Savage Bonds

by Ana Medeiros

  Pam hadn’t been inside Thompson’s home before Tatiana’s disappearance. Now, as she stood in his kitchen, she looked for traces of his wife. But she saw no pictures and no personal objects that provided an insight into Tatiana’s life. Not even proof that she ever lived there.

  “Nothing will happen to me,” Thompson said. “I know what’s important to them and I won’t stand in their way.”

  “Helping me is standing in their way.”

  “That’s my problem. Not yours.”

  “You still haven’t told me why you beat your wife within an inch of her life. As soon as I saw her I knew it had been you.”

  “How many times do I need to say to you that I wasn’t the one who left Tatiana in that state?”

  “That’s hard to swallow.”

  “I thought, of all people, you’d believe me.”

  “Because you’ve never lied to me?” Pam asked.

  “Because you know me.”

  “That’s my point.” She walked up to the fridge. Several clippings from magazines around the world, featuring libraries, were pinned to it and stood out amidst the spotless kitchen. “Reeve incriminated you. He also pointed out that you came to him earlier in the day and hit him.”

  “Did he also say how it happened? Where it happened?”

  “Of course not. Reeve isn’t stupid. He knows he can’t bring up The Raven Room. Especially during a murder investigation.” Pam noticed some of the clippings had an aged, yellow tinge to them. “Do you have a library?” she asked.

  “Sure, upstairs.”

  “I want to see it.”

  Thompson took her to the second floor and then up a second set of stairs to the attic.

  “This is an impressive collection.” Pam approached one of the rows of shelves that ran along the periphery of the room, from the floor all the way up to the slanted ceiling. “I didn’t know you were into books.”

  “They’re Tatiana’s. I rarely come up here.”

  Pam pulled a book from the shelf. As she leafed through it, she noticed a black marker line on the bottom, outside of the pages. She returned the book to the shelf and picked up another one. Four out of the five books she looked at had the same black marker line.

  “I’d never admit this to Reeve, or to his attorney, but we have no proof that your wife isn’t the one Reeve has been seeing.”

  “Tatiana isn’t fucking Reeve. When he tried to have her leave the club with him, I misunderstood what was happening. I got angry and I slapped her. I regret that.”

  “Right. You slapped your wife but someone else beat her. All in the space of a couple of hours.”

  “When you saw Tatiana that morning, and you asked her who had done that to her, did she say it was me?”

  “She didn’t say anyone’s name. But she knows about you and me. She doesn’t trust me.”

  “You should have brought her home.”

  “I was protecting you. If I took her in, she’d reveal that you were the one who assaulted her, and there’d be nothing I could do to stop you from getting arrested.”

  “Don’t blame me for your stupidity. Keeping me away from the police’s eye assures I can still help you in your investigation. You left Tatiana in that condo and you took Reeve with you to protect your interests, Pamela.”

  “How is bringing a serial killer to justice protecting my interests?”

  Thompson chuckled. He sounded bitter. “It won’t hurt your career.”

  “Do you have any idea what will happen when—”

  “We’ve known each other for twenty-nine years,” he interrupted. “Nothing is more important to you than your career. Not even Meredith, who you claim to love. Let’s be honest, she’ll be the one who’ll suffer the most when the truth comes out.”

  “Now you’re concerned for Meredith?”

  “She knows where Tatiana is. She was the last person to see her.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? I’ve talked to her. She doesn’t know.”

  “And you believe her?” Thompson asked.

  “Why would Meredith lie about anything involving your wife? She would need a reason to do so.”

  “Reeve is her reason. You need to show her the video.”

  “And then what? You don’t know Meredith. She wouldn’t stay silent. She would ask questions—”

  “Of course she would. But it would also compel her to reveal where Tatiana is and to stop pursuing the idea of writing an article on The Raven Room.”

  “You haven’t mentioned the article to anyone, have you? I shared that with you because—”

  “You trust me. I’m aware. I don’t have to explain to you why it’ll be a problem if people find out about the article, do I?”

