Save Me: A dark romantic thriller (Novel)
Page 19
Then, that’s when it occurred to her-the bakery.
That was another thing Ashley needed to do, call Stella back and let her boss know that, starting tomorrow, she’d have to search for another part-time employee. Ashley wasn’t going to need that job anymore.
CHAPTER 54
When Claire Whittaker got up the next day, she was so worn out, all she wanted to do was go in the kitchen and make a strong cup of tea. Since it was only five o‘clock, the sun had barely begun to deposit light in the sky.
Yawning, Claire filled the silver kettle, placed it on the burner, and then, from the cupboard, she withdrew the box of Earl Gray.
Then, as she put the tea bag in her cup, she noticed that the sliding glass door had been left partially open, which explained why the house felt so nippy. Even in her robe and slippers, Claire was so cold she felt as if she needed to put on a jacket.
After closing the door, that’s when she detected, on the table near the fruit bowl, a note from Ashley:
Mom,
I needed to get away for a while. Not sure when I’ll be back. Maybe in a week or two. Take good care of Kimberly.
Sorry.
Love Ash.
“I needed to get away,” Claire, whispered to herself. “Get away from what? And where did she go? Don‘t tell me now that things have gone sour between her and Troy, Ashley has come undone.”
Uncertain what to do, Claire sat down at the table nursing her sweet tea, while thrusting a fretful hand through her disheveled hair.
Eventually concern led her to seek immediate answers.
The first thing Claire had learned was that Ashley had taken at least three suitcases with her. Most of her clothes had been removed from her bedroom drawers, as well as from her closet. From her art studio, Ashley’s easel, pallet, paintbrushes, and blank canvases, were also missing.
The only things of significance that she hadn’t taken, was surprisingly her cell phone and obviously Kimberly, who was still upstairs in her crib asleep.
***
Later, when Claire drove to the bakery, the mystery deepened. Stella informed her that Ashley had quit.
“Quit? When did she quit?”
“Yesterday,” Stella explained. The owner stood behind the counter wrapping individual pieces of crumb cake with saran wrap. “Originally Ashley called in sick. Said she thought she might have food poisoning. Then she called me back in the afternoon, all apologetic and told me that she‘s done working here.”
“Did she give you a reason why?” Claire had always thought her daughter had liked this job.
Dejectedly, Stella shrugged. “I’m afraid not Miss Whittaker. That was basically all she said. Then she asked if I would mail her final paycheck. I said, sure, no problem. Then when I asked if there was something the matter, Ashley said that she had to go and hung up. That was it. No real goodbye or anything, she just clicked off . . . I‘m just as confused about this as you are.”
None of this made sense.
After helping a customer, Stella told Claire about the vandals from the other night that had soaped and egged the front entrance: to which Claire did not make any connection.
“Well,” she said, “I don’t know what to say about that. Eggs and soap. That’s probably just kids being kids. Anyway, Stella, if you do happen to hear from my daughter, would you please tell Ashley to call me? I‘m worried.”
“Yes,” the owner replied. “I’ll be sure to do that. Good luck tracking her down. Your daughter was one of the nicest employees I’ve had working here in a long time. I’m really sad Ashley has decided to move on.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
***
Feeling more and more bewildered with each tick of the clock, Claire spent the next hour combing the town, hoping to spy a glimpse of Ashley’s car. She had the baby with her.
“I don’t know what in God’s name your mother is up to,” Claire said to Kimberly in a peevish voice. “And I don’t know why she left her cell phone at home. That’s one thing that is really confusing me. I wonder if she left it home so that I wouldn’t be able to get a hold of her.”
In the backseat of the heated minivan, Kimberly seemed more interested in sucking on her pacifier, than listening to her grandma worry her head off.
Not knowing where else to search, Claire headed to the Crown Jewel supermarket to confront Troy.
He wasn’t there. Someone said he had taken the day off. Claire decided to drive to his apartment. Perhaps Troy had an idea where Ashley might be.
***
Nope. He knew nothing.
In fact, Troy was deeply disappointed that Ashley had terminated their relationship.
Claire did not stay long.
She could clearly see that Troy had been lying around his apartment. There were mountains of laundry everywhere, on the floor, hung on chairs. Furthermore, he had the Levolor blinds pulled tightly shut.
Fifteen minutes into their conversation, as Claire was preparing to leave, Troy said, “Miss. Whittaker, I’m being honest with you. Almost everything my ex. Sarah told your daughter was a downright lie. You have to believe me. Sarah is trying to ruin it for me.”
“I want to believe you,” Claire confessed, stopping near the door with the baby in her arms. “Because you entering my daughter’s life was the best thing I could have hoped would happen. The only point I’m trying to make is I think it was wrong of you not to tell Ashley about Sarah. You even lied to me.”
“How so?” he interrupted.
“Because if you recall, this summer, you told me you had a girlfriend. Then once you started getting involved with my daughter, you told us you were single. So naturally, me not wanting to pry, I assumed you were telling the truth. That you and this other women must had broken up.”
