Lost (Book 6 of the Forbidden Series)

1

“Where is she?” Troy Gurley asked as he entered the Thompson’s large country estate. The huge house had once been so full of life and joy. It had been the scene of so much happiness and good times for not just its residences but for everyone that passed through its doors.

But the house had fallen quiet, dark, and dreary; it had become like a tomb. Invitations had stopped being sent; guests had been turned away until they just stopped coming. The halls were empty. The rooms were dark with dustcovers tossed over the furniture. Katherine Thompson had taken to her room on the second floor of the residence and rarely ever came out leaving the once grand manner a hollowed shell, a mere echo of what it had once been.

The elderly couple that had kept up the place for so many years still did so, but with their mistress locked away and no guests to tend to there was little to do. They worried about their old friend. Katherine had not taken her late husband’s death well. She had once been vibrant, so full of life and now she wallowed in grief and rum.

Troy had been friends with Katherine since high school. Their children grew up together and were friends. They had been bandmates and made millions together in the music industry; however, when David died, she had quit everything and locked herself away from the world. Her husband had been a good twenty years older than her leaving her behind still in the middle of her life. Without David, it was as if Katherine had just quit on life altogether.

“She is upstairs in her room as always.” Rolland, the elderly servant, informed Troy. He was a man of seventy, and his dark hair had turned stark white, his old body had hunched his back, but he was always the first to offer his services. A man of unflinching character and loyalty. “She has not opened her door I three days, she will not eat. Beth is worried she will waste away to nothing soon. It is as if she is waiting to die.”

Troy placed his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “I will do my best. Tell your wife not to worry.” He said trying to reassure the old man before heading up the magnificent winding Victorian stairs. The second story hallway was dark as Troy walked down the long hall to the room at the end. He stood outside the master bedroom door and took a deep breath. There was an untouched meal on the antique table beneath a gilded mirror. She would no doubt try to send him away. Troy raked his fingers nervously through his short blond hair and decided not to bother knocking. He would go in and not give her the chance to tell him to go away.

Troy pushed open the door and stepped inside. There was one lamp on in the far corner of the suite sending a dim light across the large room. He walked farther into the room and looked around. There were empty liquor bottles scattered everywhere. She had been drinking heavily for months. Troy kicked the empty bottles and listened to them clang beneath his wingtips. If she was trying to drink herself to death, she was on the right track.

Troy walked around the king-sized bed and found Katherine sitting on the floor with her back against the bed, and her knees pulled up. Her long red hair was unbrushed and unwashed. She wore nothing but ill-fitted shorts and a tank top that looked like she had not changed in days. She had lost weight, which only further concerned him. Her green eyes were bloodshot and shadowed. It was clear she had not been sleeping.

Troy sighed when he saw her. She was so beautiful and to see her wasting away like this made his heartache. He loved Katherine like a sister, and he wanted more than anything to see her smile once more. Troy kicked some empty bottles out of the way and sat down on the floor beside her. His back against the bed he reached for the half empty rum bottle in her hands and took it from her. Troy took a sip and rested the bottle on his knee.

“Kat, you can’t keep living like this.” He said after a long silence. “This isn’t even living.” He waited for her to say something but she didn’t. “You’re scaring Beth and Rolland. I’m sure they think you’re suicidal.” Again, she said nothing. He looked around at all the empty bottles and sighed. “Are you suicidal?” Katherine shot him an annoyed scowl, reached for the bottle and took it back from him. Lifting it to her lips, she guzzled back the rich dark liquid. “He wouldn’t want you wasting away in here like this. David wouldn’t want you crying all the time.” Troy said trying to reason with her.

“I don’t cry anymore.” She whispered. “I don’t feel anything anymore. I’m numb.”

Troy hung his head; he didn’t know what to say or how to make things right for her. “You need to get out of this room.”

“I can’t; everything reminds me of him. I can’t go anywhere without being reminded of him.” She said closing her eyes.

Troy took the bottle back from her and took another drink. “Then go somewhere else. Go away for a while. Take a vacation. Go to one of the houses in Malibu or that villa in the south of France.”

“They all remind me of him.” She snapped. “He’s everywhere, the TV, the radio, and the magazine racks; I can’t turn around without seeing his face or hearing his voice.” She whimpered.

“I know it’s hard, but you need to get out and live a little. You can’t keep this up. You’re going to drink yourself to death. You know he wouldn’t want that. If you’re not going to get up for me or Dane or Layla, then do it for David. You know he wouldn’t want this.”

Katherine snatched the bottle back from him. “Who cares what he want’s he’s dead. I died with him that day.”

“I know it feels like that, but Kat, you still have so much to live for.”

