Last Breath (4 page)

As Cassidy and Sawyer took their seats, people began hurrying over to Cassidy to congratulate her on the success of the car wash.

“We must have hauled in a load of cash!” a girl named Tina said excitedly. The boy at her side, whose T-shirt read, “IF YOU CAN’T READ THIS, YOU’RE NOT CLOSE ENOUGH,” added, “Leave it to Kirk here. If you want something to be a success, just get old Cassidy to run it!”

But Cassidy was having a hard time accepting their praise. True, the car wash
had
been a success. True, although the money hadn’t been counted yet, she knew they
had
pulled in a load of cash! They’d be able to throw one great dance.

But they
should
have had fifty dollars more.

Had she lost the money? They’d been so busy. She might have thought she’d slipped the bills inside her pack, but with her eyes on the vanishing TransAm, maybe her fingers had missed the mark and the bills had fallen to the ground.

No. Not three times. And even once, she would have noticed. Or someone else would have.

Cassidy concentrated. Had she removed the leather pack at any time after she’d been given the new bills?

Yes. Once during the car wash, to make change for a girl named Rita Nevins. And she hadn’t put the pack back on right away, she remembered now. She’d dropped it onto the hood of a red pickup truck parked beside her, just long enough to brush her hair and sweep it up into a ponytail.

While she was bending over, brushing her hair, someone
could
have reached inside the pack and stolen a handful of bills.

Then, too, during the latter half of the day, the pack at her waist had become so wet, she’d slid it around so that it was at her back, in an effort to keep it drier. A really expert thief could have come up behind her…

A really expert
thief
? At a car wash? What was
wrong
with her?

Just before the lights dimmed, Cassidy saw Ann and her date arrive and make their way to a pair of seats up front. Ann’s date was tall, with unruly dark hair. Travis. Ann Ataska’s date was Travis McVey, who until very recently, had dated only Cassidy Kirk.

Talia, sitting on Cassidy’s left, nudged her with an elbow, saying, “Well! When did
that
happen? How come she didn’t tell us?”

“She
said
she had a date,” Cassidy answered, sliding down in her seat.

“Yeah, but she didn’t say it was Travis. Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”

Then the lights dimmed, music began, and the screen lit up. Sawyer reached over and took Cassidy’s hand. His hand felt warm and strong. Her own felt icy. She thought about Talia’s question. Did she think that Ann’s keeping silent about dating Travis was weird?

No. Ann probably hadn’t been sure how Cassidy would react. Understandable.

What was
much
weirder was a black TransAm with darkened windows and dangling red hearts on the driver’s door going through a car wash repeatedly. What was weirder was the disappearance from her fanny pack of three bills…the three crisp, brand-new ones given her by the unseen driver of the creepy car.

That’s
what Cassidy thought was weird.

T
HE DANCE TO BENEFIT
the Twin Falls mental health clinic had been Cassidy’s idea, with the full support of Dr. Bruin. Funds from the car wash would pay for dance expenses. Since the weather hadn’t improved on Sunday, Cassidy invited everyone on the dance committee to suite 56A for a planning session.

“We made enough money from the car wash,” she began when they were all seated or lounging on the floor, “to hold a really decent dance.” She didn’t mention the missing fifty dollars. “I think we should try to get Misstery to play. We can afford them.” The group was a popular all-girl band on campus. Its lead singer, Lola Sturdevant, was a friend of Cassidy’s.

Travis nodded. “That’ll bring in a crowd. Are we selling tickets in advance or only at the door?”

I would be going to the dance with him, Cassidy couldn’t help thinking, if we hadn’t had that fight. Now Ann will probably be his date. I hope they have a wonderful time, she told herself. Not.

“I think we should do both,” Ann suggested. “Sell them on campus, but sell them at the door, too.” She directed a pointed glance at Sophie. “For those people who always wait until the last minute for everything.”

Sophie always admitted freely that she was a procrastinator, and joked that she would do something about it—someday. Now she laughed ruefully. “Well, we all know
you
never forget anything, Ann.”

“What about decorations?” Talia asked from her desk chair. “Any ideas?” Sheets of rain slapped against the window as they all mulled over the idea of a decorating scheme.

