My stomach gurgled as I looked at my pale face in the mirror. Beneath the two days’ worth of stubble, my eyes were bloodshot and my skin pasty. In short, I looked about as good as I felt. Like complete shit. But I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself. Out there, in my living room, could be the answers I’d been searching for but couldn’t find. I needed to pull myself together and get to the bottom of this once and for all.
After washing my face, I brushed my teeth and gargled some mouthwash. I might have still felt like crap, but at least my breath didn’t smell like it anymore.
Steeling myself, I got up and went to see what Dickson had found out. I could still barely believe what he’d done. Reaching out to an old friend to help me, there was no doubt about it. Dickson was a good guy. Maybe I should cut him some slack and stop riding his ass so hard. Or maybe not. Maybe I’d just buy him a beer instead.
Stepping into the living area, Dickson had pushed away the boxes and stacked up the rest of the files neatly on the floor, leaving only one file sitting there.Thefile. The file that was going to have the answers I was looking for, at least that’s what I was hoping. As desperate as I was to get to the truth, I needed it quickly so I could move on. Dad had been right. Holding on wasn’t helping anybody, so the quicker I got to the bottom of this mess and got closure, the sooner I could start living my life again.
“You sure about this? I mean, I can give you the short version,” Dickson offered.
Taking a minute, I considered his offer. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
“You sure?”
“Yep,” I decided definitively. I could read through the details later. In this case, it was going to be easier to just rip off the Band-Aid and get it done.
Somehow I was able to disconnect from the personal side of this case and treat it like one. If it was just a case, one I had to solve, it meant I’d be able to see clearly, so that’s what I was going to do. Dickson recited facts and I asked questions, jotting down things to circle back to later.
I wasn’t a detective. I didn’t pretend to be. But this case was different and if there was something I could do, then you could bet your ass I was doing it.
“You’ve got that look,” Dickson commented.
“What look?” I asked, scrubbing a hand down my face having no clue what he was talking about.
“That look that says you have a question or something’s bubbling around inside that head of yours.”
Shit! I didn’t realize I was so transparent.
“There’s something still bugging me,” I admitted.
“You mean, besides the obvious?”
“Yeah. Cassidy’s father and the two address thing. I don’t get it. What am I missing?”
“Who knows? Investment property? Girlfriend’s place? Wife’s place? Wife and girlfriend? Boyfriend?” Dickson offered unhelpfully.
“Yeah, maybe.”
We stuffed around for another forty-five minutes or so before Dickson admitted that the call he made was to his buddy in Atlanta who was going to see what he could find out about the address thing. I was trying not to get my hopes up but it wasn’t easy. After practically shoving Dickson out the door, assuring him I wasn’t going to do anything stupid like fly to Atlanta and knock on the doors myself, he headed out, making me promise to call if I needed him.
With the headache from hell, I shut everything up, grabbed the file and headed to bed for some light nighttime reading.
It was early when I woke up, too early but there was something bugging me and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Giving up on sleep, I climbed out of bed and headed to the gym thinking I could sweat the frustrations out of my body.
Two sweaty and smelly hours later and I was still no closer to figuring it out. On the way home for a much-needed shower, I called the one person I knew could help me untangle everything. The one person I knew would have my back no matter what. I called my dad.
26
SKYE
“Ladies and gentlemen.We’re preparing to land in Chicago. The outside temperature is…” The announcement began but I wasn’t paying attention. Today had been one of those days and I was a hundred percent sure it wasn’t going to get any better any time soon.
After I’d booked my flight yesterday—something I’d done as quickly as I could before common sense and reason kicked in and I changed my mind—I'd been constantly in motion. I grabbed a couple of burgers and headed back to Kellie’s to break the news to her I was leaving. When I arrived though, I was shocked by what I found.
“What are you doing?” I’d asked, unable to miss the half-filled suitcase in the middle of the floor.
“Packing.”
“Packing to go where?”
