Authors: Natasha Rostova
The Naked Truth (11 page)
Tess snapped her gum and grinned. ‘Actually, Logan has popped into my head a few times, too, when I’m between the sheets. I didn’t find it at all annoying.’
‘I’m serious, Tess. Besides, you’ve never met the man.’
‘I’ve seen him, though,’ Tess reminded her. ‘That’s usually enough for me.’
‘Well, I hope he was more satisfying in your fantasy life than he was in my real life,’ Callie said.
Tess chuckled. ‘So do you think he’s looking for you?’
‘Are you kidding? Of course he’s looking for me. He’s not one to give up.’
‘Well, he’ll be hard pressed to find you,’ Tess pointed out. ‘I’m the only one who knows you’re living here.’ She propped her head on her hand and narrowed her eyes. ‘You know, if you really want to get him out of your head, there are ways of going about that.’
‘What ways?’
‘I know a woman from Haiti who performs voodoo,’ Tess explained. ‘She could probably perform a spell or ritual to protect you from Logan.’
Callie shook her head in disbelief. ‘Tess, get real. I’m not resorting to voodoo, of all things.’
‘I am being real!’ Tess replied, her eyes widening with offence. ‘Callie, just because you belong to the goddamn Ladies Guild doesn’t mean you have the right to knock something you know nothing about.’
Callie was surprised by Tess’s rather vehement response. ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. I’m not knocking voodoo. I just doubt it could do anything for me.’
‘You do, huh? Why’s that?’
‘Well, I don’t believe in it, for one thing,’ Callie said.
‘That’s because you’ve never experienced it,’ Tess said earnestly. ‘I’m telling you, Callie, Abiona is a true mambo.’
‘I thought a mambo was a dance.’
Tess rolled her eyes. ‘A mambo is an ordained voodoo priestess. About a year ago, I was having trouble with this woman who thought she was in love with me. When I told her I wasn’t interested, she went berserk and started stalking me to the point where I got really scared. She’d leave flowers covered in blood on my doorstep and spooky shit like that. The police weren’t much help, so I went to Abiona. She invoked what’s called a
djab
, or a devil. Next thing I knew, my wacko stalker was in a car accident. The cops found drugs in her car, and she’s been in prison ever since.’
djab
, or a devil. Next thing I knew, my wacko stalker was in a car accident. The cops found drugs in her car, and she’s been in prison ever since.’
Callie stared at her. ‘Good Lord.’
Tess nodded emphatically. ‘Eerie, huh?’
‘I don’t want Logan in a car accident!’
‘Oh, no, that was because Abiona performed a black magic spell,’ Tess said quickly. ‘Really, Callie, I was so freaked out that I asked for the darkest ritual she could conjure up, and it worked. She usually doesn’t do that. She’s more interested in white magic.’
‘No way, Tess. I’m not going to a mimbo.’
‘A mambo,’ Tess corrected. ‘And why not? It couldn’t hurt.’
‘It hurt your stalker.’
‘She deserved it,’ Tess sighed. ‘Look, Abiona can perform a protection spell of some kind for you. Logan doesn’t even have to be involved. She can help you banish Logan from your mind so he’s not haunting you all the time. And so that you can resolve whatever it is you’re trying to resolve about your relationship with him.’
‘Tess, I just left Logan a week ago,’ Callie reminded her. ‘I think it’s only normal that I’m still thinking about him.’
‘Ah, but remember the Tarot reading,’ Tess replied. ‘Abiona can also help you protect yourself from Logan in the future.’
‘Look, it just seems like a bunch of nonsense to me,’ Callie admitted.
‘Then why do you believe the Tarot prediction?’ Triumph flashed in Tess’s expression when Callie didn’t respond. ‘You don’t know, do you? So why not give voodoo a chance?’
‘Because it’s weird, Tess, that’s why,’ Callie retorted. ‘I may have been willing to fuck my first Goth, but I’m hardly about to jump right into black magic, spells and sacrificing chickens. Tarot cards are a little more benign, don’t you think? Voodoo is absurd foolishness.’
