Leave Me Love (Call Me Cat Trilogy #2)(22)

Ash came into the living room and sat next to me, clicking on the news while running his hand over my neck, rubbing the tension out.

Bridgette's kidnapping was headline news on each network. Various talking heads speculated about our relationship, about the Midnight Murderer and if I'd somehow snapped from the pressure. The police weren't helping matters any, strongly indicating I was the primary suspect without actually naming me. Ash was on the phone with Maxwell before the story ended, demanding he find a way to reign in “the *s destroying my girlfriend's reputation with unsubstantiated lies and made up bullshit.”

Jim came over that night with new information. Once again, as he looked at me, I felt like he was seeing into my secrets.

"I found the guy you saw that day at the impound," he said.

"Great. We can get him to go the police and confirm my alibi." I was relieved to finally have a break.

He frowned. "I found him in the morgue. He died in a car accident later that afternoon."

My legs wobbled. "That—that can't be a coincidence."

Jim nodded. "I don't disagree with you. Here's the next best thing, though." He held up a piece of paper. "I tracked down the guy on duty the day you allegedly signed your name to the paperwork. I can check him out if you want."

I grabbed the paper from his hand. "I want to go and talk to him myself. I want to hear him explain to me how I was there signing my name. I want to see if he recognizes me."

Jim spoke to Ash, rather than me. "It could be dangerous. You should let me."

Ash took out his wallet and handed the man a wad of cash. "I'll go with her. It'll be fine. Keep digging and see what else you can find. And thanks."

***

We drove to the address on the slip of paper Jim had given us and found ourselves at a run-down apartment complex with peeling paint and homeless men squatting outside chain-smoking cigarettes. A man with a beer belly and two-day-old beard answered the door, the few remaining strands of hair on his head combed over to cover his spreading bald spot. He had a Budweiser in one hand, a cigarette in the other, and armpit sweat stains on his used-to-be-white shirt.

And he smelled like piss.

I introduced myself, but saw no flicker of recognition on his face.

"Sir, you work at the impound lot where my car was taken. Someone signed my name for it, and I need to know who that was." I gave him the details of my car and the date.

He scratched his head with the hand that held the cigarette, dropping ash onto himself. "I don't remember nothing about your car, miss."

Ash stepped closer. "It wasn't that long ago and this is important." He pulled out some money and the man's eyes lit up.

"I could be persuaded to remember. Do you have a picture of the car?" he asked. "I don't remember people, but cars I never forget."

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through it, looking for the photo we'd taken with the car the night we'd christened it the Bruiser. I held the phone up to him. "That's the car."

"Ah sure, I remember. Yeah, it was signed for, sure as shit."

"By who?" I asked.

He pointed to the phone. "By her."

I looked where his finger landed.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Sure as shit. I don't remember people, but I remember that looker."

I looked at the picture again, then showed it to Ash.

He'd identified Bridgette.





Chapter Seventeen


Demanding Evidence


"DID SHE SAY she was me? Did she say she was Catelyn Travis?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I just remember she had nice tits and a nice ass and looked fancy rich and I couldn't picture why she'd be worrying about that piece of shit car. She didn't seem the type, you know? Her purse was worth more than the car."

"That's true," I mumbled, trying to take in what he was saying.

Ash handed the man some money. "Thank you for your help."

The man took it and stuck it in his pocket. "That guy she was with, he didn't seem the type neither. Fancy dude with that rich kid look, ya know?"

I put my phone back in my purse. "She was with someone else?"

"Sure as shit. But he didn't come to the counter with her. He stayed behind. I didn't get none too good a look at him. Just saw he had nice clothes, blonde, big guy, but not fat. Like a guy who works out. He wore one of those fancy striped suits, that's what I remember most. You don't see nobody wearing those unless they have lots of money."

We walked back to the car without speaking. Once Ash started the engine, I told him to go to our dorms. "I want to poke around in Bridgette's stuff. I don't understand why she would sign for my car without telling me. She knew I was leaving to do that the day she was kidnapped. None of this makes any sense."

I'd almost expected our room to be blocked off by police tape, but a crime hadn't been committed there. I was able to walk in without a problem, but could tell they'd combed through the room. They never left anything where it belonged.

I didn't expect to find anything if the police had already searched the place, but I sat at her desk and went through the drawers, opening books to see if any papers were hidden in them, checking for secret compartments, and feeling very much like a spy movie cliché. Ash checked under and behind the furniture, making himself as useful as he could in the small space.