“A couple?”
“Like you said, it’s just some crank.” She shrugged, trying to make it as nonchalant as possible. It didn’t feel all that convincing, and Scott’s furrowed brow confirmed the feeling.
“Perhaps we should get the police involved.”
She hesitated for a moment, knowing that her response wouldn’t help the situation. “They already are.”
Scott rose from the sofa and glared back at her. “What the hell, Kaitlyn? What’s this all about?”
She’d never seen him like this before. Scott was the most composed person Kaitlyn knew. He met every crisis with the same level tone and cool stare, but now his voice cracked with emotion. His eyes were wide and a little wild. She never wanted him to know—or anyone for that matter—what was going on.
“The Lower Merion Township police are looking into it. They’ve got it under control.”
His eyes narrowed. “Lower Merion? Why are they involved? Surely the city police should be—”
She interrupted. “A letter came to the house.”
Scott ran his hand through his hair, walked across the room, then turned back to her. “Damn it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Kaitlyn rose from the sofa. She hated hiding things from Scott almost as much as she hated hiding things from Brad. The conversation needed to end before she said anything else. “Because I’ll be fine. It’s nothing, really.” She moved toward the door. “I’ve got a show to prep for.”
Kaitlyn found Kevin O’Neill at his desk when she entered the bullpen. He glanced up, then rose from his chair, mouth agape.
“What happened to you?” he said.
“Motorcycle accident. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
He folded his arms. “That’s good, because it looks pretty bad from where I’m standing.”
She crossed the office and placed her bag atop her desk. She caught sight of movement in the corner of her eye, and before she knew it, he was hovering over her shoulder. Kaitlyn stepped away from him and moved to the other side of the desk to sit down.
Kevin said, “Care to elaborate?”
She recounted an alternate version of the previous evening’s crash; one that didn’t include stalkers or a police escort home. Kevin was nothing more than a nosy busybody, like her elderly neighbor who always peered out of the front window. She wasn’t about to give him what he craved . . . office gossip.
When she finished her story, he looked disappointed, as if her near-death experience wasn’t exciting enough for him. He returned to his desk and closed the lid of his laptop. “Glad to know it wasn’t serious.” He grabbed his jacket from the back of the desk chair, slipped the laptop under his arm, and strode toward the door. “Have a good show.”
But then he halted at the office door and turned back to her. “I didn’t hear REO Speedwagon the other night. Did you forget to play it?”
Kaitlyn drew in a breath, then stammered, “I forgot.”
Kevin waved his finger back and forth. “Tsk, tsk.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “You know how I said that REO Speedwagon songs were all shit? I thought of a song that’s even worse.” He smiled. “That Christopher Cross song from the ’80s. ‘Think of Laura.’”
16
Kaitlyn set the warm mug of tea down beside the control console and sighed. Music drifted through the room from the ceiling speakers. She tapped the console with her fingers in rhythm with Weezer’s remake of the song “Africa”. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t shake the dark anxiety that hung over her. The only person who knew the truth about the Shallows was dead and long buried. There was no way Jesse was sending these letters. She refused to believe in ghosts.
She glanced over the control console to the opposite side of the studio. Sammy stood—her back to Kaitlyn—near the broad window. She’d been standing there for almost fifteen minutes, gazing down on the Philadelphia nightscape. Kaitlyn smiled, feeling certain that she knew what Sammy was thinking.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Sammy only responded with a nod of her head.
“You should see it when it rains,” Kaitlyn added. “The wet pavement sparkles like diamonds.”
Turning, Sammy crossed to the control console and took a seat across from her. “Don’t think I’ve ever been up here at night. No wonder you like the night shift.”
“It has it’s perks.”
Sammy sipped from the mug in her hand. “So . . . you gonna tell me what really happened?”
Kaitlyn turned her gaze toward the studio computer to avoid eye contact. She didn’t want to answer these questions. “Don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t bullshit me. I’m not some dumb blonde.” She hesitated. “Okay, I might be blonde . . . and a bit dumb, but I know when you’re lying.”
