by Box Set
First I could get these searches done. Maybe Hearst could help me hack into these medical databases. And then I would get him to ride over to the woman’s house to get a good idea of the layout and the monitoring devices on site.
My brother would never have let me near this case, but in reality, I had a big advantage. As a high school student, I was going to be able to make contact with Sharon without raising any alarms. I would seem harmless as long as I had an excuse for knocking on her door. High school fundraisers and babysitting were two ideas that immediately came to mind.
I pulled up the woman’s house on Google street view. The neighborhood was expensive, but it lay in the same school zone as our old neighborhood. My brother had gone to public school. He hadn’t been sentenced to Catholic school like me. I knew he had some Admiral High School paraphernalia in his closet, including his soccer letter jacket, some t-shirts, and one of the cheerleader uniforms from his old girlfriend from those days. He’d been a heart breaker but also a romantic. He didn’t know I knew about the uniform, but I’d discovered it hidden under the jacket years ago.
I liked the idea of going up to her front door dressed as a cheerleader. Anybody watching would see a cheerleader and notice very little else about me. I didn’t know what the chances were that I could squeeze myself into the outfit though.
I went into my brother’s room, grabbed the uniform, and raced for my own room. I locked the door, just in case my brother had a sudden urge to speak with me. Then I stripped down to my bra and undies and pulled the uniform over my head.
Girls wore these to school on a regular basis and didn’t crawl under the bleachers to hide.
The blue-and-white outfit hugged my curves like a glove. There was nothing forgiving about it.
I turned to examine myself in the full-length mirror in my room. What I needed to do was look at myself from a stranger’s point of view instead of being all self-conscious about what I saw.
I went to the bathroom for a brush and ponytail holder. I brushed my hair into a high and tight ponytail. Now I looked like a cheerleader. I added some eyeliner and lip gloss.
Then I stood up straight and walked back to the mirror as if I were made for cheerleading. The image in the mirror was that of a cheerleader. I wasn’t comfortable with the snug fit through the stomach or the tiny little skirt that seemed to cover less than a one piece bathing suit, but I didn’t have to feel the part. I only had to look the part.
I held my arms up over my head in a vee and said noncommittally, “Victory.” The outfit rose two inches and revealed the trim on my zebra boy shorts. The original owner of this uniform must have been a bit shorter than me.
The tell-tale squeak of the door to the loft alerted me that someone had entered. I froze, not ready to change. Maybe my brother was going to grab something and go back downstairs.
The heavy footsteps drew closer. Then there was a knock on my door at the same time as someone tried to turn the handle. I almost never locked my door.
I was about to scoop up my clothes and run to change in the bathroom when I heard Hearst’s voice.
“Townsey? Are you in there?”
Oh good. Not my brother.
I went to the door and unlocked it. Then I opened it and pulled Hearst inside. “You didn’t see Graham out there did you?”
My friend didn’t answer. Instead, he stood frozen, barely inside my room.
I shut the door and locked it which wasn’t easy with him in the way.
“Something tells me I missed a lot in the last three hours,” he said.
I moved about ten feet away from him and turned to face him. “Can I pull off this look?”
Hearst stared. “Did you get a personality transplant since lunch?”
“Seriously,” I said. “Would you think I was a cheerleader if you didn’t know me?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Good,” I said.
“But I do know you, so I have to ask… Did you hit your head on something this afternoon?”
I put my hands on my hips. “Hearst, you are about to hit your head on something. My foot!”
He laughed. “I take it I missed something important.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ll fill you in on everything in a minute. First, I need to be able to go out in public dressed like this. Can I wear yoga pants with it?”
He frowned. “Do you have any leggings?”
“Maybe,” I said, trying to figure out where I would keep such a thing. I went to my dresser and opened drawer after drawer. Finally, I held up a pair of navy leggings. “Got some!” I waved them for Hearst to see.
He didn’t say anything so I turned to look at him. He was facing the other way.
“Um, Hearst… What are you doing?”
“Nothing much,” he said. “Checking out this awesome wall you’ve got going on.”
The boy was so strange. “Will these work?” I asked.
He turned slowly and his shoulders relaxed as he saw me holding up the leggings.
“Yes,” he said. “Please put them on before you search for anything else.”
I frowned. “Why are you acting so weird—”
It hit me then what I’d just done.
“Oh my God, I just… You saw… I just bent over and stuck my panties in your face!” Heat rose in my face as my body burned with embarrassment.
“Yeah,” Hearst said, clearing his throat. “You’re, um, zebra panties.”
“I didn’t realize,” I mumbled. “I’m so sorry.”
He tugged at the collar of his black t-shirt. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to.”
“It’s this tiny skirt,” I said. “I’ve never worn anything so short.”
“No,” he said, turning away again. “You haven’t.”
“But really, it isn’t any worse than a bathing suit, right?”
“Right,” he said. “I’ll wait in the living room for you to change, and then you can tell me what is going on. I can’t wait to hear what motivated Townsey Paxton to dress up as a cheerleader.”
