“Does this mean we’ve broken up?” I didn’t even want to ask the question. But I did. I had to know, I had to have some clarity.
“It means we’ve taken some steps back.”
“I see.” It was all I could manage to get out.
“Please don’t be upset.”
I was upset, but I couldn’t let him know that. “I just really want what’s best for you, Riley. If this is what your therapist says you need to do, then I support you. Your health is more important than anything else right now.”
I meant it. I did. But I couldn’t help but think that there had to be another way. A better way. A way that didn’t involve my heart hurting so much. But I supposed that was asking too much.
“You don’t know how relieved I am to hear that.” Riley’s voice took on a softer, more relaxed tone. “I’ve been dreading this phone call, putting it off. I just don’t want to hurt you.”
Too late! I twisted the engagement ring on my finger and then pulled it off. I stared at the diamond solitaire, a picture of what could have been.
And so the story of my life continued.
“I know, Riley,” I whispered. “You just get better.”
As soon as we hung up, I fell back on the bed. I didn’t cry. No, crying would be too much of a relief. I just stared at the ceiling as an achy heaviness spread through every part of my body. Then I resigned myself to a life where everything I wanted was dangled in front of me, only to be snatched away before I obtained it.
***
“You okay?” Holly asked. “You seem a little distracted today.”
I’d texted her last night and told her I was turning in early. Then I’d stayed in my room with the lights out, trying to make sense of life. It didn’t do any good because this morning I felt just as confused as ever.
Right now, we cruised down the road, on our way to meet with one of Cassidy’s old boyfriends. I’d given him a call this morning, and he’d agreed to meet. Holly had offered to come with me, and I didn’t refuse. I could use some company since being alone with my thoughts felt like torture.
I reached for the empty spot on my finger where my engagement ring used to be. “My fiancé called off the wedding last night.” My voice sounded as dull as my soul felt.
“Oh, Gabby. I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I had no idea either.”
“Did he say why?”
I stared out the window at the urban buildings we passed, at life as it continued on as usual. “It was his therapist’s idea. She said he needed to focus on getting better and to eliminate any sources of stress in his life.” My voice took on an unfortunate mimicking tone, one of my not so fine qualities and defense mechanisms.
“Ouch. Was the therapist implying that you were a source of stress?”
I shrugged. “The wedding was. Apparently, he felt pressure and that pressure was hindering his recovery.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“He claimed he still loves me, and that he hates doing this.” I shook my head, dumbfounded. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“I don’t know him, Gabby. And I’m only getting to know you. But give him some time. Men like to be strong for their women. They don’t want to be seen as weak. Maybe he just needs some space to get his masculinity back.”
Her words made sense. Guys did have their pride. Maybe I was reading too much into this. Maybe the stress of everything had worn my spirit down to the breaking point.
I said nothing.
“I know this is hard for you in the meantime, though,” Holly continued. “The uncertainty has to make you feel insecure. If I could go back to two years ago and talk to myself, I’d remind myself that emotions aren’t bad, but that I need to take things in stride.”
I glanced at her, curious now. “What happened two years ago?”
She glanced over at me and frowned. “I was engaged, actually.”
“Were you?”
She nodded. “But it was right when my dad had been diagnosed with cancer. I didn’t want anything to hinder my time with him, so I put off the wedding.”
“What happened?” She obviously wasn’t engaged now. Nor was she married.
“My fiancé got tired of waiting, got tired of being second place. He broke things off with me—a month before my dad died.”
“Wow. That had to be hard.”
She nodded. “It was. But looking back now, I see it was for the best. Boy, did I wish I could see it back then. But I was blinded by too many emotions. I was pulled in too many directions. I couldn’t see anything clearly—except for my dad. Our emotions can be a wonderful thing, or they can lead us astray.”
“Yes, they can.” I’d been thinking a lot about that lately.
“I know it sounds cliché and that I’m repeating myself, but with every closed door, there is an open window. We just have to look for it. We have to know that everything that happens in this life is for our best. It’s all about trusting God.”
“It sounds like you’ve got that down pat.” My words were sincere; I only hoped that sincerity came through in my voice. “She said genuinely,” I added at the end, just to clarify.
Holly threw me a quick smile before continuing. “I had some very frank talks with God when I was diagnosed. There was a lot of pity. A lot of whys. But I’m trying to focus on the eternal and not on the temporary things of this earth.”
“I wish I had your faith, Holly.” I was no better than those people I’d accused of going to church but showing no evidence of transformation in their lives. Garrett Mercer and I were more alike than maybe I wanted to admit.
And that was a fact that I hated.
“Faith is a choice I make every day. I’m not perfect. I’m nowhere near perfect, for that matter. Just ask my family. They’ll tell you that I’m idealistic and impulsive and too much of a dreamer. But, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: Dying can put living into perspective.”
For a moment, I pictured myself being given an expiration date. If I knew I only had a month to live, would I be wallowing in self-pity? Definitely not. I’d be trying to live to the fullest.
