Shattered

  * * *

  The ringing of a phone jarred me out of my sleep. Looking around in confusion, I realized I had fallen asleep while sitting in the vacant waiting room at the local hospital. As I opened my eyes fully, the glare of the florescent lights blinded me temporarily and forced me to narrow my lids. As I sat up in my seat, I rubbed away the dull ache in my neck with a sigh.

  Realizing it was my phone that was ringing, I fumbled for my cell phone in my coat pocket and accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Miranda. It is me, Lisbeth,” the voice greeted, sounding higher pitched than usual.

  “Hi, Libby,” I replied, my voice still thick from sleep.

  I knew Lisbeth Lorenzo for a number of years. She was an upbeat, statuesque brunette who had hazel eyes that were the color of honey. Her skin was the color of caramel that was common for those of Mediterranean roots like her. She had a row of straight, white teeth which were exposed every time she laughed. Her positive outlook was infectious, and she often lifted peoples’ moods with a simple smile.

  Libby, as her friend’s called her, was an honor student. As the head of the cheerleading squad, she played a role in getting Nastasia in. She was one of my sister’s closest friends, staying over at my house on occasion as a child. Although we weren’t as close as she was with Nastasia, we were always pleasant to each other and greeted one another when our paths crossed.

  “I hate to bother you at this time, but I have to talk to you.”

  Adjusting my body on the lightly cushioned seat, I struggled to get comfortable. “What time is it?” I asked, glancing around the room and looking for a wall clock; however, the lime green walls of the waiting room were bare.

  “It is after 11pm,” she answered.

  Shaking my head in an attempt to wake up completely, I stretched my limbs. “I am sorry. I just woke up so I am a little out of it,” I told her. “My stepmother was attacked, and I am in the hospital, waiting for her to finish getting stitches.”

  “I know. My dad is a detective so he heard about what happened,” she commented, her voice tense. “Although he is not working on Nastasia’s case, he told me they are looking into Caleb Mitchell. Is that true?”

  “I am not sure,” I told her honestly. “I don’t think Caleb had anything to do with Nastasia’s death.”

  “My father hasn’t been too happy with Det. Conner’s work,” she said, sounding hesitant. “I don’t want to get involved, but... did you know that Caleb used to date Samantha Cole?”

  My mouth dropped open. “No,” I answered, surprised. “No, I didn’t.”

  “Samantha and Caleb lived next door to each other,” she explained. “She was two years older, but they dated when he was in middle school.”

  “What are you saying, Lisbeth?”

  “Miranda, there were things happening to Nastasia that I am not sure you are aware of.”

  The words took a minute to register, but when they took root, I was suddenly wide awake. “What?” I questioned, my eyes growing wide with curiosity.

  “Well, Britney knows about it more than me, but she was receiving these... notes.”

  “Notes?” I questioned.

  “Yes,” she replied, her voice strained. “She would find them in her locker. Sometimes with a gift.”

  “What kind of gifts? Like jewelry?” I asked, arching a brow.

  “These were not those kinds of gifts,” she whispered. “They were morbid.”

  Leaning forward in my chair, I inquired, “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it started off sweet like flowers, but then she received a small box of chocolates with razor blades. She never told anyone,” she said, her voice shaking. “I found out because I was with her when she opened her locker and found an elegantly wrapped gift. It smelled like death. She told me about the stuff going on, and I told her to toss the gift. She tried to change her locker, but there were none available.”

  Dumbfounded, I realized that Nastasia was a stranger to me. We never discussed school or boyfriends or even these weird happenings. She just acted like everything was fine, and I never asked. “Why didn’t she say anything?” I asked, my voice coming out of my voice box in a shrill tone.

  “I guess she didn’t want to worry anyone,” Libby said, sounding nervous. “I don’t know if she took it seriously herself.”

  Rubbing my temple, I tried to think of a plausible scenario. “Maybe, someone was playing a joke,” I told her.

  “Do sinister gifts sound like a ‘joke’ to you?” she questioned.

  “No,” I answered, agreeing with her. “But what are you getting at, Libby? Who do you think it was? Did Tasia have a clue?”

  After a brief pause, Lisbeth said, “Everyone knows Caleb was never as into Nastasia as she was into him. That relationship was just about over. If it wasn’t for the gratitude he felt towards your father, he probably would have dumped her a long time ago.”

  Bending my mind around what she was implying, I considered the idea of Caleb leaving these packages for my sister. Caleb was not the type to fool around and play games. He took on more responsibility since his father left, and he wouldn’t have thought such things were funny in his depressive state. It didn’t fit his personality to do such things, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around Caleb having any malicious intent towards Nastasia or anyone else.

  “These things were found in my sister’s locker, right?” I asked, not waiting for a response. “So, who had her combination?”

