Chapter 4

“I told you this kind of thing was going to happen,” Linda Carlyle was saying to Cat’s father. They still stood in the entryway of their luxurious house in a gated community in the northwest part of Oklahoma City. A uniformed police officer had just left after informing them of Cat’s plight and her current status at the University’s hospital downtown.

“Your daughter has always been so reckless and impulsive.” Linda stated to Phillip. She was furious. “She will likely go to prison over this, won’t she? God help her.” Linda nearly sobbed into her hands as Phillip took her into his arms. “My baby! My baby girl! What has she done?” Linda broke down then. They held to each other while the news of the early morning’s events sank in.

“Come on. Let’s get dressed and go see her. Maybe I should call an attorney. It sounds like she’ll need one,” Phillip suggested. He could not make any sense of what he heard himself saying. His beautiful, sweet, little girl, a killer? No, it wasn’t true. Sure, she was rebellious, stubborn and even stretched the truth from time to time, but a killer? No, she was several things he disapproved of, but a cold-blooded killer, she was not.

After meeting with the nurse and then the doctor attending Cat, Phillip and Linda Carlyle entered her room. They had been informed that Cat had just drifted off to sleep. She looked so peaceful and sweet that neither had the heart to wake her. So they made them-selves comfortable and waited for whatever was to come next.

“Hello, you must be Mr. and Mrs. Carlyle. I’m Detective Sullivan,” the detective introduced himself as he entered Cat’s hospital room about an hour later. He held out his wallet badge and identification for them to see. He had already spoken with the charge nurse and knew they were there. Sullivan was hoping they could shed some light on this interesting young woman who was at the center of his investigation.

“Phillip Carlyle. This is my wife, Linda,” Philip offered as he stood and held a hand out to Sullivan. Linda nodded her head and smiled slightly. She remained seated, but looked intently at Sullivan.

“How is Catherine feeling? Did she tell you what happened?” Sullivan asked as he looked from Phillip to Linda. They both looked at each other and then at Cat before responding.

Linda spoke first, “We really don’t know.” She stood quickly as if someone had poked her and then continued, “She has been asleep since we arrived, and we hated to wake her. She looks so pale and exhausted.” Linda moved from her seat and took what appeared to be a protective stance between Sullivan and Cat’s hospital bed. Feeling the tension and reading the body language, Sullivan changed tactics. He needed them on his side.

“I was about to get a cup of coffee,” Sullivan said as he turned toward the door. “Would you care to join me, Mr. Carlyle? We’ll let Catherine sleep a little while longer,” he finished in a near whisper.

“I suppose so,” Phillip agreed. He needed a reprieve from the stale room anyway. “We’ll bring you back some coffee, too.” Sullivan said to Linda, who still stood rigid with her arms crossed stiffly in front of her.

She nodded at his comment but didn’t speak. As soon as the door shut behind them, Linda began smoothing her shirt hem with her hands. The western shirt she wore was curling up on the end making her feel self-conscious. She wished she could have spent more time putting herself together before they rushed down to the hospital. She would take this opportunity to freshen up while the men were gone and Cat was still asleep. She stood just inside the open door in the tiny restroom of Cat’s hospital room. She stared at her haggard appearance in the mirror.

“How can this be happening?” Linda wondered aloud as she pulled the lid off her lipstick and began applying it.

“Mom, is that you?” Cat asked groggily from her bed.

With only the top lip colored, Linda rushed to Cat’s side. “Oh, sugar, how are you feeling? Your dad and I have been so worried. Why didn’t you call us immediately? What happened? Are you alright? Who was that man that was killed? Did he hurt you? Did he give you this cut on your cheek?” Linda peppered Cat with questions and would have continued had Cat not stopped her by holding up her hands in protest.

“Mom, take it easy. I have this all under control,” Cat said as she raised herself up in bed. She started to get out of the bed and then thought better of it. “Trust me,” Cat assured her mom. “There is no reason to worry. I am just fine. I am…”

“Catherine Elise Carlyle, don’t you dare say another word.” Linda snapped. “You are in so much trouble, young woman. Do you have any idea what has happened and what you are accused of doing?” Linda stopped her tirade just as Detective Sullivan and Phillip came through the door.

“She’s awake!” Phillip exclaimed as he handed the coffees to Linda and strode to Cat’s side. He squeezed her in a hug that nearly crushed her ribs.

“Hi, Daddy. Like I was just telling Mom here, I am fine,” Cat assured him as she smiled weakly.

Phillip relaxed his arms and grabbed both of Cat’s shoulders. He looked intently into her face and took up where her mother had just left off. “What have you gotten yourself into this time, Girl? Who did this to your cheek?” Phillip gently grazed her cheek with his lips.

