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Unforgiven(53)

By:Rebecca Shea

“Why would someone mess with her? I don’t understand,” I question Jess.
“Jealousy, plain and simple. Lindsay mentioned that the news director was giving her the anchor position at weekend desk. The normal anchor is out of town on vacation and Lindsay has proven herself since she’s been here. Then the missing story happened, and the news director pulled the weekend anchor slot out from underneath her.”
“Jesus Christ,” Landon says.
“It gets worse, guys. When the news director pulled the opportunity out from under her, Lindsay lashed out at the girl who everyone believes sabotaged her story and deleted the SIM card.”
“What do you mean by ‘lashed out’?” Gabe asks.
“She pushed her against a wall and verbally threatened her in front of other employees. Lindsay said the news director mentioned she was lucky no charges were being pressed.”
“I’m done. I’ve heard enough.” I jump up. “I need to get into her condo. I’m searching that place for more pills. I need something to focus on until she wakes up.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Jess asks. “I mean, that’s her personal stuff.”
“I understand what you’re saying, Jess, but right now, the only thing that matters to me is that she doesn’t have access to use pills once she gets out of here.”
“So what happens when we all leave? You all are going back to North Carolina, and Gabe and I have to go home to California. What happens then?” The room falls silent while we ponder Jess’ words. “We have to convince her to get help, you guys—not just for the pills,” she says quietly.
“You’re right, Jess,” Landon says. “But I’m with Matt on this. We’re going to the condo to make sure there are no pills. But what concerns me more is where she’s getting them.”
“Do you have the keys to her place?” I ask Jess, who looks hesitantly at Gabe. He nods his head at her and squeezes her hand.
“I have them,” she admits.
“Let’s go, then. There is no point in us sitting here for another four to six hours,” Landon says, pushing himself up from the chair. Jess sends Gabe back to his hotel to get some rest, telling him she’ll meet him later. We leave quietly, none of us really speaking to each other. I see the worry on Landon’s face, and the exhaustion on Jess’ and, inside, I feel mostly sad. Sad that I wasn’t here to help her, sad that she fell back into a lifestyle that she depended on before me, but mostly sad because she was alone and lost.
Landon, Jess, and I weave through the busy Phoenix streets to Lindsay’s downtown condo. We park on the street in front of Lindsay’s condo at a parking meter and step out into the torrid Phoenix air. Jess has the keys to Lindsay’s condo in her hand and leads us through the upscale lobby to the elevators. There is a sense of uneasiness as we all step through the threshold and into Lindsay’s condo. It feels as if we’re invading her privacy, and we are—except we’re doing it to save her.
“Jesus,” Landon mutters as he looks around the condo.
“It’s mostly just clutter,” Jess tells us. “I’ve already cleaned the kitchen and we started on her bedroom. I’ve got a giant pile of clothes that need to go to the dry cleaners, and then she has about twelve loads of just normal laundry. I’ll get started on that while you two search for pills.” I stand and look around the modern condo and try to envision Lindsay’s life here, without me. Everything in the condo is new; the furniture, the décor, her life—there are no traces of me or her old life anywhere except, for the clothes that are scattered on the floor.
“I’ll start in the kitchen,” Landon says as he opens cupboards and drawers.
“Search, and search well, but do not make a mess. I just got that kitchen put back in order,” Jess says, carrying a load of clothes in a laundry basket from what I presume is Lindsay’s room. I stand numb as I battle the conflicting emotions swirling around inside of me—sadness, hurt, and anger.
“I’ll start in the bedroom,” I say as I sidestep pillows and a remote control that lie on the floor. I step into the master bedroom and I immediately smell her. The light scent of her perfume hangs in the air or on her clothes that sit in sorted piles on the floor. There is a picture of Landon, Lindsay, and their mom, Josie, on her nightstand.
I walk across the room and pull the long, white sheer curtains open to let the sunlight in. Everything in the room is white; the curtains, the bedding, even the large rug that the bed sits on. The oversized wood furniture is white washed and looks exactly like something Lindsay would like. I pull open the top drawer of the chest that sits against the wall and look for any traces of pills. I search drawer after drawer and find nothing. The first nightstand is empty, clearly not the side of the bed she sleeps on, so I move to the other. Inside the drawer is a book she must be reading, as she has a page dog-eared, a small notebook, a pen, and a small box of condoms.