“Yeah. I know,” he confessed, gulping back the shame in his throat. “You’re right. I should have told Ashley about Sarah. Except, you have to understand Miss. Whittaker, initially I was only trying to be her friend. I never thought-” He rubbed his eyes, and then gazed down at the floor. “I never thought I would-”
“Fall in love with her?”
“Yes. I never thought that would happen. Especially in such a short period of time. It’s like I kept meaning to tell your daughter about Sarah, but every time I’d go to do it I’d say to myself, ‘Ah, forget it. I’ll tell her tomorrow.’ Then before I knew it, all this had to happen.”
Claire questioned him about what had occurred at the bakery, did he think Sarah Kline had vandalized it?
“Oh. No doubt,” Troy answered. “Soap and eggs. That’s definitely something Sarah would do. In fact, one of the girls who used to work for her told me that Sarah once smashed her taillights, because the girl had supposedly been spreading nasty rumors about her.”
Claire had one final question, “So you have no idea where Ashley may have gone?”
He shook his head.
“Unfortunately I don‘t. Though, based on what you‘ve told me, it sounds like Ashley’s planning to hole up somewhere where she can spend time painting . . . Again, Miss. Whittaker, I’m sorry for causing you and your daughter so much grief. I suppose the only thing I’m really guilty of is being stupid.” Gently, he grabbed one of Kimberly’s teeny hands. Troy held it briefly, as though he could not bear to see the child go.
When Claire pulled them apart, Kimberly began to mope. The baby’s mournful cry echoed pitifully all the way down the buildings’ winding staircase.
CHAPTER 55
When she had returned to her minivan, which was in the apartment complex’s parking lot, underneath a plump oak tree, Claire sighed.
What was she suppose to do now? Troy had convinced her that what had happened between him and Ashley had in fact been a terrible misunderstanding.
Yet how could she make Ashley believe that, especially now that she’d run off to who knows where?
Aggravation seethed mercilessly through Claire‘s blood.
What’s more, Claire felt very ill at ease knowing her emotionally unstable daughter might be behind the wheel, impaired.
What if Ashley were to get in a fatal car accident? What would Kimberly do without a mother and a father?
Claire cringed. She did not want to think of that.
Troy believed Ashley might be planning to hole up somewhere to work on her paintings. That sounded plausible, considering that, she had taken her art supplies. But where would she go to do that, a hotel?
Should Claire go through the telephone directory and contact every hotel-motel in the area, and ask if Ashley had checked in?
If she did resort to that, it would take forever. With New Jersey being the most densely populated state in the country, there seemed to be a hotel-motel on every corner.
Now, as Claire leaned into the backseat to strap Kimberly into her car seat, she thought about driving to the police station to file a missing person’s report. Then realizing (probably from watching so many TV dramas like CSI and Law & Order), that eight hours was too soon to warrant an official investigation, she elected to return home instead.
***
After parking in the driveway, Claire got out of the minivan and opened the backdoor. Kimberly was anxious to get out. The restless infant whined, and insistently bobbed up and down.
“Stop squirming,” Claire reprimanded. “Before I can get you out of that chair, Kimberly, you have to let grandma take off your seatbelt.”
On the residential street, there were three giggling teenage girls approaching on mountain bikes. One was Stephanie Denton, the fourteen-year old daughter of Claire’s neighbor.
“Hello,” Stephanie called out, waving.
“Hi,” Claire forced herself to say, as she searched for the baby’s seatbelt buckle. Fall foliage scurried along the blacktop. Overhead, a scattering of clouds passed over the sun, sending a long shadow stretching across the yard.
“You’re granddaughter is so cute,” Stephanie declared, smiling.
“Thank you.”
“I always see her in the backyard, while Ashley paints.”
“Yes. The baby likes to watch.”
“Maybe she’ll grow up to be an artist someday too.”
“Could be. You never know.” Claire lifted the cranky baby onto her shoulder, and then closed the van door.
“I’ll see you later, Miss Whittaker.”
“Goodbye Stephanie. Say hello to your parents for me.”
“I will.” As they pedaled away, the other two girls also smiled.
Seeing those youngsters, so carefree, made Claire more upset. She thought back to when Ashley was in high school, and how much easier life had been. In those days, Claire had learned to adjust to being a single mother, and would have done anything for her daughter.
That is why it was so hard for her right now to try to make sense out of why Ashley would mysteriously run off and leave her baby behind.
***
In the house, Claire checked to see if there were any messages on the answering machine. Disappointedly, there was none.
For heaven’s sake, she thought. How am I supposed to sit here all day and do nothing?
Suddenly the baby started to act up again. Battling to maintain her composure, Claire took Kimberly into the kitchen and fed her lunch.
After that, it did not take long before she discovered, down in Ashley’s vacant studio, the vodka stashed behind the portable refrigerator. The bottle of Smirnoff was practically empty, and all of a sudden Claire was convinced, (as she’d already assumed), that Ashley, the other day, had indeed been intoxicated.
