Leave Me Love (Call Me Cat Trilogy #2)(16)

I listened to the man on the other end, nodding as he spoke. "Okay, I'll be right there." I hung up, staring at Bridgette. "I have to go. The impound lot called about the Bruiser. I have to go sign some paperwork. Can I borrow your car?"

She pulled the keys from her pocket and tossed them at me a little too aggressively. I didn't bother thanking her, just stormed out of the house, slamming the door—which would have felt more gratifying if the door had slammed properly, but it was heavy and big and seemed weighted against me, so it lacked the proper crash-bang of a good slam. I felt stuffed full of fireworks. I wanted to punch something.

Instead, I took to the slick roads, turning up the music until I couldn't hear my own thoughts anymore.

I arrived at the impound lot just before they closed and introduced myself to the twenty-something hippie-looking guy working the front desk. "Hi, I just got a call to come here and sign some papers about my car? Catelyn Travis?"

He typed something into a computer, his grease-stained hands leaving trace marks on the plastic-covered keyboard. "Um, hmm, yeah you already signed for this. No one from here called you today."

I checked my phone and showed him the incoming call. "That's your number, right?"

He scratched his head. "Yeah, no, that ain’t us. Sorry. Your car's already been handled."

"Are you sure? Why would someone call me pretending to be you?"

"Dunno."

"Can I talk to your supervisor?" I asked, my stomach clenching into a pit.

"Um, hm, not really, you know? Because, like, I'm all alone here today."

"Right. Okay, thanks." I turned and got into Brig's car, pressing dial on my phone to see where this number lead. All I got was a disconnect message and more questions than answers.

My hands shook, and I started the ignition and pulled out of the gravel parking lot and onto the street.

The entire way back to Bridgette's my mind turned the strange scenario over and over. Did the Midnight Murderer call me? Was it a mistake?

I had nothing concrete when I pulled up to the house.

I knew something was wrong immediately when I saw the front door open.

I ran through the house, calling for Bridgette. Crunch. I'd stepped on glass. A broken cup was scattered on the floor. The coffee table had been flipped over. An ottoman had been upturned. Red words— My throat closed up.

Red words covered the wall.



I have your friend. Find what I need and you might see her alive again. Fail, and I'll send her back in pieces.





Chapter Eleven


Blood Tells


TIME SEEMED SKIPPED, frantic, like the scattered heartbeat of a dying hummingbird. I called Detective Gray.

"This isn't my jurisdiction," he said.

"Then coordinate with the local police force. Call in favors. I don't care. I told you the Midnight Murder is still out there, and you ignored me. Get your ass here!"

"Miss Travis—"

"Don't f*cking Miss Travis me. Do your f*cking job." The f-bomb seemed my new go-to profanity lately. I'd become a harsher version of myself.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll be there."

I hung up and paced the room. Have to keep moving. Have to keep moving. Because if I stopped, I'd have to think. And I couldn't think about my best friend… Because if I thought about my best friend…

I took quick breaths. Sharp. Clean. I focused on them.

The Beaumonts came home. Had I called them? I couldn't remember.

"Catelyn, what's wrong?" Mrs. Beaumont asked.

I kept pacing, pulled my hand from my mouth. I'd been chewing on my nail. "Bridgette's…"

"Yes?"

I stopped moving. "She's gone."

They froze.

As if on cue, the police arrived. They scoured the house looking for clues, taking notes, taking pictures, leaving markers everywhere. Gray and another detective, Clark, with nondescript brown hair and a face you'd forget in a second, took down my statement.

"I left because I got a call that I needed to sign forms for my car. When I got there, they already had my signature and said no one called me. When I got back, this is what I found." I was shaking, my head pounding behind my eyes, the lights and sounds and crowds of people making me dizzy.

Clark frowned. "The Beaumonts said you were arguing before they left. What were you arguing about?"

Was I a suspect? Absurd. I ran upstairs, accompanied by an officer, and handed them the photos. "Someone slipped these under my door at our dorm."

Gray raised an eyebrow. "Was something going on between Bridgette and Ash?

I shook my head. "Someone wanted me to think there was."

Clark examined each picture, realization spreading across his face. "You're dating Ashton Davenport?"

"Yes."

His eyes fell to the diamond heart I was unconsciously fiddling with.

"I see." He stuck the pictures into an evidence bag.

Ash showed up and I ran into his arms, tears finally spilling where before they'd been pent up in fear and interrogations. "They think I had something to do with this," I said.

"That's ridiculous." He kissed my head and held me as he took in the scene around us.