“I told you—I don’t know anything about it. Talking to them would be a waste of my time. And theirs.”
“You owe it to your other neighbors, to that dead man, to Jenny and me.”
Laura folded her arms. “I don’t owe anything to anyone.” She pushed past him and walked down several steps. She turned and looked up at him. “I never saw the guy, and I never saw anyone who looked even remotely like a killer. I need to get going. Please do what I asked and inform the police you didn’t know what you were talking about.”
She turned and jogged down the stairs. At the bottom, she ducked under the balcony that ran along the second floor. She went through the small alley to the garages along the back of the property.
It was doubtful Charlie was going to follow her instructions. He seemed very intent on manipulating a tenuous connection to a crime into a scenario where he was a hero, helping the police catch a killer, but he knew nothing. She was the only one with any knowledge. As long as she kept her cool, everything would be fine.
WHEN LAURA RETURNED from the gym, a white sedan with a government license plate was parked prominently at the curb in front of the lofts. As she turned into the driveway, she glanced at the sedan. No one was inside, which meant that if it belonged to police detectives, they were hovering around her front door.
She picked up the gym information packet off the passenger seat, popped open the trunk, and dropped it inside. It wasn’t until the trunk thudded closed that she recognized what she’d unconsciously done—avoided letting them know she was changing her running routine. Although she would likely be required to address that, so she’d better think quickly.
It was important to remember they knew nothing. Just the rambling fantasy of an old man. A man who wanted so badly to help make his community nice he was seeing things that weren’t there. Well, they were there, but he didn’t know that.
Her routine was none of Charlie’s business. She’d been busy at work, interviewing for a job with an order of magnitude more responsibility. The effort consumed all her energy and drove her into the office as the sun rose every morning. She’d been doing it for weeks.
By the time she reached the end of the front path, she believed it herself.
A woman with shoulder-length dark brown hair, dressed in khaki pants, a white shirt, and a dark brown suit coat leaned on the railing. A female detective was a surprise, although it shouldn’t have been. Laura wasn’t sure if that would work in her favor, or the opposite. At least she’d seen the detective before the detective saw her.
The woman turned as Laura started up the stairs. When Laura was a few steps from the landing, the woman said, “Laura Bachman?”
“Yes.”
The woman held out a case with a badge. “Detective Horowitz. Sunnyvale police.”
“Hi.”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about a man who was beaten to death recently at the Carlton High School track. Have you heard about it?”
“My neighbor mentioned it.”
“Charlie Woodard?”
“Yes.”
“May I come inside?”
“Sure.” Laura stepped up to the door. She plugged her key into the deadbolt. This was good. She was calm, eager to help, welcoming. Ten minutes, tops. She stepped back, gesturing for the detective to go first.
As she followed Detective Horowitz inside, she realized the woman had taken control of the situation. The way the questions were piled on each other, there’d been no opportunity for Laura to say she knew nothing about the crime. She dropped her keys on the table near the door. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Can we sit down?”
“I don’t think I’ll have anything useful to say.”
“Let’s sit down.”
Laura turned and walked to the couch. She did not feel guilty. The jogger was a monster, planning to harm her—kill or be killed. She’d done nothing but defend herself. She settled back into the buttery leather of her couch. The detective looked more comfortable than she should have, seated in the armchair placed at an angle to the couch. The detective looked at the fish tank for several seconds, then turned to face Laura.
“I understand you jog at the Carlton High School track.”
“I used to.”
“You don’t anymore?”
“I have a lot going on at work, so there hasn’t been time lately.”
“When was the last time you used the track?”
“Hmm.” Laura glanced at the lionfish. They stared back her. She took a slow breath. “I think around the first week of January. Maybe the tenth or so.”
“You aren’t definite about the date?”
“No. Work has been so intense, I’ve lost track of time.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. That might not have been a good answer. It made her estimated date sound uncertain.
“You’re sure it was around the tenth? That would be the second week of January.”
“Okay, right. Yes.”
“Yes, the tenth?”
Laura nodded.
“Did you ever see this man?” The detective put a small photograph on the coffee table.
Laura picked it up and studied it. The image looked nothing like the monster that had followed her. The long thin beard wasn’t there and his hair was cut in a normal style. His face had none of the gauntness that had sickened her. Terrified her, actually. She hated him for that, hated him even now for making her feel she was fragile and female. Well, she’d certainly gotten the upper hand with him. She smiled.
“You recognize him?”
“No.”
“You smiled, as if you were recalling something.”
“Did I?” Laura stood. She stepped around the coffee table and handed the photo to the detective. “I don’t recognize him. Is that all?”
“We have other witnesses who saw him at the track on a semi-regular basis. Very early in the morning. Which, I understand, is when you go running.”
“Did. I did go running early, but I haven’t been able to lately.”
The detective held the edge of the photograph, her arm outstretched. “Can you please take another look?”
