by Andrea Stein
The town of Queensbay was quiet tonight. Shops were shuttered, and the streetlamps glowed, their light smeared by the rhythmic swish of her wipers. It was easy to be lulled into a trance, even for the short drive, and it was with a shock that she jumped, startled by the honking and the bright beam of lights that filled the tiny interior of her car. Caitlyn looked in the rearview mirror and squinted. There was a car behind, right up on her tail, an SUV by the height of it. The honking continued, and Caitlyn slowed down, hearing the screech of the brakes and watching the sudden swerve of the car behind her.
She was of a mind to stop and yell at the driver. Perhaps call the police. Where were they when you needed them, she thought, as the driver stopped skidding and barreled up, close and personal behind her? She flipped her hazards quickly on and then off again, but the car stayed behind her. Now, Caitlyn decided, she was angry.
She sped up, racing down the quiet streets of Queensbay, driving faster on them than she had as a senior in high school with a new license. The SUV crawled up behind her, lights flashing, and Caitlyn felt the first grip of panic. If he wanted to get around her, then he easily could. But instead the SUV stayed close on her tail.
Caitlyn turned into a side road, and her pursuer followed, the car rocking slightly on two wheels as he took the curve, a sheet of water thrown up in the air. She held tightly to the wheel of her car and thanked German engineering as the roadster stayed true. Whipping around another turn, she followed the maze of interior roads that would put her back out on Shore Road. Houses, dark and silent, were set back on the road, and she did not feel like driving up to one of them and hoping that some kind soul would help her.
But not back to her own home. That was the last thing you were supposed to do when you were being followed. And by now, there was little question in her mind that that was precisely what was happening. In fact, as she looked in her rearview mirror and caught sight of the car as it passed broadside under the light of a street lamp, she saw the color. Dark blue. Dark blue with tinted windows. That was the color of the SUV that she had seen in the parking lot at the office, outside Flynn’s house, even driving slowly by Adriana’s.
And then there were the other times, Caitlyn remembered, the creepy feeling that she was being followed, only to turn around and see some soccer mom’s van pass her by. She turned again, and this time her own car slid, and she felt herself spinning around and around. The car turned twice so that it was facing the opposite direction, the other car resting halfway up the lawn. She stared at it, but could not see anything, not even the license number, slush-splattered as the car was.
She gunned the engine and roared past it, mind made up. She would head for Noah’s, and if the lights were on, go there. If they were not, she could drive by, make a turn and head back to the town. Surely by then, someone would hear them or see them, and she could lose her pursuer.
The monstrous lights filled up her tiny car, telling her that the SUV’s distress had been temporary like her own. Heart pounding, sweaty hands gripped to the wheel, she reached down with one of them and groped on the seat for the cell phone she had dropped there. Her hand caught it, and then she turned, and it slid away, out of her grasp and onto the floor. Caitlyn slid again, the road suddenly wetter and worse out here, the back of her car fishtailing all over the place. Control, Caitlyn thought, she needed some control.
She burst out on Shore Road, the water and the beach below her. Across the water on the other end of the cove, she could see lights on in houses, shimmering on the water. Life, she thought, civilization. Maybe even another car. She sped up, cheered on by the thought that there would be someone to help her.
Caitlyn took the turn far too fast, and the lights of the oncoming car filled her with sick, sharp fear. She swerved out of the way and slid across the road, fighting to get the car back in the proper lane. The honk echoed in her ears as the smell of burning rubber permeated her senses. She slowed, gained control and turned to look back. The car she had almost hit was a light on the other side of the curve, the SUV pulled up at a crazy angle on the soft interior shoulder of the road.
Caitlyn stopped the car and waited. The lights of the SUV went off, and she felt the fear in her stomach begin to claw its way up her throat. With a great lurch forward and a spin of its tires that flung up water, pebbles and muck, it pulled off of the soft shoulder, did a U-turn and headed off in the other direction. Already coming around the bend was the other driver, a man in a beige down coat, hat pulled over his ears. He leapt to the side, pressed against the wooden guardrail and shook his fist at the passing car.
She sunk back in the leather seat, the pounding of her heart slowing, the breathing she had forgotten about coming back to her. The man trotted up to her. It was Bernie England, a man who owned beagles that were forever making messes on the beaches.
He pounded on the window, and she rolled it down.
“Are you okay?” His voice was not filled with concern, his lined face twisted with anger. “You almost killed me,” he continued, having decided that she was alive and therefore well enough to be subjected to a tirade.
“I’m sorry, Bernie, but I thought… that person was tailgating me and making me go fast and then, I don’t know.” Caitlyn shrugged.
She didn’t really know, not exactly, what had happened, but she knew that she had been followed.
Bernie softened a bit. “You never were a very good driver.”
Caitlyn let that one pass.
“You should call the police,” he told her.
“Did you see a license plate?” she asked.
Bernie shook his head, his thick eyebrows knitting together. “No. Too dark. The man forgot to put his lights on.”
