The Other Side of Love

Chapter 4

Annabel

    The shock has worn off and the threat seems surreal now. I make sure Lissa knows not to touch anything while she sits on the brown sofa. She wants us to wait for the police in her room but I insisted on staying right here. The only person I trust to take this threat seriously is myself and I want to be here when the police get here.

    Lissa helps me unzip my dress and I toss it into the wardrobe, giving the bed a wide berth. I enter the bathroom, turn on the shower and step into it. The relief I should feel from washing away the tedious night is lost on me. My mind just keeps drifting to the bloody hair and I wonder how it got there. What if I'd been here when the creep snuck into my room? What if I'd been sleeping? How did he bypass the hotel security and how on Earth did he get into my room? The ease at which he invades my privacy and gets so close to me without my knowing makes my hair stand up on end.

    Feeling a little better after the shower, I step out and towel myself dry. I wrap a second towel around my head to dry my hair and walk out of the bathroom. Lissa is staring at something beyond the sea, a faraway expression on her face and her hands clasped tightly together in front of her. I walk to the wardrobe, grab a jeans trouser and denim jacket and begin yanking them on. My impulse is to cover as much skin as I can and I don't fight it.

    "Hey. Come help me blow-dry my hair." I tell Lissa, offering her the handle to the blow-dryer. She looks at my hand distantly for a moment before she registers my words and then, happy to have something productive to distract her, she takes it, visibly getting ahold of herself. A moment later she is totally in control, bossing me around to grab my hair brush and sit at a spot while she plugs the dryer in. She looks anywhere but at the bed and the hair.

    We work in companionable silence, the only sound that of the buzzing of the dryer while I rifle through a fashion magazine. Some minutes later, there is a knock at the door.

    "Open up, police." A gruff voice says from the other side. I roll my eyes. You'd think they were coming in to arrest us.

    Lissa drops the blow-dryer on the center table and rushes to get the door and holds it open. "Good evening officers." She says.

    "Good evening ma'am. We believe there was a call made from here about---" Lissa cuts him off.

    "Yes, yes. Come in." She ushers them in, holding the door wider open. Not taking my eyes off my the hair conditioning ad plastered on the open page of my magazine, I hear them enter and then stop. I close it and set it on the table, uncross my legs slowly and rise with a flourish. They are all staring at me. Guess there's no need for an introduction then. There are three men in the room. One of them wears the uniform of Miatre Dias staff.

    "Gentlemen." I say and they snap back to life. The man at the front clears his throat and straightens his jacket. He is a tall,  wiry man with thick black glasses shoved up his nose. His eyes behind his glasses are a warm brown and he blushes to the roots of his mussed blond hair as he stares at me.

    "Good evening ma'am. I am Officer Spencer---"

    He is still introducing himself but his voice fades away when a fourth man comes through the open door. Him.

    He is not in uniform, maybe because it's so late he was probably called from home, or because he ranks that much higher. Damn. He looks tired and harried, like he hasn't gotten a good night sleep since the last time I saw him. But there's no mistaking that I am looking at Stefan Holloway, and uniform or no uniform, he is definitely one of the police.

    The man whose kiss has devastated my world and redefined it stitch by stitch, whose lips have been taunting my mind all day and all night, turns out to be a policeman. I have an urge to start laughing but I know it'll only come out hysterical. There is that then, I think, the end of a chapter before it's even begun. I feel a twinge at the thought and don't examine it too closely.

    The first man relaxes when he enters and quickly introduces him. "And this is Homicide Detective Holloway." I straighten, ignoring Detective Holloway's surprised face. My face and my voice are brisk and all business as I look him in the eye.

    "Homicide. I feared as much." I gesture at the bed. "Well gentlemen, I found that on my bed when I came in."

    They all turn towards the bed and examine it. Stefan swears under his breath and turns towards me. "Have you touched anything?"

    I give him my most disdainful look and he winces slightly. "I'm not stupid, Detective. Nothing's been touched." They all quickly put on gloves and Detective Holloway approaches the bed tentatively. Lissa moves to my side and together we look on.

    He moves around the bed, examining everything closely, not yet touching anything. My gaze inconveniently drifts to his beautifully sculpted ass in tight ripped jeans as he bends over the bed and I ruthlessly drag it back, studying the third man instead. He is small, his face is so smooth I wonder if he had his facial hair lazered and he holds a transparent bag, presumably for the hair. I look at his tag which reads Isaac Phillip. Forensics.

    Detective Holloway is done inspecting and tentatively lifts the hair from the small pool of dried blood. He looks at the other officer and a silent message passes between them and he shrugs a shoulder. The third man passes the transparent bag to him and he drops the hair inside. He looks at me.

    "We have to check the whole room out. I don't think you should sleep here tonight."

    "Do what you have to do. I'm not coming back to this room." I tell him.

    He nods. The scenario is bizarre. We're like distant strangers, one would never have guessed I had my tongue halfway down his throat a couple of hours ago. I force my mind away from that path and turn around to go back to my seat but he's not done talking. "Have you looked around? Is there anything missing or looks to have been moved around?"

    A wave of exhaustion sags my shoulders. I wipe my hands down my face and silently move to the vanity. I don't have many personal things here so it's not hard to make inventory of my meager possessions and conclude they have not been tampered with. I walk to the wardrobe and rifle through my stuff. Gowns and tops I won't have enough time to wear here before I leave but I like having alot of options. My shoes are untouched.

