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By morning I was sore all over, which made my throat feel better in comparison. I’d be wearing turtleneck sweaters for a few weeks.
The arm sling was delivered with a note to follow up with my doctor when I got home. Porsche and I opted for breakfast to be delivered to the room. It was a splurge, but I didn’t want the attention and stares I would get if we went down to breakfast. I was positive word had spread that I tangled with the killer... and survived. I apparently kicked his butt since the doctor tended his injuries before seeing me last night. I didn’t feel very victorious though.
I savored the last of Alpine Sun’s food and even stepped out on the balcony to a balmy nine degrees with the sun shining. My breath turned to shimmering tiny crystals in the dry cold. I never understood when visitors would qualify the cold in Colorado with the statement, “but it’s a dry cold.” Nine degrees, dry or humid, is still freaking cold, and we aren’t even going to talk about the negative temperatures the storm had brought. I missed the raccoons, but they were likely back to their dens all snug and warm.
We finally were all packed and in the lobby, standing in line to check out. I wore one of Porsche’s scarves around my neck to hide the bruises. They looked worse this morning than they felt, but I didn’t want to advertise them. I was also reserving talking to reduce irritation and swelling of my larynx and surrounding tissue. I tried to conceal the bruise on my face from Wade’s assault with makeup. I had no idea in sunlight how well it would remain covered.
People seemed conflicted in their response to my presence. Some intentionally made eye contact and smiled or nodded. I believed they were relieved the killer was now in custody and heard I was involved in that outcome. Others avoided eye contact as if I was an unpleasant reminder of the violence that intruded into their world. Then there were the people who glared.
Yes, glared at me. I didn’t realize what a rabid following Wade Lochran had for his editorials and personal involvement in organizations. Not until I was part of getting him arrested that is. There had been notes slipped under the door throughout the night and this morning, angry notes defending him and blaming Kara Caine or myself.
I told Porsche to turn them all over to Johan to include with the case files. I figured they would keep in touch, at least for a while. Maybe the long-distance thing could work, who was I to say? It amazed me how the notes manufactured any scenario, many convoluted, to make Wade Lochran the victim rather than a calculating killer simply because he represented what they believe in some fashion.
“Good morning Julienne.” Came from behind me. I turned to find Justin with his parents. He held a hand up, “don’t talk. I know it hurts.” That shy smile was out again. Some young girl was going to melt over him, and probably not that long from now. He had a chivalrous side, he found Johan last night to pass on my message and insisted on backing him up.
I shook hands with his parents and smiled a lot. “Dear, you’re so brave to have fought him.” His mother exclaimed, a hand fluttering to her throat. She made it sound like fighting back against an attacker was somehow unusual.
“Thanks for the dance lessons too. I hope to get to use those moves again soon.” He blushed and I suspected I had already been replaced in his affections. His cell phone dinged and he was lost to texting.
I got a tap on my shoulder and turned... to look into Mason’s eyes.
“Hi, beautiful. I would’ve been here last night, but some roads hadn’t opened yet.” He smiled his million-watt charming smile and placed a quick kiss on my cheek. My heart skipped several beats. Just because I doubted we had a real future didn’t mean the man didn’t make my blood rush.
People were now staring at him and the hum of whispers underscored the entire lobby noise. He glanced around and then looked at me with questions in his eyes.
“Julienne, is this man bothering you?” Justin asked, loud and clear. I heard Porsche snort a laugh.
“Justin, this is my boyfriend...” I croaked, and my hand went to my throat.
Mason opened his mouth, probably to ask if I had a bad cold.
But Porsche cut right to the point. She reached around Mason and removed my scarf to reveal the bruises. “Seems she needed a bodyguard herself.” Her voice was a scalpel cutting deep.
He reached up and his long fingers grazed my neck. His eyes were flashing lightning bolts.
His voice was low and lethal, “Who did this?”
“The man is already in police custody, while you were gone on business, dude.” Justin provided. Oh Justin, don’t poke this bear. But I could’ve kissed him for saying it.
