Widows-in-Law

by Michele W. Miller

  Lauren turned left and checked the length of the next arm of hallway and doubled back on the far side of the partitioned-off central area where the support staff worked. She looked at her watch. She could go to court and find someone to take the case. She could quickly type out a form petition, shove it into the hands of the first attorney from her office she saw, and beg. But she didn’t have time. If Jessica waited for her, Emily might get on the school bus before they got there. Lauren picked up her pace, heading back to her office.

  When she neared it, she glimpsed Constance coming out and rushing away down the hall in the other direction.

  “Connie,” she called.

  Constance turned, her face tense. “Can’t stop. I’m late for a two-thirty trial in the Bronx. The judge is going to kill me.”

  Lauren waved at her as Constance fled and wiped the wetness from her eyes. She opened the office door and closed it behind her. Jessica turned from the window.

  “Okay. Emily has keys to the apartment. Both of you wait for me there. I haven’t decided anything.”

  “Don’t worry, Lauren.”

  “Jessica, don’t fuck this up, please.”

  Jessica hissed, “What makes you think I’d fuck it up any more than you? You weren’t saying that when you needed someone to take her.”

  Before Lauren registered the words, Jessica had pushed past and was gone. Alone, Lauren immediately regretted what she’d said. She should be grateful that Jessica gave a shit about Emily at all right now. For years, she’d dismissed Jessica as Brian’s trophy-plaything, but there was a lot more to the woman than Lauren had realized.

  Still, what the hell had Jessica gotten her into? No, Lauren mentally rephrased that in her mind: it was Brian who’d gotten Lauren into this. Fucking Brian. And besides anything else, she was stupid to think she could ever simply walk away from her teenage life. It didn’t matter that she’d only been a kid. No one got to walk away from that kind of life as if it never existed.

  CHAPTER 23

  Emily cut Chemistry and Spanish, and walked home. It took her a half hour but it was worth it. She walked up the gravel path to the house, checking for signs of Jessica. Thankfully, the dogs weren’t out and Jessica’s car wasn’t there, which saved Emily from having to play sick. She dug in her knapsack for her keys. For a change, her fingers found them quickly without a huge search, and she entered the house to the wet noses and snuffles of Hazel and Nuke.

  “Hey girls,” she said. A blinking light on the wall caught her eye when the door closed behind her. She crooned at the dogs, “Jessica’s being paranoid again, isn’t she?”

  She turned to the burglar alarm and punched in the code number. She put her coat on the mahogany coatrack. “Let’s go downstairs. We’re gonna have such a good time.”

  The dogs came from behind and beat her down the stairs.

  In her father’s home office, she turned on the computer, dropped her knapsack on the floor, and cracked the sliding glass door. As the computer booted up, she pulled her pack of cigarettes from her knapsack and the ashtray from under the sofa. Tropical wallpaper appeared on the computer screen. Emily lit up and took the mysterious thumb drive from her backpack. Nothing made any sense anymore, but she was sure the thumb drive would explain things, explain the real estate stuff, explain how Steve—who’d always acted like her uncle—could have betrayed her. And Nicole. Emily had looked up to her. She was pretty, a Wall Street lawyer who did big deals. She could sail and fly a plane, too. Emily still couldn’t adjust to the fact that Steve and Nicole never cared about her.

  Emily took out Tabu’s flip phone and called the only number in the phone’s contacts.

  Tabu answered, “Yo.”

  “It’s Emily.”

  “Loli?”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Are you on his PC? I want you to search his programs. We can clone the app account on his PC and copy into the clone if it’s installed there.”

  Emily searched. “It’s not on his desktop … not in his programs.”

  “Give me your IP address.”

  She knew how to do that, clicked the corner thingy that let her see all the apps. She typed “cmd” and read him the IP address that came up.

  “I’m going to take over your computer. Just click ‘okay.’ Don’t worry. I don’t want your data and, besides, my little cousin likes you.”

