Even leaning close to her to take the robe feels...like too much. I grab it and try to get my left arm into it quickly, without too much struggle. All I can think about as she watches me out of the corner of her eye, messing with her own robe and trying to look inconspicuous, is Suri, always offering to help me with everything. I don't want help. I don't want to need help.
I pull the robe roughly up my left shoulder, which still feels a little tender, and jab my right arm into its sleeve. Merri starts gathering damp towels off the floor, but before she can bring them to her chest to carry them, I take them from her.
“I got these.”
As she looks up at me, her hair falls around her face and I feel like someone just lit a light bulb inside my chest.
I hold the towels closer and grab a few more off the floor. Then I walk into the bathroom, because I can't keep being in the shower with her. The space is too damn small.
She's on my heels; I can see her—all long, wavy red hair and enormous tits—in the opulent gold mirror that stretches across the wall. “Do you want to go find some food?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I mutter, glancing at myself in the mirror. I look about as rough as I feel.
I lead the way through a cavernous bedroom with a larger-than-king-sized bed that has thick, wood posts and a brown canopy.
“I guess this is the love nest.”
From behind me she says, “Yeah. Why don't you leave the towels by that fireplace? You know...so we don't have to go in the laundry room.”
“Right.” Where the dead dude is.
I dump them by the marble fireplace and give it a frown. “This thing work?”
“No, it's probably just for candles.” And yeah, now that she says that I notice it's filled up with half-melted candles.
“Sexay.”
I catch her eye for the first time in a while and her mouth is pulled into a pensive expression.
“Sorry,” I say. “I like to make inappropriate jokes about the dead.”
She smiles a little, leading us through the bedroom door, into the hall. “Once, when I was a little kid—like four, I think—I was in a beauty pageant. When it was time for me to go to the microphone and sing my solo, I got nervous and decided to lead with a joke. I said, 'How long did it take for the chicken to cross the road?' Everyone was either staring at me or laughing, and I loved it. I waited so long I couldn't remember what I was going to say, but I knew poop was funny, so I said, 'Three farts.'” She grins. “Needless to say, my aunt was not amused.”
“Aunt?” I ask as I follow her back toward the kitchen.
“Yeah. I grew up with my aunt and uncle.”
I shouldn't ask, but I can't seem to help myself. “Your parents...they, um, passed away?”
Her veil of reddish hair moves as she nods. “My mother died when I was born and so my Aunt Britta and my Uncle Walter raised me. They have a son, Landon, who's a year older than me.” Glancing over her shoulder, she frowns. “But I guess you know that. Do you?”
“I don't know your history,” I hedge. “I just came to find you and bring you back.”
We make it to the kitchen and Meredith holds out a chair for me. “My legs are kind of crampy from sitting, so I figured I'll rustle up our food,” she says. “Also, though, I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“I was wondering,” she says, going over to the freezer and opening it, “what's the incentive? For coming to find me, I mean.”
21
Cross
SHIT. I DON'T want to lie to her. I stretch my left arm out in front of me and pretend to examine the bandage for a second. “Um, there's not really anything in it for us other than a paycheck. The company just takes contracts from government agencies or private individuals on people who are missing.” I force myself to meet her eyes. “Also it’s the kind of job you can feel good about doing.”
She presses her lips together, poking and prodding several frozen Ziplock bags on a small granite island. “Can I ask you something else?”
I nod, even though it's the last thing I want.
“Who contacted you about me?”
I shrug. “I think I heard from your co-workers that it was your aunt, but that's not really part of my job.”
“It's okay. It doesn't matter I guess.”
But she looks disappointed, so it does matter. “I'm sure lots of people missed you. Your aunt filed a missing persons report a while back. And I remember some women in Vegas reported you missing, too. My co-worker mentioned it to me, that there were several of them.”