“I don’t have to. I’ve never seen him.”
“Who did you see at the track? It’s possible he looked different. This is several years old. He was laid off from his job. He’d become borderline homeless after his wife and children moved to Michigan. His state of mind was on the fragile side.”
How ironic that the detective chose that word—fragile. Well, too bad. He wasn’t fragile at all when he was breathing down her neck, dogging her steps, whispering threats in her ear. Laughing at her! Maybe that’s why his wife abandoned him. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize him. I wish I could help.”
The detective put the photo in her pocket and stood. “I’d like you to give it some more thought. Think through the people you did see at the track, or anyone you saw in the area.”
“It was dark when I ran.”
“Even in the summer?”
Laura opened her mouth. A sound came out. She coughed, hoping to cover it. She’d been on the verge of blurting it out—the monster hadn’t been there in the summer.
“What did you want to say?”
“Nothing. Just a lingering head cold.”
The detective stared at her for several seconds. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out another photograph. “Here’s an autopsy photo. I’d hoped not to have show this to you.”
Laura’s stomach convulsed as she looked at the image. She shivered. That was a natural reaction, she thought. Nothing she had to hide or explain. She handed the photo back to the detective.
“You’ve never seen him?”
Laura shook her head.
“Please give it some thought.”
Laura put her hand over her throat. When she swallowed it felt unnatural. She let her hand fall to her side. “I will. Give it some thought.” They couldn’t force her to say she’d seen him. How would anyone know
? She was safe. It was important to stay calm and then they’d realize she was a dead end. She walked to the entryway. She turned and waited for the detective to catch up. The loft was silent except for the sound of the aquarium pump, its low rumble filling the space like a heartbeat, her loft a living thing.
The detective turned and studied the fish for a moment. “I’ve never seen fish like these. What are they?”
“Lionfish.”
“They look…frightening.”
“I suppose they are. They’re venomous. Their spines will sting you.”
The detective put her face closer to the tank. “Have you been stung?”
“No. I’m careful.”
The detective turned. “What made you choose such large fish?”
“They’re beautiful.”
“In a horrifying way.”
“They can’t hurt you. I use a stick to feed them. They’re actually quite fragile, don’t you think? A creature that can’t survive out of the water, that has very few resources to protect itself. Except for its venom.”
The detective buttoned her coat. She reached into her pocket as if she meant to take something out, but left her hand there. She glanced at the fish, then walked to where Laura was standing. “Thank you for your time.” She pulled her hand out of her pocket and handed Laura a business card. “Call me if you remember seeing him.”
“Absolutely.” Laura opened the door.
After Detective Horowitz went out and the door was closed and locked, Laura wrapped her arms around her waist. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Her throat ached and her hands were clammy and cold. That monster planned to haunt her from the grave. Well, she wouldn’t allow it. She did not need police stopping by, searching her place, wondering about her new running shoes, finding the gun and the knife tucked in her dresser drawer. That creep was not going to win this.
23
Vanessa
HANK WAS ALONE in his office with the door closed. Vanessa dribbled water from her bottle into one of the snake plants on the credenza. She tugged off a dead leaf draped over the edge of the pot like a piece of wet felt.
She’d knocked on Hank’s door at 5:30, but he’d waved her away, indicating he was on the phone. Last week, he’d left at five every day but Thursday. Now that he was on his way out of the company, he no longer saw a need to spend the final thirty or forty minutes of his day talking to her. Did that mean their relationship had been a farce all these years? She refused to accept that. It implied she was needy and unwanted and downright stupid.
She turned her chair back around and opened a browser window. She went to the site for Bloomingdale’s department store. For several days now, she’d been unable to stop thinking about a shoplifting expedition to Bloomingdale’s. They would have first-class security, of course, but the pressure to get adrenaline shooting through her body was becoming unbearable.
At first, knowing Laura had seen her steal the candy bar had been simultaneously frightening and perversely pleasant, a feeling that kept her on the delicious edge, but it had faded more quickly than she’d expected. For all these years, she’d received a steady jolt of energy from taking cosmetics and lingerie from discount stores. Taking the scarf to match the gloves had whetted her appetite for bigger things.
Bloomingdale’s was a huge leap. Yet she had large anxieties to quiet, so it might be necessary. She turned back to the plants and poked her finger in the soil of each one. They all needed a drink. She unscrewed the cap on her water bottle again and poured a small amount into each of the other pots. It was a waste of expensive water, but she was not leaving her desk until Hank opened his door.
The latch on his door clicked. She spun her chair around. He was standing in the doorway.
“Are we meeting?” She stood and picked up her notebook.
“Oh, right. I don’t think I have much to talk about.”
“We should still touch base. So I can understand your plans.”
“Right. Sure. Come on in.” He turned and disappeared back into his office.
