said with a sigh. “I can’t even message her. Grey won’t give me the damn number.”

  “Sorry,” apologised Jim. “Can’t help you there. He’s not shared it with me.”

  “He’s as stubborn as she is!”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” laughed Jim. “You ready to start vocals tomorrow?”

  Jake nodded, “Can we start in the afternoon?”

  “Sure. Works for me. Be in there, warmed up and ready to go for three.”

  “Deal,” agreed Jake, before draining his beer bottle dry. “Want to go for a run in the morning. Was going to head out to the State Park and run a couple of trails. Need to clear my head for a bit.”

  “Just be back here for three, Mr Power.”

  True to his word Jake walked into JJL at three o’clock, his long hair still damp from his post-run shower.

  “You’re actually on time,” laughed Jim Marrs as Jake walked into the live room.

  “Happens on occasion,” said Jake, unscrewing the lid on the water bottle. “Still need time to warm up though. What’s the plan?”

  Scanning the board, Dr Marrs suggested, “Let’s start with Longitude Latitude then move onto Outside Edge and Breaking Point.”

  “Ok,” nodded Jake, seeing the logic in the vocal connections of the three songs. “Give me a half-hour.”

  Being back in the vocal booth again after so long felt like coming home. He could shut the rest of the world out and focus purely on the lyrics in front of him. Thankful that the band’s producer hadn’t chosen to start with some of the more emotional tracks, Jake was able to connect easily with the songs. In the past, he always preferred to record his lead vocals alone so, for the first time on this album cycle, he wasn’t so aware that Rich was gone. All three tracks included guitar parts from his late friend, adding to the familiarity of things.

  “In your own time, Jake,” he heard Dr Marrs say. “Just give me the nod.”

  Once he got started, everything fell into place and, with the minimal number of takes, they soon had all three planned tracks complete.

  “Fancy tackling one or two more?” suggested the producer hopefully. “It’s still early.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Just gone nine-thirty.”

  “Let’s do one of the heavier ones. How about Sting In The Tail,” proposed Jake.

  “Sure. Give me a moment.”

  “I want to tweak the last verse,” Jake announced. “Want to add my own stinger to it.”

  “Be careful,” cautioned Dr Marrs wisely. Understanding what Jake was hinting at and, knowing the song was inspired by the hornet sting incident, he was concerned Jake would take matters too far.

  “I hear you,” Jake replied. “It’ll be fine. Trust me. If you don’t like it, we can go with the original verse.”

  “Fine,” agreed Jim, not wanting to push him too far.

  Taking a leaf out of Ellen’s book, Jake started the spoken intro off with a slow nasal menacing tone as he created a picture of the hornet searching for its victim. By the time he started the first verse even Jim could visualise a huge, buzzing, killing machine about to launch an attack. In the control room, he smiled to himself as Jake spun the song’s story. The magic and menace of the simple song had captured the vocalist’s imagination and he was employing different styles to his usual “Silver Lake” voice. The lyric change that he made saw the dreaded hornet captured in a mason jar destined to buzz and whine itself to death.

  “Love it!” declared Dr Marrs when Jake reached the end of the song. “Think that ending needs another guitar track though. Needs to capture that dying high pitched whine.”

  “You think?”

  Dr Marrs nodded, “Let’s get the vocals done then we can work on that before we wrap it up for the night.”

  Midnight was long gone before the two friends locked up JJL for the night. Getting four songs finished had been the boost Jake needed. His focus on the record and the job at hand had returned. His own personal woes momentarily quietened.

  “Want something to eat before we call it a night?” asked Dr Marrs as they crossed over to the house.

  “Yeah but I don’t know what,” replied Jake, acutely aware that they’d worked through dinner.

  “Bacon?” suggested the producer as they reached the front steps. “Hey, did you leave the door open?”

  “Don’t think so,” replied Jake, searching his memory banks to visualise the scene when he’d left the house after his run. “Definitely not.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. I came out the back way,” explained Jake. “I put my running shoes out on the patio to dry.”

  “Strange,” said Jim, slowly climbing the front steps. “Stay quiet. Follow me in. Slowly.”

  Heart pounding, Jake followed the producer into the house. Methodically, they checked the ground floor apartments but nothing was out of place. Nothing was missing. Silently, Jake indicated that he would check upstairs. The producer nodded and signalled that he’d check the back yard.

  Keeping as quiet as possible, Jake made his way up the wide wooden staircase to the upper floor of the house. He started his search in the master bedroom before checking the other bedrooms one by one. He checked the bathroom and noticed that his toothbrush was missing from the sink. A chill ran down his spine as he walked down the hallway to search the final bedroom – his own bedroom.

