Lauren needed no reminder of what was at stake. As long as she agreed to publicly humiliate herself in a seemingly endless series of scenarios Tim designed for her, he would keep her parents alive. If she were to refuse an assignment or fail in some way, they would die. He’d kidnapped them a few months before she was arrested for Kelly’s murder. It seemed like a hundred years.
“Was that supposed to be your endgame, Tim? You’d kill my lover and frame me for it, then get rid of our parents after I was convicted? Did you get off watching me led in by the sheriff’s deputies every day and returned to jail every night? I don’t see where this is going or how long you think we can keep it up.”
He shrugged. “It was surprising you were acquitted. Cook County has some shitty prosecutors. Having you put away for good would have changed some things at Wade-Fellowes, which had interesting possibilities. But to answer your question, I really don’t have an endgame in mind. It ends when I get tired of it, that’s all. And I’m having way too much fun right now. Which brings me to the point of this visit—your next assignment.”
Lauren could feel the bile working in her throat. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t.”
“That’s one way to end this, I suppose. But you know the deal. If you fail to comply, I’ll kill them. It’s as simple as that.”
“How do I know you haven’t killed them already? Maybe you did while I was in jail.”
“You want proof of life?” Tim said. “I could send you another one of Dad’s fingers.”
“No!” Lauren took a couple of breaths and tried to focus on navigating the impossible. Her father lost a finger shortly after Tim found Lauren rummaging through his house, trying to find some clue to her parents’ whereabouts. “I think it’s reasonable to ask for a photo, something that lets me know they’re okay. Better yet, a phone call or a visit.”
“A visit is out of the question, but I’ll think about a call or video. First you’ll complete this assignment or I’ll send you a photo of them dead.” Tim finished his beer as he leaned against the counter, next to the gleaming knives.
Lauren put her fingers to her temples. “Let me hear it.”
“Oh, how I’ve missed this! It was the worst part of you being in jail. But we’ll make up for lost time with this one.”
Tim rubbed his hands in glee and reached for the duffel bag. Lauren recognized that look from their childhood. It was the way he looked right before doing something awful to her like bullying her school friends. It had taken her years to figure out why it was her friends would suddenly stop liking her. She and Tim were largely left alone by their parents, who worked constantly and spent their free time sleeping or having the occasional night out, just the two of them. Lauren often thought if she had a brother she was close to, her childhood wouldn’t have felt so lonely and scary. Her parents believed in a sort of “throw the baby in the deep end” philosophy of child rearing. Tim and Lauren were left to fend for themselves, and Lauren had to always be on guard with Tim.
Tim seemed to despise her from the time she was aware of such things. There was something about her that made him want to torment her. If he saw she was making friends with anyone, he’d act as obnoxiously as it took to drive them away. If her parents occasionally praised her for something she’d done, Tim would retaliate. One time he set fire to her science fair project, which she’d spent weeks working on. There was no safety. Their parents expected them to get along or work it out when they didn’t. They felt this was a better preparation for the real world than coddling them, solving their problems. It never occurred to Lauren the actions of an unpleasant older brother were the precursor to those of a sociopath.
She stared in dismay as Tim pulled women’s clothing out of the bag. A spangly tube top, a black stretch skirt that looked no bigger than a headband, fishnet stockings, and four-inch stiletto heels. He tossed a small bag of cosmetics on top, followed by a blond shoulder-length wig.
“Your mission,” Tim grinned, “is to infiltrate a queer bar in the role of a desperate, forty-year-old tart. You’ll hook up with whoever is drunk or desperate enough to want to bed you. You’ll stay at the bar until you’re successful, and if no one agrees to leave with you tonight, then you’ll return each night until someone does.”
Lauren was speechless. Since Tim’s campaign began, the things he demanded she do had steadily escalated in degrees of humiliation. At first the tasks seemed disproportionate to the kidnapping and imprisonment of her parents. She’d been forced to enter an elevator in her office building and push the buttons for every floor after people crowded in to start the workday. Since most of those in the elevator were her own employees going to the top two floors of the building, she had to endure the embarrassment of the doors opening uselessly on each floor along the way. Tim was in the elevator, disguised as a flower deliveryman, his face hidden behind a bouquet of lilies. He loved to see Lauren squirm.
It was well known by the staff of Wade-Fellowes that Lauren and Tim’s parents were smart enough to leave the company in Lauren’s hands when they retired but soft enough to keep Tim on despite his disruptive presence. John and Helen hoped by passing Tim over, he would get the message he needed to knuckle down and get serious about the welfare of the company. Everyone knew it was a great embarrassment for him, and it was compounded later by being fired by his sister after many warnings to improve his performance. Lauren knew he was furious, but she hadn’t anticipated him holding his parents hostage for a ransom that seemed to solely consist of Lauren making a repeated fool of herself.
He had her dress like a homeless woman and strum lamely on a ukulele, singing the same song over and over while sitting at a busy corner near their offices. He forced her to sing at a karaoke bar, an exquisite hell for Lauren, especially with members of her staff in the audience. She was ordered to spit on the floor while talking to the celebrity guest at an HRC gala. Kelly had witnessed that one and she didn’t talk to Lauren for a week. Lauren couldn’t offer up any plausible reason for spitting three inches away from the open-toed shoes of the star of some recently canceled sitcom.
