You Don't Own Me

Home > Mystery > You Don't Own Me > Page 4
You Don't Own Me Page 4

by Mary Higgins Clark


  Martin would tell her later that he even checked with the university to make certain that there was no prohibition against his dating a bright, young, aspiring pediatrician he had met as a visiting speaker. By the time he contacted her to accompany him to a medical lecture in the city, she was expecting him to call. By the time they finished dinner that night, he told her that she absolutely had to accept a residency in New York City. “It will be much harder to get you to fall in love with me if you move halfway across the country,” he said.

  She had tried so hard to make him happy. He wanted to get married as soon as she graduated, and then start a family, and then have a second child, and so she went along with all of it, every step of the way. And then he wanted his bright, young, aspiring pediatrician to stay home.

  She had expected her mother to take her side. Kendra’s father had been a plumber. He made a decent living by Suffolk County standards, but her mother worked as a hairdresser to help pay the bills. Then he died of a heart attack just as Kendra was completing her junior year in college, leaving behind her, her mother, and a mountain of student loans. Her mother had worked at two different hair salons—one days, one nights—to make sure that Kendra finished school.

  Instead of telling her that she had to live out her dream of being a doctor, her mother told her to do whatever she thought was right. “Don’t you see how lucky you are to have that choice?” her mother had said. “I never did. I would have loved to have stayed home with you. You only get one life, sweet girl. Whichever path you pick will be the right one.”

  So she gave in. She told herself there was no real reason she needed to work. Bobby and Mindy would enjoy all the advantages she never had—private schools, a New York City upbringing, Martin’s parents’ substantial connections. All she had to do was stay home and raise them.

  I tried, Kendra thought now. I tried to be what Martin wanted me to be. But it turned out that the confidence and grace he thought he saw in me in that classroom didn’t translate to this house—to being a wife and a mother.

  The kids had exhausted her in a way that medical school had not. In hindsight she realized she had had postpartum depression. Her mother would drive two and a half hours each way, trying to help on her occasional days off. And then came the car accident. That’s what they called it anyway. An accident. But Kendra knew what had happened. Her fatigued mother—sleep deprived from trying to help a fatigued daughter—had fallen asleep at the wheel.

  Kendra had slipped further into the darkness. Martin hadn’t even given her an opportunity to meet possible hires before he brought Caroline into their home.

  “This is happening,” he had announced. “You’re a train wreck. Train wrecks don’t get a vote.” How she had wanted to kill him in that moment. She had wanted to be free of him.

  Now, five years later, the woman she had resented so deeply was practically a member of the family.

  “That woman was preying on your worst fears,” Caroline said. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhear.”

  Kendra knew how soundproof this old carriage house was. Of course Caroline had been eavesdropping.

  “Maybe Bobby and Mindy can start bringing their grandparents some extra unhealthy treats,” Kendra said. “Those two fossils can’t stay alive forever.”

  She wouldn’t make such a dark joke in front of anyone else, but Caroline had seen for herself how horrible the Bells were to her. She had also grown accustomed to Kendra’s morose sense of humor.

  “You don’t need to worry about anything, Caroline. It’s just a TV show. Let me change out of these scrubs, and I’ll come down for supper.”

  Upstairs, alone in her room, she closed her bedroom door and then went into the bathroom and ran the water. She didn’t want anyone to overhear, not even Caroline.

  She pulled up a phone number from her cell phone, stored under “Mike.” That wasn’t his name, at least not to her knowledge. And she knew this wasn’t his real number, just a temporary one he’d given her for temporary purposes. It seemed he gave her a new one every time she saw him. He was too good to have a traceable phone. She knew that by now.

  She never should have mentioned the television show to him last November. But she was terrified that he would find out about the letter the Bells had written to the studio and punish her for not telling him. He always seemed to know more than he should. She had promised she would get rid of the producer, and she had, until tonight.

  There was a pickup after two rings, but no greeting.

  “Hello?” she said nervously.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  She told him that the producer had shown up at the house unannounced and pressured her to sign a release.

  “Call her tomorrow and say you’ve changed your mind. You can’t do the show.”

  She told him that the Bells were never going to let this drop. That if she didn’t go along with the show, they’d make good on their ongoing threats to take her to court. “If we went to court, they might find out about you.”

  “Don’t threaten me. It won’t go well for you.” His voice was ominous.

  “That’s not how I meant it,” she said. He was the scariest person she had ever encountered, simultaneously in complete control but completely unpredictable. “I’m just saying that I can do the show and not ever mention you. I swear on my life.”

  “On your children’s lives?”

  She felt a dagger of ice at the base of her neck. “It’s been five years. If I were going to tell anyone about you, wouldn’t it have happened by now? Please, I’m not trying to cause trouble.”

  “Fine. Do the show. But remember what’s at stake. It would be a shame if something happened to Bobby and Mindy. Now, tell me every single thing you know about that television producer.”

  She did as he instructed. Her hand was shaking as she hung up the phone.

  Martin had been dead for five years.