  “Meredith is impetuous. She gets an idea in her head and she goes for it. No matter what. But she’s also fickle. One day she wants one thing; the next, something else. I’m hoping she’s already moved on.”

  “She’s been sleeping with Reeve for over two years. She doesn’t sound fickle. Hasn’t Meredith asked why you hate him? She knows you’ve been keeping secrets; she’s suspicious. Also, she’s been going to the club, don’t you think sooner or later she’ll—”

  Pam cut him off. “No.”

  “Look, I want to find my wife and you want justice,” Thompson continued. “That brings both of us to Tatiana. And if we show the video to Meredith, we’ll have Tatiana. Why are you refusing to see that?”

  “Leave Meredith out of this. She’s my concern, not yours. Don’t go near her, do you understand?”

  “I’m the one who has the video. If I decide to show it to her, you can’t stop me.”

  Pam rushed to Thompson, raising her hand to strike him but he caught it midair.

  “Do it, Pamela, and I’ll hit you right back.”

  She pulled her hand away and walked out of the attic.

  Thompson followed her as she made her way back downstairs. “Have you reopened the four cases?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have to look into a couple of things…I’ll let you know.”

  “I’m thinking I’m going to pay Reeve a visit.”

  Pam spun around. “Don’t approach him.”

  “He’s keeping Tatiana from me.”

  “I doubt he’s holding her against her will.”

  “I love my wife. Regardless of whom she fucks. Or I fuck, for that matter.”

  Thompson’s words were meant to wound her but she refused to allow it. “You were so sure Tatiana wasn’t involved with him.”

  Thompson’s expression hardened.

  “Steven, you might love your wife, but she doesn’t love you back. She’s afraid of you.”

  Pam left Thompson’s house. Glancing at her phone, she saw she had two missed calls from her husband. Without hesitation, she put her phone back in her pocket.

  All of a sudden, she felt like she was being watched. She scanned her surroundings as she crossed the street—the several parked cars appeared to be empty. With no sign of pedestrians or passing cars, the street looked deserted. She didn’t fear for her safety—she knew how to defend herself—but she locked all the doors as soon as she entered her car. Before she drove away she decided that, instead of heading home, she would go straight to the station.

  • • •

  Thompson heard a noise behind him as he stood by his stove, boiling kettle in hand, ready to make himself a cup of tea.

  “Let me guess, you came back to explain why you haven’t reopened the cases?”

  He turned around and almost dropped the kettle when he found himself face-to-face with someone other than Pam.

  “How did you get into my home?”

  The Asian man in the suit smiled.

  “The front door was unlocked.” He sat down on the kitchen stool. Before he continued, he placed a gun on the counter. “It hasn’t been that long since we saw each other, has it?”

  “What do you want?”

  “It appears that some o
f our employees—our women—are being killed. That’s not good. Not only because we need them, but also because their deaths have, it seems, sparked some talk.”

  Thompson started to speak, but the man cut him off. “Our business operates best when no one is asking questions or looking in our direction. Everyone, including you, prefers it that way. Anything that threatens our anonymity has to be taken care of. You’re a businessman yourself, Thompson. You understand.”

  “You still haven’t told me what you want.”

  “I want you to talk.”

  “Listen, I don’t know who sent you or what you were told, but I know nothing about any dead women.”

  “Should I have this conversation with your detective friend? She left your place in quite a rush just a few moments ago. What were you two talking about?”

  Without taking his eyes from the man, Thompson’s hand shook as he set the kettle down on the stove.

  “You and Pamela Sung met in your first year of college,” the man said. “She was your girlfriend for a while, wasn’t she? Five years. Long time.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “You proposed to her on Christmas Day with the ring you bought with the money from the sale of your beloved Shelby Cobra. You refused to buy it with your family’s money. You wanted the ring to have a special meaning to both of you. But she turned you down, and then broke up with you. I like that you have remained friends. It shows you know how not to hold a grudge.”

