Heart-Shaped Hack(66)

He’d made sure of that.

Even if his phone had been recovered, which was doubtful, it probably wouldn’t work. Had someone from the FBI field office identified Ian? Had they heard about the crash and recognized his vehicle? Would they know how to contact his mother? Ian said she’d remarried, but Kate didn’t know her current last name or if she still lived in Amarillo. She didn’t know what to do, where to start. Maybe she should go to the police. Tell them who she was and what she knew? She thought of Ian’s body lying in a drawer somewhere, alone and so cold. She squeezed her eyes shut, but the image remained.

He preferred texting over calling and rarely used voice mail. But Kate had saved one of the few messages he’d left her, and she hit the button to listen to it.

“Hey, sweetness. Just left my place. I’ve been thinking about you all day. Be there soon. Love you.”

She listened to it over and over and cried for the next hour.

In the bedroom she found one of his sweatshirts in the hamper and pulled it out. She put it on over her shirt and tucked her face down under the neckline, breathing in the smell of him. It was the wrong thing to do and only brought on a round of fresh sobbing because Kate would never smell him again.

Never feel his arms around her.

Never kiss his lips.

Never see his smile.

Never hear him call her sweetness.

She spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening lying on Ian’s side of the bed, her head on his pillow, hating how cold the sheets felt without him in them. Though it only made her cry, she listened to his voice mail repeatedly. When she got up to go to the bathroom, she passed her closet where many of his clothes hung. In the bathroom, she looked at his things on the counter: his toothbrush, his razor, his cologne.

No one would come for his possessions. They were hers to keep, and she’d never get rid of them because they were all she had left.



Diane Watts arrived at 8:15 p.m. She had elected to drive because by the time she waited for the next available flight, sat through a layover in Chicago, and landed in Minneapolis, driving would get her there sooner with the added bonus of not having to worry about delays or cancelations.

Kate had known when to expect her because her mother had called on the hour to check up on her. Kate had calmed down enough to tell Diane what she knew about Ian’s death, giving her the information in bits and pieces.

“He should have never taken that car out,” Kate had cried during one of her mother’s calls. “I don’t know why he didn’t do it earlier like he’d planned.”

Maybe he’d gotten caught up in his work and had been running behind. Maybe he’d noticed the declining road conditions and was on his way to her place to park the Shelby in her lot overnight instead of driving it back to the storage facility. Kate would never know the reasons behind Ian’s decision.

Now that her mother was with her, Kate broke down completely. Diane held her as she cried, and when Kate grew quiet, she wrapped her in a blanket and rubbed her back. She made a steaming pot of tea, and she made the calls Kate hadn’t been able to—to Kate’s friends, to Kate’s board of directors, and to Helena to explain what had really happened.

Her dad called, but for some reason his soothing words made her cry harder, so Diane took the phone out of Kate’s hand and said they’d try again in a little while. Chad and Kristin called, and her brother’s sentiments were heartfelt and supportive. Kristin had broken down and cried with Kate.

“Do you know anything about a funeral service?” Diane asked gently.

“I don’t know anything. I don’t know who to call. I don’t know if anyone’s contacted his mother.”

“Maybe there’ll be something online. Let’s not worry about it tonight. We can look for it tomorrow.”

Kate needed the closure of Ian’s funeral. She desperately wanted to say her good-byes and know he had a final resting place, even if that place was in Texas.

At midnight, Kate’s mother put her to bed, assuring Kate that she’d be fine on the couch. When the door closed, Kate automatically rolled to her left side, but she had to turn onto her back because the absence of Ian’s arms around her, his back pressed up against her, was more than she could handle.

She cried.

She listened to his voice mail message again.

She lay awake for hours.

Eventually she slept.





CHAPTER THIRTY

Kate woke with a headache and eyes so swollen she could barely see. Her mother coaxed her into the shower.

“You’ll feel better,” Diane said, laying out warm, comfortable clothes on the bed for Kate.

Kate wouldn’t feel better because she missed Ian with every ounce of her being and a shower could not possibly put a dent in her grief. But she went into the bathroom and turned on the water, and when she undressed the first thing that caught her eye was the mark Ian had left on her breast. It had faded considerably since Saturday night, and she placed her palm flat on it. Soon there would be nothing left of it or of him. She stepped under the warm spray and cried, and when she was done she dressed and joined her mother in the living room because there was nothing else for her to do.

Her mother had made coffee, and Kate sat down on the couch and accepted the cup Diane handed her. “Paige called this morning to see how you were doing. She said she thought Ian’s last name was Smith, not Merrick. Your dad and I did too.”