Final Catcall Page 23

  “I know that,” I said.

  “Thank you for . . .” She shrugged. “Thank you.”

  After she left the room, Marcus turned to me. “What are you going to do?”

  I rubbed my wrist. It was starting to ache, which meant rain no matter what the forecast said. “I don’t know. I don’t have any real proof, just a lot of maybes and guesses.”

  My cell phone rang then. “I better check that,” I said. “I left my mother home with Owen and Hercules. Who knows what the three of them could get into.”

  I pulled the phone out of my bag. CHLOE MILLER, the screen read. I held it up so Marcus could see as well.

  He frowned. “Why is she calling you?”

  “Let’s find out,” I said.

  “Hi, Kathleen. It’s Chloe,” she said. She sounded warm and friendly and I wondered how much work it took to keep up the act.

  I sank down onto the arm of the sofa where Marcus had been sitting. “Hi,” I said.

  “At lunchtime you mentioned you were thinking about putting up a display with photos and background on some of the people involved in the festival. Are you still going to do that?”

  “I think so,” I said. “I have a friend who’s an artist and I think she’ll help.”

  “I have something you might be interested in,” she said. “I found some pictures in my bag. I have no idea how long they’ve been there. They’re from a rehearsal of Yesterday’s Children. There are a couple with Hugh and Hannah and me. If you’d like to use them, it’s fine with me.”

  “I would,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “I’m sitting in the lounge at the hotel. Could you join me right now?”

  “I could be there in about fifteen minutes,” I said.

  “Perfect,” she said. “I’ll see you soon.”

  I ended the call and looked at Marcus. “I know what you’re going to say. There’s something off about Chloe calling me now. And then we’re going to argue back and forth about whether I should go and whether you should go with me.”

  “That pretty much sums it up,” he said.

  “So can we just fast-forward through all that and go?”

  He hesitated. I had no idea what I was going to say if he said no.

  But he didn’t.

  • • •

  Chloe was sitting at the hotel bar talking to the bartender. I could tell by the goofy smile on his face that he was charmed. I swallowed the lump in my throat. Hannah was right. Chloe wasn’t a bad person. She was sick. Part of me hated that I was about to go knock down all the walls she’d worked so hard to put up around herself. But she had killed someone. I knew I was right about that. And no matter what Hugh Davis had done, he hadn’t deserved that.

  I walked over to Chloe and touched her shoulder. “Hi,” I said.

  She turned. “Hi, Kathleen,” she said. “I’m glad you came.” She looked back at the bartender and flashed him a smile that probably made his week. I thought about Andrew, who did the same thing to women. “Thanks, Charlie,” she said. “You have a good night.” She slid off the stool and said, “Let’s go.”

  I looked at her uncertainly. “Where are we going?” I said. “You said you had some pictures for me.”

  She nodded. “I do. I left my briefcase in the car. C’mon.”

  She knew. Somehow she’d guessed that I had figured out she’d killed Hugh. I knew it was a very bad idea to go anywhere with Chloe Miller.

  “It’s been a long day, Chloe,” I said. “I’ll just order a cup of coffee and wait here while you go get them.”

  She moved a step closer to me so her arm was pressed against my side. She looked at me and smiled. “I have a gun in my pocket,” she said, just the same way she might have said, “I like crème brûlée.”

  I swallowed down the sour taste in my throat. “Are you going to shoot me?”

  She shook her head. “As long as you come with me, I’m not going to shoot anyone. If you don’t, I’m going to have to turn around and shoot Charlie, the very nice bartender.” She smiled again. “I don’t think you’d want that on your conscience.”

  Chloe was a lot sicker than I’d realized. But Marcus was waiting outside. Once he saw us come out the front doors he’d know something was wrong. All I had to do was stay calm. “I’ll come with you,” I said.

  We moved toward the door. To anyone who noticed us we probably looked like two good friends, heads together, catching up on old times.

  “This way,” Chloe said, turning toward the back of the hotel when we stepped into the lobby.

