Where I Left Her Read online

  “Is it here?” Natalie appeared in the doorway.

  Whitney shook her head. And that’s when she noticed the bare spot on Amelia’s desk. Her laptop was gone. Sinking down to the ground, she rifled through the pile of clothes. Not there either.

  “Her laptop is gone too.”

  Bringing her hand up, her fingers caught on a lacy hot-pink push-up bra. One she never remembered buying Amelia. She drew her hand back like it was on fire and stared down at it. Her mind reeled with all the things she’d learned so far today.

  The receipt.

  The missing money.

  The picture.

  The older man.

  She knew Amelia had been pulling away, asserting her independence, even lying occasionally. But she’d never expected all of this. Blowing out a breath, she dropped her neck back, her gaze skating up the wall, stopping at the poster of Ariana Grande she’d bought Amelia a few years ago at the concert. That was such a fun night. They’d both temporarily dyed their hair pink. At the concert, they danced and sang at the top of their lungs. And afterward, they went to In-N-Out to grab midnight burgers.

  Whitney recalled Amelia saying how she was the “funnest” mom ever.

  If only she felt that way now. Next to Ariana Grande, her gaze slid to the left, landing on a Twilight poster. Amelia had been obsessed with the series since she was in middle school. She’d seen the movies more times than Whitney could count. There were other movie posters too—Amelia loved movies. One time she even went to—

  Oh, God.

  “Can I see that picture again? The one of Amelia and that boy?”

  Nodding, Natalie pulled it up and handed the phone to Whitney.

  Her mouth dried out. “I know where they’re sitting. I’ve been there before.”

  9

  FOUR WEEKS

  BEFORE DROP-OFF

  “WHITE OR RED?” Jay asked from the kitchen.

  “Red is fine.” A window near Whitney was open, and cool air whisked over her skin. She shivered. Voices floated in from outside. Heated. A couple in a fight.

  Whitney wasn’t a snob, by any means. She’d lived in apartments much of her adult life. But even she had hesitated a moment when she’d first pulled into the parking lot of this one.

  “Well, that’s good because I think I’m out of white anyway,” he called with a light laugh.

  Whitney bit her lip, taking in her surroundings. Jay’s apartment was nothing like she thought it would be. From what he’d told her, he had a great job in finance and made a sizable salary. He’d never said those exact words, but he’d alluded to it. This apartment reminded Whitney of the one she’d shared with Dan while they were in college, with its stained carpet and mismatched furniture. Not to mention that there were no photos anywhere, just a couple of framed movie posters, a mirror and a bookshelf which housed an array of items, but hardly any books. Plenty of DVDs, though. She thought of her own apartment, the paintings on the wall, and all the pictures of Amelia in various stages of life. Why didn’t he have any personal pictures? Hugging herself, she exhaled slowly.

  “A glass of red for the lady.”

  Jay wore that genuine, dimpled smile of his as he handed her a half-filled wineglass. His dark hair was tousled across his forehead, and his brown eyes sparkled under the dim lighting in the room. He wore khaki dress pants, a blue collared shirt. It hit her then why this place made her uncomfortable. It didn’t match him. He exuded class, wealth, charm. His apartment didn’t.

  Maybe that’s why he’d been hesitant to bring her here. He’d been to her place a few times. She’d entertained the idea that maybe he was married or something. It was why she’d pressed him about coming here. Now she wished she hadn’t.

  Jay motioned for her to sit on the couch with him, so she did. Their knees touched, and he flashed her his boyish grin.

  When she took a sip of wine, her body began to warm, relax. Why did it matter if his apartment wasn’t what she’d expected? He probably spent money on more important things. Or perhaps he was a saver. Her dad was like that.

  “Fail to plan, plan to fail,” he’d say.

  “You okay?” Jay asked, his brows furrowing.

  “Yeah.” Whitney smiled, feeling silly about her mental freak-out. It’s not like they’d just started dating. She knew Jay. They’d been out countless times. There was no reason to be nervous. She glanced around. “Just admiring your decor.”

