Love You to Death (11 page)

Kara was married to Drake, Cass’s older
brother—also a detective — who was the polar opposite of Cass.
Drake was easy going, funny and lighthearted. I could tell by the
way he doted on Kara and their baby daughter, Jessa, that he was a
kind man.

“How romantic. I think it’s a perfect
location.” Marge patted my hand.

Kara pushed back her chair and came to stand
behind me.

“You can wear your hair up for a change,” she
said, brushing her fingers over my neck to gather up my long dark
hair. Marge gasped. I cast a quick look in her direction. She was
clutching the collar of her blouse, her mouth open in horror.

“Son of a—” Kara gently turned my head to
examine the bruises on the back of my neck.

“It’s nothing,” I said, pulling my hair back
down around the offending marks.

“I told you, Marge. I knew there was
something going on,” Kara railed.

“Hon, how... how’d you get those?” Marge
looked at me with desperation in her soft blue eyes. Cass’s
eyes.

“You know darn well how they got there,” Kara
answered, dropping into her chair.

“It was an accident,” I offered lamely. The
last thing I needed was someone coming to my defense. Confronting
Cass was not an option.

“An accident.” Kara snorted. “This is just
like what’s her name. He did the same thing to her.”

Suddenly, she had my full attention.

“Kara, please—” Marge pleaded.

“Please what?” Kara slammed her hand on the
table. “Please don’t tell this poor girl what she’s in for? Or
please ignore it again?”

Marge started crying, quiet little sighs of a
mother’s broken heart.

“What happened to the other girl?” I asked,
casting a curious look to Kara.

“Ellen. Her name was Ellen. She’s dead,” Kara
said archly. “Cass claimed she tripped and fell down a flight of
stairs while they were on vacation in Mexico.”

Marge whimpered.

“You don’t believe that?” I fidgeted in my
seat. Abused was one thing. Dead was... well dead was
permanent.

“Do you?” she countered, raising a
questioning brow.

No, I didn’t. It was too convenient. I knew
all too well the accidents that can happen to a woman at the hand
of her man.

“Hon, you can’t stay with him. He needs
help.” Kara said as Marge whimpered louder into her hand. Kara got
up and grabbed the Kleenex box, handing it to Marge who plucked out
a few tissues, dabbing at her eyes.

“I can’t leave yet,” I whispered.

“Why not?” Kara snapped. “Are you waiting for
him to get tired of you? He won’t.”

Kara scooted her chair closer to me. She laid
her hand over mine, securing it to the table. Her eyes flickered
with pity and anger.

“Let me tell you what I know. You’re a
virgin, right?”

I nodded, amazed she knew that.

“Surprised? Don’t be. All Cass’s girls are
virgins. At first they were his age, but the older he gets the
younger his girls are. We thought they were gold diggers, but after
so many years, and so many break ups, we started seeing a pattern.
These girls started out fun and happy. Then little by little we
noticed the bruises and long sleeves in the middle of the summer
and how they quickly turned into quiet little mice. Then they were
gone. Not like Ellen, the dead girl. The first round of girls left
him and went back to their families. But Ellen didn’t have any
family. She was an orphan raised in foster homes. Cass plucked her
out of the system and helped her get on her feet. She fell in love
with him though. That girl had a screw loose. She liked the
beatings.”

“Kara...” Marge gasped.

“Mom, I know you hate hearing this, but it’s
true. Ellen was a little warped.” Kara spun her finger in circles
above her ear. Cuckoo. “Anyway, Cass found out she wasn’t a virgin,
like she claimed. I heard him hollering at her when I went over to
drop off a recipe she’d asked for. He was a crazy man. I’d never
heard him like that before. I left before they knew I was there. It
wasn’t long after that they went to Mexico.” Kara finished
quietly.

She didn’t have to elaborate. I knew exactly
what she was talking about.

“I’m leaving him. I just need to get enough
money to go so I can get far away.” I told them.

Marge began crying harder into her handful of
tissues. Kara rolled her eyes.

“How much is enough?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” I lifted my shoulders,
letting them fall in a quick shrug. “I have about four hundred
right now.”

“Is it worth your life?” Kara didn’t pull any
punches. I knew she meant well. In her place I would be saying the
same thing to a girl in my position.