“Shut up!” She snapped. “You don’t know what I’m going through. You can’t possibly. I’m dead inside. When Judith dies and leaves you standing over her grave, then you can tell me how I should buck up and get over it. Until then get out!” She shrieked.

Troy stood up and did as she asked. He walked over to the door and paused, his heart was breaking. There was no hope for his friend. “Please at least eat something.” He begged, opening the door and leaving the room. It broke his heart to say it, but he was afraid that Katherine was lost.

***

Kat listened to the door shut as Troy left her alone once more. She felt dead inside. It had been so long since she had felt anything but grief and crippling despair. She had drunk herself numb for months. At first, she had tried to go out, to live her life but everywhere she went was a memory of David. Every person she saw offering their condolences. Everything she did felt unbearable without him. She had not even been able to play her guitar anymore. She had lost all love, all passion for her music.

She just wanted to make the hurt go away. Even here in her bedroom, in her refuge, she could not find peace. She could not sleep in the bed that had once been theirs. She could not clean out the closet which held his things. David’s memory haunted her at every turn, and she could bear it no more.

Kat took another drink from the bottle. Perhaps Troy had been right; she needed to get away; needed to escape her grief, to escape her life, to escape herself. She needed to go someplace they had never been together. Someplace that couldn’t remind her of David. Someplace where she could be alone where her friends and family couldn’t find her. She wanted to run away. Run away from all she was, from all the hurt and the pain. Run away from this place which had become her living tomb.

Unfortunately, she would be recognized. Unless she went somewhere, she was unlikely to be recognized. Unless she made herself unrecognizable. Kat rose to her feet and stumbled; her balance was off from all the rum. She stumbled to her closet and opened the doors. Inside was her suitcase; they travelled often, so she had always kept it close at hand. Kat pulled it from the closet and placed it on the bed. She took another sip from her bottle and opened up the bag. She went through all her clothes trying to pick her most casual so she would blend in as best she could and tossed them into the bag.

Kat zipped up the bag and staggered over to the desk. She looked at the paper on the top and thought about writing a letter goodbye. She should not just leave without any word. She did not want her family to worry. She picked up a pen and jotted down a quick note. That she couldn’t stand to stay a minute longer and she needed to get away. There was no reason to worry she was a big girl, and she could take care of herself.

Then Kat placed the bottle on the desktop and slipped on a pair of runners. She grabbed the bag and staggered her way out of her room. She quietly moved down the hall and snuck down the stairs. She felt like a teenager trying to sneak past her parents. Kat reached the entrance and took her car keys from the table beside the door. She quietly opened the door and slipped out into the cool night unnoticed.

The fresh air hit her like a ton of bricks, and Kat shook off the shock as she headed for the garage. Opening the door, she found her red BMW and tossed her bag in the trunk. She probably shouldn’t be driving drunk, but lately, she was always drunk. If she waited to sober up, she might lose her nerve. Kat would drive just far enough away to be gone and then pull over and sleep it off.

Driving proved to be difficult at first, but after the first half hour, Kat began to feel sleepy. She pulled off onto a side road and removed the keys from the ignition. She then laid the seat back and let sleep take her. It was the first time she had slept in days. It was usually how it happened; she went days without sleeping and then when her body could not take the strain anymore she would pass out for a few hours.

It mattered little that the car seat was uncomfortable since she was so tired Kat would have slept like a rock pretty much anywhere. She only slept for a few hours until the morning chill became too much and she woke up shivering. Kat sat the seat up and turned the Heather on to warm the air and stop herself from trembling. Her head was pounding, and her mouth was dry. Her stomach was turning from all the liquor the night before. She felt terrible.

Kat pulled off the side road and back onto the interstate heading southbound. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but she was sure she would know when she got there, but first, she could use something to settle her stomach. She drove to the next town over and pulled in to the local pharmacy. Kat walked up and down the aisles with her sunglasses and a ball cap from her trunk trying to hide her identity. The clerk and the other customers kept watching her as she moved through the aisles. She didn’t think they recognized her, but they were trying to place her. The sooner she left the better.

She picked up a bottle of Pepto Bismol to settle her stomach. She was about to leave when she stopped in front of a shelf of hair dyes. If she coloured her hair, it might serve well to help hide her identity. She had never before coloured her hair and was not sure which to choose.

A senior woman beside her smiled and picked up a box with a strawberry blonde on it. “This would look lovely on you dear.”

“Do you think so?” She asked taking the box. “I want something that will look natural.”

“It should.” The woman assured her. Kat took her advice and bought three boxes since she had so much hair she was sure one box would not do the job. Paying the clerk, she headed back to her car and decided to drive as far as she could in one day and then get a motel. She stopped twice to fill up on gas, and by nightfall, she was so ready to get out of her car. Once she reached Ohio, she pulled in to the first motel with a vacancy sign and booked a room.