  Emily blushed, surprisingly happy. “He does?”

  “Loli, come on.”

  “Don’t call me that.” But she was smiling.

  She clicked okay when a dialogue box asked whether she would allow remote access.

  She sat back and watched while the PC’s cursor started moving at light speed, searching for the encryption program. No more than two minutes passed.

  “The app’s not here. You were right,” Tabu said, his voice echoing on his speaker. “The backup data isn’t stored here.”

  Emily whispered, desolate, worse because of the false hope. “What can I do?”

  “Does he have a laptop, another PC?”

  “He has his job computer. His laptop is gone.”

  “His work desktop is your only chance then.”

  Hazel and Nuke began barking and ran for the gap in the sliding door. “Shit. I’ve gotta go. Can you help me if I call from my father’s office?”

  “Yeah, okay. But it will be a hundred more because we’re gonna need to break his password there. You can give it to Hector when you see him. I trust you.”

  Emily heard tires on gravel outside and spoke fast, “I’ll call you if I can get there.”

  She looked at the time on Tabu’s burner phone before flipping it closed and throwing it in her backpack. Her last class would be letting out now, but neither the bus nor her feet would have gotten her home yet.

  At the top of the stairs, she turned down the hall. She would be lying in bed with a stomachache by the time Jessica walked in. She picked up her pace. The ring of the doorbell startled her, turning her around midway to the bedroom. It wasn’t Jessica. Jessica never forgot her keys.

  ***

  Jessica sat at the curb in front of Emily’s school. It was an old-fashioned building, red brick and covered with browning ivy. Kids streamed down the cement path that cut the school’s manicured lawn in half. Jessica scanned the crowd, paying special attention to the kids who repeatedly halted traffic to light their cigarettes at the top of the stairs that led from the school’s entrance. Emily would be one of them and should have been out already. She was usually the first one flying from school as if she took a head start before the dismissal bell. Jessica hadn’t called, knowing Emily couldn’t get calls during the school day, but she pulled out her phone now—the call went straight to voice mail.

  She noticed a boy walking alone at the edge of the path. She had seen Emily with him before. She hadn’t liked the look of him then and still didn’t. He was clean-cut, but she could tell he couldn’t be trusted. She was going to have a talk with Emily about him. Had he just passed something to one of the students, and received money back? Goddammit, Emily had been hanging out with drug dealers. Was it genetic or something? She tabled that thought for later, rolled down the window, and called out as the teenager passed, “Excuse me. Have you seen Emily?”

  He pointed at himself. “Me?”

  “You’re friends with Emily, aren’t you?”

  He began to seem nervous. “I know her.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  He shrugged, putting his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, underdressed for the weather. “I don’t have afternoon classes with her.”

  “Where could she be, do you know?”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  He had a hint of attitude in his voice now, which irritated her. She didn’t have time for this bullshit. She got out of the car and stepped close to him, her eyes t
he same height as his. She spoke as softly as she could manage, “Look, you know something, and I don’t have time for games. I need to find Emily, and she is obviously not out here. So, give.”

  “She wasn’t in Spanish. I don’t know.”

  “Damn.” She started back to the car.

  “Mrs. Silverman?” She turned back to the kid. “I think she went home to work on the computer. Please don’t tell her it was me who said she cut Spanish.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She opened the car door, trying to breathe.

  He didn’t need to worry about her telling Emily because she was going to kill Emily herself. She dialed Emily’s number, which went to voice mail again. She texted: Trying 2 call U. Call me back.

  Jessica forced herself to pull slowly from the curb and made her way through the teenagers who ambled across the street. She tapped out a hard, terrified rhythm with her palm against the top of the steering wheel. “I’m going to kill you, Emily.”

  When she reached the corner, she accelerated and turned with a screech. She sped toward home, chastising herself. She should have called the police. If anything happened to Emily, she would never forgive herself. Still, she wasn’t calling the police now either, was she? No, she was in too deep. She would go to jail, and they would all lose everything.

