They had a party at a lake near Smith College, just the members of the group, and they told Rebecca that part of her initiation into the group was to get high on speedballs, a dangerous combination of cocaine and heroin. Rebecca didn’t know how to shoot up, so they helped her. And the dose killed her. Instead of telling anyone, they covered it up by leaving Rebecca at the lake.
“Had any of you used speedballs before?” I asked.
“No,” Bennett said. “We’d done coke but not heroin.”
“We wanted to see what it did to someone,” Aiden said.
I stared at them. “So you had no clue what you were doing, or what was a lethal dose.” Slow shakes of their heads. “You could’ve told someone what happened. It was an accident. Stupid, but an accident. And you could’ve said she’d shot herself up, not you.”
“We know that now,” Stephanie said.
“But at the time you panicked,” I said, “and tried to cover it up.”
“And we thought we got away with it,” Bennett said. “Until Avery died.”
“What made you think her death wasn’t a suicide?” I asked.
“We all received a note the same day Avery died,” Stephanie said.
“ ‘A secret is a secret, that must remain’,” I recited the note I’d seen on her dresser.
They all stared at me. “How did you know about that?” Bennett asked.
“While Stephanie was in the hospital, I went in her apartment and looked around,” I said. “I saw the note on the nightstand.”
Stephanie cursed at me. “How dare you!”
“Chill out,” Aiden said. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Why is the note significant?” I asked.
“It’s the same phrase as the note we sent to Rebecca,” Aiden said. “That’s how we officially invited her to join our secret organization. After Rebecca died, we tried to cover our tracks by getting rid of any references to the group. We searched for the note we gave her but we never found it.”
“You think Rebecca told someone about the group and showed them the note,” I surmised.
“It makes sense,” Stephanie said. “She was dating a guy named Scott Robinson at the time of the initiation. They were pretty serious. We think she told him about her initiation, because he kept asking us about her death, really pushing for information.”
I nodded. “And now you think he’s taking you out, one by one.”
“He got Avery and Brittany,” Aiden said. He pointed at Stephanie. “And he barely missed her.”
I thought for a moment. “Stephanie, you can’t go home. If this guy Scott isn’t somewhere outside the house right now, he’s waiting at your condo.”
“We could stay at your place,” Stephanie suggested.
I laughed. “No way. First of all, there isn’t room for all of you. And second, you’re forgetting this guy knows about me, so he’s sure to know where I live.”
“What do we do?” Aiden asked. “We can’t stay here.”
The answer popped into my head and I smiled.
“What?” Stephanie asked. “I don’t like that look.”
“I know where we can go. This guy won’t have any idea where to find us,” I said. “It’s perfect.”
***
“She’s messing with my stuff,” Cal said. “Reed, I don’t want her touching my stuff.”
My great plan was to bring Stephanie, Bennett and Aiden to Cal’s house in the foothills outside Denver. Cal lived past the mountain community of Pine Junction in the foothills southwest of Denver. His house was off a winding dirt road, secluded in the trees, and he covered his tracks so well, it was almost as if he didn’t exist. And he didn’t typically entertain or have people in his house, other than me. He’d been upset when we all showed up, and now Stephanie’s presence in his office was irritating him even more.
“Stephanie,” I said, waving a hand at her. “Can you leave his stuff alone?”
She picked up a book about programming, made a face, and tossed it back on a stack of similar books.
Cal’s home office isn’t anything like mine. I have books, videos, pictures, and other collectible and valuable items, and one computer. Cal’s office consists of four computers and other computer-related stuff, a ratty loveseat to sit on at your own risk, and a chair that Cal wheels from monitor to monitor across the hardwood floors. Stacks of manuals, books and boxes of computer parts cover most of the available floor area, and it isn’t unusual to find dirty dishes strewn about the long tables where the computers are set up. This was where he was most at home, and having a stranger in the room, and a woman at that, was pushing him to his limits.
“Reed.” Cal’s voice grew more desperate.
“Stephanie.” I put my hands on her shoulders and guided her out of the room. “Why don’t you keep Bennett and Aiden company in the kitchen.”
“Fine.” She huffed down the hallway.
Behind me, Cal let out a huge sigh. I rolled my eyes as I sat down on the ratty couch. A cloud of dust poofed into the air.
“I’m sorry, but I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” I said.
He nodded, concentrating on the monitor.
“I need you to help me research this ex-boyfriend who’s after them.”
He nodded, still silent.
“It’s your fault it happened this way,” I said.
He spun around in his chair. “What?” he said, indignant. “How is this my fault?”
“If you hadn’t suggested I bug Bennett’s home, I never would’ve heard their conversation, and I never would’ve needed to keep them safe.”
“That’s not funny,” he muttered. He sighed again. “What’s the boyfriend’s name?”
“Scott Robinson.”
“He couldn’t have a less common name?” Cal typed for a second. “I’m going to need a little more info here.”
“Stephanie!” I hollered.
Cal whirled around. “Don’t let her in here.”
“Relax. I’ll make her stand in the doorway.”