And the truth was that none of us knew how long we had left here on this earth. Maybe it was time to stop bemoaning all that had gone wrong and start looking for the things that were going right. I had to get rid of this negativity in my life.
Her words caused a new determination to settle over me. I was going to start trusting that everything did happen for a purpose—even this stalled engagement. I didn’t know where that path would take me, but I was going to have faith that all things did work for the good of those who were called in Christ Jesus.
Holly pulled to a stop in front of a surprisingly humble home—at least for the likes of the Mercer family. “We’re here,” she announced. “Marty Alvin, AKA Cassidy’s boyfriend’s house. You ready for this, Sherlock?”
I nodded, ready to focus on something other than my troubles. “Let’s go, Watson.”
***
Marty Alvin had probably been handsome in his younger days. Today, he was 27 and he looked like he’d lived a rough life. Probably, if I had to guess, he’d been mixed up in too many drugs and too much alcohol. Those addictions could age a person more quickly than they’d ever want to admit.
Based on the glazed look in his eyes, those rough days weren’t behind him.
His hair was too long, his whiskers too unshaven, and his clothes too unlaundered.
Some people could get away with that look, but only if they did it on purpose. On a positive note, he bore a faint resemblance to Marky Mark, from Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch back in the 90s. The comparison was both because of his physical features and his hip hop culture attitude.
As soon as he appeared, I could smell body odor, something frying in the kitchen, and the stale scent of a house that didn’t get enough air circulation.
“Marty?” I asked.
“That’s me.”
“I’m Gabby, and this is my friend, Holly. Thanks for agreeing to meet with us.”
He grunted and shoved the door open. He offered no smile—just a vacant kind of stare—and waved us inside. The interior of his home looked like a dump, and one glance at the man and woman in the background seemed to indicate that he was still living with his parents.
No, this was not the kind of man I pictured Cassidy Mercer with.
Had he changed in the years since she died? Or had he always looked and lived like this? I wanted to find out.
I was thankful that Holly was with me right now. She had experience with stuff like this. Visiting people. Assessing their situations. Making determinations.
I had experience with assessing crime scenes and bloodstain patterns. I was getting better with the people part. But I constantly had to watch what I said so I wouldn’t offend anyone. Holly seemed to have more of a gift with words and social graces.
Marty Mart gestured toward the couch.
“Have a seat.” His words slurred together.
Holly and I shoved some magazines out of the way—and a couple of fast food wrappers, as well as beer bottles—and then sat down. Marty lowered himself onto a torn barstool across from us. He grabbed a brown bottle and took a long swig.
He sat the bottle on the table with a loud clank. “I’m not sure how much help I’m going to be.”
“You never know when something someone says might reveal a clue that investigators haven’t picked up on yet,” I started. Of course, if you weren’t drunk, you might think more clearly. On the other hand, sometimes people revealed more under the influence of alcohol, so maybe I shouldn’t complain. “So, how long did you and Cassidy date?”
He shrugged. “About six months.”
I pulled out my handy-dandy notebook—like any good detective would—and began jotting some notes. “Where did you meet?”
“At school. I went there on a scholarship, much to the disappointment of Cassidy’s parents. They sent her to a private school to get her away from kids like me.”
“So, there was animosity between all of you?” I asked. It made sense to me.
“To say the least.” He let out a long belch before tapping his chest with his fist. “We kept our relationship quiet after the first blow out with her mom.”
“What was that blow out like?” I prodded.
“Her mom was hot under the collar when she found out the two of us were dating. Thought Cassidy could do better. She was right. She could have done better. A lot better. She thought I was going to bring her daughter down.”
I could see why, but I kept that thought silent, and instead asked, “What did Cassidy say to that?”
“Cassidy wouldn’t let me break up with her. She insisted she loved me, and that we just had to keep our relationship on the down low.”
“Do you think she really cared for you?” I kept my voice soft, trying not to sound judgmental. But it sounded like Cassidy Mercer was the type who might do things like date a bad boy just to get her parents’ attention.
He shrugged. “Yeah, I like to think so. She stuck by me, even when I acted like a jerk.”
“Did her parents ever find out that you stayed together?” I continued.
He nodded. “Yeah, about a week before they died. They ordered her to stop dating me. Said they’d send her to boarding school if she didn’t.”
“How did she take that news?”
“Not well. Cassidy liked to do her own thing.”
“Did you ever wonder if you were just one way Cassidy was trying to get her parents to notice her?” Asking the question was a risk, but I wanted to take it.
“Of course. A girl like her? A guy like me? We were an unlikely match, to say the least.”
“But you both liked to party?” I projected. “Is that what you had in common?”
“I didn’t. Not at first. After Cassidy and I started dating, she introduced me to some party drugs. I tried to stay away from that scene, but I’d tag along with her, trying to keep an eye on her. Eventually, I tried a few things to take the edge off.”
