Caitlin reached for the remote, turned down the streaming music. “Do you smoke a lot?”
“Oh no, not since the night.” She looked up. “Wow, I say that a lot. Not since the night. What a horrible phrase.”
“Speaking of which,” Caitlin said, far from tears and ready to work, “you said you were high that night. What sort of drugs did you girls play with?”
“Mostly weed. I’ve tried Molly—you know, MDMA? And ’shrooms once, but I puked.”
“What about coke?”
“Not me. Angela did occasionally with Kieran and Dave, but I was scared. The first time they offered, it was light green.”
“Green? And they called it coke?”
“She said it wasn’t quite right but still worked. Other times, it was white, but I didn’t trust it.”
“Where did they get it?”
“I don’t know, but they always had it.”
“What about pot?”
“Oh yeah, we got all of our pot from them; so did their whole fraternity. Can we order pizza?”
“I think we have to.”
Lakshmi reached for her phone. “Let’s get Pizza Monster. I get half off. Meat okay?”
Caitlin didn’t care at that point, or remember what they’d ordered thirty minutes later when the driver knocked on the door. She caught the tail end of the exchange with the delivery girl.
“Thanks, and tell Chad I say, ‘Hi,’ ” Lakshmi said, then closed the door.
She set the box on the coffee table, grabbed a roll of paper towels.
Caitlin stared at the happy cartoon monster on the lid. A triangle slice of pizza with big eyes and tiny legs winked over the words “Scary How Good It Is.”
“Who’s Chad? You know a driver?” She opened the box, saw the disc of greasy goodness.
Lakshmi returned with forks. “Chad Branford. He gave me a stack of coupons.”
Caitlin broke a slice free. “The acting teacher?”
Lakshmi joined her, manners abandoned. “Yeah, he bought the Monster when he moved here, gave us all coupons, used to make deliveries himself. He says it paid for grad school the first year.”
Caitlin swallowed. “What a great idea.”
“Once at the beginning, when business was slow, Angela and I invited him in, and he ate with us, even got a little high. That was the first time I tried Molly.”
“Here?”
“No, Angela’s. He’s got a lot of funny acting stories.”
“Did Angela and Branford ever hook up?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. He was just bored.”
Caitlin reached for her second slice. “Plus, knowing young women never hurts when it comes to selling pizza.”
Lakshmi followed her lead. “We became Pizza Monster evangelists, told everyone. Kieran ordered twenty pizzas for a frat party. After that, word spread pretty fast.”
“And Chad rewarded you with half-price coupons?”
“I doubt I’ll get through them before graduation. Not without gaining a stone.”
Caitlin leaned back into the couch. “You don’t have class tomorrow, do you?”
“Why? What do you want to do?”
“Look for a growhouse.”
“Growhouse, like pot?”
“Kieran and Dave sell ‘organic produce’ to sororities and fraternities.”
“Another reason to hate them. It’s such a good idea.”
“Know what a better idea is? Sell weed and call it kale.”
CHAPTER
25
CAITLIN WAITED UNTIL the waitress left with their breakfast orders, then pulled out her laptop and opened a browser.
Lakshmi moved to share Caitlin’s side of the booth. “Wouldn’t the police have looked into this?”
“They did two years ago but didn’t find anything they could prove. Since then, Kieran and Dave have moved on like no one’s watching. We’ll start with their farm’s web page.”
Caitlin found Mike Roman’s latest email on her laptop, clicked on the link, and turned the screen toward Lakshmi.
Lakshmi laughed. “Indiana Organic Bro-duce? That’s bloody awful.” She read a paragraph out loud. “ ‘Located on a twenty-acre farm in Monroe County, Indiana Organic Bro-duce was founded by fraternity brothers from Indiana University, with the goal of bringing farm-fresh organic produce to students across the Big Ten.’ ”
Breakfast arrived. Caitlin pushed the keyboard back, making room. Lakshmi went for her egg-white omelet. Caitlin looked down at her own sensible fruit and yogurt combo, then back at her computer screen. The phone number in the footer section of the website kept her from impulse-ordering a side of bacon.
