Chapter 6

Rick Hurley sent another message to Cat’s phone. If she didn’t show up in the next few minutes, he would have to fill her time slot with music. He threw the roster, clipboard included, on the desk and made a big production out of sorting through CD’s as if he were searching for something.

Pat Gilbraithe, a part-time college intern, was running the sound board as commercials cycled through at the top of the hour. He looked through the Plexiglas at Rick and asked, “What can I do to help?” through the control room intercom.

“Crap Cat, so she can do her job, for starters!” Rick shouted. He loved that expression, “Crap Cat.”

Rick detested Cat, there wasn’t any hiding it. So he didn’t even try. He thought she was dimwitted, egotistical, and arrogant. He didn’t even like her voice. In radio, that’s everything. She might be easy on the eyes, but that was as much credit as he gave her. He couldn’t explain to anyone, not that anyone had asked, why he hated her so much. He just did. Maybe it was her condescending attitude or the way she tossed her head back when she laughed. Whatever the reason, he loathed her.

When Cat’s shift began and she still hadn’t shown up, Rick instructed Craig to play music and fill any extra time with Public Service Announcements as necessary. It amazed him that anyone would listen to Cat Carlyle anyway. If it were in his power, he would have fired her long ago. If things went the way he planned, he wouldn’t have to worry about Cat “no-show” Carlyle much longer. The thought brought a smile to his face. He sat down at his desk whistling a happy tune and pulled up an Employee Discipline and Acknowledgement form on his desktop. He would enjoy filing this out. As he entered all of Cat’s information on the form, he could almost picture her face as she read it. It would take all he had not to laugh in her face as she was forced to acknowledge her unexcused absence from work.

Across town Cat lay sleeping. At nearly six in the even-ing the hospital was quite calm. She might have continued to sleep all through the night if a bad dream hadn’t awakened her. In the dream, a masked man held a knife to her throat as he raped her repeatedly. Her naked, bruised body trembled as she begged for death in a hoarse voice that didn’t sound like her own. When she felt the cold steel slice her skin, she screamed. She woke with her hospital gown clinging to her still shaking, sweaty frame.

 

 

If there had been time to run, Detective Sullivan would have done so. As it was, he stood stock still and waited for Cat’s response to his presence. He was pretty sure she was going to be mad about catching him watching her sleep. It took a second for Cat to realize that Sullivan had been there while she was sleeping. Without knowing how long he had been there or what she might have said in her sleep, she allowed herself to wake a little more before she spoke. In the awkward silence that stretched between them, Sullivan began to consider his approach.

“I came back to check on you. I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot earlier.” He paused, but then continued when she remained silent. “You looked peaceful, so I didn’t wake you. I decided to hang around and see if you wanted to talk after you woke up.” He paused again, but again she didn’t speak. “You know, you went through something pretty traumatic last night. Bad dreams often accompany that.”

This time, while he spoke she raised her eyes to his. He didn’t seem like the enemy. He looked friendly. She realized that she must have done something in her sleep to convince him she was having a bad dream. The thought of him watching her sleeping made her blush all over. She felt very feminine and exposed lying there with the flimsy gown and hospital bedcovers on her. Sullivan was saying something about post-traumatic stress and its symptoms, but Cat was thinking how nice he looked after obviously getting some rest and cleaning up. She noticed he had changed into a pull-over, red polo shirt, jeans and loafers.

“Loafers, brown loafers!” she blurted out.

Where had that come from? She wondered. But Sullivan knew. He inched closer to the bed. “The killer wore brown loafers?” he asked excitedly.

“Yes, they had square toes and had an, “S” on the side of them.”

She traced the letter “S” in the air with her finger and then starred off into space trying to recall more. Sullivan didn’t say a word. He held his breath waiting for whatever else she could remember.

“That’s really all I can remember,” she concluded at last. Both of them had hoped she could share more, but at the moment, that was it.

“Don’t rush it. Your memory of even the tiniest details will come to you in time.”