I twirled the ring around my finger. It was
gorgeous. When the light touched it brilliant sparks shot
everywhere. I hated it. I was going to hock it when I ran. It had
to be worth at least two grand in a pawn shop.

“Don’t wait,” Kara warned.

Chapter
Eleven

The sun was sinking into the cool waters of
the Chesapeake Bay when the reverend married us.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

The cheers went up around us like a death
knoll in my ears. I walked in a daze with my arm linked through
Cass’s. The reception was filled with people; all friends and
family and acquaintances of Cass. None of my family and friends
attended. Not that I had any. In the middle of all the happy chaos
I never felt more alone.

I thought of my mother.

“It’s not always fairy tales spun from
head to heart.”
She had once said.

My face hurt from keeping a stupid grin on my
face. I needed a break. As soon as the normal series of events
unfolded (the pictures, the first dance, the tossing of the garter,
the cutting of the cake), I bolted for the terrace, snatching a
glass of champagne as I went. I leaned over to stare down at the
water.

Don’t wait.
Kara had said.

But stupid me... I waited. The ‘accidents’
got worse. Cass found my nest egg hidden in a shoe in my closet. I
tried to tell him I was saving up for a wedding gift for him. He
didn’t believe me. He broke my arm that night. The next day he sent
me roses with a card that read,
‘I’m sorry I love you.’

The missing comma—clearly a typo — was more
true than if they’d written it correctly. I was sorry he thought he
loved me too.

Once again, I was broke and had nowhere to
go. Cass knew every shelter in Baltimore County. I knew running
without money made it impossible for me to leave. I started fudging
my schedule so he wouldn’t know I was working more than I was. I’d
cash my check and give him what he thought was my full pay. I had
almost a thousand dollars saved up. I was smarter this time.

I sealed the money in a freezer bag and
buried it in the back yard under one of the rain spouts. I tried to
look up bus schedules while I was at work, but I rarely had the
time, my breaks were over before the antique computer could list
the routes. Cass, ever the bloodhound, must’ve sensed something. He
shadowed me for the last six weeks as if he knew I was planning to
run.

And now, here I was, married. I still
couldn’t believe it. I wasn’t old enough to buy booze, but I was
legally bound to Cass. Bringing the flute of champagne to my lips I
giggled hysterically.

Here’s to you, Mom.
I silently toasted
her.
I tried to help you and couldn’t. I tried to help myself
and couldn’t do that either.

“Here, have another.” Kara pushed a
champagne-filled flute into my hand. “You’ll need it.”

I took it, nodding my thanks before guzzling
it down.

“Easy there, Betty Ford.” She took the empty
glasses from me, setting them on a nearby table.

“I did it.” I hiccupped. “I officially ruined
my life.”

“Don’t expect an argument from me.” She
snorted.

We stood side by side, staring out at the
water. Gales of laughter erupted behind us.

“I’m still leaving.” I promised out loud,
more for my sake than hers.

“I hope you do,” she said, taking my hand and
giving it a squeeze.

“There you are,” Cass slurred. He was well on
his way to being drunk. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Don’t worry, Cass, she didn’t jump.” Kara
gave him a sarcastic grin.

“You’re so funny.” Cass shook his finger at
her. He didn’t laugh.

“C’mon, Mrs. Bateman, I wanna dance with my
bride.” He slung an arm around my bare shoulders, placing a wet
kiss on the corner of my mouth. I cast a backward glance at Kara
and rolled my eyes.

Our plan was to spend the night at the
Marriott at BWI and then fly to Las Vegas for our honeymoon. I was
doing my best to get completely drunk so I would pass out and not
have to sleep with Cass at all, or pass out while he had sex with
my lifeless body. Either way, I wanted to be unconscious.

The evening was winding down. Most of the
guests were starting to leave. I was on my way to the bathroom when
I saw Cass duck into another room. Curious, I followed him, leaning
my ear against the closed door.

There was someone in there with him. I could
hear what they were saying without any trouble; they weren’t
exactly whispering.

“Here you go buddy, ten large. Enjoy that
honeymoon,” a man guffawed.