  Thompson turned and tried to run. Before he could do so, the man grabbed him, pushed him to the ground, and pinned his arm behind his back. With skill born from experience, the man twisted Thompson’s arm further, breaking it with an audible crack. Thompson screamed out in pain.

  The man returned to his seat by the kitchen island. He ran his hands through his shoulder-length hair, then tugged on the sleeves of his dress shirt, adjusting the silver cufflinks. “Get up and make me a cup of tea.”

  Gasping for air, his eyes filled with tears. Thompson moaned as he rolled over and held his injured arm close to his chest.

  “I said get up.”

  Thompson struggled to get back on his feet.

  “I like chamomile,” the man continued. “You have it, right? Who doesn’t have chamomile tea?”

  Thompson finally managed to stand. He failed to pour the boiling water inside a mug and spilled it on the counter. The water dripped onto his bare feet. After a couple of tries, he succeeded at filling the mug halfway. As he reached for a tea bag, he dropped the box of tea. Using the counter for support, he kneeled down, his whole body trembling. He staggered as he stood up again and placed the tea mug in front of the man.

  “It needs to steep a bit longer.” The man held the tea mug in one hand and the gun in the other. “But that’s OK. Our conversation has only started. How is Tatiana doing?”

  Thompson held on to the kitchen counter. He struggled to breathe through the pain of his broken arm.

  “When I heard about the death of Tatiana’s twin, I remembered a conversation she and I had years ago. She told me that when she was a kid, she thought her and her twin, because they had been born at the same time, had to die at the same time. Don’t know why, but that story stayed with me.” The man blew on his hot tea. “I always liked Tatiana.”

  “Fuck you.” Sweat dripped down Thompson’s temples.

  “Your wife is under Reeve’s protection. Which I doubt is news to you. But that protection only stops you and the police from getting to her. Not us. Now it’s up to you, if we do or don’t take her from him.” The man took sip of his tea. “How does it feel to hold your wife’s life in your hands?”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Who is killing our women?”

  Thompson grimaced. “If I tell you what I know, will you help me see my wife?”

  “We don’t get involved in marital quarrels.”

  “Do you promise not to hurt Tatiana?”

  “If I’m pleased with what I hear, we won’t hurt your wife. What Reeve does, though? We can’t make any promises.”

  Chapter 2

  “What do you want?”

  Meredith stood in the open doorway, blocking Pam’s entrance into Julian’s condo.

  “I need to speak to Reeve. If you tell me he’s not here, I’ll just come back,” Pam replied.

  “You spoke with him three days ago, when you were here with your search warrant.”

  “I need to speak to him,” Pam insisted.

  “It’s nine o’clock at night.”

  “Reeve is a busy man. Want to make sure I catch him.”

  Meredith heard the sarcasm in Pam’s voice and had to stop herself from cursing. Without a warrant, she wasn’t legally obliged to allow Pam inside Julian’s home, but sending her away wouldn’t stop Pam from harassing them.

  As Pam entered the spacious living room, Meredith noticed her stepmother’s attention gravitate toward the large windows. The curtains were pulled back and, from that height, the Chicago skyline stood too striking for anyone to ignore.

  “Wonder how it must feel to stand here, night after night,” Pam said. “A whole city at your feet.”

  Meredith did not join Pam at the window.

  “You’re angry at me for doing my job, Meredith. Which, in turn, is motivating you to do and say things that will only cause you harm. I’ve told you this before—you shouldn’t be here.”

  “And you shouldn’t be working this case. You and I are related. I told that to your sergeant when I was at the station but for some reason, which I can’t fathom, it’s made no difference.”

  Her stepmother didn’t hesitate. “Get me Reeve.”

  Closing her hands in tight fists, Meredith turned around to go find Julian.

  When she discovered him fully dressed, lying on his bed, she exhaled with relief.

