by Debbie Burke
Mimi sat down inches away, a small victory. Tawny released tight knees and stretched her legs out, opening her posture in welcome, but still clenching her hands.
Quiet moments passed, as grass swayed in the breeze, releasing the fresh aroma of new growth. Like new growth inside Mimi’s body. Dear God, what could she do to help the girl? Finally, she asked, “Have you done a test?”
“I’ve missed two periods.” Mimi leaned closer, her arm pressing against Tawny’s.
How tiny and fragile she felt. Tawny opened her hand in invitation. Mimi grabbed it, thin fingers curling like a bird claw around her palm. “Does Steve know?” Tawny struggled to speak his name without showing her disgust.
A defeated headshake no. “You’re the only one.” Tears trickled down Mimi’s pale cheeks. “I can’t tell Mom and Dad. He’ll kill Steve and she’ll go all scorched earth plutonium on me.”
Probably an accurate assessment. As fearsome as she knew Tillman’s reaction would be, it was at least predictable—an enraged father protecting his child.
But Rochelle. Betrayed by her lover with her daughter. Tawny wondered who’d bear the worst brunt of her attack—Steve or Mimi. Out of jealousy, Rochelle could go after her own child.
Tawny ached for the girl’s lonely terror. “If you want, I’ll be with you when you tell them.”
Mimi tensed and clutched Tawny’s hand tighter. “Do I have to?”
Tawny pulled her into a hug. “Yeah, you do. But we’ll get through this, I promise.”
What the hell am I promising?
****
Steve Zepruder’s head pounded from lack of sleep as he drove out of the parking garage and turned onto the tree-lined street in front of his condo. He’d spent the whole night and half of this morning, burying the mess that Grand and Crooked Neck had made of the kidnapping. Now he had to show up at the office, late, but looking and acting normal.
When Rosenbaum returned from the treatment camp with Rochelle and Mimi, he’d scrutinize everyone, especially Steve, as possible suspects. But Steve had erased all evidence that connected him to the botched plot.
He would never have attempted the foolhardy ransom scheme if Rochelle hadn’t been so impatient. But, as always, he gave into her demands. From the day they’d met at age thirteen, he couldn’t deny her anything she desired.
For years, he’d been methodically skimming from the law partnership in a gradual way that didn’t raise flags. If the process could have continued at the same pace, in only a few more years, he’d have enough to buy Rosenbaum’s property that Rochelle wanted so badly.
She never questioned the unexplained source of money but he figured she suspected embezzlement from her husband. And that would be fine with her.
Then two months ago, Rosenbaum broke the news to the kids that he and Tawny were together. They’d told Rochelle who went wild, terrified he would shove her out of the mansion and move his new lover in.
Rochelle demanded action now, right now.
As a result, Steve and Grand hatched the ransom plan. But that had failed miserably.
Now only one option remained: get rid of Rosenbaum permanently.
A flash of red on a side street caught his vision. Rochelle’s BMW shot in front of his Jaguar. He slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting her car. It squealed to a stop, blocking his way. The driver’s window framed her florid, panicked face.
She was back from the retreat.
Shit. That meant she already knew about the attempted kidnapping. But he’d covered his tracks.
As he shifted into park, she jumped out and stormed over to him, yanking at the door handle. He tried in vain to unlock it but she kept pulling the handle, canceling his efforts. He powered down the window and pasted on a smile full of concern. “What’s wrong, darling?”
Hives blemished her face and neck. Whenever she was under stress, her skin broke out, an affliction since she was a teenager. Usually makeup concealed the redness but, today, angry welts showed through.
Her voice was breathless: “Tillman just called and accused me of trying to kidnap Arielle and Judah. How could he even think that?”
Steve grasped her arm. “It’s all right. You’re fine.”
She yanked away, clasping her throat, unable to stop herself from scratching the raw hives. “You know how persuasive he is. If he convinces the judge I’m somehow responsible, I’ll lose custody forever. You have to stop him. I can’t lose my home!”