He smiled at her then as he touched her arm to reassure her. The small gesture had her heart fluttering. She chided herself for being a hopeless romantic and hoped her warm, flushed cheeks were not giving her away. Sullivan would have stayed longer and pressed her for more had her parents not knocked on the door and come in without waiting for a response. Cat and Sullivan froze in place like a couple of teenagers caught doing something they shouldn’t. Phillip and Linda didn’t know what to think of it when they popped into the room. The four of them looked at each other a moment before Cat finally spoke.

“Detective Sullivan came by to check on me. Wasn’t that nice?” she began awkwardly. “You’ll be happy to know that we’ve made amends for this morning,” Cat continued while waiting for her parents to respond. They were acting odd.

“Good, very good,” Phillip stammered.

“Oh, okay,” Linda said. She walked to Cat and handed her a magazine and some fuzzy socks she had retrieved from Cat’s apartment. “I thought you might like a few comforts from home.”

“Thanks, Mom. You are the best! How’s your head-ache?” Cat asked nervously as she pulled the covers aside so she could slide her toes inside the warm, blue socks. “Delicious!” Cat exclaimed.

Linda told Cat that after taking the migraine shot and falling asleep, she had awakened pain-free.

“I’m glad, Mom. Hey, while you were gone, I remembered something.” Her parents seemed to come closer to her while she spoke, and she watched with disappointment as Sullivan began easing away from them towards the door. “I remembered the killer’s shoes and something else.”

“Something else?” Sullivan asked quickly, his eyes intent and alert.

“Yes, I remembered that I dropped my bracelet last night, and when I was at the police station, it wasn’t on my arm.” As Cat spoke, her mind replayed the events, and she began telling the story. When she finished, she mentioned the missing bracelet again and wondered if one of them would go look for it. She hated to ask, but hated to lose the bracelet also.

“I tell you what,” Sullivan said. “Why don’t I go take a look for the bracelet?”

“Would you? Please?” Cat asked, thrilled that he would do it without her asking.

“Sure, no problem. I wanted to put my eyeballs on the scene again anyway.” And see if our forensic folks missed anything…else, he thought to himself. “I didn’t see the bracelet listed on the evidence sheet. Are you sure it was under the car the last time you saw it?” Sullivan asked.

“Yes, I’m positive. That’s why I was lying on the ground. I was trying to reach it,” Cat added.

Sullivan said he’d let her know when he found it. After a brief exchange with Phillip and Linda, he left to search for the bracelet.

“Well, what do you make of that?” Phillip commented to Linda before the door had completely shut behind Sullivan. Linda smiled at him before turning her smile on Cat.

“Interesting, very interesting.”

“It’s not what you think,” Cat said defensively. She nervously ran her fingers through her hair and wiped invisible crustiness from her eyes.

“What do we think?” Linda asked. She was still smiling as she wrapped her arm around Phillips waist and pulled him next to her. Cat began to blush again and quickly changed the subject.

“I had a bad dream, and when I woke up Detective Sullivan was here,” she told them. “Something about the dream or seeing him right after waking up, reminded me about the killer’s shoes. It was really weird.” She paused to see if they were listening. “That’s when you guys came in, so there was nothing to it. I just thought I should explain.”

“That’s fine, Honey. We are just glad you got some rest and seem to be in better spirits.” Linda assured her.

“Has the doctor come back to visit with you yet?” Phillip asked.

Cat told them what the doctor had said and what the plan was for the next day. After promising to get some rest, Cat encouraged her parents to do the same, and they left shortly after. Cat turned her cell phone back on and repositioned herself in the bed. She had turned the phone off to get some rest earlier and thought she better check for any missed calls or texts. It never occurred to her to ask if anyone had contacted the radio station about her shift. She hadn’t thought of it at all before now. From the number of missed calls and the tone of Rick’s text messages, no one had contacted the station for her. The sense of impending doom sickened her stomach as she dialed the station’s number. This was going to be bad.

Pat Gilbraithe answered cheerily on the first ring. “Good evening, Sooner Broadcasting. This is Pat.” Cat smiled as she silently acknowledged and applauded his eagerness.

“Hey, Pat, it’s Cat!”

“Cat! Where are you? Rick is royally pissed at you!”

“That figures. I’m in the hospital, but I’m okay.” Cat said. She could just picture Rick making everybody miser-able at the station because he was mad at her. “Are you covering for me?” Cat asked.