Tess’s mouth turned down at the corners as she moved away from the counter. ‘I pity you, Callie.’
‘You do, do you?’
‘Yes. You left Logan because you wanted freedom, and yet you’re still trapped in his Euro-centric, WASP, logical way of thinking.’
Callie looked at Tess. ‘What on earth does that mean?’
‘Think about it. Wouldn’t Logan say the exact same thing about voodoo? That it was absurd and foolish and nonsense? Wouldn’t he look down his nose at something he’s only experienced through rumour?’
A slight feeling of shame trickled through Callie. She rubbed her finger over a crack in the counter.
‘He might say that,’ she allowed.
‘Then why are you saying the same thing?’ Tess asked. ‘That’s not going to get you very far in trying to distance yourself from him.’
Callie bit her lip as her friend’s words hit a bit too close to home. But voodoo? What in the world would Logan have to say if he ever discovered she’d gone to a voodoo priestess? He probably wouldn’t say anything. He’d be too busy going ballistic. Callie had to smile slightly at the thought. She pushed her hair away from her forehead and sighed.
‘All right, point well taken,’ she said. ‘I’ll think about it, OK? I’m not promising anything, but I will think about it.’
‘Awesome.’ Tess smiled and ambled towards the back of the store. ‘I’ll be right here when you’re finished thinking.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ Callie muttered.
The envelope bore no return address, but the postmark read ‘Hilton Head, South Carolina’. Logan turned the envelope over and slipped the blade of his silver letter opener underneath the flap. He pulled out a sheet of plain white paper and unfolded it. As he scanned the spidery handwriting, his heart plummeted.
Logan swore and crushed the paper in his fist. A sudden assault of memories pushed at the back of his mind. He forced them away, blocking them off with mental walls as thick as the Great Wall of China. He’d be damned to hell if he would let the mistakes of his past return to haunt him. Especially not after he’d spent fifteen years covering them up.
‘Logan?’ A knock sounded at the door, and Adam poked his head into the room.
‘What is it, Adam?’ Logan tossed the crumpled letter into the bin and told himself to forget about it.
Adam entered the room, carrying a notepad. ‘I thought you might want an update about your wife’s situation.’
‘Have you found her yet?’
‘No, but –’
‘Then I’m not interested.’
Adam looked hurt. ‘You’ll be interested in this, I think,’ he suggested.
Logan sat down and levelled a look at the younger man. ‘What is it, then?’
Adam arranged himself in one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. He cleared his throat and consulted his notepad.
‘First of all, did you know that Callie has a bank account in her name?’
Logan’s eyebrows lifted. ‘We have a joint account.’
‘Yes, but apparently she has one on her own, too,’ Adam reported. ‘With the Wachovia Bank on York Avenue.’
‘How much money is in it?’
‘About two thousand dollars.’
‘And where did she get this money?’ Logan asked. ‘Not from me, I hope.’
Adam scratched his head and examined his notes again. ‘I’m not sure, to be honest with you. Her records show that she has been making deposits twice a month. The same amount of money each time.’
Logan tried to think. He’d never been particularly concerned about money where Callie was concerned. She didn’t have extravagant tastes like her sister, so he had never bothered to keep track of her purchases unless he was straightening out their finances. Now he wondered if she’d been taking money from their account and putting it into her own.
He opened a drawer of his filing cabinet and pulled out a folder of bank statements. ‘When were these deposits made?’
‘Around the first and fifteenth of every month.’
Logan frowned. ‘That’s when pay cheques are usually issued.’
He shuffled through the bank paperwork of the last few months. As far as he could tell, there had been no withdrawals or transfers that corresponded to Callie’s deposits into her account.
‘She made a withdrawal yesterday of forty dollars,’ Adam said. ‘So obviously she’s still alive.’