  Jessica leaned harder on the gas and barreled down tree-lined roads. She formulated her plan: approach the house carefully. If things didn’t look normal, she would make the hardest call of her life. For help. She imagined herself under arrest by the police. She braced herself for it as she turned and drove parallel to the golf course, almost home. A quarter mile and one more turn. Finally, up ahead, she saw the turnoff to the gravel drive. Her heart pounded. Let Emily be okay. A Mercedes pulled out of the driveway and onto the road, heading away from her.

  “Oh, God.” Jessica sped up and turned into the driveway, gravel shooting out behind her.

  The dogs ran to her when she opened the car door. Emily had to be home to let them out. Everything seemed normal, the dogs were calm, but they weren’t watchdogs. She didn’t even know if they would defend against attackers. Jessica ran for the front door.

  The doorknob turned in her fist—unlocked. “Emily?”

  The house was quiet.

  “EMILY?”

  Jessica looked in the empty kitchen on her right. Trembling, she turned left, held on momentarily to the smooth stairway banister that led up to her bedroom. She moved past the stairs toward Emily’s bedroom at the end of the hall on the first floor. The hallway was dark even in midafternoon. Jessica flipped on the light switch. She tread softly, as if her footfalls would bring to life her worst nightmares. She wished she hadn’t called out already, betraying her presence. She closed her eyes momentarily as she gripped the doorknob to Emily’s room then screamed as it was suddenly ripped from her hand.

  Jessica jumped back in time to see Emily standing at the open door, her adolescent you’re-such-an-idiot look on her face. “Are you okay, Jessica?”

  The blood rushed to Jessica’s face. She grabbed Emily’s arm. “What do you mean, am I okay? Why weren’t you at school? Who just left? Did you have someone here?”

  “Why don’t you chill, Jessica? I can’t believe you. I have a stomachache.”

  “Who was it?” Jessica tried to let her anger subside. Emily didn’t say anything, and Jessica walked back to the front door to reset the house alarm.

  Emily followed. “Are you all right, Jessica?”

  Jessica turned around, trying to remember the reason she was supposed to give Emily for going to Manhattan. The kid was looking at her, waiting for an explanation, and there was no way she would believe a lie.

  “I’m sorry, Emily.”

  “Yeah, right. I’m sick, and I have to get screamed at.”

  Jessica didn’t believe Emily was sick, but that was the least of their problems. Jessica reached out gently this time and held Emily’s arm. “We’ve got to go into the city. I came to school to get you.”

  Emily’s eyes widened, scared. “My mother? Where’s my mother?”

  “Not your mother, your mother’s fine. But we need to go to her house. There’s been a problem.” Jessica spit it out: “Your dad owed some money, and you’re going there until it’s straightened out.”

  “My dad owed money? Get out. He was rich.”

  “No, Emily, he was never rich. Not yet.”

  “Why do we have to leave because he owed someone money? Does this have something to do with his trip to Tortola?” Emily pumped her fists at her sides in frustration as if she’d let it slip.

  “What?”

  “Don’t get mad, but I found out that Daddy went to St. Thomas and Tortola the day before … before the fire. He rented a boat with his PayPal credit card.”

  “PayPal? A boat?” Jessica shook her head, trying to think that through. She didn’t know Brian had a PayPal credit card. He rented a boat? The whole thing was too much. “Look, we have to go now. I’ll explain later. I already packed some clothes for you. They’re in the car.”

  Emily went to her room and returned with her school knapsack. Jessica took a hard look out the kitchen window, scanning the lawn and the road beyond the trees for a flash of car chrome or any sign that someone was out there. She didn’t see anyone. She and Emily walked to the car.

  From the passenger seat, Emily handed her a sticky note. “That wasn’t a friend of mine who was here.”