“Yes, I have it all under control. Several people have called asking where you are though. You have quite a following.” Pat said.

The news made Cat happy. She apologized for him having to deal with Rick and for any unnecessary stress her absence had created.

“Don’t worry. I’m happy to do it. I love this.” Then Pat told her how he had played a Lynyrd Skynyrd song that lasted long enough for him to relieve himself and get a drink of water before it ended. He told her how he had congratulated himself on his timing. Cat knew that Pat had once cut himself short on time between songs. He never wanted to repeat that mistake. That had only been a few months ago, but the wound was fresh enough to make Pat wince at the thought of repeating it. Cat had assured him that every disk jockey makes that error at least once in their career. Cat reminded him that being an on-air personality was often stressful and “live” mistakes were hard to avoid and overcome, even for seasoned disk jockeys and journalists.

Pat lowered his voice to a whisper as he looked around like a thief for witnesses before committing a crime. When he thought the coast was clear, he continued, “I have to warn you. Rick is up to something.”

“What do you mean?”

Pat told her how he had walked by Rick’s office on his way to the water fountain earlier and how he had heard Rick whistling while it sounded like his fingers were attacking the keyboard. Pat was certain the furious typing had something to do with her.

“Don’t worry. His bark is worse than his bite,” Cat replied.

“Just be prepared, that’s all I’m saying,” Pat said. “By the way, he’s still here if you want to talk to him.”

“No, I don’t really, but I guess I should,” Cat admitted.

She sighed at the thought of having to speak to Rick at all. At least she could do it by phone and not have to endure his accusing stare while she attempted to explain her absence. After being placed on hold for what seemed like an eternity, Rick finally picked up. He sounded calm and only slightly irritated.

“Well, well, well. I knew you would eventually resurface.” His menacing voice slithered into her ear piece. “You must have had too much fun last night, huh? Or are you still hung over?” Rick asked in his fake radio voice with added inflection and near perfect enunciation.

Cat took a deep breath before she began. It wouldn’t help her any to be pissy with Rick, regardless of how much she wanted to or how much he deserved it. She explained the best she could about what had happened. Rick denied knowing anything about the incident and didn’t show much interest in her side of the story. She asked how he managed to have missed all the excitement in the parking lot.

“You’re telling me that I’m the first person to tell you about the murder from last night?” she asked.

It amazed her that he could be so isolated from current events and work as a producer and assistant network manager in a medium size market. The guy shouldn’t even have a Ham radio license, she thought bitterly.

“I told you, this is the first I have heard about it.” Rick assured her again. “Are you telling the truth Cat? No offense, but this sounds kind of like the time your car broke down, or the time you had the medical emergency with your dog?”

“Those things really did happen, Rick, and yes, I am telling the truth.”

“Fine. You saw a murder, you passed out, you’re in the hospital and they won’t let you leave. That’s your excuse for not showing up or letting us know you weren’t coming in?” He sounded more irritated the longer he talked.

Cat began chewing the inside of her cheek. She was dying to get off the phone. She was thinking he sounded more like a liar than she did. He expected her to believe that he somehow left the station after the murder happened, and he neither saw nor heard any emergency vehicles?

She mustered all her nerve and finally said, “Well, obviously I won’t be in today. I don’t know about tomorrow either. I’ll call after I talk to the doctor tomorrow.”

Rick ended the call rather abruptly after that. He alluded to the fact that Cat’s unexcused absence would cost her. Before she could respond, he had slammed down the phone.

She sat in silence for a long time, fuming over the arrogance and ignorance of the pig she called a boss. She couldn’t stand the guy. She knew him well enough to know he would try to cause her big problems with the network manager Frederick Davidson. Mr. Davidson seldom took her side of anything. What Rick wanted, Rick usually got. Sometimes she thought the only reason Davidson didn’t fire her was because he was afraid she would sue him. Cat also had the sneaking suspicion that her difference in genitalia was the main source of contention between them. She lowered the head of her hospital bed and tried to relax. This line of thinking wasn’t helping. She had to get some rest. She’d be needing it tomorrow.