“Hardly. There’s no comparison.”
“Meeting some gent there, are you? Looking mighty spiffy tonight.”
Spiffy? She cast a weak smile in his direction, one she hoped would tell him to mind his own business, and then focused her attention in a scribble pad she’d brought with her. The driver pulled into traffic and remained quiet for the rest of the trip.
Melanie began to document the events of the last couple of days. Maybe if she viewed it in black and white, she might be able to make some order and sense of the mystery. Her musings began:
Friday: Work, home, supper with Chrissy, Hallmark movie, 10:30 – time to prepare for bed. (Note to self: what happened to life-after-eleven that most single girls enjoyed?). Then came the unexpected knock on the door, when all things normal ended. I was the first to the door. Two men – one Asian and one hillbilly American – claiming they were friends of Chrissy’s, barged in. A quick yell for my roomie brought her head peeking out the half-closed bathroom door. Chrissy seemed surprised. She didn’t know them at all. When one grabbed her arm, I jumped on his back. (Note to self: stupid move). He pushed me off like a nuisance fly, and I crashed to floor. The stab of pain when my skull hit the casing flared my anger. I shook my head to clear the fog and tried to fight off the Asian. He was a karate-guy and overpowered me while the other poked a long needle into my arm. Strange, but all I could think about was dirty needles, infections, drugs – I’m dead. As I collapsed in a heap on the floor, the last thing I saw was Chrissy with her hand covering her mouth to stifle a scream, as a newly -entered third bad-guy held her secure.
Melanie wracked her brain. At the river, her abductors had implied they’d asked her questions, but she knew nothing, when in truth, they’d drugged her right from the start. Chrissy had definitely been the target. She scribbled that in her account and continued:
When the bullies came up empty, the men tossed us into the trunk. (Note to self: never witnessed that last part. Just speculating). Woke up en-route: three men, one named John, Charlie is dead and I never heard the name of the other guy. The female in the second body bag, whom I assumed to be Chrissy, was also shot just before they dumped us in the river. (By some miracle, should I survive, note to self: return to church to ask the Almighty why He saved me that night). I escaped the weighted bag, cut the binds that held my hands, fought the currents, and navigated the woods. Found myself on the gravel road where Drew, of all people, rescued me. He took me to a cheap, run-down motel. There, I learned he arrived in town for my birthday (note to self: rather a stretch), and he drove up to the condo, as my car and a van left the parking lot. It was late – so much for the birthday party (but I suppose there is life after eleven p.m., somewhere). I consider his story a lie. Another hole in his story occurred later, when I saw him tussle with a man who arrived in a van. He denied this outright, but during our conversation, he asked me to trust him. I weakened my resolve, (as is my usual, stupid response to the messes he gets into), knowing that time, he was in deep. Then he mentioned the woman and it all fell into place - Drew does not have a good track record with women.
Melanie looked up as the sign for Langley came into view. She’d best hurry. She wanted her recap to be fresh in her mind when she met with Trevor Knight and the police the next day.
She scanned the document on her lap, and continued:
The next day, I phoned the apartment, and someone actually answered – if you call breathing an answer. I decided to investigate on the sly, (remembering that I am supposed to be dead), and before I get there, who do I run into but Chrissy’s Uncle Trevor? He claimed his niece had smuggled a letter into a desk drawer during our brief visit last week while on holidays. I ditched him and hurried with my mission. From a hiding spot on the balcony, I see Drew and a woman nosing around inside. Later, after they’d left, I found the stash of drugs in Chrissy’s room. Was it hers, or had the intruders left it for some purpose of their own? I needed to find out. Common sense and training told me to go to the police to report this incident. I will not put it off any longer. I wonder what I will discover tonight at the Inglis Hotel when I meet Trevor Knight for supper?
The words stared Melanie in the face, providing little hope. She didn’t know much at all, but what she did know shone an unfavorable light on her brother. When she reported it to the police, he’d surely become a prime suspect. It pained Melanie to be put in a situation to choose between her family and the law. She scolded herself at the indecision. It was typical, big-sister stupidity on her part. She’d hoped that moving to the next state would have spared her his ongoing drama, but obviously, it had not.
The taxi stopped, and she noticed the driver staring at her. “We’re here.”
Melanie fumbled in her bag and handed him a bill. “Keep the change.”
She got out and stretched her legs. “Here we go,” she mumbled to herself as the uniformed doorman reached for the handle.
With a wide smile that revealed his stark-white teeth, he said, “Good day, miss. Welcome to the Inglis