“It was nothing. Just an accident.” Kaitlyn knew her words didn’t sound convincing, but she didn’t want to talk about the early morning crash. Too many people already know too much. The more Sammy knew, the more questions she would ask. The last thing Kaitlyn wanted was someone asking questions. She feared that—now that the police were involved—everything would come out. The Shallows, Jesse’s death . . . and her part in all of it. Detective Shapiro hadn’t asked too many questions. At least not yet. He appeared to accept her ignorance of the motive behind the letters. She hadn’t completely lied to him. She truly had no idea why someone was sending her the letters.
“I’m not buying it,” Sammy said. “You’re too good of a biker.”
Kaitlyn reached for the microphone and drew it close to her mouth. “Even good bikers crash.”
As the song faded, she clicked on the microphone to deliver a quick station ID, and then introduce the next song. Once finished, Kaitlyn scanned the upcoming playlist, made a quick note on her notepad, and returned her gaze to Sammy.
“Fine. You don’t want to tell me. That’s your prerogative.” Sammy turned her eyes away, feigning offense to Kaitlyn’s unwillingness to talk.
“You’re too much.”
Sammy raised her hand and held it out. “Talk to the palm, ‘cause these ears ain’t listenin’.”
“Someone cut in front of me, that’s all. It was rainy. I swerved and lost control.”
Sammy pondered the statement for a moment, then turned back to her. “Truth?”
Kaitlyn crossed her heart with her hand. “Hope to die.” As soon as the words slipped from her lips, she wished she could pull them back. A shiver ran down her back as she realized what she’d said. She could’ve died last night. For all she knew, that might have been the objective. She smiled, hoping to not betray her concern. “Believe me?”
Sammy took a long sip from her mug, then nodded. “Yeah. How can I not?”
The irony of those words wasn’t lost on Kaitlyn. She had told the truth, or at least a version of it. But she was holding back a lot from her friend. In little over a week, she’d face another anniversary, and follow her decade-long tradition of remembering the dead. She’d work her shift, return home, and open a bottle of wine. Then, she’d raise a glass to Jesse’s memory, finish the bottle, and cry herself to sleep, ashamed of what she’d done. In the morning, she’d go back to being Kaitlyn Ashe, and the sins of Laura Hobson would be purged for another year.
“You gonna answer that?” Sammy’s voice startled her. “Someone’s calling.”
Kaitlyn leaned forward and pressed the blinking button to answer the phone. “WPLX, do you have a dedication?”
“Yeah, I want to dedicate my entire night to kissing every inch of your body.”
Kaitlyn felt a rush of heat on her cheeks as her face flushed with embarrassment. “Brad . . . Say hello to Sammy. She’s in the studio with me tonight.”
Sammy smirked and said, “Hey, Legal Eagle!”
There was a long awkward pause on the phone. “Huh, guess I should’ve expected that to happen one of these days.”
Kaitlyn and Sammy burst out laughing. After a moment, he joined in as well. This was the s
econd time he’d called to check up on her. The first time was around five, before she went on the air. His concern was comforting, but it made her feel guilty. She’d been lying to him for weeks, denying any knowledge of the meaning behind the letters. She was afraid of losing Brad if he discovered the truth, but was it fair to keep him in the dark?
When their laughter subsided, Brad added, “Just wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” she said. “I’ve got a mug of tea and Sammy to keep me company.”
“No more letters?”
Kaitlyn’s eyes darted toward Sammy, who was returning her stare with raised eyebrows.
“Letters?” Sammy said.
Kaitlyn shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She turned her attention back to the phone. “We’re good for the night.”
There was a long silence on the phone, and then, “You okay getting home tonight?”
“I’ll be fine. Can’t imagine that lightning would try to strike twice.”
“I’m not concerned about it trying. I don’t want it to be successful this time,” he said.
“Don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” She was far less certain than the words made her sound.