Stephanie appeared in the doorway, a Coke in her hand. Bennett and Aiden stood behind her. “Are you going to tell us what’s going on?” she asked.
I held up my hands so she wouldn’t enter the room. “We’re trying to find something on Scott Robinson,” I said. “Do you know where he lives?”
“He was from Vermont,” said Aiden.
Stephanie glanced over her shoulder at him. “Are you sure?”
Aiden nodded. “Yeah, I remember Rebecca saying that.”
“Anything else? When and where was he born? Where did he work?” I fired off the questions.
Stephanie shrugged. “I don’t know. He was our age, so he was born in 1989, or around that time. I have no clue where he worked.”
“He went to Amherst,” Bennett said.
“So we think he’s about twenty-five years old, he went to Amherst, and he was from Vermont,” I said.
“Okay,” Cal said, turning back to his keyboard. “Let’s see what we can find on Scott Robinson who’s from Vermont, is about twenty-five and beyond that, we don’t know much at all.”
“This is cake for you,” I said.
He exhaled noisily, but started typing. We waited as he scrolled through results, then he turned around, encompassing us all with a hard glare.
“What?” I asked.
“Scott Robinson is dead.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“What?” we all said in unison.
“That’s impossible,” Stephanie said.
“No, it’s not.” Cal pointed at the screen. “He died in a car crash nine months ago. I’ve got the obituary right here.”
Stephanie and the guys pushed into the room. “Are you sure it’s the same guy?” she asked.
“Yes.” Cal backed up as she leaned in and gazed at the screen.
She ran a finger over the monitor as she read the obituary. “I don’t believe it.”
“I guess we should’ve looked him up,” Benne
tt said.
“It’s true,” Cal said, pushing her hand away from the monitor. “Will you please back up?”
She noticed the hard tone and stepped back, stumbling over some manuals. Cal gasped. She glared at him, and then backpedaled, ending up in the doorway with Bennett and Aiden.
I crossed my arms and stared them down. “Really? None of you thought to Google the guy?”
“I guess we made a mistake,” she said.
“You made a mistake?” I was incredulous.
Cal shook his head. I counted to ten so I wouldn’t explode.
“So now what?” Aiden asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. My mind was a blank.
“Some detective you are,” Stephanie said as she flounced out of the room.
I shrugged. First I was a bad bodyguard, now I was a bad detective. I couldn’t do anything right by her.
“It’s late,” I said. “Why don’t we pick this up in the morning?”
“Where are they going to stay?” Cal asked.
“They can bunk in the spare bedroom. I’ll take the couch so I’ll hear them, just in case they decide to sneak out.”
He frowned. “You think they’d do that?”
“Not now. They’re too scared.”
As I left the office, Cal was complaining under his breath.
***
The next morning, Thursday, was cold, the air crisp. I had to drive past Pine Junction to Conifer to pick up food for us all because Cal didn’t have much of anything in the house. His defense was that he wasn’t planning on four houseguests, and when I pointed out that even he couldn’t live on moldy bread and condiments, he said he just hadn’t been able to get to the grocery store because he’d been busy helping me. Touché.
On the way, I called Forrest McMahon.
“Where’s my daughter? What did you do to her?” he nearly yelled at me.
“She’s safe. That’s all I’m going to say right now.” He momentarily lost it, yelling obscenities at me. “Do you feel better?” I asked when he finished.
“What is going on?”
“It’s Stephanie’s business what she wants to tell you,” I said. “I’m closing in on whoever is after her, and for now, she’s safer if no one knows where she is. When this is all over, I’ll bring her home.”
He argued with me, but I stayed firm. I really didn’t want to be the one to tell him about Stephanie’s little group, and I also didn’t trust him. And he’d have to live with that.
I hung up and drove back to Cal’s, relieved that no one followed me either way.
When I returned, Cal’s mood from the previous evening hadn’t abated. He’d been unhappy that we’d spent the night, and he was upset when we used his guest bathroom this morning to clean up.
I chose to avoid him for a few minutes and was in the kitchen, downing a cup of coffee, when Stephanie came in. She sunk into a chair at a table by the window, and the look she gave me was one of pure defeat. She knew now how serious their situation was. But that didn’t stop her from being snotty.
“Gawd, your friend is a nutcase.”
I set the cup in the sink. “I really need you to check the attitude and help,” I said. “Do you think you can do that?”
She gestured in the general vicinity of Cal’s office. “He won’t even let me in there.”
“It’s because you’re touching his things. He’s got a lot of expensive stuff in there.”
“I –” she protested.
I held up a hand to stop her, then walked slowly toward her as I talked. “Promise me you’ll go in there, sit quietly on the couch, and help.” I was now staring down at her, and my patience was clearly gone.
“Fine.” She stood up and traipsed back into Cal’s office.
Bennett and Aiden were still in the spare bedroom, unsure of what to do. I called them and they stood in the doorway as I grabbed Stephanie’s arm and guided her to the couch. “Sit down.”
She did so, murmuring “Ew,” and waving a hand so I would know she noticed the dust cloud. She received a steely glare from me. I pointed to Bennett and Aiden, then to the couch. They complied.