  She would never be free of him, not really. Since she realized he had been feeding her drugs, that question was always on her mind. He of all people should have recognized she had postpartum depression. Being on drugs was not the way to recover from it. Or was it that he and his parents wanted her to have children, and after they were born, they didn’t need her anymore?

  8

  As Laurie’s cab inched its way from Kendra’s home to the courthouse, she checked her watch, reassuring herself that she had time to spare.

  Since today was such a special day, she had chosen to wear an outfit that Alex had never seen. It was a deep blue pantsuit. It was a color that suited her well, one that Alex always remarked on.

  Laurie checked her makeup, then touched up her lipstick. On impulse she pulled her hair out of the ponytail and brushed it loose over her shoulders. She knew that Alex liked it better that way.

  She was wearing her mother’s single-strand pearl necklace and the small diamond earrings that had been hers as well. How happy she’d be for me, Laurie thought, as the taxi stopped in front of the courthouse. Because of the traffic she had arrived only ten minutes before the ceremony. She was sure that Timmy and her father would be there already.

  As Laurie expected, they were sitting on a bench outside the courtroom of Chief Judge Maureen Russell. Timmy jumped up when he saw her. “Grandpa was afraid you’d be late.”

  “Never today of all days,” she said, smiling at her father.

  Leo had always been concerned to a fault about being late for anything. There was a sheepish expression on his face. “I was just concerned about the traffic.”

  “Uh-huh,” Laurie said. “Anyhow, where’s Alex?”

  “Inside. The courtroom is filling up. Ramon brought enough hors d’oeuvres for the party in the conference room to feed the pope’s standing army.”

  Ramon was Alex’s assistant, chef, and trusted confidant and insisted on calling himself the “butler.” He was also a gifted party planner who was bursting with pride over Alex’s nomination to the federal bench. Laurie had witnessed the wh
irlwind unfolding in the kitchen last night and could only imagine the extensive selections he would have prepared for today’s reception.

  “God help the person who tries to get between Ramon and the perfect party,” Laurie said.

  “I testified in front of Judge Russell once in a case that went federal, and she’s formidable,” Leo told her. “It will be interesting to see her in action today. She’s coming to the reception.”

  The courtroom was already standing-room-only by the time Judge Russell came out of her chambers. Laurie knew that many of them were Alex’s fellow lawyers. He would miss the day-to-day interactions with them.

  Alex’s younger brother, Andrew, had come up from Washington. He had been chosen to welcome everyone to the main event. Laurie knew how close he and Alex were. Their parents had been killed in an automobile accident when Andrew was nineteen and Alex twenty-one. Alex had become Andrew’s guardian, and he had taken that responsibility seriously. Laurie knew that Andrew’s remarks would be warm and personal. And they were.

  When it was time for the swearing in, Laurie stepped forward to hold the Bible as Alex, his voice clear and solemn, took the oath of office and became a federal judge. When he finished, he leaned forward and kissed Laurie. After he thanked the judge, he said, “I am so grateful for this honor. But I must share with you the fact that no honor would have any meaning unless I was sharing it with my fiancée and soon-to-be wife, Laurie Moran.”

  Five minutes after they left the courtroom, the family members and close friends who had been invited to the reception had filed into the conference room. The cocktail party was in full swing.

  Laurie was chatting with several of the lawyers who had shared office space with Alex when one of them, Grant Smith, brought up a sensitive subject.

  “I have to admit I was shocked when a criminal defense attorney went sailing through the confirmation hearings. I guess none of the senators lost money in the Newman scandal,” Grant said.

  Laurie knew that Alex had been concerned that the public’s lingering anger about the case could have derailed his judicial confirmation. Alex had some regret that he’d managed to get an acquittal for Carl Newman, who had stood trial for bilking investors out of millions of dollars. But the detectives had mishandled the investigation. He had been doing his job as an attorney when he got key pieces of evidence thrown out. Even he was surprised when the jury acquitted Newman. In any case she thought it was unnecessary for Smith to bring it up now.

  He’s jealous of Alex, Laurie thought. Afterward she would ask Alex if he thought the same thing.

  9

  Despite Judge Russell’s firm demand that her clerks clear the room after an hour, Laurie noticed that when seven-thirty rolled around the judge appeared to be enjoying herself. She had spent most of the evening talking to Leo, and Laurie couldn’t help but notice that Leo seemed to be enjoying the conversation, too. She also noticed that Leo turned back to look at the judge as they were all saying their good-byes when the party died down.

  She’s really very attractive, Laurie thought. She guessed the judge was about sixty. Her white hair and youthful face belied her stern expression when she smiled.

  “A new friend?” Laurie asked when she and Leo found each other in the hallway outside the courtroom. “A little bird tells me she’s formidable.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Now you know how I’ve felt for the last year.” It seemed as if he had asked her about Alex nearly every day.

  “But I turned out to be right, didn’t I?”

  “And who says I’m not right about this?”

  “Stop it,” he said again, but she made a mental note of his small grin.

  She spotted Alex walking toward them, Timmy at his side.

  “Where to next?” Alex asked, rubbing his palms together. She could tell he was energized from the induction.