They hung up. Kaitlyn glanced toward Sammy and wondered how many questions were about to come her way. Sammy, to Kaitlyn’s surprise, remained silent, sipping from her mug and gazing toward the window.
The request line blinked again, and Kaitlyn reached to answer it.
“WPLX, do you have a request?”
A distorted whisper replied, “Play REO Speedwagon for me. You know the song.”
After she hung up the phone, Kaitlyn caught Sammy looking her way.
“You okay?” Sammy asked. “You’ve gone all pale.”
Kaitlyn swallowed hard before answering. She nodded. “It’s nothing. Just a crank.”
She turned her attention to the studio computer, checking the playlist and the commercials coming up in the next break. She kept her hands out of Sammy’s sight; she didn’t want her to see them tremble.
17
Kaitlyn clicked off the microphone and slid the headphones from her ears. She cleared the weather forecast from the computer screen and slid from the chair. Turning the studio monitors down until they were nothing more than a soft melody in the background, she rounded the control board and crossed to the window. A gentle rain pelted against the window. The wet roads of the city below glistened, the colorful lights creating a kaleidoscope against the moist asphalt. The forecast called for rain the rest of the evening, but things were going to clear up the next morning. Just in time for her first day in the Poconos with Brad.
She twisted her neck to the right and left, trying to relieve the stiffness. It’d been two days since the accident. She’d hoped that the aching would have subsided by now, but it seemed she was destined to be sore for another day or two. At least there was a hot tub waiting in their room in the Poconos. No matter how late they arrived, she planned to take a long soak.
She caught the reflection of the wall clock in the window. She smiled. 10:51. A little over an hour before her shift was over. Brad would be waiting for her in front of the building at midnight. They’d planned to go straight to the Poconos, but Kaitlyn only half-packed her bag before she had to leave for work earlier in the evening. Brad would be a bit irked to find that they’d have to circle back to her house before heading to the resort. But she’d make it up to him over the weekend.
She circled back around to the studio’s control console and slid onto the chair. The flashing request lines caught her attention, and she leaned over to answer the first. It was a young teenage voice requesting a rap song that Kaitlyn knew would never be in the rotation at WPLX. After politely declining to play the song, she hung up and shook her head. Don’t they even listen to the station?
She let the other request lines flash unanswered. Her mind hadn’t been on the show tonight, or for most of the week for that matter. Monday evening had been the first time she’d realized how dangerous this situation had become. Until the accident, Kaitlyn had foolishly felt that she could keep things at arm’s length and remain relatively safe. As frightened as she was to have a letter show up on her front door, it had never occurred to her that it might be a prelude to something more perilous.
Her thoughts jumped to a night sixteen years ago. She ran along the path in the dark. The lights burning in the house ahead were her only guiding light. She stumbled and fell, crashing into the high grass that lined the dark trail. The tears that burned her eyes and stained her cheeks flowed freely. What would she tell them? How would she explain what happened? The truth would crush the Riley family. They were such loving parents. It would devastate them. She scrambled to her feet and pressed on.
When she reached the house, she climbed the porch stairs and flung open the door. She practically fell into the living room beyond. Her blouse was torn; her jeans were dirt-stained. She gasped for air between sobs. Mr. Riley was quick to his feet, dropping his newspaper and rushing to her.
“Marion,” he shouted. “Get in here.” He placed his hand on Kaitlyn’s shoulder and guided her to the sofa. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
Her words came out in short bursts between breaths. “Jesse . . . fell in . . . Shallows . . . I think . . .” and then she remembered adding one final word “Dead.” Everything after that was a blur.
A lone tear escaped from her eye, raced down her cheek, and dropped onto the control console. Kaitlyn looked down and stared at the tiny puddle. She blinked a few times, hoping to stop any others that might try to liberate themselves. She’d worked so hard to bury the Shallows, bury it deep. It should’ve been long forgotten, a distant memory locked away from public view. What purpose could someone wish to achieve by dredging up Jesse’s death? She wiped another tear from her eye before it had a chance to escape.
