Splitsville.com (14 page)

I hand her a paper towel to wipe her face because it’s the closest thing to a tissue I’ve got. “What did he say?” I know he got himself out of it.

“I told him he was right.” She stops and looks at me.

I can’t recall what she’s talking about. “Right? About what?”

Her words sting me like a bee, “You couldn’t stand him, but I think he was right. You can’t stand to see me have a boyfriend. You are so jealous.”

I quickly blink to make sure her aura isn’t turning grey. I take a deep breath. Erin’s entire aura is ashen, almost black. And black auras mean she’s got an uneasy heart which makes her unable to forgive in this moment. But I don’t stop even as her aura darkens.

“Jealous? Of what?” I stand taller and defend myself-forgetting all about her aura. I remember my dream and the words she said in it.

“I was finally happy and you flaunted yourself in front of him.” In shock, I watch her storm down the hall and disappear into the bedroom. She rushes out, arms loaded with her things.

“That’s not true,” I yell out after her, “I have Bradley. Remember? And he doesn’t want me for money!”

She peels out of the driveway.

I can’t believe this. How did her becoming a suspect turn into me wanting Kent dead? I put my head down on the kitchen counter. Kent is ruining my relationship with Erin from the great beyond.

I reach for my cell when it rings. I hope it’s Erin. I don’t even check to see if it’s her.

“Come back,” I plead. “Please, we can figure this out.” I want her to know that no matter what, we will get to the bottom of this. “Erin?”

“No, Olivia.” I recognize Carl’s voice before he acknowledges who he is. “What are you going to figure out with Erin?”

I close my eyes, plop on the couch and wonder if I can start this day over. “Nothing, Carl. What do you want?”

He exhausts me.

“I need to talk to Matilda and I can’t find her. I thought she might be there.”

“No.” I hang up the phone. I don’t have time to worry about what he wants. I have to use what time and energy I do have to solve my own problems.

***

Dabi’s life is—or was—picture perfect. So it seems from her photo album.

The first page is an antiqued Dabi as a baby, with pink highlights around the picture. The crinoline on her dress is much larger than her tiny frame. Neatly written under it in calligraphy: Dabi’s first picture.

Perfectly posed Dabi, even in her play date and playground pictures. Her hair bows match her shirt, skirt, socks, shoes and nail polish.

I smile looking at the tiny nails, “Nail polish?” I hold the album closer and check out each finger. If Aunt Matilda had tried to put nail polish on me, I’d have thrown a mammoth-size fit.

When my first tooth fell out, Aunt Matilda took a picture with my hands cupped around my mouth and blood slipping through the cracks. Plus my nails had remnants of the day before dirt pile.

All of Dabi’s firsts. First parade, first dance, first boyfriend, first prom, first day at Harvard business school, first. . .

I gasp, “Kent?” My mouth flies open and I frantically turn the pages to see what comes next. Kent is everywhere. There isn’t a single picture without him.

I slowly turn the last page in the album. My stomach churns. The smiling Dabi in her beautiful white gown, next to a dapper Kent in his tuxedo, in what looks like a. . ., wedding? I whisper as fear sweeps over me.

“Hello?” I blindly pick up the phone while I continue to look at the happy couple.

“Hey.” Bradley’s voice is a welcome sound. “What’s going on?”

“A lot actually.” I tell him about Erin, but not about my dream, and I tell him about Dabi and Kent’s marriage.

“Really?” He’s surprised. “Does Erin know?”

“I don’t think so.” I set the album back down. I know what I have to do. I have to find out what’s going on. I have to find out how Dabi, Kent and Brittany know each other. I just have to find Brittany.

“Did you see the paper today?” Bradley brings me back into the conversation.

“No. Why?” My feet are chilled from my findings, plus the cold hardwood floor isn’t helping. I hastily walk over to the door and find the paper has been stepped on—by Erin I’m sure. I pick it up, and as big as the day the headline reads:
Splitsville.com isn’t only breaking hearts…it’s breaking up a community.

Anxiously I scan the article. There is no substantiated evidence to pinpoint Splitsville.com as the reason for the murders, only for connecting them. My heart floats in my throat. Who sent in this article? Is it another scare tactic? Or enough information for the police to suspect Splitsville.com, even more?

You never know with Park City’s finest. But I do know the article doesn’t say who’s behind Splitsville.com and I have little time to waste. I have to get to the bottom of this.

Eighteen

I pull into the visitor parking of Dabi’s father’s company, Macro Hard Internet. If I have a shot to learn who these people are in Dabi’s life, I’ll have to go into her life and see for myself.

Aunt Matilda tried to prepare me before I left the house. “Here’s a cup of coffee with an extra shot of juice.” She refers to the extra espresso I only use when I need to stay up a little longer. “And it should give you a hard time concentrating on just one thing.”