She pulled out the cheapest cell phone she’d found at the Bloomington Mall. “Next step.”
“Did you get a new mobile, Caitlin?”
“Local number, caller ID disabled, perfect for cold-calling possible sources.” She grabbed a pen, jotted the number on her napkin, and slid Lakshmi the digits. “Plus, if I’m in the field and my battery dies, I can use this burner as a backup.”
“Smart,” Lakshmi said, typing the number into her own phone’s address book.
Caitlin bit through an unripe piece of cantaloupe and dialed the farm’s business line.
Two rings in, a male voice answered, “Bro-duce.”
“I’m a biology teacher at Bloomington South,” Caitlin said. “I see you’re an organic farm and was wondering if I could speak to someone about a tour of your facility.”
“Hold on.”
Caitlin heard the voice’s owner set the phone on a counter. “Hey, Lord of the Rings, Dave here today?”
Someone in the same room replied, “Don’t know.”
“Fuck it,” the voice said, then hung up.
“Oh, good God,” Lakshmi said. “This is what happens when frat boys get jobs.”
“Not exactly a well-oiled machine, but at least one thread to pull. Did you catch it?”
“The Lord of the Rings.” Lakshmi brightened. “Do they mean Frodo?”
“Exactly. Nate Fodor. What’s he like?”
“He was a pledge when I knew him, so I didn’t get much of his personality.”
“And Amireau was his big brother, as in the mentor-slash-torturer fraternity meaning?”
Lakshmi looked surprised. “How did you know?”
“Just a hunch. Let’s move on to their financials. We can’t see their accounts, like the police, but we can look at their filed corporate structures.”
“Corporate structures? This just got really boring. Let’s go over there and look around.”
“Settle down, Miss Restraining Order.” Caitlin logged into a subscription-based legal and financial database. “Cops get to knock on doors. Journalists have to do homework. It’s time-consuming, far from glamorous, and most of the time it’s boring as hell, but when you find something no one else has seen, it’s better than sex.”
In three searches, Caitlin had a list of the shareholders in Indiana Organic Bro-duce.
Delta Omega Tau Alumna Philanthropic Association
Organic Foods International
IOBD LLC
“No mention of Dave or Kieran,” Lakshmi said. “They’re hiding their involvement.”
“Not from us.”
Although named after their fraternity, the Delta Omega Tau reference had no affiliation with the national chapter and was listed as a nonprofit organization. Instead of officers, Caitlin found another shell corporation.
Organic Foods International appeared to be an import/export business with an office in the Bahamas.
IOBD LLC’s ownership broke down into four cells, all other corporations: NF LLC. AF LLC. DA LLC. KM LLC.
Those listings broke down to actual names, each a single-member limited liability corporation.
Nathan Fodor, President
Adam Fodor, President
David Amireau, President
Kieran Michelson, President
Caitlin queried KM LLC. The only
other listing linked to Kieran was RepRepair LLC in the state of California.
She drummed her fingertips on the tabletop.
“They may have compartmentalized everything, but they’re getting checks. If they’re getting checks from a company found trafficking narcotics—”
Lakshmi knew that one. “They’re liable for the drugs, whether they’re onsite or not.”
Caitlin speared a yogurt-covered strawberry with her fork. “And hiding a drug trafficking operation makes a far better motive than covering up the accidental overdose of a friend.”
* * *
Caitlin left Lakshmi hunting financials and picked Mary up from the Student Union. “What’s with the hippie shirt?”
Mary wore a tie-dyed T-shirt covered in bright-colored, high-stepping bears. “I’m undercover.”
“Undercover? You’re the dean of the Media School.”
“I’m not worried. Half of my staff members don’t recognize me, let alone any of the thirty thousand students not in my department. Today, I’m a dirty hippie looking to score. Granola chicks like the Grateful Dead, and who the hell else would ask for a tour of an organic farm?”