  He laughed at her joke. “Wish I could take credit for it.”

  “Don’t tell me you hired a decorator.”

  Again, he laughed. “No. Somehow I think they would do a better job. Actually, this isn’t my place.” The discomfort she felt earlier returned. She shifted on the couch, and took another sip of wine, craving its calming effect. “I mean, I guess it is now. I am paying rent, but my roommate is the one who should get the credit...or the blame—” he winked “—for the decor.”

  “You never mentioned a roommate.”

  “Yeah, it’s not something a guy wants to bring up on a date.” He shrugged. “Like, hey, my ex-wife really reamed me in the divorce, so I’m rooming with a friend until I can get back on my feet.”

  She felt bad for being so judgmental. Reaching out with her free hand, she touched his knee. “You could’ve brought it up. I get it. I’m divorced too, remember?”

  “Yeah, but you seem to have gotten your shit together.”

  “I’ve had a lot more years than you.”

  His face moved a little closer, his lips twitching at the corners. “What you’re saying is that it gets easier?”

  “It does get easier,” Whitney said emphatically. “And better. You’ll see.”

  He abandoned his wine on the coffee table and lifted his hand to graze her face. “Oh, I’m already seeing that it gets better.”

  Whitney’s heart flipped in her chest. She’d barely set her wine down on the coffee table when Jay’s lips found hers. His hands moved to her hair, and she scooted closer to him, grasping his shoulders. A scratching sound caught her attention. She stiffened, tearing her lips away. “Your roommate isn’t home right now, is he?”

  “He’s not supposed to be.”

  Biting her lip, she glanced over his shoulder. The noise seemed to have come from one of the bedrooms. “I think I heard something, though.”

  “I’ll check, if it makes you feel better.” He cocked his head to the side.

  It was probably overkill, but she nodded. When he got up from the couch, she wondered if this would be their last date. Her anxiety wasn’t her most attractive quality. She was one of those people who checked the doors multiple times to make sure they were locked before going to bed. Or walked through parking lots, eyes scanning the area around her, hands gripping her keys as if ready to use as a weapon if need be. Her mom used to say she had an overactive imagination. That might be true, but she couldn’t help it. Still, she usually tried to keep it in check, hidden, until she’d been with a guy for more than a couple months.

  But maybe it was okay that Jay was getting a glimpse of it. He would eventually, right?

  “It was the cat.” Jay sauntered back in the room wearing a grin.

  “A cat?” He hadn’t mentioned a cat, but that would explain the smell. Whitney peered down at the ground, her nose scrunching. And the hair.

  “Yeah. Sorry. I sometimes forget about the little guy.” After plunking down next to her, he drew her close. “But don’t worry, he agreed to give us our privacy.”

  “Is that so?” She nestled in closer, their lips meeting once again. Privacy. An unexpected chill worked its way up her spine. It’s what she wanted, right? To be alone with him. It’s why she made him search the place. It’s why she wanted to come back here for a nightcap. Whitney would’ve invited him to her apartment, but Amelia was home tonight.

  Part of Whitney felt bad heading ou
t for her date, leaving Amelia on the couch, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and the TV blaring. But a night away from the teenage attitude and eye rolling sounded amazing.

  Now she just kind of wanted to go home.

  “Everything okay?” Jay studied her face.

  Whitney sighed, feeling like the biggest dud on the planet. “Yes, everything is great.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Funny, you’re saying the right words, but your face is telling a different story.”

  “Sorry.” She frowned. “I am honestly having a great time. I always do with you.”

  “But...” he prodded.

  “But...Amelia’s home by herself tonight, and...”

  He sat back on the couch, releasing her. “She’s a teenager. Surely, she can handle a night alone.”