  Jessica looked down at the phone number written on the paper. “Who was it?”

  “The guy said that a Mr. Arena or Areno, something like that, wants you to call him. Why didn’t the guy just call instead of driving here?”

  Jessica modulated her voice to sound nonchalant, or tried to. “Maybe he doesn’t have the number.” But the visit was a message that the killers were near and could reach Emily or her at any time. Jessica took the key from the ignition. “Don’t move, Emily.”

  Jessica ran back to the house, opened the front door and called, sharply, “Hazel, Nuke.”

  The dogs galloped out and waited at the car’s back door before Jessica reached it. Now that she had Arena’s phone number, she’d be damned if she’d come back home again before this was over.

  Emily frowned at her when Jessica returned to the driver’s seat but said nothing. Jessica drove, watching the rearview mirror as much as the road ahead. No one followed. When they’d passed through the center of town, Jessica pulled to the curb in front of the vet’s office and spoke to Emily. “Come on.”

  “I’ll wait here.”

  “No.” Jessica’s voice came out stronger than she’d meant it to.

  “Okay, whatever.” Emily shrugged, humoring a madwoman, and got out of the car.

  They both went inside the vet’s office for the five minutes it took to board the dogs. Then they were on their way again. Jessica checked the rearview mirror compulsively, her heart lurching each time a car traveled behind them, until they blended into fast-moving highway traffic. As they traveled south, Jessica filled Emily in on the situation, editing out Jordan’s murder and the contract on Lauren. Jessica hoped her drama-queen stepdaughter would be impressed enough by a threat of violence to allow Lauren and Jessica to protect her without a struggle.

  Emily didn’t say much after that. She stared out the window until they reached Washington Heights. A group of teenagers hung out in front of Lauren’s building. They said a polite hello to Jessica, and Emily hugged a couple of them. But Emily didn’t protest going upstairs. She unlocked the building’s door and led Jessica inside.

  CHAPTER 24

  Lauren stood at the phone booth outside Part Nine of the family court.

  “We’re ordering Chinese,” Emily said. “When are you coming home?”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can. The judge went on a break.”

  Lauren put her phone awa
y in her shoulder bag. The conversation was so mundane she had a hard time putting it together with what was going on. Really, she had a hard time putting any two thoughts together since she’d heard Bobby’s name. She thought it couldn’t get any worse when Jessica told her the story of being kidnapped and witnessing a murder. But it had. Lauren felt as if she’d been thrown into a sea of stinging men-o-war, memories flooding back, bringing old and new terror.

  She’d met Bobby when she was still sleeping nights on a mattress in the disco at St. Mark’s Place. He was picking up payment for a drug shipment at a pizza shop a block from there, not that she knew it for sure at the time. The place was packed, noisy with people coming and going—musicians, art students from Cooper Union, newly recovering addicts from St. Mark’s, and hookers who worked Third Avenue.

  “You living out here?” he asked when he saw her eyeing him over a slice of pizza, eating at a mini Formica counter that lined the small shop’s wall.

  She’d looked him up and down. “Why would you ask that?”

  “You’re comfortable here … like you’re in your den watching a game.”

  Lauren smirked. “What’s a den?”

  He edged closer to her, “Let me buy you a cup of coffee, and I’ll try to explain it to you.”

  She’d ended up hanging around with him, riding in his Lincoln as he made stops at pizza shops. Bobby was older than the boys she’d been with until then, twenty-eight to her sixteen. With his black hair combed back and a cleft chin, he could have played John Travolta’s part in Saturday Night Fever, only he was handsomer, with a daring power in his eyes and none of Travolta’s dorkiness.

  He asked questions about her, then talked in reams. “You know, Lauren, you could do a lot better than living out in the street with little boys who don’t know how to take care of a woman. I got a nice crib. I could buy you beautiful clothes and jewelry. I know you think you’re a girl, but you’re a woman. You just need to learn how to be a lady.”