But now she was being asked to sexually engage with someone, a new frontier for Tim. How much did she want to keep her parents alive? Enough for this?
“Tonight?” she said.
“Why not? It’s Saturday night, baby, and the lezzies will be out in force. Of course, they’ll be much younger than you and undoubtedly not dressed like a street whore, but what’s the fun if there’s no challenge?” He picked up one of the shoes and looked appreciatively at the impossible stiletto heel.
Lauren started to cry, something she never wanted Tim to see. But she was exhausted, hopeless. He was committed to his game and he would kill her parents if she refused to play. But she was so tired she didn’t know if she could continue to keep them safe.
“I’ll be right there watching,” he continued. “I thought about how to determine your success, given I probably can’t be right in the room while you’re having sex. That would be gross. So I’ll go easy on you. All you have to do is leave the bar with someone and go to their home. If you want to play Scrabble all night, that’s your business. Now, quit your blubbering and get dressed. We’re going out at nine.”
Lauren picked up the pile of clothes and headed upstairs, unable to imagine her acting skills were good enough to lure interest from anyone while she was dressed in this pathetic costume. She considered killing herself, but that would mean the death of her parents. It would also mean Tim would inherit full ownership and control of the company. It seemed worthwhile to stay alive to prevent both things, but she felt parts of herself killed off every day. She wasn’t sure she could keep it up much longer.
She couldn’t think of a way to save her parents that wasn’t unacceptably dangerous. Her first attempt had been a simple plan to find out where Tim was hiding them. She’d broken into his house and worked her way through every paper in his office, looking for a lease, a map, anything that might point her to them. There wa
s nothing. Five minutes after she got back in her own house, Tim called her.
“Do you consider yourself an intelligent woman?” He had a patronizing tone that drove her mad. She suspected something behind the question, something not good.
“I suppose I’m intelligent enough,” she said.
“I used to think so. You showed off enough in school—it was kind of hard to miss. Waving those trophies and certificates, as if anyone cared.”
“What are you talking about?” She was alarmed. Tim never talked about their childhood.
“Oh, please. Every other fucking day you trotted home from school with a prize for this, an award for that. Mom would pat you on the head. I’d come home with my report cards and all I’d see is disappointment in their eyes.”
Lauren didn’t know where he was going with this and she was afraid of sparking his anger.
“That didn’t have anything to do with intelligence, Tim. I was a geek. All I did was study, while you were out playing with your endless number of friends.”
Tim seemed to consider this for a while.
“Let’s leave it at that for now. The fact is you weren’t quite smart enough today to get away with your adventure in breaking and entering.”
Lauren remained silent, her heart thumping a steady beat.
“Through the wonders of technology I was able to film you the moment you entered my house. CCTV cameras are the rage in England, and you know what an Anglophile I am. It took you twenty-two minutes to get through the load of crap on my desk. Were you disappointed to find you’re not the beneficiary of my will?”
“I didn’t expect to be,” Lauren said.
“Anyway, as you know, you didn’t find a single clue as to where Mom and Dad are. I’m sure it’s driving you crazy. But I’ll let them know about your bravery. I’m sure they’ll want to send you a present.”
Two days later her assistant had brought in a small box marked “personal and confidential.” The postmark was Chicago, the return address Tim’s house in the city. She slowly removed the wrapping and found a long black box, one that might once have held a bracelet, but now held her father’s right index finger. She recognized a mole above the second knuckle. A note in the box said “Keep trying. There’re thirty-nine fingers and toes left.”
Chapter Six
By the time Sarah DeAngeles arrived at four on Saturday afternoon, Josie had managed to put her office in order and read her way through most of the Lauren Wade file. She felt prepared for the meeting, dressed in black jeans—new ones that were a dressy jet black—topped with a charcoal wool blazer and a button-down white shirt. It was still too warm for the wool, but Josie wanted to look professional, and to cover the holster at her back.
They faced each other again across Josie’s desk. Sarah was also dressed in jeans, but hers clung to her long legs and cost considerably more than the pair Josie bought at Target. Sarah’s shirt was a plunging V-neck that clung tightly to her breasts. She leaned forward to put her bag on the floor and Josie got a good look at her cleavage. She was relieved to feel something in response. She’d feared her medication had killed her libido, which had swung from wildly overactive during the months before her hospitalization to its current moribund state.
“Did you have a chance to read the materials I gave you?” Sarah said, settling back in her chair.
“I did. All but the trial transcript, which I’ll get to soon.” Josie assumed a relaxed posture in her new chair, her notebook perched on her knee.
Sarah looked around the room. “You’ve been busy. I see you got things squared away in here.” Sarah flashed a smile at Josie. She seemed more relaxed and friendly than she’d been the day before. Josie hoped that meant she’d decided to go ahead and hire her. “What are your thoughts on what you know so far?”
“There wasn’t much I read that added to what you told me yesterday,” Josie said. “It’s not much to go on.”
