Woman on the Edge(26)
“First, if your apartment really was broken into, it could be connected to Ryan. This could all be connected to Ryan. Second, it could just be a random break-in and the thieves heard a noise and ran away before they could take anything important.”
Right, I think to myself. Except they took one form, just that.
When I go quiet, Jessica changes the subject. “Listen, I found out that Nicole was briefly hospitalized before her first semester in college for severe panic disorder. Mental instability seems to be part of her past.”
Do I tell her about my call with the attorney, about Nicole’s will? I know what she’ll say, so I put it off for a while, telling myself I’ll inform her soon. I know Jessica’s job is to help me, but how do you trust someone who doesn’t believe you?
“Morgan?”
“I’m close to the shelter, and I’m late for work. I have to go.”
“Get in touch if anything else happens. I really think you’re just overtired and looking for connections that aren’t there.”
“Connections like why Nicole knew my name?” I say, my sarcasm thick.
“Look, that one I can’t explain. I’ll keep digging. There has to be a clear answer.”
She ends the call. I wish I believed that exhaustion is affecting my ability to be rational. But it just doesn’t add up.
As I turn onto West Illinois my phone rings. It’s my boss, Kate. I accelerate past the brick warehouse to my left and the gleaming glass building to my right. “I’m sorry I’m late. I’m on my way. My apartment was broken into and … something happened last night on my way home.”
Some instinct makes me glance in the rearview mirror. There’s a dark blue car that I remember seeing merge behind me as I left my apartment. I’m not even focusing on Kate. I missed what she just said.
“Can you repeat that?”
She heaves a loud sigh. “I said I don’t think you should come in, Morgan. I’m sorry. You’ve been late so many times. You’ve missed important deadlines. I understood it was because you were grieving. But this morning a detective was here asking about you, and if I know anything about your relationship with Nicole Markham. It’s just too much. I have to let you go.”
Tears roll down my cheeks. I hate how weak I’m being, but to lose the place I get to go every day, the only people who talk to me at all, undoes me. Kate is quiet on the other end of the phone.
I change lanes, then wipe my face and square my shoulders. I don’t want to beg for my job, but I don’t know what I’ll do without it. “I’ve tried to stay under the radar. Please. I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s possible that Nicole Markham knew me from Haven House. Did we ever ask her or Breathe for a donation?”
Kate’s voice is hard. “Goddamn it, Morgan. I just told you you’re fired. Are you even listening to me? I depended on you. I kept you on because you wanted to help so much, and I wanted to help you. You used to be really good at your job. But you’re just not as dedicated as you once were.”
“That’s not true!” I hit the horn by mistake and swerve a little. I have to calm down. I’m barely paying attention to the road in front of me.
And Kate’s right. I’m not the same person I was before Ryan’s death. Before he left me to suffer for his mistakes. I’m wary, jumpy, and unsure of myself. I’m afraid to get close to people and really let them in. I’m not the best advocate for women who want to restart their lives.
“I didn’t want any of this to happen, Kate. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” Heartbroken, my voice cracks. I’ll never again be able to help, even in a small way, the women at the shelter who were brave enough to escape their abusers. Just one more thing that’s been taken away from me.
She hangs up. So do I.
I pull up to the curb under the shade of an elm tree and park. I’m hot and upset. Now that I’m fired, I can go over to Ben Layton’s house right away. At least I can try to sort out that other piece of my life that’s a mess. I pull the purple note out of my purse, trying to find a clue in the loopy handwriting. Of course there’s nothing.
I think about Ben Layton. He’s just lost his sister. He might have heard I was on the platform with Nicole. He might think I’m involved. He might not be willing to speak to me. But what if Nicole’s brother holds all the answers about my connection to her? I can just ask him if Nicole ever mentioned me. If he knows who Amanda is or if there’s someone who might have wanted his sister dead. Or if she was unstable and suicidal. Right now, he’s the only lead I have.
I put his address in my GPS. By the time I get to the end of the block, the same dark blue car I noticed earlier is right behind me again. I’m sure of it now.
In the rearview mirror, I see the three interlocking ovals of the Toyota emblem: it’s a Prius, although the sun is shining on the windshield and I can’t see the driver inside. Would a detective drive a Prius? I doubt it. I signal to merge onto I-90 W/I-94 W, and the Prius does, too. Focus, I tell myself, and tighten my hands on the wheel. I’m stuck between the Infinity in front of me and a Kia on my right. I’m blocked in. My anger vanishes. I’m now so scared I can barely breathe.
Traffic is moving at such a fast clip. I want to keep a car-length behind the Infinity, but I need to get away from the Prius. I speed ahead. The Prius speeds up, too. I try to get a clear look at the license plate, but it’s caked in dirt and unreadable from my mirror.