“Oh, Daddy, it’s just a huge misunderstanding,” Cat began. “I’ll tell you what happened, just let me explain. But first, will you hand me my cell phone? It should be there in my purse.

Phillip rifled through the bag and found her phone. He handed it to her as she raked her fingers through her frizzy hair, which she seldom styled. She thought she probably looked pretty rough considering all she had been through. Because she didn’t consider herself very pretty, she usually didn’t waste much time or money painting herself up. She usually wore a little mascara and some lip color and called it good. While she tried to slick her hair down, she turned on her phone and let her eyes scan her mother’s beautiful face. Linda was the epitome of style and femininity. It was hard being her daughter most of the time Cat thought, but looking at her mom now she smiled and pointed to her lips.

“Mom, what’s with your lipstick?”

Cat had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when Linda flew from the room, horrified. Sullivan chuckled to himself as he approached Cat’s bed and asked if she needed anything.

“Yeah, my clothes and a decent night’s sleep. When can I leave?” she asked impatiently.

“Not until tomorrow morning, I’m told.” Sullivan said, noting her discomfort.

He liked how child-like she looked in the gown and how vulnerable it made her seem. For some unknown reason he suddenly wanted to protect her. He felt an urge to take care of her. It had to be because of the smudged mascara stains under her beautiful hazel eyes, he thought. Or the stitches she wore like a medal on her cheek. Whatever the cause, the effect was undeniable. He had to remind himself that at the moment she was his only suspect in a murder investigation. He couldn’t deny those facts either. Sullivan was grateful that the nurses had cleaned her up before her parents had arrived. It was hard enough for him to see her covered in dried blood, and he didn’t even know her.

When he first saw Cat she had blood caked in her blonde hair. A large clump of it had congealed. Had Cat’s mother seen that, she might have fainted, also.

“I have a few more questions for you if you’re feeling up to it?” Sullivan asked.

“Actually, I would like for you to wait until our attorney arrives, Detective,” Phillip intervened.

He stood by Cat’s side holding her hand. Linda rejoined them, lipstick repaired. She went to the other side of Cat’s bed and took her other hand. Her parents’ presence made Cat feel more confident, but also more dependent.

“I don’t mind, Dad,” Cat said, letting go of both of their hands after giving each parent an affectionate squeeze. “I don’t need an attorney. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was trying to explain earlier to Detective Sullivan here…,”

“Tom, please call me Tom,” Sullivan interrupted.

Cat continued without acknowledging his request. “I was explaining…that I was merely a witness to the murder.” She stressed the word “witness” by staring at Sullivan and drawing air quotes around the word as she said it. Her voice quivered just a little then, as her mind flashed the dead man’s face front and center. Those cold, dead eyes would haunt her for the rest of her life.

Cat squeezed her eyes shut as she continued. “I didn’t kill anybody.” She put her hands on either side of her head as if to keep it on her neck. It felt like her head was going to explode.

“Can I have a glass of water please?”

Linda found a plastic cup, unsealed it and poured water from a pitcher that was on a nearby bedside table. As she handed the cup of water to Cat their eyes caught, and Cat saw the worry and fear in them. It wrenched her heart.

“Better?” Sullivan asked. “Let’s just go over a few things shall we?”

With Cat’s permission he launched ahead with his questioning. He took out a notebook and flipped through several pages, selected the one he wanted and pulled a pen from inside a breast pocket of his jacket. Cat watched him with keen eyes. She hadn’t noticed before how tall he was. Standing beside her hospital bed he appeared to tower over her parents.

“I need you to think back to the beginning of your day, Cat,” he began. “But before you say anything I want to remind you of your rights.” He hesitated long enough to turn a mini-tape recorder on and lay it beside Cat on her bedside table. “This will help me with my report later,” he said, pointing his pen towards the recorder.

“Wait a minute,” Phillip interrupted hurriedly. “I really think we should wait for our attorney to arrive. He’ll be here shortly.”

Cat shifted her weight on the hospital bed and pulled the covers higher. Maybe her dad was right, this didn’t feel right. It angered her that this cop sounded accusatory.

“The murder happened after my shift at work,” Cat protested. “What difference does it make what I did earlier in the day? What is it you’re after, Detective?”

Sullivan opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. His chance of an informal interview was dwindling. “Well, I want to go back twelve hours from the crime and work forward. It’s standard procedure I assure you.”

He paused with his pen hovering above his notebook, waiting for a reply. Cat was old enough to make the decision to speak with him without representation. He hoped she chose to do so. He doubted her attorney would allow him to interview her today once he showed up. He changed gears, without waiting for a response.