  The comment stung. “Of course she can handle a night alone. It’s just that we haven’t been getting along that great...and I don’t know...” Whitney wasn’t even sure what she was trying to say, let alone how to convey it.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.” Jay moved in close again, wrapped one arm around her middle and tugged her toward him. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  His hand slid under Whitney’s shirt and she shivered at his touch. She gave in to him then, allowing his mouth to cover hers, his hands to move over her skin, willing herself to be in the moment. As the kiss deepened, he guided her down on the couch. Her head hit the side. She drew her lips away from his, reaching up to rub the spot where her head met the couch.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She was about to answer when the cat crawled into the room, meowing and staring up at her. Her flesh itched; she suddenly felt hyperaware of cat hair sticking to her skin. Wiping at it, she sat upright. From the half-open window she caught bits and pieces of the neighbors’ heated conversation as it clearly escalated.

  “Yeah,” she said, looking away from the cat. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just distracted tonight.”

  “I know.” Lifting his hand, he touched her cheek, brushed back a strand of hair. “But I’m sure your daughter is fine. I used to live for the nights my parents went out when I was her age.”

  It was meant to make her feel better.

  It succeeded in making her feel worse.

  She readjusted her top, smoothed down her hair.

  Jay sighed. Pulling back, he ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, I can take a hint.”

  She felt bad. He deserved better than this. He’d been so patient with her from the beginning.

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “It’s getting late, and I just really have to go.”

  He nodded. “I get it.”

  “Thanks for being so understanding.” Reaching out, she put her hand over his. “And we’ll do this again soon...I promise.”

  “Oh, I’ll hold you to that.” Leaning toward her, he gave her one last kiss.

  10

  SATURDAY, 3:30 P.M.

  TWENTY-TWO AND A HALF

  HOURS AFTER DROP-OFF

  THERE IT WAS. The same bench.

  Whitney held up her phone, picture displayed. “See, this is it. Right?”

  “Looks the same,” Natalie agreed. She pointed to the ground. “Even has the plant next to it.”

  Whitney glanced around at the grass surrounding them, a few picnic tables, barbecue pits and the pool a few feet away, enclosed in a fence. This complex was a good twenty minutes from where they lived. And Amelia had been here partying with people Whitney had never met. She swallowed hard. A warm breeze blew over them, leaves twitching on the branches of a nearby tree, a few falling to the ground.

  “So, this is where Jay lives?” Natalie asked.

  Whitney nodded. After she’d made the connection, she’d called him several times. He never answered. “Upstairs. But we’d passed this little picnic area on our way up. I remember commenting on how much cuter it was than our park area.”

  Natalie’s shoulders bobbed up and down. “Could just be a coincidence.”

  “Yeah,” Whitney agreed. “But I have to be sure.” She thought about the receipts from Sunrise Mall, which happened to be right around the corner from here. “Come on.” She walked forward, motioning for Natalie to follow.

  They made their way up the stairs, passing a mom with her two young children in tow. Whitney’s gaze lingered on them a beat too long. She noted the way the woman’s hand rested on her daughter’s back, the way she easily touched the top of her son’s head. Neither child made any attempt to pull away. She longed for those days again.

  When the mom caught Whitney staring, she averted her gaze and hurried up the remaining stairs.

  The hallway was similar to Whitney’s. She remembered thinking that when Jay brought her here too. Concrete floors, windows and doors facing the apartment across the way, the occasional flowerpot or chair as decoration. There was nothing in front of Jay’s.

  She knocked a few times and the door popped open. A woman who looked to be in her late twenties answered the door. Her hair was bleached a white blond, her roots dark, she had shimmery pink lipstick on her impossibly large lips and thick fake eyelashes that made it seem like it must be tough for her to keep her eyes open.

  Her gaze fell to Whitney’s empty hands and then her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you’re not DoorDash.”

  Whitney shook her head. “No, we’re here to see Jay. Is he home?”

  “Jay?” She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “No, he doesn’t live here.”

  “Um...yeah, I mean, I know it’s not his place, but he’s been staying here.” A toilet flushed from inside. “He brought me here like a month ago or so.”