  “Well, Caleb did,” Libby said, keeping her voice just above a whisper. “Look, Tasia got rid of the gifts, but she kept the notes in her locker... in a tin box. Just do me a favor and don’t tell him. He might be innocent, but until your sister’s killer is found, he is still a suspect.”

  Leaning forward and holding my head in my hands, I said, “Thanks, Libby. I will look into it.”

  “Remember not to mention my name,” she said before hanging up.

  “I won’t. This will stay between you and me right now,” I assured her and hung up my phone.

  “Who was that?”

  I turned abruptly in my seat, glancing at the doorway into the waiting room. I caught a glimpse of my father standing in the threshold. “Oh, no one,” I said, standing up and turning around to face him.

  Immediately, my eyes drifted to a figure that was standing just beyond the doorway.

  When my father saw that my attention was drawn to the figure standing just behind him, he moved aside, allowing the person to enter the waiting room.

  Caleb Mitchell walked in with a slight grin playing on his lips. He looked handsome wearing a brown leather jacket, dark washed jeans, and a matching blue sweater. With his hands in his pockets, he looked at me from beneath his thick black lashes. “Hello, Randy,” Caleb greeted as he stood beside my father.

  Surprised, my heart began to flutter slightly in my chest, causing me to skip a breath. I glanced from my father to Caleb and back again. “Hi, Caleb,” I said a decibel below the level of normal hearing.

  Feeling myself grow warm, I brushed my cheeks with my fingertips, realizing I was blushing. Embarrassed, I bowed my head slightly, hiding behind my long hair as I struggled to regain composure from my initial shock.

  Although Lisbeth was convinced Caleb had something to do with Nastasia’s death, I wasn’t so sure. He didn’t seem like a killer. I never saw Caleb lose his temper about anything. Plus, if he really wasn’t that interested in his relationship with Tasia, then why would he leave her such cruel gifts? This was the sign of a stalker. Not a boyfriend who is looking for his opportunity to make a clean break. It just didn’t make sense.

  Appearing amused by my reaction, my father looked at me with a slight smile. “I called Caleb to drive you home,” he announced, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

  Realizing that Sharee was not being released, my mind raced through the possibility that she was hurt more than I originally thoug
ht. “Is Sharee okay?” I asked fearfully, stepping towards my dad.

  “I am going to stay with Sharee until she fully wakes up,” my father explained. “She was so nervous about receiving stitches that the doctor gave her a depressant, but she had an allergic reaction while he was giving her the stitches. So, he had to give her the antidote. She is fine, but he wants to monitor her respirations and histamine levels before releasing her.”

  “That is crazy,” I said in disbelief, shaking my head. “This whole night has been a disaster.”

  Motioning to Caleb, my father said, “So, I called Caleb. We should be home in a few hours, but in the meantime Caleb is going to stay with you. I feel more confident sending you home with a football player to defend you.”

  I nodded slightly, agreeing with him. Yet, alarms were going off in my head. Trying to brush away any feelings of trepidation, I glanced at Caleb for assurance. Taking in his strong but laidback demeanor, I reasoned that if anything happened to me, my father would know that Caleb was with me. “I feel bad leaving you and Sharee.”

  My father hugged me and whispered in my ear, “She is fine. She is resting which is what you should be doing.”

  I nodded, giving his torso a squeeze before releasing him. “Call me later and let me know how she is doing.”

  “Of course,” he told me before pulling away and shaking Caleb’s hand. “Take care of her.”

  Caleb nodded soberly. “I will, Sir.”

  Waving goodbye, I followed Caleb to his car which was parked just outside in the parking lot. Since it was after midnight, the visitor’s parking lot was nearly empty. It was eerie hearing the heel of my shoes clicking on the pavement and having the sound echo through the cold night air. Scanning the area with my eyes, I tried to survey the darkness for anyone who may be following us, but there was no one to be seen. If anyone was there, they could easily have been hiding in the brush which surrounded the parking lot. The notion gave me a chill.

  “Are you cold?” Caleb asked, breaking the silence between us.

  “No,” I answered, shaking my head as I averted my gaze to the ground. “It is just really creepy out here at night.”

  Caleb smiled warmly. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” he said as he draped his arm around my shoulders and gave me a slight squeeze.

  Moving out of his grasp uncomfortably, I increased my pace to the black Dodge Viper in the center of the parking lot. If he noticed my discomfort, he didn’t say anything as he followed me to the car.

  “I love your car,” I told him, trying to make conversation as I reached the passenger’s side door.

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding suddenly somber. “It is one of the few toys my father left behind. I guess you would say it is my inheritance.”

  “I am sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t know I was bringing up bad memories for you.”

  He went around to my side and opened the door for me. “It is just a car,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It doesn’t mean anything to me. My father has ten other cars like this one so I guess it didn’t mean much to him either.”