Cassidy got him hooked on drugs? That was an interesting and unexpected development.
“It sounds like you really cared about her,” Holly started. “That you were trying to watch out for her.”
He frowned. “I loved her. I wanted to marry her after she graduated. She said she had to go to college, but that I was cute. I felt like she was being condescending at the time. But there were areas of her life where she rebelled and others where she felt like she needed to be compliant. College was one of those compliant areas.”
“Can you tell me anything about the night she died?” I continued.
“Yeah, we were supposed to go out. My friend was having a killer party. Mr. Mercer insisted that Cassidy had to stay home. Said that her brother was coming into town, and that they needed to have a family meeting. Cassidy talked about sneaking out. I told her not to.” His face looked pinched. “For once I was trying to be responsible, and look where it got me.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Holly said, her voice soft with compassion.
“The one time she wasn’t rebellious, and she ended up dead. Isn’t that just like life? The ones who eat healthy get cancer, the ones who drive carefully are hit by drunk drivers, the ones who are faithful in marriage are cheated on.”
I glanced at Holly, hoping what he’d said about cancer didn’t upset her. She didn’t even flinch.
“Did she have any idea what the meeting was about?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not really sure. She thought the family might be moving again. Apparently, the Mercers liked to move every three or four years. She said she wasn’t going to go with them, that she was going to stay with me, finish high school, and then go to college.”
“And you said?”
“I reminded her that her trust fund didn’t become available until she was 21 and that she’d have a hard time making a way on her own. I loved Cassidy, but the girl had no idea what real life was like. She didn’t know what it was like to want anything or to have to work for things, to earn them.”
“Did she mention the family having any problems?” I asked.
He shrugged and took another chug of his beer. “Just the normal stuff. Her dad was never home. Her mom just wanted to look pretty. I mean, I guess they cared about her, in their own way. I’ve never understood rich people.”
I stared at my paper, contemplating what else I needed to ask. I came up blank. “Anything else you want to add?”
He straightened on the stool. “There is one thing. I was sneaking to see her once, and I overheard something that’s stuck with me to this day.”
I leaned closer. “What’s that?”
“Mr. Mercer was outside, pacing on the patio. I’d snuck to their house. I’d parked on the road and cut through the woods. I came up around the side of the house, and he didn’t see me. I didn’t see him. I heard him first. He was on the phone and he was yelling at someone. He said something about an agreement that he had with someone. He shouted about money. He sounded steamed.”
Finally, something that could lead somewhere! “Did you have any idea what the conversation was about?”
“To be honest, I assumed he was probably trying to pay off some woman so that she’d stay quiet about an inappropriate relationship.” He used air quotes as his words slurred. “Cassidy said he had a history of that.”
I nodded, noting the common thread. Apparently, everyone knew about Edward Mercer’s reputation with women. I felt sorry for his wife, and even amazed that she’d stuck with him through all of that. “I’ve heard that from more than one person.”
Marty Mart scowled. “Listen, I want justice for my girl. I haven’t been the same since she died. So there was one other thing I remember hearing from that conversation.”
I leaned closer. “Okay.”
“I heard a name. Sebastian.”
CHAPTER 17
I sucked in a quick breath
. “Did you tell the police that?”
Marty Mart shook his head. “I was going to. But then someone left a note on my door. Said if I said too much that the same thing that happened to the Mercers would happen to my family.”
“So you stayed silent?”
He shrugged. “Can you blame me?”
In all truthfulness, I guess I couldn’t.
“Besides, I was the primary focus of their investigation for a while. It was awful. I couldn’t keep up with my studies and dropped out of the private school. It was fine by me. Too many bad memories there anyway.”
“Why would they think you were guilty?” I had a few theories, but I wanted to hear what he had to say.
He counted it out with his fingers. “Turbulent relationship with her parents. Them forbidding us to see each other. Me coming from the wrong side of the tracks. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.”
“But you wouldn’t have murdered Cassidy if that was the case,” I reasoned.
His eyes lit, and he slapped one hand into the other. “Exactly. That’s what I kept saying. Her death tore me up. There’s no way I would hurt her.”
“I mean, maybe if she’d broken up with you—” I stopped mid-sentence. “She didn’t break up with you, did she?”
He scowled. “No, she didn’t break up with me. Ask her BFF and she’ll tell you the same.”
I studied his face a moment. Could I trust what he was telling me?
“What was the police’s reason for suspecting you then?”
“They said I was drugged out and that I hadn’t realized the extent of my actions. Drugs can make you do crazy things. I won’t argue that. But I didn’t kill anyone. Especially not Cassidy.”
“Why’d they finally let you go?”
“They couldn’t find any evidence to hold me. Everything was circumstantial.” He snickered. “Yeah, even I learned a few things from that ordeal.”
“But let me guess. Your DNA was at the house probably. You own a gun—or had access to one. You were doing drugs. And you probably left tire tracks on the road outside their home from your visits.”
Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak Page 13