At last, Steve managed to open the car door. He stepped out and embraced her. “It’s all right, angel. He’s just making outrageous accusations. He doesn’t have any proof.”
“You don’t know what he has.”
“Listen to me, Rochelle.” He grasped her shoulders and peered into her exquisite, anguished face. “You’re fine. Trust me. There is no evidence that connects you.”
Suddenly she froze and stared at Steve. Dark eyes widened. “Wait.” She pulled away and raised both hands as if to ward him off. “You can’t be sure of that…unless…” She looked ready to spit at him. “It was you. You hired those men.”
He tried to keep his voice calm, modulated, reassuring. “Rochelle, I love you more than life. I promised I’d find a way for you to have the house. You know I will.”
Her demeanor shifted and the trembling ceased. “How could you do something so insane?” Her chin lifted high, posture regal, an untouchable ice queen. “You keep making promises to me but you can’t deliver. You’re a weak, pitiful fool.” Disdain dripped from every word.
“Rochelle, I’ll find another way. Just give me a little more time.” He stepped toward her, reaching out. If he could just cup her beautiful face in his hands, look deep in her soul, he could convince her, keep her.
She backed away, standing erect and distant. Before his eyes, he watched the last remnants of her faith in him evaporate.
“This discussion is over,” she said in a tight, controlled tone. “I need to get home and make arrangements for Kemp’s funeral reception.” She returned to her Beemer and gracefully got in. When she banged the car door shut, Steve felt as if his heart had been slammed in it.
She had dismissed him. From her presence. From her life.
Forever.
Chapter 16 – Invasion
A TV van still sat parked near the entrance to Tillman’s estate. As Mimi and Tawny waited for the gate to roll open, the same guard blocked the cameraman from a clear shot at them.
Inside the compound, two trucks with logos from a party rental business were parked in the circular driveway. Workers unloaded rolled-up canopies while others set up tent poles.
Near the front door, Rochelle engaged in a heated argument with another guard. The man gestured at the workers in protest.
Tawny wondered if Tillman knew what was going on in his absence. As if he didn’t already have enough problems to enrage him.
Mimi surveyed the activity and shot her a sideways look. “I am so not surprised.” The flat affect returned, erasing her vulnerability of a half hour before.
They got out of her truck and headed to the front door. No way to avoid walking past Rochelle.
The woman dismissed the guard with a toss of her black hair and glared at Tawny. Just then, the cell in her hand rang. She glanced at the screen and snarled, “What?”
Tillman’s baritone boomed through the speaker. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Chell? Your children were almost kidnapped last night. Why are you allowing strangers all over my property?”
Rochelle slipped into her oh-so-patient façade. “Gloria needs my help. There’s no way she can host a reception with Kemp’s hospital bed and medical equipment all over their house. I thought you’d want to properly honor your partner.”
“Don’t tell me how to honor Kemp! You’re just trying to save face from canceling Judah’s bar mitzvah. You’re endangering your children. What is wrong with you?”
Rochelle directed a poisonous stare at Tawny. “Really, Tillman, screwing your bim
bo in my bed. That’s low, even for you.”
Oh hell. Blood heated Tawny’s face.
Early that morning, she had carefully straightened the sheets and duvet but must have left some sign. Despite Rochelle’s accusation, Tawny had drawn the line at sex in the ex-wife’s bed. They’d slept there solely to be close to the kids.
Now, she longed to crawl behind the juniper shrubs lining the foundation of the mansion.
Tillman continued to rage at Rochelle, his deep voice roaring through the speaker phone. Mimi entered the house and Tawny followed, grateful to escape.
In the kitchen, Mimi popped the top on a diet soda. “Told you Mom would insist on throwing the funeral bash for Kemp. I can just see her on the phone driving back from suicide camp, planning this out like Eisenhower planned the D-Day invasion.”
The reference caught Tawny off-guard.
Surprise must have shown on her face because Mimi gave her the side eye. “I did a special project on World War Two in Europe for International Baccalaureate. Emphasis on concentration camp liberation.”