I pull up to the guard station, relieved Aunt Matilda knew exactly what I needed so I can’t stare at people’s auras. The caffeine alone will keep my eyes jumping. All I can rely on is my intuition and the images of the people in the photographs. Especially the ones with Kent.

“I’m here for the interview in housekeeping,” I tell the guard and point to the big glass building ahead. My goodness, I can’t even pick up my own clothes, much less clean an entire building.

He takes the paper I fill out and looks it over. He fumbles around the sliding glass window, obviously looking for a piece of paper.

“Listen, I don’t work in this department.” He fiddles around in the little guard booth. “You’re like me, a guy who needs a job, and I’m covering for my buddy, so.” His shoulders take a move up to the tips of his ears, his lips pucker in a curious way.

“Where’s your friend?” I’m not sure if he’s covering for him or working for him.

“He’s with the boss’s secretary, if you know what I mean. I’m on lunch, but with the hat they don’t know it’s not him.” He weakly smiles. “I kind of owe him.”

“I see.” I nod. “Since I’m here for the cleaning department and you’re security, we’re on the same level and I should understand?” This situation is quickly taking a strategic move in my favor. “Sure, I won’t say anything if you give me a couple days passes so I don’t have to stop at this little station every time I come.”

“There you go.” He hands me the passes, winks and asks, “Are you single?”

“Yes, but you’re not.” I point at the big shiny gold band. “And by the size of the ring, your wife wants everyone to know.”

“We’re having troubles.” His eyes show a twinkle of hope.

I hand him a Splitsville.com business card. “If you’re unhappy, call that number. I hear they do a bang-up job on breaking up marriages.” I should be ashamed, but I’m not. All about business. I put my hands on the wheel and slowly drive to the last spot in the lot.

My phone rings and I pick it up to see who it is. Bradley.

“Hi.” I crane my neck to see how many entrances are near my car. For some reason I have a fear these people will recognize me and trap me. Knowing all the escape routes somehow soothes me.

“I don’t like the idea of you doing this.” I like the tenderness in Bradley’s voice. I know he doesn’t like it, but he does understand.

“Well, you can stop saying that because I am here. I’ve got to go.”

“I have some news.” He has no shame. He’ll use whatever tactic to get me to stay on the line. “My brother-in-law tracked down the locations of all the threatening emails.”

I keep my hand on the keys in the ignition. “Great!” A little glimmer of hope creeps into my body, stirring up a bit of excitement.

Bradley sounds very confident. “I gave him the codes from the sender and he got back with me. And he told me we need to call the police if you’re getting threats.”

Here we go. He’s not a big advocate of my Nancy Drew ways.

I cut to the chase because I don’t really care about the particulars; I just want to know who. “Who? Who sent them?” I stop. My life is way more important than illegally going for a job interview.

“I don’t know.” His voice goes flat. The confidence he had a few seconds ago has completely forsaken him.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” If he doesn’t know, why did he tell me this bit of information? Some cop his brother-in-law is.

“They are all from different public computers. One from the library, one from the internet café and the last one is from the Coffee Bean.”

“So this person is going around using public computers?” Someone must really be serious to go out of their way to find public computers. Plus those are places I go. I wonder if I’ve seen them. I look off at the glass building, digging back in my memory at someone who might’ve stuck out. You know, like the crazy lady at the supermarket or the bum in the park – they stick out.

Mmm…nope. Nothing. I can’t even remember what I ate for dinner last night, much less the people standing in line at the Coffee Bean. I’m even more uneasy now. I can’t help but wonder if this person really is watching me. “We have a smart one on our hands,” I say to Bradley.

“The police will have to subpoena the library, Internet Café or where ever else the emails are coming from to see who’s using the public computer.” Bradley pauses. “I really think you need to call the police.”

“Right now I need to go into Macro Hard and fill out an application.” There’s no need to talk about this.

“Fine. Call me as soon as you get out of there.”

I put my phone on vibrate and place it in my purse. The rear view mirror squeaks as I position it to see my face. Lipstick—check, brushed hair—check, clean teeth—check. I’m ready to go in.

I’m not sure what I’ll find out at Macro Hard, but being around a lot of people in a closed environment, I’m a little worried about colliding auras. I don’t care how many espresso shots Aunt Matilda gives me.

I stop shy of the entrance. The sun reflecting off the huge glass building makes my eyes scan up to the top. There have to be at least ten floors. It’s definitely the tallest building in Park City.

For a brief moment I reconsider applying. How can I possibly clean an entire building this size when I can’t clean the five room cottage I live in. With a deep inhale and steady exhale, I walk straight through the door.

“May I help you?” I watch the words leave the petite brunette’s lips and realize I can’t back down now.