“What time did your shift end at the station?” he asked, without looking up.

“Midnight.”

“And what time did you start the shift?”

“Four p.m., but I got to the station early yesterday because I had some promos to cut.”

“Promos?” Sullivan asked.

“Promotional advertisements. Lindsey, one of our sales reps, sent me a message earlier in the day and asked me to cut them. The customers had requested my voice for the ads.”

“What’s Lindsey’s last name?” Sullivan asked, while scratching away furiously with his pen.

“Byrd. Lindsey Byrd,” Cat replied.

Phillip stepped out to the hallway to place a phone call. Reaching the answering service for the second time that day, he asked about his attorney as he walked down the lonely corridor. He was wondering where their attorney was and how soon he would arrive. He was afraid that Cat had made the wrong decision. He wished she had chosen not to speak to the police detective without legal counsel first. After being placed on hold for several minutes, a woman came back on the line.

“Mr. Neal is on his way,” the young receptionist said into the phone. “He was delayed for just a few minutes.”

“Fine, if you have a way to contact him, please tell him we are in room 515 and there is a detective from Homicide already here.” As he disconnected, Phillip frowned. He realized he was beginning to feel the strain from the emotions and lack of sleep. He knew Linda would be feeling much worse. Her health really wasn’t the best, and problems with Cat usually brought on a migraine headache.

When Phillip stepped back into Cat’s room his heart sank. Linda sat on the edge of Cat’s bed, and the two of them were hugging. He could hear Cat crying softly and sniffling. He searched around for a box of tissues and began asking what was going on and where the police detective had gone.

“Detective Sullivan informed me that I’m their only suspect and that I cannot leave town without letting them know where I’m going,” Cat sniffed.

“Did he already leave?” Phillip asked. “I was only gone for a minute. What happened?”

“Well, your daughter didn’t like his tone and told him to get out,” Linda said. “It must have made him mad because without another word he slapped his notebook shut and grabbed his recorder and left.”

“Cat!” Phillip started.

“Dad, the guy is bipolar, one minute he is all looking gooey-eyed at me, and the next he is insulting my integrity and calling me a murderer!”

Exasperated, she fell back to the pillow and draped an arm over her face. Why is all this happening to me? she wondered. Her face had begun to ache from the injury to her cheek, and she silently acknowledged the throbbing headache it had given her. She would likely have a hideous scar on her face. Not that it mattered, she thought. No one cared to look at her anyway. She had nothing and no one, she told herself. No, she was nothing and no one, she corrected herself. Everyone would be better off if she were dead.

“I wish he had just killed me, too.” She sobbed, as her tears ran down either side of her head. As she lay on her back, the tears began filling her ears.

“Stop it! Don’t talk that way,” Phillip said. “We’ll get this all straightened out. You’re just exhausted. You’ve been through a lot.” He patted Cat’s shoulder to reassure her.

Cat continued to cry and didn’t respond, but drained her tear-filled ears by sitting up. She could feel the warm tears turning cold quickly as they dripped off her earlobes and onto the front of her thin gown. She wiped her face with the sheet that covered her and rolled over in the bed, turning her back to her parents. Linda turned a tear-streaked face to Phillip and shrugged her shoulders sadly. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes with the tissue Phillip had handed her. He could tell by the way her right eyelid was sagging, that a migraine would be forthcoming. It was going to be a long day for all of them.

 

 

Poking the knife into the tires of the little white car felt good, too good to be true, in fact, almost orgasmic. The quickly escaping air made hissing sounds as he moved around the car and sliced every tire. His heart was racing, and his hands were slick with sweat. His excitement grew with each stab of the knife. He could only imagine what it would feel like to slide his blade between Cat’s ribs and watch her eyes fill with horror.

Under the cover of darkness he slid the knife back into its sheath inside his boot. Pulling the dark hoodie over his head, he squatted in silence planning his getaway. Stunts like this made him feel more like the man he knew he was inside. He felt strong and powerful. Carefully, he looked around for any witnesses before leaving the security of the shaded hiding spot where he knelt.

In the same parking lot a car door slammed shut. It was close by, startling him so that he almost bolted like a deer. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to plaster himself against the now vandalized car and lower his body to the ground instead. He peered under the cars and saw someone walking away from a vehicle not fifty yards away. He wondered if they had seen him, but they weren’t coming in his direction and they weren’t in any hurry. He reassured himself that his dirty deed had gone undetected for now. He started to push himself up when something caught his eye. Under the car lay a slightly oval, silver object.

He knew exactly what was engraved on its smooth, silvery edges. His spirit soared as he stretched out his tattooed arm and his long, thin fingers closed around Cat’s bracelet. Could this night get any better?