“I will. She’s a cherry, ya know,” Cass
bragged in a drunken slur. I swallowed back the bile in my throat.
Ten grand? I often wondered how he lived so extravagantly on a
detective’s salary. I quickly counted off the possible side jobs he
was doing. Drugs? Mafia? Was he on the take?

“Lucky man,” the voice said. “So, what are we
doing with the retard?”

Retard? I smashed my ear harder against the
door.

“Keep him where he is, in case they want more
tests. I’ll take care of him when I get back.”

“He’s a smart retard. After all this time he
keeps asking for her. He ain’t buying the story about her getting
killed that night. He puts on that stupid kids mask and gets all
bossy. It’s funny.”

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand.
Were they talking about Stewie?

“Yeah, I’ve seen it,” Cass chuckled. “Like I
said, I’ll take care of him when I get back.”

I jumped away just as the door opened and
made it look as if I was coming from the bathroom.

“There’s my girl!” Cass bellowed, clamping a
hand on my arm steering me into the ballroom. I never saw who the
other man was.

* * * *

“Oh God, not again,” Cass moaned as he raced
for the bathroom.

I watched, unaffected by his problem. After
all, I was the one who spiked his champagne with a few drops of
Visine. I saw it in a movie. No sex for him tonight. I smiled at my
genius.

I sat on the hotel bed in my lacey nightie,
supplied by Cass of course, and snuggled under the covers. I turned
up the volume on the TV to drown out Cass’s vomiting. I stifled a
giggle as he muttered curses about never eating raw oysters
again.

My thoughts were racing a mile a minute.
Stewie was alive. He wasn’t dead. All this time I thought it was my
fault. I blamed myself for his death. Cass knew it, and he didn’t
care. He let me believe it. I hated him.

“Hate is a strong word”,
my mom would
always remind me.
Yes, it was.

So, while my duplicitous new husband barfed
up a few organs, I plotted and planned. I had renewed purpose, a
second wind. It wasn’t only me I had to save. I needed to find
Stewie and rescue him. At the same time, I had to figure out a way
for both of us to get away from Cass. We had to go somewhere he’d
never find us. A place he would never expect to look for us.

Cass finally drifted off to sleep around
three in the morning, his arms wrapped around the base of the
toilet. We missed our flight, which left at nine. I didn’t even try
to wake him. I dressed quickly in shorts and a T-shirt, lifting
twenty bucks from Cass’s wallet. I quietly slipped out of the room
and down to the café.

I ordered a croissant stuffed with sausage,
eggs and cheese, and juice. A few travelers stumbled in looking
very tousled and tired. I smiled at a little girl wheeling a pink
Barbie suitcase.

My priority of the day was getting Cass to
reschedule the honeymoon. I had to convince him to go home so I
could find where he was hiding Stewie. My heart did a little
two-step when I thought of him. My lips twitched, wanting to laugh
out loud at the vision of him in his Batman mask giving them a hard
time.

Why did Cass tell me Stewie was dead? And
why was he hiding him from me?
The answer hit me like a
well-placed dart between the eyes. Cass had told the man to keep
Stewie in case they wanted more testing done. He was taking him to
that lab again.

Fury, hot and swift, poured through me. Cass
had dismantled my self-esteem and turned me into a mindless
punching bag, and I let him. But I drew the line at kidnapping a
defenseless mentally impaired boy.

I let the door slam shut behind me as I
entered our room. Cass jerked under the covers.

“Not so loud!” he growled. I grinned
devilishly and plopped down on the bed beside him.

“How’s the patient?” I asked loudly.

“I think I’m dying,” he groaned, turning over
onto his back.

“I guess you’ll think twice before drinking
so much,” I said, fighting to not laugh.

“I think it was those oysters,” he said,
issuing a hacking cough, the signature sound of all cigarette
smokers.

“We missed our flight.”

“I guessed as much.” He flung an arm over his
eyes.

“So... I guess I’ll call a cab.” I bounced on
the bed again for good measure. He glared at me from under his
arm.

“For what?”

“Are we staying here another night?” I asked,
reaching for the phone.

“No, we’ll just hop another flight,” he
explained, as he slowly eased from the bed, heading to the bathroom
with the spryness of a ninety year old.