  “I thought we were going outside.” I motioned toward the wide glass and metal doors.

  “We are,” she said. “But we’re going this way.” She narrowed her green eyes at me. “Hannah’s big brother’s out there, isn’t he?” She shook her head. “That’s a little obvious, Kathleen. You might as well have put Big Bird out there with a badge.”

  I told myself to remember that when I got out of this, so I could tell Marcus. Because I was going to get out of this.

  Chloe led us down a hallway and out a side entrance that opened onto a narrow alleyway and then the street. She pulled her hand out of her pocket. She was holding a gun. “Just in case you thought I was bluffing.”

  “Where are we going?” I said. My hands were shaking, but she couldn’t see that and so far I’d managed to keep the shaking out of my voice.

  “We’re going to go for a walk along the river.”

  “And what?” I said. “I’ll have an unfortunate accident and fall in?”

  “Something like that,” she said with a smile. She made an offhand gesture with one hand. “I know it’s very clichéd, but things become clichéd for a reason. Because they work.”

  We crossed the street and headed for the boardwalk. I wondered if I could run and then roll behind one of the cars parked along the street before she could shoot me.

  “You can’t,” she said, nudging me with the gun. “I know what you’re thinking. I saw you look at those cars. You’re wondering if you can get to one of them before I could shoot you. You can’t—and I would shoot you. I’m a very good shot. I wouldn’t miss.”

  “You can’t get away with this, Chloe,” I said. “It’s crazy.”

  She shook her head and gave me a look of pity. “Of course I can. We went for a walk—your idea. You got too close to the edge of the embankment and went over. I’ll be distraught. I’ll try to crawl down and save you. No one will doubt my grief.” She sighed. “Sadly, you’ll be dead, head cracked open on those rocks like a pumpkin falling off the back of a pickup truck.”

  She nudged me again with the gun. “And don’t use the word ‘crazy,’ Kathleen. It’s disrespectful. ‘Psychologically challenged’ sounds much nicer.”

  We crossed the boardwalk and cut across the grass. I concentrated on breathing, trying to keep the panic down so I could think clearly.

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  She was scanning the shoreline as we walked. “That you guessed what had happened to Hugh? Ben. He told me you asked him about a rumor you’d heard that there had been bad blood between Hugh and him. He wondered how it had gotten started.” She looked at me then. “I told him I had no idea.”

  We were almost at the edge where the grass gave way to the rock wall, huge boulders that protected the shoreline from being eroded by the water.

  I needed to buy time. I glanced back over my shoulder. There was no sign of Marcus, or anyone else. “What I don’t understand is why you shot him. Why now?”

  “He deserved it,” she said, as though the fact were obvious. “I should have shot him years ago, but I just never got the chance. I couldn’t let this opportunity pass.”

  “Because of Yesterday’s Children. Hugh pushed you so hard you ended up . . .” I hesitated, not wanting to push her any closer to the edge—physical or psychological—than she already was.

  “I ended up in a hospital,” she said. Her free hand played with the scarf at her neck. “You can say
the word, Kathleen. I was in the hospital because I was sick and that was Hugh’s fault.”

  “You didn’t have a car accident.”

  She smiled. “I should have guessed that you’d have good research skills.”

  I needed to keep her talking. “How did you get the scars?”

  She ran her hand over her wrist. “These ones are Hugh’s fault,” she said. “The other ones . . .” She exhaled slowly. “I banged my head against a window . . . a few times.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said softly.

  Chloe had stopped walking. “Hugh wasn’t sorry,” she said. “I had a part in a movie. Jessica Lawrence replaced me. You know what they’re saying about her now? She’s probably going to get an Oscar nomination.” She stared up at the sky, a canopy of inky darkness sprinkled with stars. “That was supposed to be me. That was supposed to be my life.” She looked at me. “I wanted him to apologize. He laughed at me. He laughed. It was the wrong thing to do. It was rude.” She shrugged. “So I shot him.”