She grabbed the water bottle and her phone. She crossed the hallway in three strides. She stopped and tipped her head back and shook it. Her hair fell away from her face and spread across her shoulder blades and down her back. She pressed her lips together to make sure her gloss was evenly applied, glad that she’d taken time to refresh it while she’d been waiting.
Always waiting. Her entire job, her career, her life was about waiting for Hank, responding to him. She walked into his office and closed the door. She pulled out a chair from the conference table and adjusted it to face his desk. She put her phone and water bottle on the table.
“Have you changed your mind?” she asked.
“Changed my mind about what?”
“Leaving Avalon.”
He pushed his chair away from the desk. The darkness outside cast shadows around the edges of the office, making the areas touched by the fluorescent lights seem brighter in comparison. The light above his head shone on his hair, giving it an inky quality. The ever-present shadow of his beard was darker as well. He looked tired.
“Why would I change my mind? This is the height of my career. I have about five more years to hit my target. If I’m ever going to be recruited as a CEO, I need to make a move now.”
She nodded. Her career growth was in the opposite direction—a nosedive into the ground. When she’d gotten her first job as an admin, she’d been so proud. Only a few of her friends made the money she had back then, money that had enabled her to move out of her mother’s place immediately after high school into her own studio apartment. Back then, her salary and her job description were enviable. Now, not so much, and she’d never looked much further down the road, never considered where she was headed, simply focusing on the day, the week, or occasionally, the month ahead.
“I know it’s an adjustment for you,” he said. “But you don’t need to be concerned. My replacement will absolutely utilize your skills.”
“I thought you were going to see if there was a position for me at QualData?”
“And I will. I will. But that takes time.”
She nodded. He was telling her what she wanted to hear. She wasn’t sure how she knew that, but she knew. The cords between them were unraveling, as if he were on a small boat, pulling away from the dock, and she was leaning over the widening gap, trying to keep her grip on the side of the boat and the slippery planks beneath her, straining to pull him back, in danger of sliding into the lake. All these years, she’d thought they were friends, that there was a connection, something exciting between them, a reason to dress up and come to work every day. Now, he acted as if she was nothing but an object to be discarded along with his office and his company-owned computer and furniture. She was a piece of equipment—maintained in excellent condition—to pass along to his successor.
“Why can’t you get promoted here?”
“We went over this,” he said.
“I know.”
“It will be good for you too. It will stretch you.”
“Yes.” She didn’t need stretching. She needed…she needed excitement. Stimulation. What if his successor was a woman who was unimpressed by Vanessa’s exotic appearance? She shivered.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“You look like you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m fine.” She stared at him.
His lips were soft and pale, the dark contours of his face like the face of a rock, inviting and challenging her to find a crevice, to get inside and learn his secrets. The cuffs of his white shirt were rolled back, revealing his well-formed forearms covered with dark hair, but not so thick he looked beastly, just manly, as silly as that sounded, even inside her own head. She crossed her legs. “We’ve had a lot of good times.”
He nodded.
“Lots of good conversations.”
“You’re an interesting person.” He smiled, although his eyes looked past her.
“Not interesting
enough, though.”
He continued staring at the window behind her with such intensity she was compelled to turn and look. There was nothing to see. Past the blinds, the sky and edges of the bay were dark. No light glittered to indicate there was human life somewhere on the horizon. She turned back.
“What do you mean?” he said.
“I’m not interesting enough for you to stay. Not a good enough friend for you to make sure, before you accepted the position, that there was a place for me.”
He rubbed his temple then dragged his fingers along his jaw. “I don’t know how I gave the impression we’re friends. Yes, we’ve had a strong working relationship, but…I said I’ll scope out the situation when I get settled. That’s all I can promise. I can’t possibly guarantee you a job at a company where I’m not yet employed.”
She folded her arms across her ribs. “I always thought there was more between us than just work.”
“I’m your manager.”
“Yes, but I do an excellent job. It’s not like you have to actually manage me or correct my behavior or anything like that.”
“I’m still your boss, not your pal.”
“We talk about a lot of things.”
“Possibly some things we shouldn’t have. That’s my mistake, and I’m sorry if that gave you the impression we have a relationship beyond our professional interactions.”
“It’s not just talking that gave me that impression.” She smiled and unfolded her arms. She’d been too reticent. Now was the time to remind him of their real connection. She would not allow him to pretend he wasn’t drawn to her. Every day, she’d felt his eyes on her, for years. It was what drove her when she showered and shaved her legs every morning, when she dried her hair into silken strands, when she applied her makeup, outlining her eyes in shadows that were more dramatic than what was called for in the office.
She wasn’t trying to break-up his marriage, wasn’t trying to do anything. Just have a little fun, flirt a bit. And they did. She shifted in the chair, trying not to look stiff. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing her shoulders. She moved them slightly so her hair fell forward, spilling over her upper arms.
The Assistant: A gripping psychological thriller with a nerve-shredding ending Page 22