  The door was closed over.

  He recalled that he’d left it open as he’d rushed to get over to the studio on time.

  Slowly, he pushed it open. A scene of devastation lay beyond. The room had been ransacked. The contents were scattered across the room. His clothes had still been folded in his holdall. Now, they were torn and tattered and strewn all over the room. Lori’s t-shirt lay shredded in the centre of the bed.

  Without disturbing anything, Jake stepped back out into the hallway.

  “Jim!” he yelled. “Call
the cops!”

  Dawn was breaking as the police car drove away from the studio house, leaving an exhausted Jake and Dr Marrs standing on the porch.

  “I need some sleep,” muttered Jake, running his hand through his hair. “And some food.”

  “Me too,” said the producer with a yawn. “I’ll cook. You message Grey and Paul. Tell them store’s closed till four.”

  Yawning, Jake nodded, “I’ll need to buy more clothes too. Make it five. Gives me time to go shopping.”

  Dr Marrs nodded as he wandered sleepily back indoors.

  Over bacon and eggs a short while later, the producer said, “You might want to get Grey to warn Lori about this.

  “Shit,” murmured Jake. “I didn’t think. But that crazy bitch knows I’m here. Surely she wouldn’t go to the house?”

  “Jake, she’s unhinged. Till the cops catch up with her, she’s on the loose out there. Message Grey to warn your wife and kids!”

  Nodding, Jake began to type up a message to the band’s bass player.

  “You might want to think about getting out of town once the record’s done,” suggested Jim calmly. “Put a few miles between you and the lovely Nicole.”

  “I’d rather go home.”

  “I know,” sympathised Jim. “But, if Lori still needs some time and some space, we need to keep you safe and sound. Maddy would be pissed if anything happened to you.”

  “I guess I could go up to Lucy’s,” mused Jake. “Don’t want to put her and the boys at risk though.”

  “You could go and crash at Garrett’s,” countered Jim. “He’s rattling around in that gothic palace of his.”

  “Might be a more sensible option,” agreed Jake with a yawn. “Too tired to think. I need some sleep.”

  “Move into the room at the front,” said Jim. “I need to call Jason then I’m hitting the sack too.”

  “I’ll see you over at the studio at five,” promised Jake, getting to his feet. “I’ll bring in some food.”

  “Deal.”

  Several hours later, as he drove up to the outlets, Jake contemplated Dr Marrs’ suggestion about going to stay with Garrett. In his heart, he hoped that he would be able to smooth things over with Lori before Silver Lake finished recording their album; in his heart, he knew how angry she was with him and that it could take a long time for her to agree to see him, never mind agree to him coming home. There had been no update from the police before he’d left, meaning he had no idea if Nicole was still at large. He kept glancing in his rear-view mirror, his paranoia about being followed growing with every mile that passed.

  Once, just before he made the turn into the outlets, he spotted a black BMW convertible. A wave of panic had almost crushed him until he realised the car was being driven by a man.

  Keeping his shades on and with his distinctive long blonde hair tucked up under one of Jim’s snapbacks, Jake set off across the parking lot towards the stores. He found the wardrobe essentials that he was shopping for among the Seaside outlets and was soon laden with bags containing new underwear, jeans, shirts and tees. Fortunately, Nicole hadn’t touched his running gear so he was spared the chore of shopping for sports clothes. All the time he was in the stores, he was on edge, constantly anxious about being followed.

  As he walked back across to his truck, Jake saw several police cars in the parking lot. Keeping the baseball cap down low, he approached the truck cautiously, a sixth sense warning him that all was not well.

  “Mr Power?” said a voice beside him.

  Jake spun round and found himself face to face with one of the police officers who had interviewed him about the assault.

  “Hi,” replied Jake, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

  “We’ve apprehended Miss Tonriverdi in the parking lot. You might want to wait back here for a few minutes,” explained the officer calmly.

  “I need to get back to my truck,” began Jake. “I need to be somewhere by five.”

  “Mr Power,” interrupted the officer. “She’s been caught vandalising your truck.”

  “What?”

  “She’s damaged the paintwork. We need to get it photographed by forensics before you can move it.”.

  “Shit!” growled Jake, dreading to think what she had done to his beloved truck. “How bad is it?”

  “She’s scored the paint with her keys. Written some profanities.”

  “A respray job?”

  The office nodded.

  “Great. Just fucking great!”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” apologised the officer sincerely. “Can you get someone to come pick you up? If you leave your keys with me, we can get the truck dropped off to you when forensics are through with it.”

  “I don’t have much choice, do !?”