  I slipped in, and he closed the door behind me. Watching him run around to the driver’s side of the car, I couldn’t help but feel like I had just put my foot in my mouth. I reminded him of his father without meaning to and probably sounded more like my sister than he cared for. Nastasia was the one that cared for material things. I was the practical twin. Since when did I look at the type of car a guy drives? Never.

  After Caleb entered the driver’s side, he glanced at me before starting the car. “You look troubled,” he said, a melancholy smile playing on his lips. “Are you thinking about... Nastasia?”

  I shook my head, feeling a heaviness enter my chest. “This is one of the few times I wasn’t thinking of her,” I told him as he turned out of the parking lot and onto the main road. “I feel guilty, but with everything happening, I haven’t thought of her. I am just trying to block her out of my head right now so I can deal with everything else.”

  “Don’t worry about the break in,” he said, frowning. “The police will catch whoever did it. That is their job.”

  “Like they caught Samantha Cole’s killer?” I asked sarcastically, averting my eyes before turning to him once more. “I never knew you dated her.”

  Watching his knuckles turn white as his grip increased on the wheel, he bit down on his bottom lip. “Who told you that?”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, suddenly feeling sorry for the intrusion into his private life. “It is none of my business.”

  As the occasional streetlight lit up the interior of the car, I could tell he was taken aback by my comment. His breathing increased and seemed more jagged than it did before. His eyes seemed increasingly moist in the light. “Samantha and I were childhood friends. We grew up right next door to each other. Her bedroom window faced mine,” he told me, the color draining from his face as he focused on the road. “I suppose you could say we dated when I was in the sixth grade and she was in the eighth. But it was just puppy love, and it was over in a week or two. The year my dad left was the year they found her dead. I was devastated. I hadn’t talked to her in a while. I wasn’t there for her. When my family troubles started, we just drifted apart. Suddenly, I didn’t care about friendships, dating, and popularity.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything,” I said, realizing Lisbeth’s wild assumptions were taking root in my mind. “I am sorry.”

  Caleb relaxed, pulling into my driveway. “Stop apologizing,” he said with a smile as he glanced at me.

  “I should apologize,” I told him, opening up the car door and swinging my legs out. “I don’t know what I was getting at.”

  Jumping out of the car and running around to the other side of the car. Offering his hand, he helped me out and closed the door behind me. “It is okay,” he said quietly, his sapphire eyes meeting mine as he held onto my hand.

  Pulling my hand from his grasp, I asked, “Did you ever love my sister?”

  He glanced away, appearing ashamed as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shifted his weight. “No,” he answered bluntly, although his face twisted as if in pain at admitting the truth out loud. “It didn’t matter who I dated, they could never compare to the one I really wanted. Not Samantha. Not Nastasia.”

  Brushing a few black strands away from my face, I stepped past him, walking towards the front porch. I couldn’t understand what I was feeling. My emotions overcame me like a dark cloud. He was in love with someone else this whole time, and he strung my sister along like a puppet. “I see,” I responded, looking over my shoulder as he followed me.

  “Please, Miranda... I wanted to leave her, but she always sensed it was coming and would avoid the conversation,” he said pleadingly as he followed me up the stairs to the porch.

  In the dark, I noticed a white box sitting on the floorboards just outside of the front door. Stopping abruptly in my tracks, I studied the box. The long rectangular box was wrapped in a red ribbon which culminated with a bow on the top.

  Standing behind me, Caleb hadn’t realized the present and continued to speak, rushing his words. “I have always loved you, Miranda. I was stupid. You just never seemed to give me the time of day. I thought I could date your sister, and it would be like dating you. But it wasn’t,” he said, his voice straining. “It was you, Miranda. It was always you.”

  I ignored his words, feeling unable to deal with them at this time. “Caleb, look at this,” I told him, transfixed by the box.

  “Did you hear what I just told you?” he asked, sounding annoyed.

  Kneeling down, I opened the lid of the box, pulling back the tissue paper and screamed. Scrambling to climb to my feet, my eyes never left the box.

  “What?” Caleb asked, surprised as he stepped forward.

  “It is a dried flower. A white rose just like... the ones in my sister
’s funeral arrangement,” I said, pointing at the contents. “It is covered in worms!”

  With a look of disgust written across his handsome face, Caleb moved passed me and covered the box with the lid.

  As he reached to pick it up, I saw him look towards the trash bins at the end of the driveway and stopped him. “Don’t pick it up,” I told him as I spotted a small envelope that must have fallen from the lid. Picking it up, I carefully opened the unglued flap and pulled out the card, reading the words written across the cardstock.

  With his eyes wide, Caleb turned to me. His eyes met mine before glancing down at the cream-colored card in my hand. “What does it say?” he asked, appearing puzzled.

  I looked up at him in disbelief. “It says, ‘It was always you.’”