Caitlin laughed and aimed for the countryside. Mary worked the console and her phone’s music app until Caitlin heard the stoner jam rock of Jerry Garcia and Co. She sang along with her old friend. Neither could carry a tune, but the Dead didn’t sound any worse with their help. Their bad voices and giggles carried them to the east side of town. Caitlin caught Mary up on her Chapman progress.
“Even if you catch them selling weed, how does that prove they murdered Angela?”
“It doesn’t,” Caitlin said, “but if the farm goes back long enough, it’s one more place the cops can look for a body. If not, a trafficking charge ought to loosen lips about Chapman.”
“Not bad, Caitie. Only two weeks in and you’ve uncovered a drug ring. Can’t believe the BPD dropped that ball.”
Caitlin nodded along. “Greenwood is no idiot. I think he thinks he’s using me.”
“For what?”
She remembered the vibe they’d shared two nights before at the bar and smiled. “Not sure, but I can’t wait to find out.”
Mary moved on. “What about the other thing?”
“What other thing?”
“You know.”
“Why does everyone keep asking me about my rape?”
“Are you serious?”
“That’s a joke—”
“Because you got up on a stage and announced it. And now, after twenty years, I’m trying to be the friend you wouldn’t let me be back then.”
Caitlin stared at the road. “Standing up on the podium, I thought, No big deal, but actually staying here in Bloomington, it’s gotten harder.”
“Well, let’s Ya-Ya-sister-pants this bullshit.”
Caitlin jerked her thumb toward the back seat. “Want to help? Root around in my bag until you find a police report.”
“Okay.” Mary found Caitlin’s assault folder. “A reading from the rape of Caitlin Bergman.” She stared at the contents, flipped a page. “Huh.”
“What?”
“I’ve never really looked at something like this.”
“Good for you. What’s in there?”
“Okay, the first page looks like a summary document. Next page looks like an initial incident report, handwritten. Was that the sheriff’s department?”
“Yes, Deputy Lyle something, right?”
“Oh, that’s what that is. Deputy Lyle Sugar.”
At no point in the last two decades had Caitlin thought about Deputy Sugar—or his warning: They’re going to tell you to stop, to reconsider, to keep the whole thing quiet … Don’t let them stop you, ever. In the end, she hadn’t followed his well-intentioned, but unrealistic, advice.
“What else is in there?”
“Looks like the medical report. Oh, Jesus.”
“What?”
Mary’s hand reached for Caitlin’s shoulder, but she stared at the folder. “Pictures.”
Another precious moment forgotten until now. The nurse with Deputy Sugar had taken a full spread of photos from the worst possible angles. “Maybe skip the bruised ribs and torn vagina images and get to the written material, Lubbers.”
Mary didn’t look away. “I can’t believe someone did this to you.”
“Mary?”
“Right, sorry.” She flipped ahead. “Here’s a transcript from the interrogation of the accused.” She looked over. “Troy Woods … Wait, didn’t I introduce you two?”
A flash of young Mary’s hand tapping Troy Woods on the shoulder in a crowded bar brought a sudden tightening to Caitlin’s chest. She gasped.
“Caitie?”
Ignoring Mary, she fought an overwhelming urge to close her eyes. Luckily, a competing urge surfaced—the refusal to pay for a totaled rental car. She checked the mirrors, slowed to a stop in the middle of the road, and lowered her window to let in fresh air.
“Caitlin, why are we stopping?”
Another image surfaced. The ER nurse with the camera trying to maintain her composure but unable to hide the trembling of her hands or the tears she wiped away.
Caitlin unbuckled her seatbelt and looked out the open window. The fresh air helped.
Mary tapped her shoulder, gently, but with worry in her voice. “We shouldn’t stop here.”
Caitlin took another breath. “Just getting some air.”
“Maybe pull over to the side of the road. I see a whole bunch of air over there.”
Caitlin forced a smile and turned back toward her friend. “Sorry—just an impulse.”