‘Well, of course she’s alive,’ Logan said, suddenly realising that he hadn’t even considered the alternative. What if something sinister had happened to Callie? He shook his head to clear the thought from his mind and reached for the telephone. No way. She’d left him of her own free will.
‘Go and find out where those deposits came from,’ he told Adam. ‘And do it quickly.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Adam closed his notebook and hurried from the office, closing the door behind him.
Logan stabbed out a series of numbers on the telephone keypad and waited as the phone rang at the other end.
‘Hello?’ Gloria Harper’s voice flowed breathlessly over the line.
‘Gloria, it’s Logan. Do you know if Callie has been working somewhere without my knowledge?’
‘Hello, sugar,’ Gloria said delightedly. ‘I’m fine, thank you. How are you?’
Logan’s fingers tightened on the receiver. ‘Don’t fuck with me, Gloria. Has Callie been working?’
Gloria laughed. ‘Oh, I’d love to fuck with you, darling, you know that.’
‘Never mind then.’ Logan almost slammed the telephone down, but then Gloria’s voice came over the receiver again.
‘All right, all right,’ she said. ‘But you know, Logan, there’s nothing wrong with basic pleasantries.’
‘I never said that there was. Now would you please answer my question?’
‘No, as far as I know, Callie was not working anywhere,’ Gloria said. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘It appears that she had a separate bank account that I didn’t know about,’ Logan replied. ‘I’m wondering where she got the money to deposit.’
‘You poor dear,’ Gloria murmured. ‘I’m so sorry that Callie is putting you through such nonsense.’
‘Have you heard from her yet?’
‘No, but I’m sure that she’s fine.’
‘Of course she’s fine. She’s probably holed up somewhere in the city, laughing about this whole situation.’
‘Well, she wasn’t exactly gleeful about it when she came to see me,’ Gloria said. ‘Look, I hate to think of you rambling all alone in that big house of yours. Why don’t you come over for dinner tonight?’
‘No, thanks. I have work to do at home this evening. If you hear from Callie, I’d appreciate it if you would let me know immediately.’
‘You know I will, sugar. Good luck.’
Logan hung up the telephone and glanced at his watch. He had to be in court tomorrow, which meant an evening of preparation. With a sigh, he packed up his briefcase and headed out to the car park. He admitted to himself that he’d been hoping Callie would at least call by now to let him know that she was all right. Of course, she probably assumed that he’d had tracers put on his telephones. And that would be an accurate assumption.
When he got home, Logan took a quick shower and tried not to think about either his wife or the letter he’d received earlier that day. When was the last time he’d thought about his experiences fifteen years ago? The answer was fifteen years ago. He’d effectively blocked that all from his mind and had no intentions of reliving it now.
He stepped out of the shower, his gaze falling on the small array of bottles and creams that belonged to Callie. She appeared to have taken very few of her personal belongings with her. Logan uncapped a bottle of lotion and took a whiff. Vanilla and lemons. He remembered that Callie always smelled that way in the morning.
With a mutter of frustration, he replaced the cap and went back into the bedroom. As he dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, he realised that many of Callie’s things were still around: the silver vanity set he’d given her for an anniversary present, her jewellery box, the photos of her mother, even a ragged stuffed animal she’d kept for years.
One month, Logan decided. If he didn’t hear from her within a month, then he’d throw away all this stuff. There was no sense in keeping any of it if Callie wasn’t here.
Logan went downstairs, aware of a nagging feeling of regret inside. He tried to shove it away. He was just used to Callie being around, he told himself. He was accustomed to sitting with her at breakfast, to her presence when he got home from work, to watching her get ready for dinner parties and listening to her latest activities. It was no wonder the place seemed empty without her. After three years, the absence of another person became glaringly apparent.
He went into the kitchen and poured himself a drink, then sat down at the kitchen table to read the evening newspaper. Before he finished even the first article, the doorbell rang.
Gloria Harper stood on the doorstep, bearing a foil-wrapped package. She smiled and held it up for his inspection.
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