Land of Entrapment by Andi Marquette Read Free Book Online

steps.
    I turned my attention to the cottage’s wooden front door, visible through the security door’s black grill. Like the two windows that framed it, the door was painted turquoise. A plain white shade covered the small window in the door itself and dark blue curtains hung in the other windows. Melissa unlocked the security door and pulled it open, then unlocked the front door, which swung inward.
    I stepped in. The entire place was saltillo-tiled and the smooth stucco walls glowed soft white. Megan had put a few colorful area rugs down, giving it a nice ambiance. The first room was a living area. A futon couch stood against the wall beneath a side window and a coffee table sat in front of it on which Megan had placed three red pillar candles. Bookshelves adorned the opposite wall, surrounding a compact entertainment center that included a television and stereo system. A small desk with a flat-screen computer monitor on it took up the far corner just beyond the couch. I noticed papers and pamphlets stacked next to the monitor.
    A doorway on my right past the bookshelves led to the kitchen, small but bright. It sported a Mexican tile counter and 1940s-era cabinets painted white though the handles were red. A new sink and appliances and a bistro table in the corner gave it a cool retro look. I walked back into the living room.
    Beyond the living room—shotgun style—through an archway covered with a beaded curtain was obviously Megan’s bedroom. I pushed the beads aside and surveyed the room. The door to the bathroom stood directly across from me. I entered the room, liking the vibe in this little house.
    Megan’s bed was made. A small closet occupied the left back corner. It was open and I glimpsed her clothes hanging neatly within. She was like Melissa in that respect—a place for everything. For a college student, Megan was a neat freak and her decorations indicated sophisticated tastes. Little pieces of folk art, nice lampshades, framed photographs of landscapes and European cafés. I peeked into the bathroom.
    Small sink, commode, shower stall. Two plants sat on the windowsill to the right. They seemed to be doing okay. Melissa must have been taking care of things.
    I turned. Melissa was standing near Megan’s bed, head bowed. Her arms were crossed over her chest.
    She looked like she might cry. She glanced up at me and managed a smile, her eyes clearing. “It’s nice, huh?”
    I nodded in agreement. “It’s very nice. I won’t mess it up,” I added, a half-hearted attempt at humor.
    “Here’s a key.” She handed it to me. I took it and put it in one of my front pockets. “I left the stuff I found next to her computer,” she added.
    “Is it okay if I check her bookshelves?”
    “K.C.,” Melissa said with a gentle remonstration,
    “make yourself at home while you’re here.”
    “Yeah, but...” I let the question hang between us.
    “She hasn’t been using in a while. Over two years now.” Melissa’s tone was distant.
    I hoped I didn’t find anything to suggest otherwise. Megan’s history was such that I worried about another relapse and if I found anything that would indicate that she had, I’d have to let Melissa know. And I didn’t think either of us was up to dealing with that. “Okay. Let me unload my stuff and I’ll check in with you tomorrow—oh, do the people in the front house know I’ll be here?”
    She nodded. “I told them Megan was enrolled in a school program out of state and that a friend would be here for a while. Their names are Jeff and Sage.
    Nice people.”
    “Well, I won’t pee on their cacti, then.”
    She stared at me, not sure what I meant.
    I cocked my head. “You can laugh. It was a joke.”
    She smiled then. “Sorry.”
    I shrugged. “I know. This is weird. I don’t know what else to tell you.” I held the key up. “I’m going to unload.”
    “Kase—”
    The way she said it made me pause.
    “Can we...” she stopped. “Never mind. I’ll talk to