by Ingrid Thoft
Nadine’s parents seemed to fall into the first category, and Fina left them a message. She was able to get Nadine’s estranged husband on the phone, however, and set an appointment for later that afternoon.
With time on her hands, Fina checked in with Scotty, who confirmed that the real estate agent she’d found online bore a strong resemblance to the Lindsay Kaufman he remembered from college. He couldn’t guarantee they were one and the same, but Fina could live with a likely ID.
S. Mullins Real Estate was a small firm that specialized in high-end listings in Boston, Brookline, and Cambridge. Fina knew it was dicey showing up unannounced—agents were often out showing properties—but she didn’t want to schedule an appointment, for fear it was a nonstarter. If she used her own name, Lindsay probably wouldn’t meet with her, and arranging a get-together under false pretenses would probably backfire once the woman cottoned to Fina’s subterfuge.
The office was located in the basement storefront of a brownstone straddling Back Bay and the South End. The space offered a small reception area furnished with a love seat and a matching chair in a tonal paisley pattern, anchored by a dark wood coffee table festooned with home decorating magazines. A receptionist’s desk faced the area and acted as a sentry to the six desks behind it.
“May I help you?” the young man behind the desk asked. He was wearing an earpiece and held up a finger when Fina began to talk. Apparently, he wasn’t speaking to her. Fina gazed at the occupants of the desks, but none looked like her target.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. One moment, and I’ll transfer your call.” His fingers scattered across the touch pad of a sophisticated-looking phone, and then he smiled at Fina.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m here to see Lindsay. Is she in?”
He whirled around in his chair. “She was just here a minute ago. Let me go find her.” The phone rang as he walked toward the back of the room, and Fina watched him depress a button on his earpiece to pick up the call. Four of the desks were unoccupied, but a man and a woman were planted behind two of the others. The woman was wearing bright red lipstick that made her lips practically pop off her face.
The receptionist returned to his post a moment later, followed by Lindsay Kaufman Shaunnesy. She extended her hand and introduced herself, which Fina did in kind, but omitted her last name.
“What can I do for you today?” Lindsay asked, leading Fina to her desk, where they each took a seat. Lindsay had blond hair cut into a pixie, a style that Fina always considered during the humid summer months. Tortoiseshell glasses framed her blue eyes, which were edged with liner.
Fina drew her chair closer to the desk. “It’s actually a delicate matter.”
“Okay.” Lindsay looked confused, but kept smiling.
“It’s not really related to real estate.”
“What is it related to?”
“It’s related to my brother Rand Ludlow.”
Lindsay’s smile melted from her face. “There’s a conference room,” she said stiffly, pushing back from her desk.
Fina followed her to a subterranean space that was windowless and cold compared to the outer office. Lindsay closed the door, but remained standing.
“I’m sorry to just show up like this,” Fina said.
Lindsay shook her head and glared at her.
“Listen. Whatever you said my brother did in college, I believe you.”
“What are you talking about?” Lindsay asked.
“I’m not here to question you or defend my brother. I’m here because I believe you, and I need more information.”
She looked at Fina and then dropped into a chair. “Why do you need more information?”
Fina sat down across from her. “I’m trying to stop him from hurting more women.”
“Good luck. It didn’t matter twenty-five years ago. Why would it matter now?”
“It does matter.”
Lindsay picked at a cuticle on her hand.
“I gather things weren’t handled well when you were in college,” Fina continued, “but—”
“Handled well?” Lindsay leaned across the table. “Are you kidding? I was treated like a liar. I was shamed and humiliated. Even my parents told me to forget what happened and move on.”
“Your parents didn’t believe you?”
“Believing me had nothing to do with it. They weren’t going to take on your family. I was the one who was tainted, not your brother.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be. Your family . . .” Lindsay stilled one shaking hand with the other. “You just covered for him.”
Fina was silent. She had no response to an accusation she now knew to be true.
“And nothing has changed,” Lindsay continued. “Have you picked up a newspaper recently? They’re never punished. They just explain it all away.”
Fina didn’t have to ask who “they” were. She knew. They were men who abused women and children. Husbands, professional athletes, fathers, doctors, priests. Women had made a lot of progress over the years, but they were still treated as less than.
“I know, but I’m trying to stop my brother, Lindsay. I’m trying.”
“Again, so what? You want a prize for doing the right thing?”
“No, of course not, and I have no right to ask you for anything, but I can’t stop him on my own. I need your help.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“You can tell me if there were other victims at school. You can tell me their names.”
“So you can show up unannounced at their workplaces and dredge up the past? And the statute of limitations ran out a long time ago. What’s the point?”
Fina took a deep breath. “I’m trying to build a case against my brother.”
“A legal case?”
“I don’t know yet.” Fina didn’t want to make a promise she couldn’t keep, and she wasn’t sure whether her father or the DA would be the recipient of her findings. She was walking a very fine line: One step in the wrong direction might destroy the rest of the Ludlows, the very people she was working so hard to protect.