The man hadn’t forgotten, Caitlyn thought. The car had turned its lights off after leaving the side of the road. The more difficult to identify it, Caitlyn thought, and then shook her head. Why on earth would anyone follow her? And then, unbidden, came a single thought that made her shiver. Peter Flynn and Maxwell. They were both dead.
<<>>
She did go home, ignoring Bernie’s protests to come over for a hot drink. He followed her home, and for that, she was grateful. He walked her to the door and took her measure before he said goodnight. The wind rustled softly in the trees, the rain stopped again, a clearing in the clouds breaking up in the north, the silver sliver of the moon, a star, a planet, the smell of the water rising up.
This was her home now. Good, bad, terrible, all the things that had happened. You couldn’t quite go back. What had she been expecting to find? The idyll of her childhood, summer days spent swimming and sailing, sunning and playing, before she’d been a teenager, before things had become complicated, before she had noticed all that went on around her. Thwarted love, thwarted ambition, unhappiness. And now her mother was living in New Mexico with a man she claimed to love and, what was more, was happy with.
Caitlyn did not want to go away again. She wanted to stay right here. Perhaps working for the Randall Company had been a bad idea. She had other choices; she could do something else. It wasn’t hers, never had been. But this was, she thought, looking at the wide-bodied house, gray-shingled with a porch wrapping around and dark, silent windows. This was hers, Queensbay was hers, and that was what was important. And Noah, was he hers?
She didn’t know that answer, she thought. But there were still many questions. She busied herself, taking a bath, fixing a drink, opening up her computer, typing up everything she knew so far. She drew her drapes, shutting out the night, locking the outside out, something she rarely did. There was a message from Noah to call him, but it was late, and she wasn’t sure what to say to him, at least not yet.
Wrapped in a warm white robe, her hand hovered over the phone, the decision. She would sound crazy, she thought. And that wasn’t the kind of reputation she needed. Caitlyn put the phone down and turned her attention to the computer.
Chapter 45
“I missed you,” Caitlyn said and went into Noah’s arms as if she belonged there. She still hadn’t decided what to tell him about what she had found out last night. There were too many unanswered questions. But she needed to see him, reassure herself that they were okay. Because all of a sudden, no matter what had happened in the past, what was happening in the present, she wanted him.
“Me, too,” he said, hugging her back, but she sensed a hesitation, a reserve.
She looked at him carefully. “What is it?”
He motioned her into the house, back towards the kitchen. He poured her a cup of coffee, finding her cream, one sugar, just as she liked it. All the while, he remained silent, and she felt a corresponding heaviness come down on her.
“You have to tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded, knowing she needed to know what he was thinking, no matter how much it hurt.
Noah looked at her, his eyes dark, impenetrable. “What really happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you left London and your job. Something else happened that you haven’t told me.”
She looked at him, feeling her skin redden.
“What is this about?” She thought she could leave that behind. Maxwell had told her not to worry, told her he didn’t care.
“It’s about you and us, Caitlyn.” Noah made as if to reach out and touch her hand, but he drew it back. “About why you really came back. About why you’re with me.”
“With you? I’m with you because…” Caitlyn trailed off. She couldn’t say it, could barely admit it to herself. “Because I like being with you. You make things feel right,” she finished.
“And is that it?” he asked, looking at her, waiting. When she said nothing, he shook his head and started to walk away. “I don’t know what he did to you, over in London, or what you think Maxwell did to you, but I’m not either one of them. And until you figure that out, maybe, maybe… just show yourself out, will you? I have work to do.”
“Wait.” Caitlyn couldn’t let him walk away. “There is more to it. But I didn’t tell you because I’m embarrassed by it.” There, she had said it.
“It can’t be that bad, can it? You didn’t do anything wrong, did you?”
Caitlyn shook her head and sat down. “I think I might have.”
Noah walked back, stood closer to her, but still didn’t touch her.
“Tell me.”
And Caitlyn knew she had to.
“After I found Michael sleeping with my best friend, I was upset. I moved out, back into a small little studio. I seemed to have less money than I thought, when there was Michael around. I was unhappy, upset, angry and basically not much good to anyone. My friends snubbed me, and Michael tried to persuade me to come back. And when that didn’t work, he told lies. He became the injured party, and I became persona non grata. Not very good when your job is to be out there, mingling, going to parties, getting clients. It seemed that a lot of my good fortune had rested squarely on Michael’s shoulders. But I still had a few loyal clients and, well, things did seem to get a little better.
“But then somehow, one of my clients, an older man, ancient really, who couldn’t be expected to know what was going on in the gossip pages, sent a check. And supposedly it got misplaced. In the wrong account. His money went missing, and there were some errors in my accounting. He called about it, of course, and the whole thing was taken very seriously. There was an investigation. I couldn’t remember getting the check, didn’t know what happened to it.
“But my assistant swore she had seen it. She said it came across her desk, I endorsed it and then had it deposited in an account I had control of. I demanded a full investigation.”
“What happened?”
“The paper trail led back to Michael. He wasn’t very smart about it.”
“And what happened to him?” Noah’s voice was rough, angry.