I blink several times to keep her aura at bay.

“We have a bathroom over there if you need to fix your contacts.”

Contacts? I don’t wear contacts. I can pretend to wear contacts. I put my fingers up to my eyes like I’ve seen Erin do when her contacts are bothering her.

“I’ll be fine. I’m here to apply for the cleaning position.” I keep fidgeting with my lids pretending to fix my contacts so I won’t see her aura.

“Take the elevators next to the bathroom up to the third floor. You’ll find the HR department there.” She picks up the phone and says, “Thank you for calling Macro Hard. How may I direct your call?”

HR? Those are two letters that haven’t floated around in my dreams. What’s HR? I wonder, while keeping my eyes low. Thank God I’m the only one in the elevator. I run my fingers down the index next to the buttons and push three. “Human Resources. HR.” I snicker at my stupidity.

The entire third floor is covered in a thick fog of hovering auras. My head begins to get light and dizzy. I grab the receptionist’s desk and hold on for dear life.

“Are you okay?” I don’t even look up at the voice coming from the other side of the cheap laminate desk.

I put my fingers back up to my eyes. “Contacts.” I grimace, hoping it will work a second time. “I’m here to apply for the cleaning position.”

“Nightshift, right?”

I perk up when I hear night shift. Nightshift equals no people, which mean no auras. Perfect! Suddenly my pretend contacts are much better. For a nightshift position I can keep my dizziness in check long enough to interview.

“Yes, the nightshift.” I ignore her white cloudy aura, and do my best shit-eating grin. “I’d rather clean toilets than sleep.”

“Here.” She hands me a clipboard with an application. “Fill it out and take it down to the second door on the right.” She scans me from head to toe, checking me out.

I want to say, your aura color does nothing for your bleached out hair, but I don’t. Like a good girl I take the clipboard and head over to the seating area to fill it out.

“What’s your name?” She hollers after me.

I almost spit out Jenn from Splitsville.com, but catch my tongue. “Olivia Davis.”

She picks up the phone and says, “Olivia Davis is filling out paper-work for the cleaning position. She’ll be down shortly.”

I fill out everything on the application like a breeze until the previous experience part throws me off. I tap the clipboard with the pen top. “Hmmm, previous experience.” I guess I can put that I clean my house every few days which would be a gross exaggeration.

“I’m sorry, is there a problem?” I look up at the tall Amazon women towering over me.

Of course there is a problem. I’ve never cleaned a toilet in my life much less a urinal.

I politely smile. “No problem.”

She puts her man hands out and says, “Great. Sandra Jones, HR manager.” My eyes follow her finger as she taps on her prestigious HR manager nametag.

“Nice to meet you.” Obviously this is the butt I need to kiss in order to get in here and figure this mystery out.

“If you’re done, you can follow me.” She takes the application and hands the clipboard back to the receptionist.

I follow her down to the second door into her office. She gestures for me to sit on the loveseat next to her chair, with a small table between us.

“We like it cozy, like a home.” She touches the picture hanging on the wall. “We are all family here, no matter what job you have.”

I stand back up and mosey over to the picture. Immediately I spot Dabi in the framed 11x14 photo. I make a mental note of all the people, but Sandra Jones’s fat finger is too busy pointing herself out.

“Very nice.” Again I politely smile.

“Let’s get back down to business, shall we?” She points back to the love seat.

I agree as she goes through my application starting with the verification of my name. It’s all smooth sailing until I see her eyes focus on a particular part of the application.

She taps the page. “I see you left out previous experience.” She looks at me wanting an explanation.

Nervously I say, “There’s so much to put down and so little space.”

“So you’ve scrubbed floors and toilets and used a feather duster before?” Sandra Jones mocks me. I want to snarl, but decide not to be a smart ass because I need this job to further my Nancy Drew skills.

“Yes.”

She places the application on the table between us. “Here’s the deal. We need someone tonight. Every floor has its own cleaning person. You will be cleaning the executive offices.” She hands me a map of the executive floors. Dabi’s name jumps out at me. “Let’s make this a trial week.”

Trying hard to control my excitement and the luck of having this handed to me is almost too much to bear. “Yes, I will do a great job. Trial week.”

With a few particulars discussed and a couple different pieces of paperwork filled out, Sandra gives me a temporary name tag and free pass to Dabi’s office…er…make that free reign to learn how to clean a urinal.

Pushing the heavy glass door to the outside with one hand, I reach in my purse for my phone with the other.

“I start tonight,” I say to Bradley when he answers the phone. The phone jiggles as I run to my car to get out of the pelting rain.

“That was quick.”

My hair is dripping and my clothes are soaked. I take it slow around the back roads making my way home and tell Bradley about the entire interview.