Tawny recalled the trip to the cemetery with Tillman. “Your great-grandmother survived the Holocaust.”
Mimi nodded. “She died before I was born but Dad told me a lot of stories she’d told him when he was a kid. They were close.” She sipped the soda. “Of course, I got the best grade of anyone in IB. I always do. My teacher said it was on par with a grad level thesis. I so don’t know why I’m wasting my time in high school.”
She didn’t speak with pride but as if her accomplishment was a boring, everyday occurrence. She’d inherited Tillman’s arrogance but also the brilliance to back it up.
Tawny’s cell rang. Yellowstone County Sheriff’s Department. “Mrs. Lindholm,” Detective Bettencourt said, “a body has been found that we think might be one of the kidnappers.”
“What? Where?”
“A fisherman found it caught in a snag on the Yellowstone River near Huntley. I need you to come to the office to look at photos to see if you can identify him.”
From the entryway, Tawny heard Rochelle’s strident voice, now moving closer. Mimi headed toward her bedroom.
Tawny hurried from the kitchen to the stairway down to Tillman’s wing. Safely out of earshot, she asked, “Is it the man Arielle drew the sketch of?”
“No, ma’am. We believe it could be the other one.”
“I never saw his face.”
“Understood. But you may recognize his clothing and build.”
A fresh knot tightened in her stomach, crowding the other knots already there. “Detective, did he…die from my shot?”
A hesitation. “There was a bullet wound in the back of his skull.”
Tawny sank onto the couch in Tillman’s living room, mind spinning. “What?”
“Mrs. Lindholm, you need to come to the office where we can talk in more detail. When can you get here?” Authority weighed heavy in Bettencourt’s voice.
The night before, the detective had listened to her statement, corroborated by Arielle and Judah, and had sounded ready to affirm the shooting was self-defense and justifiable. Now, accusation crept into his tone.
She felt bad that she might be responsible for the man’s death but even worse that the detective now seemed to doubt her. He was questioning if she’d shot the man in the back.
No way would she go to the sheriff’s office without Tillman. “Detective, I have to call you later.”
“Mrs. Lindholm, the sooner you help us determine if the dead man is one of the kidnappers, the sooner we’ll be able to get a line on the suspect who’s still at large. I would think you’d be eager to cooperate.”
She ground her teeth, sending pain shooting through her jaw to her ear. “I need some time.”
“I’ll send a deputy to pick you up.”
“No, thank you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She disconnected before he could respond. The phone slipped from her suddenly sweaty hand and fell on her lap.
Did the detective think she’d executed the man?
No, that wasn’t possible. The first two cartridges had been sand shot, hitting one kidnapper in the eyes and the other in the face or the side of his head. The tiny pellets were disabling but not fatal. The rest of the bullets were hollow points. Two had gone wild and investigators had found them. The last shot might have hit the man in the torso, leaving the blood trail as they escaped.
Her revolver held only five cartridges. Even if panic distorted her memory, she couldn’t have shot the man in the back of the head.
If she didn’t shoot him, who had? And why?
She needed to talk to Tillman but had no vehicle to get to the office. Mimi could take her but she immediately dismissed the idea because Steve might be there. She couldn’t let the girl be trapped in the crossfire between Tillman and his treacherous partner.
Florentino, the gardener turned bodyguard? She called him and he agreed to drive her downtown.
Tawny changed out of cowboy boots, worried about leaving Mimi alone with her mother. If the two of them got into a fight, Mimi might blurt out the truth about Steve. No predicting how violent Rochelle’s reaction might be.
She called Mimi’s number. “Hi, I need to go to your dad’s office. Will you be OK here by yourself?”
“When are you coming back? You promised you’d stay with me.”
Tawny swallowed, recognizing desperation in the girl’s voice. Depending on the showdown between Tillman and Steve and questioning by the detective, who knew how long she’d be gone? “I’m not sure. It might be a few hours.”
Mimi didn’t answer for several beats. Then she snapped, “I’m fine.” The connection broke.