“Please,” Talia added, “no red-and-white crepe paper streamers. I draped enough crepe paper in high school to last me a lifetime.”

Cassidy nodded. “We need something more sophisticated. Black, maybe. Black and silver.” Grabbing a sheet of paper and a pen, she began scribbling as she talked. “Black tablecloths, silver candleholders. Candlelight is so romantic.” She flushed, remembering that both Sawyer and Travis were in the room. “I mean, the rec center isn’t exactly the most glamorous place to have a dance. Candlelight should help.”

“Black?” Sophie asked. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “It’s a dance, Cassidy, not a funeral.”

“Black and
silver
,” Cassidy insisted. “Maybe we’ll put some red carnations on the tables if you absolutely must have color, Sophie.”

“I absolutely must.” Sophie looked satisfied.

But Sawyer complained, “Sounds expensive to me. We’re cutting into our donation to the mental health clinic with every penny we spend. We didn’t make
that
much on the car wash, did we?”

Cassidy flushed more deeply, wondering if Sawyer was deliberately reminding her of the missing fifty dollars. Deciding he wasn’t, she answered, “We won’t buy most of this stuff, Sawyer. We’ll rent it. At that place in the mall. It won’t cost that much. We’ll go check it out this afternoon. They’re open on Sunday.”

But the supplies she ordered were more expensive than she’d anticipated. She, Sophie, and Talia took the small yellow shuttle bus to the mall after the meeting. They all had cars on campus, but the shuttle was free and ran often enough to be convenient.

Ann was baby-sitting again and couldn’t go. When Cassidy complained, Ann said, “Look, the woman has her hands full with a job and three kids. And she pays well. She needs me more than you do.”

That was true. It didn’t take four people to order supplies.

The total for the rented supplies for the dance came to more than twenty dollars over the limit Cassidy had set.

“It’s the silver,” the clerk explained. “Silver always costs more, even rented. Perhaps you’d like to select a different color?”

But Cassidy had made up her mind. She could picture the setting: the tables covered in floor-length black tablecloths, adorned with silver candleholders and tall red candles, a single red carnation in a silver vase on each table.

If she only had that extra fifty dollars.

“No,” she said firmly, “we’ll stick with the black and silver.”

The clerk took her student I.D. and telephone number and wrote up the order. Cassidy arranged to pick up the decorating supplies a few days before the dance.

They went to the food court for dinner. Pleased with having accomplished the ordering, Cassidy was contentedly munching on a carrot stick when Sophie suddenly elbowed her and whispered, “Heads up! Ex-boyfriend on your right!”

Cassidy turned her head. Travis was standing in line at the egg roll booth. And Ann was with him.

“She said she was
busy
,” Sophie complained.

“She
is
,” Cassidy said grimly, returning her attention to her carrot stick. She bit down so hard, she nearly chipped a tooth.

“The disintegration of a close relationship,” Talia announced, “can produce the same symptoms as post-traumatic stress disorder.” All of the psych majors tossed psychiatric terms around like slang, but Cassidy privately thought Talia was the worst. Maybe because she’d been hearing them all her life. “Sleeplessness or sleeping too much, loss of appetite, depression, nervousness, absentmindedness, an inability to concentrate, heavy-duty nightmares. It’s all in chapter fifteen of our psych book.” Her strong, smooth face solemn, she peered into Cassidy’s face. “Haven’t you read that far yet?”

“No. Maybe I’ll skip that chapter.” Cassidy plucked a ripe cherry tomato from her salad, but before popping it into her mouth, she added, “And I don’t know why you’re telling me this, Talia. I don’t have any of those symptoms. I am not suffering from post-traumatic whatever. Not over a boy, I’m not!”

Sophie looked doubtful. “I don’t know, Cassidy. You
did
lose that money from the car wash. Couldn’t that be considered absent-mindedness?”

Cassidy lifted an eyebrow. “Sophie, you’re not convinced that I ever
had
that money. But I
did
, and I didn’t
lose
it.” She pushed her salad bowl away and then, remembering that Talia had mentioned “loss of appetite” as a symptom of heartbreak, hastily retrieved it. “I think someone took that money.”

