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Ashley hesitated. “No.”
“Remember Nicki Brandt? We got married. We have twins.”
“Congratulations.”
It was amazing how much people could change in ten years. They were fatter and thinner … prosperous and downtrodden. They were married and divorced … parents and parentless …
As the evening wore on, there was dining and music and dancing. Ashley made conversation with her former classmates and caught up on their lives, but her mind was on Jim Cleary. There was still no sign of him. He won’t come, she decided. He knows I might be here and he’s afraid to face me.
An attractive-looking woman was approaching. “Ashley! I was hoping I’d see you.” It was Florence Schiffer. Ashley was genuinely glad to see her. Florence had been one of her closest friends. The two of them found a table in the corner, where they could talk.
“You look great, Florence,” Ashley said.
“So do you. Sorry I’m so late. The baby wasn’t feeling well. Since I last saw you, I’ve gotten married and divorced. I’m going out with Mr. Wonderful now. What about you? After the graduation party, you disappeared. I tried to find you, but you’d left town.”
“I went to London,” Ashley said. “My father enrolled me in a college over there. We left here the morning after our graduation.”
“I tried every way I could think of to reach you. The detectives thought I might know where you were. They were looking for you because you and Jim Cleary were going together.”
Ashley said slowly, “The detectives?”
“Yes. The ones investigating the murder.”
Ashley felt the blood drain from her face. “What … murder?”
Florence was staring at her. “My God! You don’t know?”
“Know what?” Ashley demanded fiercely. “What are you talking about?”
“The day after the graduation party, Jim’s parents came back and found his body. He had been stabbed to death and … castrated.”
The room started to spin. Ashley held on to the edge of the table. Florence grabbed her arm.
“I’m—I’m sorry, Ashley. I thought you would have read about it, but of course … you had left for London.”
Ashley squeezed her eyes tightly shut. She saw herself sneaking out of the house that night, heading toward Jim Cleary’s house. But she had turned and gone back home to wait for him in the morning. If only I had gone to him, Ashley thought miserably, he would still be alive. And all these years I’ve hated him. Oh, my God. Who could have killed him? Who—?
She could hear her father’s voice, “You keep your goddamned hands off my daughter, do you understand? … If I ever see you around here again, I’ll break every bone in your body.”
She got to her feet. “You’ll have to excuse me, Florence. I—I’m not feeling very well.”
And Ashley fled.
The detectives. They must have gotten in touch with her father. Why didn’t he tell me?
She took the first plane back to California. It was early in the morning before she could fall asleep. She had a nightmare. A figure standing in the dark was stabbing Jim and screaming at him. The figure stepped into the light.
It was her father.
Chapter Five (#ulink_5e27abad-e8dc-5bf8-886f-d6940de7bd39)
THE next few months were misery for Ashley. The image of Jim Cleary’s bloody, mutilated body kept going through her mind. She thought of seeing Dr. Speakman again, but she knew she dare not discuss this with anyone. She felt guilty even thinking that her father might have done such a terrible thing. She pushed the thought away and tried to concentrate on her work. It was impossible. She looked down in dismay at a logo she had just botched.
Shane Miller was watching her, concerned. “Are you all right, Ashley?”
She forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
“I really am sorry about your friend.” She had told him about Jim.
“I’ll—I’ll get over it.”
“What about dinner tonight?”
“Thanks, Shane. I—I’m not up to it just yet. Next week.”
“Right. If there’s anything I can do—”
“I appreciate it. There’s nothing anyone can do.”
Toni said to Alette, “Miss Tight Ass has a problem. Well, she can get stuffed.”
“I feel dispiace—sorry for her. She is troubled.”
“Sod her. We all have our problems, don’t we, luv?”
As Ashley was leaving on a Friday afternoon before a holiday weekend, Dennis Tibbie stopped her. “Hey, babe. I need a favor.”
“I’m sorry, Dennis, I—”
“Come on. Lighten up!” He took Ashley’s arm. “I need some advice from a woman’s point of view.”
“Dennis, I’m not in the—”
“I’ve fallen in love with somebody, and I want to marry her, but there are problems. Will you help me?”
Ashley hesitated. She did not like Dennis Tibbie, but she could see no harm in trying to help him. “Can this wait until tomorrow?”
“I need to talk to you now. It’s really urgent.”
Ashley took a deep breath. “All right.”
“Can we go to your apartment?”
She shook her head. “No.” She would never be able to make him leave.
“Will you stop by my place?”
Ashley hesitated. “Very well.” That way I can leave when I want to. If I can help him get the woman he’s in love with, maybe he’ll leave me alone.
Toni said to Alette, “God! Goody Two-shoes is going to the twerp’s apartment. Can you believe she could be that stupid? Where’s her sodding brains?”
“She’s just trying to help him. There’s nothing wrong with—”
“Oh, come on, Alette. When are you going to grow up? The man wants to bonk her.”