The girl felt deserted.
Blew it.
Tawny called back but voicemail immediately intercepted—Mimi refusing to answer. Tawny texted: Call me if you need ANYTHING. What else could she do?
With a heavy heart, she climbed the stairs and left through the side garage door. Florentino’s truck waited in the circular drive, in line with more party delivery vehicles.
Canopies had sprung up like toadstools on the lawn. She spotted Rochelle directing workers where to set up long tables and gestured at others who rolled carts stacked with folding chairs. Mimi was right—Rochelle did look like a general overseeing battle plans.
The invasion of Kemp Withers’ funeral reception.
Chapter 17 – MIA
When Florentino dropped Tawny off at the lot behind Tillman’s office, only Tillman’s Mercedes and Esther’s Toyota were parked there. Inside, the desks were empty, all employees gone except for Esther.
“Where’s everybody?” Tawny asked.
“The boss sent them to lunch.” Esther grimaced. “A very long lunch. Steve’s MIA and Tillman’s pissed.”
The door to Tillman’s office opened. He came out and spotted Tawny. “Good, I’m glad you’re here. Bettencourt just called. He wants you to ID a suspect. We’re going to the sheriff’s office.” He strode past her and grabbed his suitcoat from a hook in the hallway, thrusting long arms into the sleeves.
Tawny flipped a wave to Esther and hurried after him through the back door.
In the parking lot, Tillman shot a quick look at the space where Steve normally parked his Jaguar. “Prick still hasn’t shown up,” he muttered, striding toward the alley.
Tawny caught up. “Wait.” She reached to smooth his wrinkled coat collar, sticking up from his hurried shrug into it. He was never this careless with his professional appearance and the lapse worried her. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t answer but let her straighten his collar.
“Bettencourt called me earlier,” she said. “Did he tell you the body they found had a bullet hole in the back of the head?”
Tillman’s chin pulled back. “No.”
She centered his tie and ran her hands down his chest, hoping her touch would calm him, but suspected the effort was futile. “I stalled him because I didn’t want to go in without you
. I’m afraid he thinks I shot the guy in the back. But my gun only has five shots. It was empty by the time they were running away.”
He thought for a second. “OK. Good. You were smart to stall. But I’m with you now. If the interrogation turns ugly, we’re out of there.” His face barely softened for a second. “I’ll always be with you, Tawny.”
She squeezed his icy hand. “I know.”
“Let’s get this done.”
While they walked toward the department four blocks away, Tawny debated whether she should tell him now about Steve’s seduction of his daughter or wait for Mimi herself to reveal it.
Tillman appeared to read her mind and asked, “You talk to Mimi this morning?”
She stopped. “Yes. We went for a horseback ride.”
“Well?” The verbal equivalent of snapping his fingers in impatience.
Tawny squeezed her eyes closed for a long second, hating to pile more betrayal on him. She blurted, “She’s pregnant and Steve’s the father.”
“Zepruder?”
Tawny nodded.
No expression showed on his face but behind his dark eyes, he sorted facts, tested theories, extrapolated possible consequences, and settled on a new plan, all in milliseconds, like a computer. She’d watched the same process in the courtroom, when a witness threw an unexpected curve, and he suddenly had to change his strategy.
She couldn’t imagine how he kept his rage inside.
His voice sounded like an earthquake deep underground. “What does she want to do?”
Tawny shook her head. “I don’t think she knows. They were drunk. Afterward, he said it was a mistake. She reminded him of Rochelle at that age. In his mind, he was screwing her mother, not her. That broke Mimi’s heart because she’s been in love with him since she was six.”
“Fuck.”
Tawny touched his sleeve. “I’m sorry. It’s horrible.”
Without another word, he strode faster toward the sheriff’s office.
Chapter 18 – Interrogation
Tawny peered through her readers at the array of photos displayed on the table in an interview room at the Yellowstone County Sheriff’s Department. Different angles showed the dead man lying on the ground beside a riverbank.