Sarah looked surprised, as if she expected more of a sales pitch than that. Josie wanted the job, but wouldn’t promise more than she knew she could deliver.
“I got in touch with a CPD contact of mine, someone who worked on the Kelly Moore murder. She pointed me in a few directions. Whether any of those leads will produce a suspect is impossible to say.”
Bingo. How could she resist a contact like that?
“Of course. I can accept whatever the outcome is as long as I know the best effort’s been made.”
“Good. I can promise you I’ll do that,” Josie said. “I’m curious about your business relationship with Lauren. What books do you publish with her?”
Sarah smiled. “I have lots of them. Books on knitting, embroidery, scrapbooking. Things like that.”
These were skills as mysterious to Josie as flying a rocket ship. “Do you make a living writing those books?”
“Yes, I do. A very good living. My first concern is Lauren herself, but I also want to make sure her company stays healthy. It’s been a very good relationship for me.”
It looked like Sarah was comfortable with her and it was time to lock it down. Josie sat up straight in her chair. “Would you like to move forward?” she asked. This was called closing the deal, something she did quite successfully when the deal involved getting a woman into bed. Maybe she was a natural salesperson. The thought was disturbing.
Sarah looked at her for a few moments before nodding. “I think I would. It seems like you’ve got the most time available of anyone I’ve talked to and maybe the best contacts.”
They negotiated a rate and a schedule of how often she would report to Sarah with her progress. Josie pulled a contract out of her file drawer, a replica of one Stan Waterman gave her to use as an example. She watched with a perfectly still face as Sarah wrote out the $5,000 retainer check and pushed it across the desk toward her.
“I know some friends of Kelly’s. It might be a place to start.”
“If your friendship with Lauren stemmed primarily from your business relationship, how did you get to know Kelly’s friends?”
“I don’t know them well,” Sarah said. “I was out to dinner with Lauren and my agent one night after we signed a book deal. I was a little surprised Lauren agreed to meet us for dinner, since normally she turned down evening invitations. I’d asked her to dinner a number of times. It was one of the reasons I felt we were developing a real friendship. She must have wanted to spend time with me if she agreed to join us for dinner.”
Josie thought it sounded unlikely. She suspected when Sarah talked about her relationship with Lauren, she was operating in a slightly different reality. Lauren probably had dinner with her because she was a board member. But with a $5,000 check in hand, she didn’t care.
“Was Kelly with you at this dinner?” Josie said.
“No, she wasn’t. But she was at the same restaurant we were, having dinner with three of her friends. It was simply coincidence. She came over to our table and convinced Lauren and me to go to a bar with them after dinner. I think Lauren wanted to get us somewhere away from my agent.” Sarah had the look of someone thinking of a fond memory.
“When was this? Do you know whether Kelly was having her affair at this point?” The affair was a big problem for Lauren. Jealousy was hard to disprove.
“No, it was before that. At least a year ago, maybe longer. Kelly loved going out. When we got to Tillie’s she acted like she lived in the place. She knew the bartenders, the owner, and a lot of the guys sitting at the bar. Lauren stayed for one drink and left. She said she had a headache, but I think she couldn’t stand seeing what a flirt Kelly was. I stayed and hung out with Kelly and her friends.”
Josie tried to place Kelly among the faces she’d seen regularly at Tillie’s, wondering if she’d picked her up. Kelly didn’t sound like a person averse to such a thing. But it was all a blur; she had no memory of Kelly at all.
Sarah wrote out a list of Kelly’s friends and identified one of them, Denise Traieger, as Kelly’s closest friend.
&
nbsp; “I only have one more question for you,” Josie said. “At least for now.”
Sarah smiled. “Whatever I can do. I’m excited to get started on this.”
“I’m confused about Lauren’s silence. What’s that about?”
Josie watched Sarah carefully, looking for any signs she was lying. She couldn’t see any.
“I said yesterday I don’t know why Lauren wouldn’t testify on her own behalf, wouldn’t offer anything at all, according to the police. It doesn’t make any sense to me either, and I know it makes Lauren look guilty. She seemed resigned to being convicted of a crime I’m sure she didn’t commit. I have no idea why.”
“This is really an investigation to answer two questions, isn’t it?” Josie said. “Who killed Lauren’s girlfriend and why Lauren was taking the fall for it.”
“I guess it is.” Sarah nodded, pleased with the idea. “She’ll know the board is behind the investigation. I’m not sure if she’ll open up because of it; I know she’ll be mad about it.”
“And you don’t want that,” Josie said.
Sarah looked down at her lap and spoke quietly. “No. I really don’t.”
“Are you in love with Lauren?” It seemed obvious to Josie. Maybe it wasn’t to Sarah.
“In love with her?” Sarah said. “That’s the reason you think I’m doing this?” Sarah seemed more surprised than angry.
“It did occur to me,” Josie said.
“I don’t think you have the right context for this. We’re paying for this investigation because we have to decide Lauren’s future with the company. Personally, I want to do what I can to help her.”
Josie thought about that for a moment, not sure whether to believe Sarah or not. Whether or not Sarah was in love with Lauren didn’t really matter. She said good-bye to Sarah and got to work.
The Aquittal Page 4