    "Nothing's been moved. Or missing." I say, turning around. Almost all of the pillows that were on the bed are now on the floor, their pillowcases removed and turned inside out as the officers search them. I move towards the far wall and plop myself down and Lissa moves behind me, picking up the blow-dryer to finish off the remaining half of my hair. The two officers were helping with turning out the many pillows and they pause to look at us disbelievingly, like they think we must be out of our minds to be doing something so mundane with potential murder a few steps away. I shrug. The hotel staff stands off primly to the side.

    I pick up my magazine and sigh. Outside is dark, and there are few spots of light faraway. Stragglers on the beach. I imagine I can hear the whoosh of the sea as it recedes.

    "Look at this!" The gruff voice of the first man exclaims. I turn to see Detective Holloway pick up a thick, red, embossed envelope and I stiffen. He carefully opens it, pulls out the letter and reads. He goes rigid, his hands clenching around the letter before he visibly forces himself to relax. He turns and strides towards me while the other officers round up their work behind him.

    "There's a letter. It's okay if you don't want to read it but if you could, perhaps you can identify the sender." He looks like he's hoping I'll decide not to read it.

    "I'll read it." He frowns. He looks like he's looking for good reasons why I should not. "Detective Holloway. The letter."

    He looks at me a moment and then he extends the letter, his face a mask of formality. "Don't touch it. We'll run it for tests."

    I look down at the now familiar red envelope and letter. It reads,

Annabel my precious, you left me no choice. The girl was a pale imitation of you. Give yourself to me. Or I might be forced to do something drastic.

Forever yours.

    Lissa, who was reading over my shoulder gasps. My stomach churns and I fear I'm going to be sick. The audacity of this bastard. How dare he? I don't want to jump to conclusions but my mind goes to the girl I saw in the morning, murdered and dumped. Red-haired. In a dim light and from the corner of the eye, and perhaps after being thoroughly intoxicated, perhaps she could pass for me. A coincidence? Detective Holloway is watching me intently so I school my features and lean back into my seat.

    "I don't know who sent the letter. But it's not the first one. The others are... not so disturbing."

    His jaw is tight and a muscle jumps on his forehead. He grits out through clenched teeth. "And did you report this to the police?"

    I blink at him innocently. "Why would I? I handled the situation."

    "Not good enough, considering the predicament you find yourself in now."

    I pretend to be fascinated by my nails. "Another person would argue that point. My life has been very well-managed but ever since I met a certain detective in a dingy off-road pub, someone turned up dead and someone else, most likely the killer, broke into my room and left me a bloody token and a nonsensical note." I blow imaginary flint off a nail. "Perspective, detective. I'm hardly in the mood to listen to you throw accusations."

    He remains still for a moment, staring at me and I stare right back. "Wait here. I need a complete report from you."

    I glance at my chair and magazine pointedly, and lean more comfortably into my seat. "Where would I run off to?" I ask him. He pivots sharply and moves to join his comrades.

    "I'm guessing by the tension between you two you didn't know he was a detective when you totally accosted him yesterday." Lissa says drily, blow-drying the last piece of my hair.

    "No, I didn't." I say, watching him hand another transparent bag with the letter to the Forensics officer. "I didn't at all."

    Lissa rounds up with my hair and helps me brush it down. The entire room is in disarray now. Officer Spencer goes into the bathroom to check it out. A moment later, the door swings open silently and the hotel manager sweeps in with another staff. He is a jolly round man with a ridiculously peculiar sense of style. He is in outdated breeches and pristine white shirt. He has on a brown hat that brings to mind, Santa Claus. He makes a beeline straight for me, his great double chins quivering with every step.

     "Miss Annabel Smith. My deepest apologies for tonight's inconvenience." I stand and shake his extended hand.

    "It's no problem, Mr. Gerard." I say.

    "No, no. It is. It is my establishment. The responsibilities lie firmly on me. I assure you, we are doing everything in our power to make sure we identify who this criminal is." He says, looking distressed.

     "I appreciate that." I tell him with a smile. And then Stefan, no, Detective Holloway is there.

    "I assume there is CCTV coverage in the hotel?" He asks the manager.

    Mr Gerard is eager to help. "Yes, yes. Not in the rooms of course, but the hallways and the lobbies are monitored. There was apparently a security problem right at the time this criminal broke into the room but I assure you my best team is on it. We'll recover the footage." He says, nodding enthusiastically. "We will."

    "Thank you, Mr. Gerard. Please make sure to send it to us the minute you recover them."

    "I will, I will." He turns to me, deep concern on his face. "Miss Annabel, if you'll permit me to arrange a new room for you---"

    "Don't worry about that sir. I'm sleeping with my friend here." I gesture at Lissa who is compulsively arranging and putting my things back in order.

    "Are you sure, mademoiselle? It's no bother. We already have a room ready for you in fact." He says.

    "I'm sure. Don't worry yourself over me. I'm sure you have alot if work to do." After some time, I manage to convince him to be on his way. When he finally turns to go, I call out. "Mr. Gerard?" He turns back. "Be rest assured. This stays with me."

    He looks relieved. "Thank you, mademoiselle." And with lighter steps, he and one of his staff move out of the room.

    Lissa is now sitting on the opposite sofa and sipping something, coffee maybe. My attention shifts to Detective Holloway as he looms over me, dragging a chair behind him. He sits on the chair and brings out a note and a pen.

    "So," he says, giving me a piercing stare. "let's start from the beginning."