Kat took her suitcase from her trunk and went inside. It was dingier than she was used to, then again that was the point; to escape her world. She tossed the bag on the bed and took out the boxes of blonde dye. She sat on the foot of the bed reading the directions. It seemed simple enough. Apply to dry hair, let sit for twenty minutes, and wash out. She turned on the television for noise and then went into the small washroom.

Kat opened the first box and mixed the dye. She then began to carefully and painstakingly apply it evenly throughout her thick red tresses. The whole process took forever and when she was finished Kat decided to waste away her twenty minutes watching television. She would have liked a drink, but the room had no mini bar, and she had not stopped to pick anything up on her way. She would have to have a dry night.

After flipping through the only three channels the old set had, she gave up and was thankful that her time was up. She went into the washroom and started the shower. Stripping away her clothes Kat stepped into the luke-warm water and rinsed away the product in her hair. Once the water ran clear once more, she conditioned her hair and washed up. It felt sort of good to shower. It had been awhile. She had been too depressed to care for herself.

Kat shut off the water and stepped out wrapping the towel around her body. She looked in the mirror and inspected the finished product. It was strange to see a blonde woman looking back at her. However, it did not look bad. Kat turned off the light and headed for the bed. She was going to get on the road as early as she could in the morning. She wanted to get as far as she could tomorrow.

She took a T-shirt and a pair of panties from the suitcase and got dressed. She ran a brush through her long hair and slipped between the sheets. In the morning she would head out and drive down through Kentucky. Kat settled into bed and tried to go to sleep, but as hard as she tried sleep would not find her. Kat found herself staring at the alarm clock on the night table, watching each minute of the night tick away, listening to the sound of silence.

***

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Dane Thompson asked in a panic as he rushed up the stairs of his parents’ house. His sister Layla and her husband Alexander were already there. They had dropped in early that morning to try and coax their mother to go out for breakfast since Beth had called them with her concerns that their mother had not been eating, but when they arrived, she was not in her room. They had immediately searched the house and the grounds and not found her anywhere.

Layla had then called Dane frantic. Dane met his sister at the top of the stairs. She was older than him by three years and resembled their mother with her fiery red hair and bright green eyes. Dane himself had taken more after his father, which had made things all the harder for his mother. She had been unable to look at him these past months without crying. He had felt so bad that eventually, he had chosen to keep away to spare her the heartache of seeing his father in his face.

“We’ve looked all over,” Layla said with alarm. “Her suitcase is gone and so is her car.”

“She left this note,” Rolland said handing him a piece of paper. The old man had been with their family for longer than either Dane or his sister had been alive. He and his wife Beth were like grandparents to them both. He was not so tall, and his age had thinned him out and hunched his back a bit. Rolland’s white hair was thinning out, and his eyes had begun to fail him. He had taken to wearing glasses. “It was on her desk.” He told him. “The bambina has run off.” He said regretfully.

Dane took the note and read it. He was right; his mother had run off. What was she thinking? It wasn’t safe for a woman to run off alone these days. Especially a woman like her. How did she expect to go unnoticed? His mother was clearly not in her right mind and had not been in months. “We have to find her. We have to call the police and file a missing person report.”

“No, we can’t.” Alexander piped up. Alexander had married Layla a few years ago when he had been hired as a houseboy to relieve some of the burdens on Rolland. He had not lasted long as a servant. When their father found out he had been sneaking around with Layla, Alexander had been fired on the spot, but it had not prevented their relationship from blooming. “First of all, she ran off; she wasn’t abducted.”

“Cops track down runaways all the time.” Dane pointed out.

“They track down ten-year-old runaways, not middle-aged women. They won’t do anything; and even if by some chance that you do convince them to search, they will have this plastered all over the news. The media circus will end up hunting her down like a dog. It will make things all that much worse.”

“What then do you suggest we do? We can’t just sit here and do nothing. She’s out there, and she’s not thinking clearly.” Dane argued.

“I say we hire a private detective and have him track her down. We get him to sign a non-disclosure so that he doesn’t leak her disappearance to the press. He looks for her, and we pretend nothing has happened, so the media doesn’t catch wind of this. She’s been locked away for months so if no one sees her they won’t suspect.”

“That’s a good idea.” Layla agreed. “We can’t let it get out that she is missing. It would be a media nightmare.”

Dane shrugged and looked at the note. His stomach felt uneasy. He was worried. She had not been thinking rationally for a long time. He was worried that she might do something to get herself into some serious trouble. “Alright, I’ll call the detective. If we’re lucky, it won’t take too long to track her down.”