“Yes! Wait in there. I’ll be right out.”
He opened the door and left the room without looking back.
I did this sometimes. Not the flashing my underwear thing. The thing where I was so entirely focused on a project that I didn’t pay attention to anything else. I was trying to get this cheerleader idea to work and I was sorting through other ideas about helping Sharon at the same time. There hadn’t been any brain power left over to focus on modesty. My dad had often warned me to keep my mind on my surroundings at all times. It was too easy for me to block out everything except the task on which I was focused. I needed to do better. It was one thing to embarrass myself in front of my friend, but I was about to embark on something dangerous. I didn’t want to get myself hurt because I wasn’t paying enough attention.
I tugged on the leggings and checked them out in the mirror. These would work fine. Then I peeled them off, along with the uniform, and put on my normal clothes. After I looked like myself again, I grabbed my laptop.
My friend had recovered enough to meet my eyes when I came into the living room.
“Back to normal,” I said.
“Well almost.” He gestured to the top of his head. “You’re still rocking the Ariana Grande hair.”
I shrugged. “I’m going to leave it for now.” I sat down on the other end of the couch with my laptop in my lap.
“I never would have dreamed you could pull off peppy.”
I studied him for a moment. “Really? You see me dressed like a cheerleader and the part you have the most problem with is that I never seemed peppy?”
He squirmed. “That and the peep show.”
I glared at him. I was trying to pretend it had never happened. “You think I can convince people that I’m a cheerleader?”
He nodded. “No problem.”
Hmm. I had hoped it would work, but I hadn’t been overly optimistic. “You do realize that you are the opposite of pep
py. I’m not sure if you are a good judge. You’re like the black hole of school spirit.”
Hearst’s eyes lit and he grinned. “Thanks, Towns.”
I hadn’t meant it as a compliment. I shook my head and opened my computer, pulling up the email from my brother.
“Read this,” I said, handing him the laptop. “Then we’ll talk.”
He read a few lines, then grinned and said, “He wasn’t angry with Carol. I’m glad.”
Then he returned to the email. His smile faded away. “This is insane,” he mumbled, as his eyes scanned the email.
“Townsey, you’re in way over your head. You can’t investigate something this dangerous.”
“Why not? I have to take this case. Didn’t you read what he said? If I can’t help, there won’t be anyone available to make contact with this woman until at least Thursday.”
My friend closed his eyes as if summoning patience. Then he pierced me with his gaze. “Do the leg work. I’ll help you. Then turn it all back over to Graham. Maybe there will be enough at that point to go to the police.”
“How about we do the leg work and then discuss our next course of action?” I could out-negotiate almost anyone.
He sighed. “Let’s get started. I read your list. You want me to try to access the medical records?”
“Please,” I said.
He went over to the kitchen island where he had taken off his backpack. After retrieving his own laptop, something expensive and high tech and pieced together by hardware gurus he used as consultants, Hearst sat down on the couch and started searching for inadequately protected medical records.
I started down the rest of the research list.
“Wait a minute,” Hearst said. “You didn’t tell me what the cheerleader ruse is about.”
“I’m going to go to her door dressed that way. Nobody will bother to notice anything about me other than that I’m a high school cheerleader. I’ll be selling pompoms for my school.”
“You have pompoms?”
“No, but they sell all that junk for the public schools at the drug stores. I can pick some up.”
He raised a brow. “You’re describing this plan as if it is a done deal. But you clearly came up with it before our discussion about handing the legwork over to Graham and letting him pursue it.”
“Right,” I said, turning my attention back to my computer.
I knew he was watching me. I could feel his gaze for several minutes, but I refused to give in and acknowledge him.
Finally, he accepted defeat and began tapping on his keyboard.
Chapter 10
Liz texted and I told her I couldn’t talk because I was covered up with this contract work. I asked her to let Felicity know. I didn’t have time to deal with them today.
A few minutes later, Hearst announced, “Sharon had been treated in the emergency room for a few too many ‘accidents.’”
I wasn’t surprised. “What about the kids?”
“They don’t raise any alarm bells statistically,” he said.
“You know the stats on naturally occurring injuries in young children versus injuries in abused children?”
He blinked at me as if I were on his nerves. “The numbers weren’t hard to find.”
I nodded. “Keep me posted.”
My findings were also concerning. Greg had married once before Sharon. He had an additional long-term relationship that resulted in some telephone harassment charges and an assault charge. Those charges, along with the ones from his first marriage, had all been dropped. Sharon had never filed any charges.
Doug, the living twin, had a scarier history. He’d been married twice. Both wives had died in tragic motor vehicle accidents. The second wife had died within a week of Sharon and Greg’s wedding. Apparently, a woman didn’t escape from Doug with her life.
I had pulled up lists from domestic violence sites that gave signs of an abusive relationship. These were almost all from the perspective of helping the abused spouse understand that the relationship was abusive and that it was not his or her fault. Some were from the perspective of a friend or family member who wanted to help an abused spouse.