Then Justin shocked me, and likely everybody else in line and some of the people hanging over the upstairs rail watching, too. “Hey, you can’t be her boyfriend.” He held up his cell phone with a celebrity news photo of Mason with the little starlet he had been protecting. “Unless you’re cheating on one of them.” Justin’s eyes narrowed. The whispers increased in intensity.
Porsche leaned between Mason and me, “And that is the crux of the issue between you two.”
Mason looked nervous as he surveyed the crowd. “Can we step into the restaurant and talk?” He said with a tiny hint of pleading. Porsche stayed in line, she was going to pay for the room service and any of her charges. The rest would go on the business card I had provided at check-in.
Kylie escorted us to a small table near the door of Mountain Chalet, her lips pressed tight. I guessed she was providing me with a fast exit if I needed one.
“Kylie, can you fill him in?” My voice was gravel over cement.
“We’ve had two murders and snowed in the whole time. Because of all the emergencies, the police had several of us, led by Julienne, gathering information and gossip from the guests. Last night she figured out who the killer was, and he tried to silence her permanently.” She eyed Mason up and down with a hostile look. “We owe her a lot, she caught the guy before everyone checked out and made an arrest harder.”
Mason had listened to Kylie but never stopped looking into my eyes. I wanted to lose myself in the fire of his gaze, but I knew he wasn’t ready for commitment. If I hadn’t gone through all the emotional wrangling the last several days, I likely would’ve settled for whatever attention he’d give me just to be looked at like that occasionally.
Sitting here, I realized I wanted commitment, but with a man who was ready for me and my life. I may not want children, but I wanted a devoted man to travel the world with me. Maybe that was asking for too much.
Kylie took my order for iced tea to soothe my throat and Mason’s for coffee. I glanced out to the lobby and Porsche and Tammy watched, no doubt ready to intervene.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. Why didn’t you tell me there were murders? I would’ve found a way to get here.” His voice was tender and heavy with concern.
I shook my head no and tried whispering since it wasn’t as painful, “You couldn’t have made it, and then you’d be worrying.” The bodyguard job was a problem, but I didn’t want him distracted and potentially hurt either.
He started to speak, but I raised my finger to stop him. “I never thought I’d face the killer like that. It just happened that I put the pieces together and he saw it in my eyes. I didn’t pursue the killer, really.” I sipped the tea and it soothed as it flowed down my throat.
“Okay, but what else is going on? I know you’re upset over my working the bodyguard job.” So, he got at least that much.
“You heard what the boy said. To everybody else, you have a girlfriend – whoever hires you as a bodyguard is known as your girl – not me.” I took a deep breath; this next part was the hardest. I wanted to say that Brandon would never let anybody think he was with another, but I wouldn’t throw an old boyfriend in his face. I had even thought of telling him maybe I needed to hire him, but that would be a low blow. He started to speak, and I held up my hand.
“You promised me you weren’t a player anymore. You promised you wanted a serious relationship. I wanted it with you. I like you a lot and it could be more. I’m ready for that, and I want that. I don’t think you’re actually ready for everything that requires. If you’re okay with posing as somebody else’s boyfriend, even for a job, then I don’t think you really want a serious commitment.” I stood up to leave.
“Wait, I want you, I want us. Really I do. Don’t overreact about a job.” He rushed out the words, not realizing how they sounded. But that meant they were probably a true reflection of how he felt.
I was “overreacting” in his eyes, but would he feel the same way if the roles were reversed and I was publicly linked with another man?
“I think you like the idea of a steady girlfriend, so long as you don’t have to alter anything in your life. But that isn’t how committed relationships work.”
“I know I’ve been busy. It won’t always be this way.” He answered. I felt like he wasn’t hearing what I was saying. Sadly, this is exactly how it would probably remain going forward, maybe a spell of time together. But I now knew I wanted more.
“You really need to look at your life and see if you’re ready for the change a devoted and committed relationship will require. Goodbye Mason. Let me know when you’re ready for a genuine relationship.”
This time I walked out. I joined Porsche who drowned out Mason’s parting words with her questions of what did I say and how did he take the news.
If I had known what would happen at this conference, some prescient warning, would I have stayed far away? If I’m honest, I think I would have stayed home.