A quick glance at the clock told her it was time for a station ID. She reached for the headphones, cleared her throat, and clicked on the microphone. The words flowed from her lips, smooth and concise as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Listeners would never know that she was trembling as she delivered her lines.
Brad turned the BMW onto Garnet Lane and drifted into the driveway. The surrounding neighborhood was quiet and still, just as it was every night when Kaitlyn returned from work. Identical driveway post lights created an outline of the road as it wound deeper into the neighborhood. There were no lights in the windows of neighboring houses.
Brad had taken the news about her half-packed bag better than she’d anticipated. Kaitlyn told him as soon as she’d climbed into the car. He’d given her a smile, a kiss on the cheek, and then said, “No worries. We’ll get there when we get there.”
When the car halted in front of the garage door, Brad turned off the engine. Kaitlyn hopped from the car and leaned in the open passenger door. She gave Brad a broad smile. “Give me just a couple minutes. This shouldn’t take long.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come in with you?”
“I’ll be fine.” She glanced around the neighborhood. Nothing out of the ordinary. “If something happens, I’ll scream. You can rush in and be my knight in shining armor.”
“If you’re sure.” He nodded. “Take your time. We’re not in a hurry.”
She pushed the door closed and dashed along the sidewalk to the front door. Inside, she flipped on the foyer light, tossed her keys on the table by the door, and sped up the stairs. The duffel bag still sat on the bed, right where she’d left it. She glanced in the bag to refresh her memory of what she’d already packed, and then grabbed a pair of jeans from the dresser, along with a beige cable sweater. She slipped into the bathroom, returning moments later with a small makeup case, which she tossed into the duffel bag.
“Hiking boots,” she said aloud. “Can’t forget hiking boots.”
She grabbed her brown Merrill boots from the closet and set them on the floor next to the bed. She pondered what else she needed to take, then smiled. Cro
ssing to the dresser, she pulled open the top drawer and gave the contents careful scrutiny. Her fingers dipped into the drawer and pulled out a black chiffon negligee. She shook her head, returned it to the drawer, and pulled out a similar one; this time in red. Her smile broadened as she carefully folded the delicate lace and placed it in the duffel bag. She’d never been one for wearing sexy underwear. Wearing a thong always made her feel like she was flossing between her butt cheeks. But, this weekend, she’d make an exception. Brad was in for a real treat.
Before she could close the drawer, her eyes fell on the small box near the back. She hesitated before reaching for it. She’d tried to put it out of her mind, hoping to forget that it was back there, buried beneath piles of underwear and bras. She removed the lid from the square box and reached her fingers inside. The frayed leather thread draped over her hand as she stared at the silver Celtic star knot in her palm.
“Jesse,” she whispered.
The clasps were broken where they’d snapped when she pulled the necklace from Jesse’s neck. It’d been a final desperate grasp as he fell backward. The leather was too thin to stand the strain. When it was all over, she clung to the broken necklace as evidence that she tried to save him. But she knew better.
A horn honked from outside, jarring her back to the present. She placed the necklace back in the box, then moved to the window. Kaitlyn pulled the curtains aside and looked down on the driveway. The honk was coming from Brad’s BMW, which was shrouded in shadows. The light above the garage door was out. Funny, she hadn’t noticed it earlier.
Why was he honking? He’d said they weren’t in a hurry. And she was sure she hadn’t been in the house more than a few minutes. A moment later, the honking stopped. She smiled at his impatience.
Kaitlyn returned to the closet and searched through her blouses, looking for a couple to take with her. Satisfied with her selection, she added them, along with a sweatshirt, to the duffel bag. Throwing in a couple pairs of socks, she took a quick inventory before zipping the bag closed. Her jaw tightened and she looked toward the window when another horn blew outside. Enough already. She slung the bag over her shoulder, picked up her hiking boots, and hurried from the bedroom.
Dead Air Page 10