  “This one still has homework to do.” Laurie grabbed Timmy and gave him a little tickle on his shoulder.

  “Now that Alex is a judge, he can write my teachers a letter telling them to go easy on me.”

  “Better to save that for when you’re in really big trouble,” Leo joked.

  Timmy nodded his agreement. “Good thinking, Grandpa.”

  Andrew could not join them for dinner because he had a case going to trial the next morning. Leo offered to take Timmy back to the apartment to finish his homework so Laurie could go out to dinner with Alex. As she watched them get into a cab, Laurie realized how eager she was to find an apartment suitable for their entire family. Alex’s Beekman Place apartment was large enough for her and Timmy to move in, but it would be a thirty-minute commute each way to Timmy’s school, and her father would need to relocate, too, if he wanted to continue to live a few blocks away. Besides, she liked the idea of them starting their new life together in an entirely new place.

  Once they were in the car, Alex asked where she wanted to go for dinner, noting that Ramon also had plenty of food waiting back at the apartment. Ramon quickly nixed the latter option. “I’m afraid that the Marshals Office didn’t finish installing the security equipment today. It’s a bit of a mess with all the wires and cameras.”

  As a federal judge, Alex was now required to have a top-grade security system that was connected directly to federal law enforcement. He had told them to save their money and wait since he’d be moving in a few months anyway, but that apparently wasn’t how the system worked.

  “How about Gotham then,” he suggested.

  “Whatever the judge desires,” Laurie said as Ramon started the engine. “You have a lifetime appointment to your dream job. Does it feel different now that it’s official?”

  “Honestly?” He reached over for her hand and touched the ring on her finger. “I already have the lifetime appointment that really matters.”

  10

  On the opposite side of Pearl Street, a man watched the courthouse from behind the wheel of a white SUV. Forty-five years old, his hooded eyes incongruous in his chubby face, he spotted the group he was waiting for as soon as they walked outside.

  The five of them all looked so comfortable together, he thought angrily. The older man and the little boy hailed a taxi. The smaller man opened the back door of the black Mercedes for the woman. He knew that she was the television producer. Her name was Laurie Moran. She had lost her first husband under such tragic circumstances.

  She looked happy now, though, as the new judge climbed into the backseat and sat next to her. Against the back light of the street lamp, he could see them looking at the engagement ring on her finger.

  She is actually quite a lovely girl, the man thought as he pulled into traffic to follow them. I’m sure she’s going to be missed.

  11

  As Laurie entered the lobby of her 94th Street apartment building, she gave a quick wave to Ron, the nighttime doorman.

  “How’re you doing, Primo?” she asked, using his self-appointed nickname. He had previously explained that the word literally meant “cousin” in Spanish, but was also used to describe a close friend.

  “Primo’s doing pretty good. I hope you weren’t stuck at work all this time. This is late for you.”

  Laurie had moved to this building shortly after Greg was killed. It made sense to be near her father since he was helping so much with Timmy, but she had also been eager to leave downtown, where it seemed every day she had to pass the park where her husband had been shot.

  “Not a work night,” Laurie said cheerfully. “I was out celebrating with my fiancé. He got some happy news.”

  “Fiancé,” Ron said with a pleased smile. “I like the sound of that for you. I noticed you’ve had a little spring in your step lately. I hope he doesn’t take you and Timmy from us, though. We’d miss you around here.”

  “No changes for now,” she promised, even as she realized how much she was going to miss the people who had helped make this place a home after she unexpectedly found herself a single mother.

  Once she was insi
de her apartment, she kicked off her heels and slipped off her blazer, tossing it onto an unoccupied hook on the hallway coat rack. She could tell from the silence that Timmy must have gone to bed for the night.

  She found her father in his favorite spot—leaning back in the leather recliner, the Time magazine resting on his lap, the television on ESPN, the volume muted. She had a feeling Timmy wasn’t the only one who had drifted off to sleep.

  He must have sensed her presence, because he suddenly pulled the recliner upright. “How was dinner?” he asked.

  “Don’t hate me, but I ordered your favorites—the seafood salad and steak.”

  “Rare?”

  “Just as you would.”

  He grinned and flashed her a thumbs-up. “You’ve got a good life, kid. Speaking of which, your Realtor came by with that.” He gestured to an inch-thick binder on the coffee table. Laurie could tell it was another batch of real estate listings. “She said she happened to be in the neighborhood. I guess she just happens to walk around with your personalized listings.” The tone of his voice was sarcastic.

  Charlotte had been the one to refer Laurie to Rhoda Carmichael. “She’s like the Energizer Bunny of real estate,” Charlotte had said. “She won’t stop until she finds a place that’s perfect for you, Alex, and Timmy.”

  What Charlotte hadn’t told her was that Rhoda expected the same level of commitment from her clients. Last week, she had called Laurie at five in the morning to tell her about a place in the hours before it officially hit the market.

  Laurie would flip through the documents at her office tomorrow, she thought, even though she knew Rhoda would be calling her first thing for her feedback. Laurie already had Brett Young’s impossible expectations to meet at work. She didn’t need a second boss in her personal life.

 

‹ Prev