“I know it’s too little, too late, but I’m here now, and I believe you.”
Lindsay got up and left the room.
Fina waited, contemplating whether the meeting was over. She knew getting Lindsay to tell her about the attack was a long shot, but she also knew that an attentive listener was what most victims wanted. Being heard didn’t make up for trauma by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a step in the right direction.
Five minutes later Lindsay returned with a drink and took her seat. Her face was blotchy, and her lipstick had faded.
“You can’t take notes or record this,” she said, sipping from a mug emblazoned with the BOSTON STRONG logo. “And I’m going to deny that we had this conversation.”
“I understand.” Fina pulled herself closer to the table. “Start at the beginning.”
• • •
Fina’s conversation with Lindsay left her drained, craving some kind of release, but there was more work to be done. So instead of calling Cristian or Milloy, she made the drive to Evan Quaynor’s apartment.
A new-construction mid-rise between the Pike and Route 9 in Natick, its location was ideal for commuting, but it was so characterless it could have been in Dallas or Raleigh or Tacoma. Fina parked in the visitor parking lot and circumvented the large fenced-in pool area. She called Evan’s unit from the touch pad in the lobby and was immediately buzzed in.
The man who opened the door of number 413 was close to Fina’s age, but looked tired, his eyelids droopy.
“Evan?”
He nodded.
“Fina Ludlow.” She offered him her ID. “I’m so sorry about Nadine.”
Evan motioned her in. “Thanks.”
&nbs
p; Fina stepped directly into the kitchen, which flowed into the living room. A little girl was sitting at the granite breakfast bar with what looked like the remains of dinner. There was a lone chicken nugget and a few baby carrots on a plate. A half-filled glass of milk was next to it.
“I’m sorry,” Fina said. “I didn’t realize you were eating.”
“Molly was just finishing. Let me get her settled, and then we can talk. Why don’t you sit?”
Fina moved into the living room and took a seat on the couch.
“You finished, Mol?” Evan asked the girl, who looked to be about five.
She nodded, and he put the plate and glass in the sink. “You want to watch some TV in the bedroom?”
“Yes!” She jumped off her stool and hopscotched into the other room.
“Give me a minute,” Evan said to Fina, following the child.
Fina sized up the place. It looked like a high-end corporate unit with nice finishes and few personal touches. Fina would bet money that the unit came furnished; all the furniture was dark wood with metal accents, and the prints on the wall were bland, but perfectly sized for the space. There were pillar candles on a side table that had never seen a match and abstract sculptures vaguely resembling elephants. Fina could see a bedroom through one doorway and a bathroom through another.
She poked a finger at the papers on the large, round coffee table. There was a stack of coloring books, a Boston Globe, and some folders with labels like “cruise port” and “shipping terminal.”
A rousing sound track started up in the next room. Fina leaned back on the couch and pretended to be admiring the neutral, coma-inducing color palette.
“Want some wine?” Evan asked Fina.
“Sure.”
“Is red okay?”
“Works for me.”
He uncorked a bottle and brought it over with two glasses. “What kind of a name is Fina?”
“It’s short for Josefina.”
Evan took a seat on the other end of the couch. “Sounds Spanish.”
“Nah. I was named after someone named Josephine.” Someone of her own generation, which was weird and kind of creepy, hence the reason that Fina stuck with her nickname. Nobody needed to be reminded of their dead namesake on a regular basis.
“I’ve already talked to the cops. Are you working with them?” Evan asked. “I didn’t completely follow what you said on the phone.”
“Not with them exactly. I was hired to do some background on Covenant Rising Church, and I tried to connect with Nadine during the course of that investigation. My client has asked me to continue gathering information.”
“What kind of information?” He took a long drink.
“Financial mostly. It’s related to a possible bequest to the church.”
Evan shook his head. “I don’t know what it is about that guy that makes everyone want to give him their money.”
“Are you talking about Pastor Greg?”
“Yeah. Those church people fall all over themselves to hand over their cash.”
“So you’re not a fan of Covenant Rising?”
“No. I am definitely not a fan.”
“Was that the reason you and Nadine split up?”
Evan kneaded his neck with one hand. “I still don’t get what my wife has to do with your client.”
Fina took a sip and put her glass down on the coffee table. “It may not have anything to do with the church, but as you can imagine, a suspicious death has made my client skittish. She doesn’t want to make a donation until she’s sure that the church isn’t going to be embroiled in some kind of scandal,” Fina said, treating the truth like saltwater taffy.
“You think someone in the church did this to Nadine?”
“I have no idea, but if they did, don’t you want them to be punished?”
Evan held his wineglass by the stem and tipped it back and forth. “Of course. As far as I’m concerned, they should be punished even if they had nothing to do with Nadine’s death.”