  The woman’s lip scrunched up in a sour way. “Sorry, but no. This is my boyfriend’s place and he’s the only one who lives here.”

  A clicking sound like a door popping open came from the hallway, and a man around the same age as the woman came around the corner. His eyes widened upon seeing Whitney and Natalie.

  “What’s going on?” He ran a hand over his hair.

  The woman turned, her spiderlike eyelashes pointing toward the man. “I think this lady’s, like, dating Jay and she thinks he lives here.” She lowered her voice. “Sounds like he’s brought her here before.”

  “What? Nah, man, that’s not cool.” The man approached, throwing Whitney an apologetic look. “Sorry, but Jay doesn’t live here.”

  Whitney felt like she’d been slapped in the face, but she fought to keep her cool. “If you could just tell me how to find him. I think...” Whitney scrambled to find the right words “...my daughter might be with him...or at least may have been here before?” It ended up coming out like a question, Whitney’s voice high and unsure. This whole thing had thrown her off-kilter. She didn’t know what to think anymore.

  “Your daughter?” The guy’s eyes bugged out. “Nah. I’m not gettin’ involved in this.” He started to close the door.

  Whitney threw her arm up to block it. “Wait. Please. If you could just—”

  The door slammed in her face. Slumping over, Whitney pressed her forehead to the door, thinking of what to do next. That’s when she realized she could faintly hear the man and woman arguing through the door.

  “What the hell’s...you.” The man’s voice was slightly muffled, and Whitney couldn’t pick up on every word, but she got the gist. “Why did you...open...door for them?”

  “I thought it was our DoorDash. And why ya mad at me? Your brother’s the one bringing girls back here.” The woman’s response was a shrill yell, and Whitney was grateful to be able to pick up on her words.

  “I’ll deal with Jay. You just keep your mouth shut, okay?” The man’s voice was loud now too.

  Whitney heard shuffling inside. Their feet moving away from the door.

  The woman said something, but Whitney only picked up the tail end. “...what an asshol
e he was, anyway.”

  The man responded but their voices were even more muffled now, like they’d moved farther back into the apartment. Whitney couldn’t make out anything anymore.

  “What was the last thing she said?” Whitney asked Natalie, who had also been listening intently, ear to the door.

  “Something to the effect of you already figuring out what an asshole Jay is.”

  A young man stepped into the hall, plastic bags dangling from his fingers.

  “Must be their food,” Whitney surmised.

  Natalie grabbed her arm. “Okay, then we need to get outta here.”

  “Or, we could use him as a way to talk to them again,” Whitney suggested.

  Natalie shook her head firmly. “There’s no way you’re getting any more information out of those two.”

  You just keep your mouth shut, okay?

  Keep her mouth shut about what? Whitney wondered as Natalie tugged her down the hall.

  “Let’s just go downstairs and regroup,” Natalie said in her “boss” tone.

  Nodding, Whitney allowed herself to be guided down the stairs. When they got to the little park area, Whitney leaned her back against the metal fence around the pool. The air smelled like chlorine, pulling her mind into the past. To summers. To swim meets. And all the way back to when Amelia was a toddler, running around the pool in her neon bathing suit. The way she’d push the little water wings up her scrawny arms, trying to secure them in place. How she’d have to chase Amelia around the pool, trying to slather sunblock on her between jumps into the water.

  Natalie’s phone rang. “Oh, it’s Kayla,” she said before answering. As Natalie spoke, she walked in a zigzaggy line across the grass. Natalie was never able to stand still while talking on the phone.

  Whitney turned, staring into the water of the pool. It was warm today, but maybe not warm enough for a swim. The pool was empty, the surface still, sunshine shimmering on the top. She tried to picture Amelia here, drinking, partying. But instead she saw herself as a teenager, sitting with her best friend on a lounge chair sipping beers and talking about boys. Until recently, Amelia had been so different from how Whitney had been as a teenager. More responsible. Levelheaded. And Whitney had been lulled into the illusion that her daughter would never give her the grief she’d given her parents.