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Swallowing hard, I lower my hands. They’ll have to see my face to determine the truth on their own. “When you’re involved in the kind of relationship I have with Charlie, you have to have trust. Ultimate trust. I gave myself to him. Fully. Do you have any idea what that means? I trust him with my life.”
“Even now?”
I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”
The two cops look at each other again, silent communication I don’t have to hear to read. They’ve written me off as the duped, clueless girlfriend, and they sure aren’t above using me to get to him. Deputy Daniels lays a business card on the table. “If you hear from him, no matter how small, we need to know. He’s not in trouble. We just need to find out who might have tried to hurt you.”
“Now that he’s gone—” I have to swallow hard, the word cutting my throat like razor blades, “—do you think I’m still in danger?”
“Oh, doubtful.” Sheriff Cutler pushes to his feet. “But if you see anything suspicious at all, give Daniels a call.”
“That’s my direct number, Miss Killian. We’ll have a car out here in five minutes if there’s a problem.”
I walk them to the door. Sheba sits beside me, but she doesn’t watch them go. She keeps looking up at me and whining.
Deputy Daniels hesitates at the door. “Will you be staying here, if we have any other questions?”
I drop my hand down to Sheba’s neck and thread my fingers in her thick fur. “As long as I can. I don’t know if he owned this house, rented, if it’s paid for. But as long as I can, I’ll stay here. In case he comes back or calls or…”
The look of pity he gives me is another blow, but he doesn’t say anything else.
I shut the door behind them and then drop to my knees and hug Sheba. “What am I going to do? There wasn’t time. I don’t know what he wants me to do.”
She whines and licks my cheek. Looking at her, I know I can’t take her to my tiny apartment. Even if they accept pets—and by pets, they mean twenty-five-pound lap dogs, not hundred-and-twenty-five-pound guard dogs—she’d be miserable. No yard. No place for me to walk her that doesn’t involve streets and sidewalks. Even if Charlie didn’t make me promise to take her with me everywhere, I would have automatically taken care of her in his absence.
I look around and curse my stupidity. Instead of making frantic love to the Master and asking about his past, I should have been asking how I’m supposed to take care of everything. Even if the house is paid for, it won’t do me any good to stay here if they turn off the gas and electricity for nonpayment. No way can I afford to pay all the bills for both his and my place on my meager salary, yet I don’t dare let my apartment go, in case I’m forced to vacate the premises.
I try to imagine what he’d say. What he’d want me to do. For one thing, he wouldn’t want me sobbing on my knees all over his dog. So I get up and refresh my coffee cup. Standing in the kitchen, looking around at his comfortable home, I can’t imagine that he didn’t prepare for this.
He warned me that he’d have to leave, and I made him promise to come back for me. From the beginning, he took care of me like no other lover or dominant I’ve ever had. He was determined to make sure I can still live my life. He’d been too careful and considerate to dump everything on me and walk away. He had to have a plan.
The Master always has a plan.
I just need to figure out what that plan is.
27
Itear his house apart.
Not literally, though some of the rooms do look as though a small tornado hit. Anything that has to do with him as Charlie MacNiall that I can find, I gather up in a basket I found in the living room.
Sadly, it’s mostly empty. A few pieces of mail from the recycle bin addressed to him. The pictures from Doctors Without Borders. A gas receipt he left on his dresser that shows the last four digits of his credit card. When I go in to work tomorrow, I’ll take a quick peek at his client account and see if he pays with the same card.
Next, I start up the massive computer in the master bedroom. The desktop is as sparse as the basket, which is a good thing. I can find my way around a computer pretty well, but hacking is completely beyond my skills. If he has anything password protected that isn’tsheba, I have no idea what to do. There are only three icons on his desktop: the recycle bin, a scary-looking icon I assume is for the security system, and the colorful Chrome browser wheel. I check the recycle bin but it’s empty. Not surprised.
I start up a browser window and check his favorites. He bookmarked the vet clinic and an online banking site. Crossing my fingers that he’s lazy like me and has his user ID and password stored as favorites, I hit the bank’s homepage.
His user ID is filled in,Charlie222. No surprise there, though the twos make me close my eyes for a moment as I touch the healing scabs on my thigh. I tab to the password box, but nothing’s prefilled. Most banks have pretty tight security, so I don’t thinkshebawill be long enough. If hewantedme to find his account, then he would have made it easy.
Holding my breath, I typeSheba222with the capital and hit enter.
When that actually works, I droop with giddy relief. My eyes widen at the balance. Twenty-five thousand dollars and some change. For a just-above-minimum-wage earner like me, that’s a fortune. His last charge was $832.26 at Lowe’s. He really did go to replace the sliding glass door.
I swipe at my tears and keep looking for clues. On the automatic payments tab, he has scheduled payments going to cover the vet clinic, the electric company, the gas company, and internet. If I do nothing, these bills will continue to be paid until the money runs out. It’ll last for years if needed. Flipping through his regular charges, I can’t find anything for the house. Either it’s paid for, or he paid it off a different account. Nothing for his car or insurance, either.
Nor can I find a charge for the plane tickets. He went to New York twice since we started dating and there aren’t any charges to this account in the last thirty days for any airline. In fact, the only other debits are at gas stations and the Price Cutter on the edge of Springfield. I flip through month after month, to the beginning of the account, opened last year with an initial deposit of thirty thousand dollars. No other deposits have been made, and the account is only as old as his past that I know about.
One year.