  “No, sir.”

  Hauling the truck key from his jeans’ pocket, Jake said, “Drop it off to me at JJL, will you?”

  “Sure,” replied the officer with a smile. “Didn’t want to say before but I love your music. Been a Silver Lake fan since you played my cousin’s wedding in Dewey Beach.”

  Finding himself smiling, Jake said, “Thanks. Been a while since we played weddings. Kind of miss those days sometimes. Life was simpler then.”

  “I was at the show for Rich in Baltimore,” continued the officer. “I’ve no idea how you guys got through that one.”

  “Makes two of us,” agreed Jake. “In fact, Miss Tonriverdi was there too. She was on the guest list. Helped herself to my towel and my shirt.”

  “Jeez.”

  “Yeah,” sighed Jake, noticing a second officer approaching. “Someone’s lookin’ for you.”

  “My partner.”

  “Ok. I’ll go over to Applebee’s and call someone to pick me up,” said Jake. “I’ll be there in about a half-hour or so. If it’s safe to collect my own truck, come fetch me please.”

  “Will do, Mr Power.”

  “Thanks.”

  He was almost halfway down his second sweetened iced tea before Grey joined him at the table in Applebee’s.

  “Sorry. Traffic was backed up on the highway,” apologised the bass player as he signalled to the waitress. “Unsweetened iced tea, please.”

  Turning his attention back to his bandmate, Grey asked, “What the hell happened?”

  “She broke into the studio house. Trashed my gear,” explained Jake, staring down into his glass. “She must have followed me out here. Cops have been searching for her. Apparently, she’s trashed the paint on the truck.”

  “Christ!”

  Jake nodded, “I hope they keep her in custody this time. She’s breached her bail conditions with this stunt.”

  “Did she see you?”

  “No idea,” sighed Jake as Grey’s drink arrived. “Cop stopped me on the way back from the stores. He promised to drop the truck off when they’re finished with it.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “No idea,” repeated Jake wearily. “But I need a ride back to JJL. Jim’s expecting me at five, with food.”

  With a laugh, Grey observed, “Well, you’re going to be late.”

  “No change there,” laughed Jake. “Christ, what a fucking mess!”

  “What you meant to be recording tonight?”

  “No idea,” replied Jake. “But it better be something hard and heavy. I need to get this shit out of my system.”

  “Bugs, Ghost and Fear of the Unknown?”

  “They would work for me.”

  Reviewing her diary, Lori realised that she had two days left to finish Garrett’s album cover if she hoped to meet her October 10th deadline. Despite all that had been going on, she had tried to focus on the design at night but still felt that it was far from finished. She had worked late into the night to finish off the detailing on Melody’s hand.

  Now, in the fresh light of day, the design, fortunately, looked more complete than she’d appreciated. Just as she was about to make a start, Lori heard a car approaching the house. A glance through the window info
rmed her that it was police.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” greeted the officer when Lori opened the front door. “Can we come in for a few minutes?”

  “Sure,” said Lori warmly. “Can I fetch you both a coffee?”

  “No, thanks,” answered the female officer. “We just want to check a few details and update you on the current situation.”

  “Has something else happened?”

  “Let’s take a seat,” suggested the male officer.

  Having shown them both into the lounge, Lori took a seat on the rocking chair, instinctively putting a protective hand over her rounded belly.

  “Miss Tonriverdi was arrested at the Tanger Outlets and detained in custody,” began the female officer.

  “When?”

  “Monday and the judge revoked her bail yesterday in court,” explained the other officer. “She broke into Mr Marrs’ house. Vandalised the property. She followed Mr Power to the outlets the following day and damaged his truck. Our colleagues picked her up in the parking lot.”

  Lori sat silently processing the details she’d just been given.

  “We checked the cell phone that we collected from you for fresh messages,” continued the officer. “There were three more since we last spoke.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Same sexual content as before,” replied the policewoman. “Three fresh unknown numbers were used. We searched her apartment before we came over here and believe we’ve found the cells she’s been using.”

  “So, now what?” asked Lori, feeling surprisingly calm.

  “She’ll be held until a trial date is set. We will need to hold onto your cell until then.”

  “Ok,” replied Lori. “I’ll get it back after the trial though?”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks,” she sighed, her voice ringing with resignation.

  “We really just wanted to reassure you that Miss Tonriverdi won’t be coming anywhere near you or Mr Power any time soon.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We believe Miss Tonriverdi was on the guest list when Silver Lake played at the Rams Head in Baltimore on August 30th,” began the officer, her tone now more formal. “Do you happen to know if she took any items that night that belong to your husband?”