One of the warning signs was a control of finances, which Greg obviously had used against Sharon. She had never had a car, house, or credit card in her name. She also had not worked since marrying him. In fact, none of the women had jobs when they were involved with Greg or Doug. All five of them had worked prior to meeting the men. The websites warned about isolation and about abusive men sabotaging the women on the job or forbidding them to work entirely.
I told Hearst what I had found. “I’m never getting married,” I said. “This is terrifying.”
Hearst shook his head. “It is scary. But your brother will hook them up to a polygraph and follow them around for years before he lets a man get anywhere near you. I don’t think you need to worry.”
“Good,” I said. “Apparently these abusers tend to be very charming.”
He turned his screen to show me a picture of Doug West. “I don’t think you’d date this guy.”
The man had fake white teeth, the darkest fake tan I’d ever seen, especially on a man, and cold, hard eyes.
“Maybe not.”
“Did you notice the names of their children yet?”
“No.” I hadn’t seen the kid’s names. “What are they?”
“Doug and Greg.”
“Eww. He named his kids after himself and his brother? And then he left everything to the same brother?” A thought occurred to me. “You know what? Both of Doug’s wives died in car wrecks.”
He nodded. “And so did Greg.”
“Would he kill his brother?”
“How is that any different than your theory that he killed his wives?”
I shrugged. “Honor among thieves maybe. They carried on these obsessive, controlling lives. Maybe they had a falling out.”
“Let me play devil’s advocate here. What if we are wrong? What if Greg and Doug are normal? What if Doug never killed anybody? What if there were reasons for keeping Sharon isolated that had nothing to do with abuse?”
“Like she was psychologically fragile?” I thought for a moment. “So that would explain putting money in trust for her. It doesn’t explain away referring to her as property. It would explain why the brother wants to get custody of the kids.”
“And all the ER visits could be from self-harm rather than physical abuse.”
“There’s still the issue of all five women stopping work.”
“These men have money. Maybe they didn’t want to work.”
I frowned at him. I couldn’t imagine wanting to be a housewife. Especially if I didn’t have kids. Sharon was the only woman who had children. But lots of women did it. Maybe I was being too judgmental. “Wouldn’t they at least volunteer somewhere? Or travel?” I started searching for any indication that they were involved in those activities.
I didn’t find their names listed anywhere in relation to volunteering. There were no photographs of fundraisers or walk-a-thons. No sightings on the Junior League rosters. Sharon didn’t have a single social media account. I tried to sort through the other names, but it was time consuming. Then I realized that the men didn’t have social media accounts either.
“I’m not finding anything,” I said.
“Maybe you should talk to their family members,” Hearst suggested.
“They don’t have any,” I said. “Well, that’s not true. Doug’s first wife had an aunt when they married, but she died long ago. Sharon has no family. Doug’s second wife was estranged from her family when they met. Maybe they would talk to us. The other two women didn’t have a single living relative.”
Hearst concentrated on his screen for a moment. “I’m going to consider the long-term relationship a marriage for now. The odds of a man marrying three orphans during his lifetime are…” He shook his head. “It just wouldn’t happen. They have to be seeking out women who have no family.”
&nbs
p; “And that is one sign of an abuser. He or she either seeks out those with no family or works to isolate them from their families and friends.”
“Do you want me to hack into Doug’s bank account?” Hearst asked.
We shouldn’t, but we needed all the information we could get. “Yes. And I’m going to see if there is a way to contact Sharon’s former employer. Or maybe some coworkers. Let’s see if she had a dream of being a stay-at-home mom or if she had career goals.”
I found some contact information for Sharon’s last job at an insurance company in Dallas. I could call them on Monday morning and pretend to be checking her references for a job. I wasn’t sure if doing so would cause problems for her. Doug couldn’t have a way to track contact with her former employer, or could he? What I needed was a home phone number for a former coworker. Somebody she was close to. It was Saturday, and I needed to know everything I could about this situation before contacting Sharon. I was contacting her tomorrow. I wasn’t waiting for Monday.
“I can’t hack in safely from here,” Hearst said. “I need a bigger setup. I could go home, or I could have this guy I know do it.”
I didn’t want him to leave. We were getting so much done. “You trust this guy?”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “He taught me everything I know.”
I looked at my friend like he was nuts. “Then why haven’t I ever heard of him?”
“You have, I think. His name’s Rob.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But if he taught you everything you know and you trust him, wouldn’t you consider him a friend?”
Hearst shook his head. “No way. I pay him really well to work for me.”
“Do you spend time with him?” I asked.
He shrugged. “A couple hours a week maybe. We used to get together every day when he was teaching me.”
“Do you do anything together besides hack into things?”
He wrinkled his brow. “We’ve grilled out a time or two. And we beat a couple of games together.”
It sounded like maybe he had one more friend in this world. But I wasn’t going to blow his mind with that information yet. I needed him to help me rescue Sharon.