  I looked over at the rocks piled on top of each other, seemingly all sharp, jagged edges. About six feet down, off to the left a little, I could see what looked like a flat ledge. Maybe, just maybe, I could land on that flat space and get back against the rocks so Chloe couldn’t see me. I swallowed the lump in my throat, except it wouldn’t go down.

  Chloe looked around. There was no one on the boardwalk, nearby or in the distance, no one chasing a dog across the grass, no kissing teenagers getting busy under a tree.

  I thought about what I’d learned from Maggie about visualization. I could hear her voice in my head: See yourself there.

  I saw myself on that narrow rock ledge. I saw myself alive. And then before I had a chance to think about what I was going to do, I did it.

  I jumped.

  23

  I flung out my arms and caught nothing but air for a moment. Then I hit the rocks and started to slide, almost out of control. I wasn’t sure which way was up. I scrambled for something, anything to hold on to while gravel pelted me like rain and above me on the embankment Chloe screamed.

  And then my feet connected with something solid. I bent my knees and shifted all my weight forward, trying to hug the rock wall. Jagged bits of rock jabbed through my clothes and scraped my skin. My right foot slipped on the slick face of the rock ledge, but my left one held. The top half of my body kept sliding. There was nowhere to find a handhold—and then suddenly my fingers caught an edge of rock. I held on for dear life with one foot and one hand.

  There were rocks in my hair, dirt and bits of gravel in my eyes and mouth, and I was scraped and bruised, but I was alive. I eased my free hand down and wrapped my entire arm around a large rock that jutted out beside me. Over my head I could hear Chloe calling my name. I hoped that meant she couldn’t see me. I fought the urge to cough and pressed myself tighter against the rock face.

  Slowly I bent my right knee and pulled my leg in closer to my body. My hands were trembling and my left leg was cramped, but I had no intention of letting go. I closed my eyes while my breathing slowed to normal—or as close to normal as I could get.

  I turned my head to the right, the only direction I could really see anything. I was less than five feet from the riverbank. If I could get down without Chloe spotting me, I could run to the marina for help.

  A stream of gravel skittered down the slope and hit my shoulder. I tipped my head and looked up. Incredibly, Chloe was starting to climb down. I had to start moving. I knew that once I did she’d know where I was. I was banking on the idea that she wouldn’t be able to climb and hold a gun at the same time.

  I shifted my weight, the way I would in tai chi class, and felt below me with one foot. After a moment I found a foothold. I loosed my death grip on the rock to my left and began to climb down. That started another slide of rocks and gravel, but I kept moving, feeling for a handhold and then another place to put my foot.

  I didn’t think about the palms of my hands, scraped raw, or the stab of pain in my right ankle every time it pressed against the huge boulders. I just kept moving downward, down to the riverbank and safety.

  A rock as big as my fist bounced off my shoulder. I sucked in a sharp breath as pain ran from my shoulder to my wrist. My fingers went numb and lost their hold on an edge of rock. My body shook, holding on with four fingers and one foot to just inches of rock. Then my free foot found an edge and I caught my balance again.

  A smooth piece of stone bounced off a boulder beside me and arced out into the water. I looked over my head in time to see an arm launch another rock, about the size of a turnip, down the embankment. It hit a rock maybe a foot over my head, sending a stream of gravel into my face. Chloe had stopped climbing and was throwing rocks, trying to knock me off the rock wall. Caught in a place where the wall curved, I couldn’t see how far away the ground was. I was guessing less than three feet. I pushed away from the rocks and jumped out and back, hoping there would be something soft to land on.

  My feet hit a patch of scrabbly bushes and long grass. My left ankle gave way and I landed hard on my hip. But I was down and I was safe. Staying low to the ground, I crab-walked farther down, onto the riverbank, squeezing myself into a space between a massive boulder and a patch of tall grass.

  I wasn’t sure I could run to the marina. I wasn’t even sure I could walk. And I’d lost my phone.

  Chloe was moving again, working her way slowly down the rocks.

  Where was Marcus?