Caitlyn shrugged. “Michael’s father is a very important man. The whole thing was hushed up, I was cleared of any wrongdoing, and after a little while, everything died down. They didn’t quite apologize to me, and, well, I could tell that I was going nowhere at the company, or in London. A fresh start seemed the best thing. Maxwell knew that. He saved me.”
“So, you didn’t come back out of revenge?”
Caitlyn looked at Noah and laughed. “Revenge?”
“Against my father. For stealing the firm, for ruining your life.”
Caitlyn put her hand on Noah’s arm, and he let her. “No, that’s not why I came back.” But she couldn’t help thinking of what she had learned. Perhaps if she had known then what she knew now?
She looked into Noah’s eyes and saw that he was confused. He believed her, but he had his doubts, and how could she blame him? She had been very angry and bitter for a long time, and he didn’t know the whole story. She couldn’t tell him yet – it would be too much and not quite believable. Instead, she asked him to hold her, and one thing led to another.
<<>>
Caitlyn dressed and let herself out of the bedroom, leaving a note. She tiptoed across the hall and down the stairs. This was wrong, but she thought of Maxwell, who would want her to do this, and the thought strengthened her. If he had been alive, she would have asked him, but he was not, and his son simply wasn’t ready.
She went to the study, to Maxwell’s desk. The drawers were unlocked; Noah had already been through them. She found what she wanted easily enough, in the second drawer, the master set of keys to the office. She left the house and went out to the car. It was dark; dawn was still far away. She looked up at Noah’s window and then got in the car.
Caitlyn was alone on the dark, midnight roads, but now she couldn’t discount the fact that she was being followed, had been for a while. She thought again of the person who had been in her house and did not know what they were looking for.
She drove down into Queensbay, to the parking lot of the office building. She had only half-dressed. She had on her skirt but no pantyhose, and no coat, and it was cold as she hurried across the parking lot and let herself into the building. Her ID card still worked, and she took the elevator up to the fourth floor. Only dim, emergency lights were on as she opened the doors of the office and made her way towards Tommy Anderson’s office. The key was in there; she felt it.
Caitlyn slipped a key into the door of Tommy’s office. It took a few tries, but she found the right one and let herself in. It was so perfect in here. She turned on the desk light, and the fluorescent bulb came on jerkily. There was the picture of his family, his wife and his baby, all smiling. His wife was a pretty woman as well. She came from money; her father was a local land developer.
Caitlyn looked at the row of binders behind the desk. He had given them to Heather to be copied, but she had no idea if he’d given her the right ones. There was a whole row of them. She looked over at the desk and tried some of the smaller keys. She opened the drawers, but found nothing of interest, just supplies and some files.
She turned back to the row of binders, checked her watch and began.
<<>>
She hadn’t been followed from home. She had left the office early in the morning, before dawn, and gone home to shower and change. She would need to come in this morning to face whatever she needed to face. And hopefully that would be it. Then she would be free to go. She was pretty sure she had found what she was looking for, the thing that Flynn had been after.
The look on Heather’s face said it all. Caitlyn wondered if she should even bother to take off her jacket and then thought it would look bad if she didn’t. She thought for a second about how the scene should be played. She needed them to believe she was hiding something, stonewalling them, but that she thought she was innocent. Because she was, and someone knew it.
“Mr. Harris wants to see you,” Heather told her. She looked so pained that Caitlyn almost
wanted to ask her what was wrong. But she did not, simply smoothed her hands over her jacket and played dumb.
Sam was in his office alone. Caitlyn shut the door behind her and took a seat, not waiting to be invited.
“Caitlyn.”
Caitlyn smiled, trying to fake a braveness she did not feel.
“Why were you in the office last night?”
“Excuse me?”
“We have security cameras, you know, and they showed you coming into the office in the very early morning hours.”
There weren’t security cameras in the office, just in the lobby. Caitlyn swallowed. She hadn’t quite thought about that. Still, though, they wouldn’t know what she’d been doing once she’d been inside the office.
“I had some work to do.”
He looked at her, his blue eyes gazing directly at her. “I find that hard to believe. How did you get in?”
She shrugged. Not much she could say there, without dragging Noah into it.
Sam went on. “Caitlyn, I have been informed that there are some irregularities with your accounts.”
“My accounts?” This time, instead of fear, she felt anger. It was happening again.
“Yes. Inconsistent accounting, amounts missing. I am launching a full investigation into it, and until that time, I am suspending you without pay from all firm-related activities.”
Caitlyn saw that Sam was trying hard not to gloat. He thought she was done, out of the way, an obstacle removed. So, she let him believe it, protesting her innocence and even letting her eyes water. But he was adamant, would not show her anything. He did not bring up what had happened in London. At the end, she collected herself and her dignity and got up to go.
“Caitlyn.”
She turned.
“This looks bad. I thought…” he paused. “It’s just that Maxwell trusted you so much.”
She looked at him and nodded.
Head held high, she marched out. Eyes followed her out. She saw Tommy Anderson, and she stared at him, and he looked back at her. They held each other’s eyes until he smiled and she dropped hers.