“Because they caused problems in your marriage?” Fina ventured once more.
“Because they convinced my wife that her future was with them, not with me and Molly.”
“That’s a serious allegation.”
Evan held up his free hand. “Look where we are. Molly and I didn’t move out because we wanted a change of scene.” He leaned toward Fina and lowered his voice. “The whole thing was seriously fucked up.”
“Was Nadine involved in the church before you got married?”
“Yes, but not to the extent that she is now.” He swallowed. “The extent she was.”
“So it wasn’t a problem initially?”
“No. I was raised in the Methodist church, and I admired her religious commitment, but it got to be too much.”
“In what way?”
“Every free moment was spent doing church activities, and she wanted Molly to join the youth group and go on trips with them.”
“Is Molly’s mom in the picture?” Fina asked.
Evan shook his head. “She lives in California. She wasn’t really cut out for motherhood, and she only sees Molly a couple of times a year.”
“But you didn’t want Molly to get more involved in the church?”
“No. They treat women like second-class citizens. I didn’t want her thinking that was okay.”
“Daddy!” Molly hollered from the bedroom. “It stopped working!”
“I’m coming.” Evan left and came back a minute later, the peppy music from the next room indicating that the problem had been solved.
“Why do you think Nadine bought into the ‘women as second-class citizens’ thing?” Fina asked. “It doesn’t really jibe with what I’ve learned about her.”
“I don’t think she really did, but she was willing to overlook it. Nadine liked order. She liked clarity, and the church was a part of her life where she didn’t have to be in charge, but someone else was. Have you met her parents?”
“Not yet.”
“They’re nice people, but parenting was a loose concept to them. Nadine kind of raised herself. I think she liked having a strict doctrine that had clear rules and expectations.”
“So when she started pulling Molly into stuff, that’s when the problems started?”
The expression that spread across Evan’s face resembled a sneer, a facial manifestation of bitterness. “It was that and the money. Nadine did pretty well, largely because she’s made a lot of smart investments, and she kept giving them money. As far as I was concerned, our first priority was Molly, particularly her education. Any extra was for her college fund.”
“Do you think Nadine had an issue because Molly wasn’t her biological child?” Fina asked.
Evan drained his glass and refilled it. “No. I think she would have been the same with any kids we had together. She thought supporting the church was supporting the family—that our spiritual growth and salvation were being ensured that way.”
He held the bottle out to Fina.
“No, thanks. I’m good. How long had you two been married?”
“A year and a half. We were together for a year before that.”
“Did Nadine buy the house before you married?”
“Yeah, before we met. I didn’t move in until we got married. She didn’t want to live in sin.”
“I know this is painful to discuss, but were you and Nadine planning to divorce?”
He looked down at his glass. When Evan raised his eyes, there were tears in them. “My hope was that we’d figure things out. That this would just be a bump in the road.”
“Was that a hope that Nadine shared?” Fina asked.
Evan slowly raised his shoulders as if the shrug required almost more effort than he could muster. “I don’t know.”
In the other room, an
imals were breaking into song. It provided an incongruous sound track to their serious conversation.
“So will you and Molly move back there now?”
“That’s the plan. It’s a great neighborhood with tons of kids.”
“I met your neighbor Ronnie McCaffrey the other day,” Fina said, leaving out the particulars of their introduction.
“Ronnie is great. So is his wife, Mary. You couldn’t ask for a better neighborhood for kids. There’s always someone for Molly to play with, and they do all kinds of holiday celebrations. Halloween was insane. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
“Your daughter must miss it.”
“We both do.”
Fina took a sip. “Does Molly know that Nadine is dead?”
“I told her, but I don’t think she really gets it.”
Fina nodded.
“I loved my wife, but if I could have predicted this church disaster, I would have thought long and hard about marrying her. It’s not fair to Molly to bring someone into her life, only to have her disappear.”
“But you couldn’t have predicted the future,” Fina said. “You couldn’t have known how committed to the church Nadine would become.”
He shook his head. “But we had a plan. We got married. We were going to have a baby, a sibling for Molly.”
“You know what they say about plans.” Fina tipped back her glass and the last drip trickled into her mouth.
“I guess.”
“Can you think of anyone who wanted to hurt Nadine?”
“No. The only source of conflict in her life was CRC.”
In theory, people assumed that murder victims were society’s outliers, living scandalous lives fraught with danger. But Fina knew that the usual motivations for murder—love and money—played a role in everyone’s lives. Many of the victims she’d encountered had the most benign profiles on paper, but that didn’t make them immune to the dark forces in other people.
Evan grasped the stem of his glass tightly. “I don’t like the church, and murder seems a stretch, even for them, but everyone else she knows is even less likely to be involved.”
“Maybe,” Fina said, “but everyone needs to be looked at: family, colleagues, neighbors. They all have to be considered.”