I knew it! she thought bitterly. I knew by the sound of her voice that she’d been off on a binge.
Furious, Claire brought the vodka upstairs and then poured what remained in the bottle down the drain.
Then she went out to the front porch and swept up all of Ashley’s cigarette butts. Underneath the swing-seat, there must have been an entire pack’s worth.
What was Ashley’s problem, had she been too inebriated to put the disgusting smelly butts in an ashtray where they belonged?
PART SEVEN
CASTLE BEACH
CHAPTER 56
Twenty miles south of New York City, Castle Beach was a fashionable summer resort in New Jersey, which during the fall and winter months became a virtual ghost town.
To commute here for Ashley had taken roughly an hour and forty-five minutes.
“It’s not much,” the property owner Blake Cromwell told Ashley, as he went about showing her the modest one bedroom cottage. “But as you can see the place is fully furnished. It has a nice kitchen and living room. A brick fireplace. A washer and dryer. And if you ever feel like painting outdoors, you have this fantastic view of the ocean.” He pointed to the rectangular window that looked out on the sandy shore. “Take a gander at that.”
“Wow! That is a magnificent view,” Ashley agreed, gazing at the deserted white beach that seemed to stretch forever.
They stepped out the creaky back door onto a large cement patio. Nearby squawking gulls were walking around. A few of them, closer to the Atlantic, appeared to be pecking at either a fish carcass or a horseshoe crab.
“So why do they call this town Castle Beach?” Ashley had learned of this winter rental in the newspaper.
“My young friend, at my age you’d think I’d know the answer to that. Afraid I can only offer a theory.”
“All right. What’s your theory?”
Blake Cromwell was of medium height. Had silver hair and a Civil-war-style mustache. Ashley estimated the landlord to be in his middle seventies.
“Do you see those big Victorian homes on either side of us?”
“Yeah. What about them?” To Ashley, the houses looked similar to Brad and Eve’s Victorian. Except these homes were smaller and more weather-beaten.
“Follow me.” Blake started walking down toward the rough sea. As he did, he zipped his hooded jacket.
“Why are we going down here?”
“You’ll see.”
When they had reached the thundering breakwater, the old man said, “Pretend we’re on a ship coming from Europe to America in the late 1800‘s. And pretend we’ve just sighted land here along the Jersey Shore.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t those Victorians look like castles, the way they merge from the grassy dunes?”
“You know, come to think of it, they do,” Ashley used her hand to maneuver her wind-blown bangs away from her black sunglasses. “So that’s why you think they call this town Castle Beach, because a lot of the homes look like-”
“Castles. Precisely.” The landlord grinned. “Didn’t say it was an intelligent theory. Just said it was my theory.”
Today, Ashley, with her suitcases in the trunk, had left home while it had still been dark, at four in the morning.
When she arrived in Castle Beach, she enjoyed a casual breakfast at IHOP. Then, after located the tiny cottage, she had slept in her car for quite some time until she met with Blake ten minutes ago. The property owner, who was married, also lived along the beach, two hundred yards to the south.
Now, as they went back inside the rental, Ashley kept thinking about how she had abandoned the baby, as well as how her mother might be reacting to the note she had left.
“Is this all you have?” Blake asked. He was referring to Ashley’s belongings.
“No,” she promptly responded. “I also have those giant canvases in the car. Except I suppose I can get those myself.”
“Okay.”
Blake grabbed the bags from the porch, and then set them down on the hardwood floor.
Although the cottage was f
urnished, to Ashley, it still felt somewhat bare.
In addition, the Victorian atmosphere was not exactly what she had been looking for. Ashley kept reminding herself, she probably wasn’t going to be here that long, so what did it matter. Yet, it would definitely be longer than the two weeks she had stated in the note to her mother. Ashley had specified two weeks in the note because she hadn’t felt like narrating what her true intentions were.
“It smells wonderful in here,” she commented cordially, leaning the big canvases against the wall in the sitting room. “Fragrant. Like fresh pinecones. What is that?”
The elderly man pointed to the redbrick fireplace.
“It’s those logs over there,” he explained. “Since it’s getting close to winter, I figured whoever was going to be renting the place, might want to build an occasional fire. Sometimes it can get mighty chilly in these parts . . . Yeah, when those winds come whipping in off the Atlantic, a warm fire can sure feel nice.”
“Speaking of feeling nice,” Ashley said, stepping into the kitchen, where, on the tan, paneled wall, she was surprised to see a phone. “Could I offer you a cup of hot chocolate? I have a can of Swiss Miss in one of my bags.”
“Hot chocolate. No thank you,” Blake replied, smiling merrily. “Don’t have much of a sweet tooth anymore. Did when I was a young buck. Used to practically live on sugar, until I realized how detrimental it is for your teeth. Now I’m stuck wearing dentures.”
If Ashley had coffee, she’d offer him that. Though, until she went out and picked up some supplies, all she had to eat or drink, aside from the hot chocolate, was wine, some soda, and a bag of stale cheese doodles.