“Well, I don’t see how someone could steal something from your fanny pack, even if you took it off and put it somewhere,” Sophie argued, “when the car wash was so crowded. Wouldn’t a thief have been noticed by someone?”

“But that’s just it,” Cassidy persisted. “A thief could get away with something like that
because
it was so crowded. You know things get stolen on campus, Sophie. No one wants to admit it, but it’s true.”

“I guess. But,” Sophie took a long swallow of soda, “why wouldn’t a thief have grabbed
all
of the money from your fanny pack? Why just those three brand-new bills? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“No,” Cassidy admitted, “it doesn’t.” Unfortunately, she had no explanation that did make sense. That confused her. She didn’t like not understanding something. She wasn’t used to it.

Talia and Sophie intended to continue shopping. “Talia has great taste,” Sophie said. “She can help me pick out the perfect dress for the dance.”

Cassidy decided to return to the dorm to finish her psych paper. She shot a resentful look in Travis’s direction. Why hadn’t he given her original paper to Bruin, the way he’d promised he would?

Travis and Ann stood up, ready to leave. They made a great-looking couple, Cassidy admitted reluctantly to herself. Travis so dark, Ann so fair. Still, it wasn’t Ann’s beauty that Cassidy envied. It was her manner. Quiet, tranquil, always appearing to be in total control. She was popular with the professors on campus as a baby-sitter because of her calm, organized manner. They liked the way Ann Ataska handled college life. And, Cassidy supposed, the way she handled children.

Telling Talia and Sophie good-bye, forcing herself not to glance again in Travis and Ann’s direction, Cassidy left the food court.

She was halfway to the main entrance when she felt the familiar constriction in her chest. Oh, no, not now! She couldn’t stand the thought of gasping and wheezing in the middle of the mall, with people all around. Sometimes, during a really bad attack, she doubled over in her struggle to breathe. People would stare at her and ask her if she needed help. She hated that.

I took my medication this morning, she thought angrily. Why is this happening now?

Darting into a hallway that led to a side exit, she turned her back to the mall and whipped out the inhaler she always carried in her purse. It was much more important than lip gloss or a comb.

She had caught the attack in time. The inhaler worked. On rare occasions, it didn’t, usually because she’d ignored the symptoms too long, stubbornly refusing to admit what was happening. She no longer did that very often. The price she paid for stalling was too high. This time, however, she’d caught it early. But although her breathing had regulated itself, she felt a little weak, and headed for a rest room. She rested on the lounge there until her legs felt completely solid underneath her again. Then she stuffed the inhaler back in her purse and went back out into the mall.

She knew perfectly well why the medication hadn’t done its job. Like it or not, the sight of Ann and Travis together at the food court had caused an emotional reaction. Stress. Not good for her.

Angry with herself for letting her emotions cause a physical reaction, Cassidy pushed the front glass door open with more force than necessary.

And came to a halt on the other side as she saw what was idling at the curb a few feet away.

A black TransAm.

There were no other cars sitting at the curb. Just that one. Waiting, its engine murmuring steadily.

Cassidy stood alone under the mall’s marquee, a thin curtain of sleet flying around her. She could see the car clearly. It might not be the same one, of course, she told herself as she hesitantly moved forward. There had to be more than one black TransAm in the area of campus and the town of Twin Falls.

The passenger’s side was facing her, so if there were red hearts fastened to the driver’s door, they weren’t visible from where she stood.

Cassidy wasn’t sure what kept her from rushing to the driver’s side to thank him for his generous contribution to the car wash. Maybe the fact that she no longer had the money? She wasn’t willing to admit to him that she’d lost it. She’d feel like a fool. And telling him it was missing would sound as if she were hinting for more money.

Or maybe it was the fact that he’d been so reclusive, barely rolling his window down, not chatting with her like the other customers, not letting her see his face. If he valued his privacy that much, she probably shouldn’t bother him.

But her curiosity had been aroused. She felt a sudden urge to know, at least, whether or not it was the same car. That seemed important, although she wasn’t sure why.

The car’s engine roared.

But it remained sitting at the curb.

Cassidy took a deep breath, let it out, and hurried over to the car, walking around behind it to the driver’s side.