“I know a thing or two about impulses.” Mary’s eyes had a cloud-before-a-rainstorm look that told Caitlin her fake smile wasn’t fooling anyone. “Was the report too much?”
“Mary—”
“I want to help—”
“Tell me how you met Aaron.”
“How I what?”
Caitlin tried to control the shake in her voice. “You’ve never told me how you and Aaron met.”
Mary started to speak, but stopped, gave an understanding smile, closed the folder on her lap, and moved it to the back seat. “You want the polite version or the real deal?”
Caitlin laughed. “For God’s sake, I want the real version.”
“Start driving, and I’ll tell you the sordid tale.”
Caitlin’s foot found the pedal. “Spill it, Lubbers. Tell me how the man of your dreams swept you off your feet and out of your pants—and make it dirty.”
“First of all, it was a yellow sundress that left nothing to the imagination, and it was summertime in Indiana—the dirtiest summer of my life.”
Caitlin let Mary take her away with a carefree story of casual sex that led to deep and meaningful love. No pain, no tears, just pheromones, sex moans, and the collision of home decorating styles.
CHAPTER
26
“GOOD MORNING, PAIGE. I hope you’re hungry.”
He watched her green eyes find focus. She looked down at the straps around her wrists and jerked against her restraints.
“Easy, Paige. You’re safe with me.”
She tried to talk. “Who—who are you?”
He reached across the table, touched her fingers. Even drugged, she flinched at his contact.
“Relax.” He massaged her hand. “You’re mine now.”
“ ‘Mine now’?”
“That’s right, darling. This is your room. Do you like it?”
From his experience with the gas, he guessed she had another hour before lucidity. His schedule wouldn’t permit him to be present—too much to handle in the other world. He had to play with his toy now.
“Since you’re not used to the rules here, I’m going to feed you today.” He slid a plate in front of her restrained body. “I made you an egg-white frittata. Fresh spinach, a little red pepper, local goat cheese—nothing but good stuff. I also have a green juice I pressed myself. Spinach, kale, micro
greens, cucumber, paprika, and ginger. You’re going to love it. But first”—he moved around the table and stood behind her chair—“I want to show you your things.”
He grabbed a gold cardboard box with a clear plastic front and brought it close to her. “Look familiar? The 1993 Holiday Edition Barbie, mint in box.”
The red and gold bodice of Barbie’s dress ended at her waist, where flowing red material exploded across her legs, then circled up to each shoulder.
“Must have been hard to sell her, even when I drove the price up to double her value.” He set the box near the other things he thought she’d like. “Lucky for you, you’ve got her back.”
He smiled at Paige’s vacant face. “And now you can play with her. I know—scandalous. A collector taking a toy out of its box? My collection is different. No matter how the market changes or how bad I need the money, I won’t sell you, and I won’t give you up without a fight.”
He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed. Her hair smelled perfect. Pantene conditioner, just like she’d bought the day he followed her around the drug store.
He dropped a hand down, cupped her un-Barbie-like natural breast, felt the full, warm goodness under her T-shirt.
“I hope you like it here, Paige. I’ve got all the things you love. Well, you won’t be able to run a marathon, but once you’re in a routine, I’ll get a treadmill so you can work out. In the meantime, I’ll get to know you, and you’ll get to know me. The rules are easy and I’m fair, as long as you try to make this work. I want this to work, Paige.”
He let go of her breast, lowered his hand further, pressed himself against her. “I want this to work so badly.”
His hand stopped at the table, picked up a fork.
“Now let’s get some food in you. Egg whites are supposed to keep your hair long and beautiful, just like Barbie’s.”
CHAPTER
27
FROM THE SHOULDER of the narrow country road, Caitlin and Mary could see most of the Bro-duce property. A wide asphalt driveway led to a white, two-story farmhouse surrounded by a patch of ignored green grass. Across the driveway, two delivery trucks and a tractor could be seen through the open doors of a barn. Behind the barn, a field of healthy corn stretched waist high.
Come and Get Me Page 11
