“W-what?” Micah slurred, “Tell me-please.”
“You aren’t worth it! At least I’ve kept my promises, but I never told her that I wouldn’t kick your ass for what you did. She wouldn’t call the cops and she wouldn’t let me take her to the hospital after you finished with her. I had to wait until the next day to knock her out with brandy to get these shots.”
“She doesn’t drink,” Micah spoke, clearer than before.
“There are a lot of things she doesn’t do, but you… You son-of-a-bitch, if I have to bury her because you sucked out the last of her will to live, I will be back and I will kill you!”
Ryan threw the photos on the floor and the three of them left.
Micah rolled onto his back, everything was throbbing. He was sure several ribs were cracked, his gut was on fire and everything had a red haze from the blood that was stinging his eyes. He laid there for a few minutes and then made it up on his knees. His head swooned as he staggered up on his feet and stumbled for his bathroom.
He looked in the mirror with a strange sense of appreciation at the work-over Ryan had given him. He washed his face. The sting of chlorinated water in the cuts helped him become more alert. When he finally dried off, he assessed the wounds. He had cuts under both eyes, his lips were split and swollen, his nose was still bleeding, the side of his right cheek was thick and red and his eyebrow on the right was also split and still bleeding. He was right about the ribs, taking a breath was excruciating.
Grabbing a few more paper towels he went back into his office and picked up the photos off the floor. He sat at his desk and stared. He didn’t know exactly how hard he had handled her in his fury. He had been filled with so much rage that he’d blocked most of that afternoon out of his memory, but looking at her, the images came vividly back. Her cheeks and eyes were black and blue from where he had slapped her so hard that he knocked her onto the coffee table. There was a shot of her back showing all the bruises she sustained where she hit it. Her lips were swollen and cracked just as his were now. Bruised skin covered her from where he’d gripped her throat and shoulders, to the places where he grabbed for her when he snatched her back from trying to escape. Ryan had even taken pictures of her ripped clothes and her bloodied undergarments. A wave of nausea hit him-what kind of animal had he been that day?
But then Ryan’s words pricked his consciousness. What did he mean that she didn’t really leave to be with Ryan? Who forced her to run that day, and what did he mean when he said she was trying to save someone?
There was only one person to get those answers from, but if she was willing to suffer through what he’d done to her and still not tell why she left, how would he ever get her to talk? And then another pain hit his chest; Ryan’s last statement made it clear that Leese was a suicide risk. She seemed fine the night of the finale, but then again she left with Ryan immediately after the show.
He had to get to her. He had to find her and tell her he was sorry for doing what was unforgivable. But he had to have answers and he knew she’d still refuse him.
He waited for the bleeding to stop before he headed to the airport. He knew her well enough to know if he got close to her, she would be more concerned about his injuries than her own safety. He shook his head; how could things have gone from the happiest moments of his life to the darkest?
Hours later, when he arrived at her house, no one was there. He picked the lock and went inside to discover her belongings were gone. He called Nadia, cowering inside at the berating he was sure to receive, but evidently Nadia was in the dark about everything concerning Leese. She wanted to talk, but Micah had to cut the conversation short as he simply told her it was of extreme importance that if she called to please have her get in touch with him right away.
He staked out Ryan’s house for several days, she wasn’t there, but another woman was. This woman was as young as Leese and evidently Ryan’s actual girlfriend. But, from the constant expression on Ryan’s face, he was extremely worried about Leese. She had to be on the run again, but why? He’d made no effort to bother her since the attack. Why would she take off? Unless she was planning something she didn’t want Ryan to witness.
He called his family, once again enlisting there help to find her.
“Forget about her,” his mother snapped. “She’s not worth any more pain.”
“Please, Mom. I need your help. I found out something I didn’t know before and-and I have reason to believe she was forced to leave.”
“Son, stop torturing yourself-she went after another man and that’s all there is to it.”
“No, there is much, much more to all of this. I’ve got to know the answers. I’ve got to find her before-before it’s too late.”
“I think you should come home and stop-”
“I am coming home-D’Angelo has a job for me.”
His mother paused, “I’ll help you look for her, but I think it would be wise to stop taking so many jobs. We can look for her together.”
Four months of dirty deeds for D’Angelo passed quickly. But, every free moment he had was spent following up leads that his mother turned up. Leese had done an excellent job of hiding this time. She had taken cash, but made sure no numbers were left behind. There had been no traceable phone calls home, and no credit card receipts. The only thing she had that might give her away was her car. There were very few Shelby Ultimate Aeros on the road, and you couldn’t simply pull it into Wal-Mart to have it serviced.
His mother had begun conducting interviews with former Remake contestants saying she was helping the producers get next season’s group ready, and she needed their opinions. Every time she turned interviews into conversations about Leese. When she got in touch with Dobrey Stewart, she got her first solid lead.
Dobrey mentioned loaning Leese a cottage in California so that she could get away from all the publicity. When Celeste pressed her for more information about the cottage, Dobrey became suspicious and ended their conversation. She couldn’t find any records in California that showed Dobrey owned a piece of property, but Celeste was certain she was keeping it under an assumed name. When the court house is of no help, the newspaper archives are. She found a seven-year-old article about how Dobrey Stewart had given the money for a public library in the small northern town of Gualala. They mentioned that Ms. Stewart had been so enamored with their town that she had purchased a cottage in the vicinity.
Micah was on a plane and in Gualala by the next day.
“Yeah, I’ve seen her before,” the man at the local grocery store admitted pointing to the blond version of Leese as Micah showed him two photographs. “She’s a real sweet gal, kind a shy and quiet. I think she’s living somewhere just north of here. She drives a red four-wheel drive, a Jeep Wrangler I think. Should I tell her you’re looking for her next time she’s in town?”
Micah smiled, “No, I was going to surprise her. We were friends in high school back in Florida and I wanted to see her before I head back to the east coast, but I’ll find her.” His lies were smooth as silk and had enough sincerity to make a believer out of anyone.
There was a small motel on the ocean side, right across the street from the grocery store. He could wait a day or two and see if a red Jeep came through town. He really wondered if the man could be mistaken because a Jeep just didn’t sound like Leese’s kind of vehicle.