  I felt around on the ground for something, anything, I could use to defend myself. I found a piece of stone about the size of my hand, edges smoothed by the water. I curled my fingers around it and slowly eased upright, grateful for the sound of falling rocks dislodged by Chloe that masked any noise I made.

  She made it to the ground. I saw her look down at her feet and I realized too late that she could see my trail, marks that my hands and feet had made as I scrambled to what I’d thought was safety.

  I was out of choices. I ran at her, or maybe fell at her was closer to the truth. I swung the rock, catching her on the right side of her head, just above her temple. She crumpled like a wet paper bag. I lunged for the gun, threw it in the general direction of the water and heard a reassuring splash.

  Chloe was breathing but knocked out. I had no idea how long she would be unconscious or if I had hurt her. I pulled the scarf from around her neck, rolled her onto her side and tied her hands together behind her back at the wrists. Then I pushed her onto her stomach and sat on her legs. I kept the rock on my lap. If she tried to move I wouldn’t have any problem hitting her with it again.

  I heard someone calling my name, up at the top of the embankment. When I opened my mouth to answer, it triggered a coughing fit. Finally I managed to take a breath and call out, “I’m down here.” My voice was raspy and raw, but whoever it was heard me.

  “She’s here,” I heard him yell.

  “Kathleen, are you all right?” I heard after a moment’s silence. Marcus.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Where’s Chloe?”

  Chloe was starting to stir. I leaned sideways and dug my elbow into the middle of her back. “Don’t move,” I hissed. “Because I will hit you again.”

  “She’s right here,” I yelled. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  I could see movement at the top of the rock wall and after a moment someone started climbing down. Whoever it was was much better on the rocks than I’d been. It wasn’t until he was almost to the ground that I realized it was Officer Derek Craig.

  He had a rope fastened around his waist and underneath his armpits. He slipped out of the loop of rope and made his way over to me.

  “She had a gun,” I said. “I threw it in the water.”

  He nodded. “We’ll find it.” He glanced at Chloe’s wrists, trussed by her scarf.

  “That’s pretty much every knot I know,” I said.

  He had the good grace not to smile.

  When I stood up, my ankle buckled
. “I’m not sure I can climb.”

  Derek helped me step into the loop of rope and pulled it up under my arms. “You don’t have to. Hold on. They’re going to pull you up.” He looked to the top of the rocks and gave the rope a yank. “Ready,” he yelled.

  And then I was moving up over the rocks, slowly but surely. I tried to help as much as I could, pulling with my hands, pushing with my good foot. And then the edge of the grass was just above me. I dug my fingers into the ground and pulled as hands reached for me. I threw myself into a pair of strong, warm arms.

  Andrew’s arms.

  24

  The next hour was a blur of activity. Paramedics checked me out and then I was taken across the street to one of the private meeting rooms on the main floor of the hotel. The palms of both my hands were bandaged and my left ankle was wrapped. It wasn’t broken, just badly sprained.

  I gave Detective Lind the bare bones of what had happened. She narrowed her eyes at Marcus. “Remind me to say no next time you come to me with some harebrained scheme,” she said.

  It had taken all of Marcus’s persuasive powers to convince the detective to go along with my plan to get Chloe to confess. None of us had realized how deep her mental illness went. When Chloe and I had disappeared from the bar, both detectives had come in. What they didn’t know was that Chloe had told Charlie, the bartender, that she was helping me plan a “romantic” surprise for Marcus. She’d asked him to stall as long as he could.

  By the time they found out we’d left the hotel, I was already over the embankment. The only reason Marcus and Detective Lind knew which way we’d gone was that Andrew had seen us headed in the direction of the Riverwalk.

  “Here,” Andrew said. He handed me a cup of coffee.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  He hadn’t left my side since he’d helped Marcus pull me up over the rocks. I hadn’t seen Marcus since. I kept eyeing the door, hoping he would walk in. Detective Lind had sent someone up to get my mom. The first thing I was going to do when she showed up was send her to find Marcus.