“Non va. Non si fa così.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Dennis Tibbie’s apartment was furnished in neo-nightmare. Posters of old horror movies hung from the walls, next to pinups of naked models and wild animals feeding. Tiny erotic wood carvings were spread out on tables.
It’s the apartment of a madman, Ashley thought. She could not wait to get out of there.
“Hey, I’m glad you could come, baby. I really appreciate this. If—”
“I can’t stay long, Dennis.” Ashley warned him. “Tell me about this woman you’re in love with.”
“She’s really something.” He held out a cigarette. “Cigarette?”
“I don’t smoke.” She watched him light up.
“How about a drink?”
“I don’t drink.”
He grinned. “You don’t smoke, you don’t drink. That leaves an interesting activity, doesn’t it?”
She said to him sharply, “Dennis, if you don’t—”
“Only kidding.” He walked over to the bar and poured some wine. “Have a little wine. That can’t hurt you.” He handed her the glass.
She took a sip of wine. “Tell me about Miss Right.”
Dennis Tibbie sat down on the couch next to Ashley. “I’ve never met anybody like her. She’s sexy like you and—”
“Stop it or I’ll leave.”
“Hey, that was meant as a compliment. Anyway, she’s crazy about me, but her mother and father are very social, and they hate me.”
Ashley made no comment.
“So the thing is, if I push it, she’ll marry me, but she’ll alienate her family. She’s really close to them, and if I marry her, they’ll sure as hell disown her. Then one day, she’ll probably blame me. Do you see the problem?”
Ashley took another sip of wine. “Yes. I…”
After that, time seemed to vanish in a mist.
She awakened slowly, knowing that something was terribly wrong. She felt as though she had been drugged. It was an enormous effort merely to open her eyes. Ashley looked around the room and began to panic. She was lying in a bed, naked, in a cheap hotel room. She managed to sit up, and her head started to pound. She had no idea where she was or how she had gotten there. There was a room service menu on the nightstand, and she reached over and picked it up. The Chicago Loop Hotel. She read it again, stunned. What am I doing in Chicago? How long have I been here? The visit to Dennis Tibbie’s apartment had been on Friday. What day is this? With growing alarm, she picked up the telephone.
“May I help you?”
It was difficult for Ashley to speak. “What—what day is this?”
“Today is the seventeenth of—”
“No. I mean what day of the week is this?”
“Oh. Today is Monday. Can I—”
Ashley replaced the receiver in a daze. Monday. She had lost two days and two nights. She sat up at the edge of the bed, trying to remember. She had gone to Dennis Tibbie’s apartment … She had had a glass of wine … After that, everything was a blank.
He had put something in her glass of wine that had made her temporarily lose her memory. She had read about incidents where a drug like that had been used. It was called the “date rape drug.” That was what he had given her. The talk about wanting her advice had been a ruse. And like a fool, I fell for it. She had no recollection of going to the airport, flying to Chicago or checking into this seedy hotel room with Tibbie. And worse—no recollection of what had happened in this room.
I’ve got to get out of here, Ashley thought desperately. She felt unclean, as though every inch of her body had been violated. What had he done to her? Trying not to think about it, she got out of bed, walked into the tiny bathroom and stepped into the shower. She let the stream of hot water pound against her body, trying to wash away whatever terrible, dirty things had happened to her. What if he had gotten her pregnant? The thought of having his child was sickening, Ashley got out of the shower, dried herself and walked over to the closet. Her clothes were missing. The only things inside the closet were a black leather miniskirt, a cheap-looking tube top and a pair of spiked high-heeled shoes. She was repelled by the thought of putting on the clothes, but she had no choice. She dressed quickly and glanced in the mirror. She looked like a prostitute.
Ashley examined her purse. Only forty dollars. Her checkbook and credit card were still there. Thank God!
She went out into the corridor. It was empty. She took the elevator down to the seedy-looking lobby and walked over to the checkout desk, where she handed the elderly cashier her credit card.
“Leavin’ us already?” He leered. “Well, you had a good time, huh?”
Ashley stared at him, wondering what he meant and afraid to find out. She was tempted to ask him when Dennis Tibbie had checked out, but she decided it was better not to bring it up.
The cashier was putting her credit card through a machine. He frowned and put it through again. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry. This card won’t go through. You’ve exceeded your limit.”
Ashley’s mouth dropped open. “That’s impossible! There’s some mistake!”
The clerk shrugged. “Do you have another credit card?”
“No. I—I don’t. Will you take a personal check?”
He was eyeing her outfit disapprovingly. “I guess so, if you have some ID.”
“I need to make a telephone call …”
“Telephone booth in the corner.”
“San Francisco Memorial Hospital …”
“Dr. Steven Patterson.”
“One moment, please …”
“Dr. Patterson’s office.”
“Sarah? This is Ashley. I need to speak to my father.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Patterson. He’s in the operating room and—”