  “Pam’s here. She wants to speak to you.”

  Julian didn’t move. She grabbed his arm and shook him a couple times. “Julian, did you hear me? Pam’s here. We can’t leave her alone for too long. She’ll start looking around the condo. Get up.”

  “I can’t,” he said, still not moving.

  “You must.” She started to pull him out of bed. “Have you been drinking? What are you on?”

  Julian propped himself onto his elbow, his hand covering his eyes. “I’ve already answered all her questions.”

  “And you’ll do it all over again. Just stick to our story. In the last week, since you were released from jail, neither of us has seen or heard from Tatiana.”

  “She doesn’t believe us.”

  “I know her. If you refuse to speak to her, she’ll do anything necessary to convince the judge to grant a new search warrant.”

  Julian sat on the edge of the bed. His head hung between his knees. “I’m going to be sick.”

  He vomited on the floor.

  “Jesus Christ, Julian.” Meredith went into the en suite bathroom and came out with a wet cloth. She passed it to him. “Obstruction of justice can land someone in prison for three years. I lied for you. I’m not going to let both our lives get fucked because you can’t pull yourself together. Go out there and deal with whatever Pam throws at you.”

  Julian managed to get to the living room, and when Meredith sat down beside him on the couch, the reality of his unkempt appearance hit her—he wore a vomit-stained t-shirt and wrinkled, threadbare sweatpants. With his greasy hair and heavy beard, he barely resembled the man she knew.

  Julian reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.

  “Both you and Meredith have told me what happened the day we took you in for questioning, Dr. Reeve. You’ve assured me time and again that you’re unaware of Tatiana’s whereabouts,” Pam began, only to be met with Julian’s stony silence.

  “We told you the truth,” Meredith replied. “We’ve got no idea where she is. She took off.”

  Pam gestured toward the living room entrance. “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten the
state Tatiana was in. She was injured. When she showed up in that hallway, she was naked and could barely stand. I have to ask myself where would she find the strength, let alone the clothes, to make her way out of here.”

  “She had her clothes from the night before, the ones she had been wearing when we found her.” Meredith had rehearsed her answers.

  Pam turned to Julian. “And she didn’t have a chance to tell you what happened? Who did that to her?”

  “Her husband did it. I told you this at the station,” he replied.

  “We need to find Tatiana,” Pam emphasized, ignoring Julian’s answer.

  He sat so still that Meredith wondered if he had heard Pam. She gave his fingers a little squeeze. A few seconds went by with no reaction from Julian.

  “Did Sofia ever mention anyone who you think might have wanted to hurt her?” Pam continued.

  “If you don’t have anything new to ask me, don’t bother coming around,” Julian’s said in a harsh tone.

  For the last week, Meredith had lived in a mix of exhaustion, fear, and unanswered questions. And she couldn’t even begin to grasp the complexity of Julian’s emotional state. How does one feel after losing so much?

  “Would it be OK if I did a quick walkthrough of your home?” Pam asked. “Just to be sure we didn’t miss anything from our search?”

  “Detective Sung, the only walking you’ll be doing in my home is back to the front door. I will not give you permission to invade my life more than you already have. I’d like you to leave.”

  Pam didn’t seem bothered by Julian’s animosity.

  “Am I still a suspect?” he asked.

  “We are, at least at this point, dealing with two separate cases—a missing person and a homicide. You’re a person of interest in both of them.”

  Pam had started to move toward the foyer when she stopped and turned around. “One more thing,” she said, hands in her coat pockets. “Since we haven’t been able to track down any other relatives, Mr. Thompson has offered to pay for Sofia’s funeral. I’d say that’s more than considerate. But maybe you’d want to pay for it instead, seeing as Tatiana and Sofia are the closest thing you’ve ever had to siblings?”

  Meredith had seen Pam’s blank expression before. It was the same vacuous look Pam relied on when she knew she had struck a nerve and wanted to savor the other person’s suffering.