“Reed,” Cal griped. “They shouldn’t be in here…”
“They’re staying right where they are,” I said, pulling up a folding chair and sitting down. “Now, let’s figure out what’s going on so they can all go home.”
They all stared at me, hesitant to cross me.
“So if it wasn’t Scott who was after us, then who?” Aiden asked tentatively.
“That’s what we have to figure out, genius,” I said. “When someone is murdered or kidnapped, they usually look to the most obvious suspects. In this case, the boyfriend made sense, but he’s dead. I’d look next at the parents. Do you know anything about them?”
The three shook their heads. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cal start typing.
“We didn’t know much about Rebecca,” Bennett said. “She wanted to be part of our group, but the girls didn’t like her, so Stephanie suggested we play a prank on her.”
“You were in on it,” she muttered.
“You, shut up,” I jabbed a finger at her. Her mouth snapped shut. I turned to Cal. “What can you find on Rebecca Thorndike’s parents?”
“Already on it,” he said.
“What else can you tell me about Rebecca?” I asked the three on the couch as Cal worked. “When did you meet her? What was she like? Was she a part of your social set?”
Bennett shook his head. “We only met her in college, and she was okay, maybe a little radical, but all right.”
“You had a crush on her,” Stephanie said.
“Did not,” he replied.
I held up a hand and they stopped. “Was she a trust-fund baby, like you all?” They all shook their heads. “How long have you all known each other?”
“Gawd, practically since birth,” Stephanie said.
“Yeah, we kind of grew up together,” Bennett said. “We weren’t all in the same cities, but our families knew each other, so we spent a lot of vacations together.”
“Just once I would’ve liked to go somewhere and not see you guys,” Aiden said. “By the time high school rolled around, it was like every summer and winter break we’d be together.”
“You loved it,” Stephanie said. “Remember that time in the Bahamas, and that beach party?”
Aiden grinned. “Yeah, that was fun.”
“And so was that vacation in Connecticut in ’08, and the week in D.C,” Bennett said.
“Yeah, but remember the time I wanted to go to Europe and we couldn’t because my dad said we had to vacation with your families in Ohio? I mean, really, Ohio? Who gives a shit about the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?”
Cal cleared his throat.
“Okay, enough of the stroll down memory lane,” I said.
“Was Rebecca from Seattle?” Cal asked.
“That sounds right,” Bennett said.
“Good, I’ve got the right family then.” Cal turned to face us. “Rebecca’s dad died of a heart attack her junior year of college, so he obviously can’t be a suspect. Her mother, Elaine, still lives in Seattle, and Rebecca had a sister who was three years older. Her mother works at Microsoft and the sister, Sarah, worked at a hospital in a Seattle suburb.”
“Can you find their work numbers?” I asked.
“Right here.” Cal pointed at the monitor.
I pulled out my cell phone and dialed one of them. “This is Franklin Hardy with HR,” I said to the receptionist, using the fictional detective from The Hardy Boys series. “May I speak with Elaine Thorndike’s supervisor?” I was bounced up the chain of command until I finally reached the supervisor. I explained that I was investigating some discrepancies with employee vacation days, and I needed to verify that Elaine Thorndike had not taken any time off recently. The supervisor complied and even stated that she was at work that day. Like I said, act like you have the right to be doing what you’re doing…
I
pulled the same stunt with Rebecca’s sister’s workplace, and got the same results. The three on the couch stared at me.
“That really works?” Stephanie asked.
“Yes, but it’s a dead end,” I said when I’d finished. “Neither Rebecca’s mom nor her sister was in Denver the last few days, specifically when Brittany was killed or when Avery was killed. So if they are involved, it would be hiring someone to do their dirty work, someone we still need to find.” I turned back to Cal. “Did you look into who rented the car that followed Stephanie and me on Sunday?”
He shook his head. “You figured the name was faked, so I it didn’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, but it matters now,” I said. “Can you find out anything about whoever rented the car? What state was the driver’s license from? Was it a stolen identity? How does one go about getting a fake identity? And is there a way to search hotels and see if that same identity was used to check in somewhere?”
Cal nodded. “I gotcha. Let me see what I can find out.”
“Is all that legal?” Stephanie asked.
“Reed,” Cal pleaded. Stress lines crossed his face.
I stood up. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
“Yes!” Aiden said, out the door in a flash.
We left Cal alone and went into the kitchen. The three chatted while I stared out the window, pondering all this new information. We were getting close; I could feel it.
A while later, Cal came in, holding a sheet of paper.
“Alex Jones is the person who rented the car that you chased. He checked into a Holiday Inn on 6th and Union Saturday afternoon, but he checked out Tuesday.”
I thought about that. “Those places have video, right? So when he checked in, they might’ve got a picture of his face.”
He nodded. “But what good will that do?”
I gestured at the three at the table. “Maybe those yahoos will recognize him.”
Out of the Past: A Reed Ferguson Mystery (A Private Investigator Mystery Series - Crime Suspense Thriller Book 5) Page 12
