Lies: Web of Sin book #2

by Aleatha Romig

  Shaking my head, I replied, “Overactive, I’d say. Hopefully after their little girl is born and her hormones get back to normal, she’ll give up some of her conspiracy theories.”

  “Kennedy,” Winnie said, “it’s official. That’s what Jason and Louisa are naming her.”

  My lip went under my teeth until I realized that was my tell as Patrick would say. “I thought she was teasing.”

  “Maybe at first, but now they both want to do it. Kennedy Lucille.”

  “After her mom and me.”

  “Yep,” Winnie said with a smile.

  I reached for her hand. “I’m sorry I can’t be more of a hostess tonight. I have plans that are difficult to break.”

  Impossible was a better word.

  “No. Don’t worry about it. I’ve been trying to reach that friend of mine I told you about. I talked to her not too long ago. I’m going to stop by her place. I mean, if she won’t answer her calls, texts, or emails, then she’s getting me on her doorstep.”

  I loved her confidence.

  “Have a great time.”

  “Oh, I will,” she said. “And I’ll be back here bright and early in the morning.”

  Nodding to both Winnie and Jana, Patrick and I passed through the doorway, stepping out of Sinful Threads.

  On the way to the car, I asked, “Was what you told Winnie true...about your experience and education.”

  “It was.”

  “May I ask about the education part? It’s not that I don’t believe you...”

  Patrick’s grin curled upward. “Business and finance at University of Chicago, Booth.”

  “Damn. Impressive.”

  “While I appreciate my education, I would say that the experience has been the most beneficial.”

  I shook my head as he opened the back door. “And you’re babysitting me.”

  “Not a demotion, Araneae. I promise.”

  Araneae

  Everything was fine at the dock. Truly, it was quite the production watching the lifts raise the shipping containers from the cargo ships and line them like blocks in rows. After a quick discussion with the overseer at the port and confirming the arrival of our order, I told Patrick I wanted to go home.

  I did, and yet I didn’t.

  It was summer in Chicago, and the lake beyond the shipping yard was beautiful. The breeze blew my hair in a way that reminded me of the breeze in the mountains in Colorado. It’s the sensation of the warm air contrasting with a cooler wind.

  Now that I was back behind the infrared barrier, I could see the blue sky and the lake. However, I couldn’t feel the breeze or the warmth of the sun.

  Impenetrable also meant isolated.

  When I first arrived home, I’d changed into jeans and a light sweater. It may be summer, but as I’d mentioned, the sun’s heat didn’t make its way into the apartment. Sitting in the living room with my legs curled on the sofa beneath me, I tossed my Kindle onto the cushion to my side. Reading wasn’t going to work. My concentration was shit. My mind was all over the place.

  Patrick’s words came back to me: I’m less worried about Jana than I am you.

  I hated to admit that he was probably right. I needed to talk to Sterling about what I could and couldn’t say. I sure as hell didn’t want Louisa or Winnie—or anyone—thinking I was stealing from Sinful Threads.

  I wasn’t.

  I wouldn’t.

  The twisting in my stomach and pounding of my temples led me to believe that I wasn’t cut out for a double life.

  Instead, I concentrated on the colors in the sky. The sun was slowly moving toward the horizon, yet at a little after seven in the evening, it still had a way to go.

  I tried to distract myself from loneliness as I gazed around the large living room. Though I’d been home for over two hours, there was still no Sterling.

  I could call him to find out where he was, but that felt like nagging. He never called when I was late—well, to my knowledge. I always had Patrick, which more than likely meant that Sterling was always aware of my location.

  I didn’t even know the name of his new driver.

  Inhaling, I laid my head against the soft cushion. The first floor was filled with the aroma of whatever Lorna had prepared and was waiting in the kitchen for us to eat. It seemed that since my arrival, a routine of sorts had been established. All five us—or whoever was home—ate together at breakfast. At dinner, Lorna, Reid, and Patrick disappeared. It was only Sterling and me who usually ate sitting at the breakfast bar.

  The atmosphere was informal. With all of Sterling’s obvious money, I liked that he didn’t feel the need to flaunt it, that he was comfortable with casual.

  Dinners with just the two of us were as if for a little while we were a normal couple, eating and talking.

  I’d told Lorna more than once that I would cook, but as of yet, whenever I arrived home, she was already in the process or done with some delicious concoction.

  With my mind in a million places, I was gazing through the large windows out over the buildings to the lake beyond when my phone buzzed across the table before me. WINNIE appeared on the screen.

  I tapped on the text message:

  * * *

  “MAY I CALL YOU?”

  * * *

  I started to text back when I decided it would be easier to hit the call button. She answered right away.

  “What’s up? Is everything all right with your hotel?”

  “I-I haven’t checked in yet.”

  I glanced at the screen of my phone. “Winnie, it’s getting late. You need to check in.”

  “I will,” she said. “I’m worried about my friend. I talked to her... gosh, it was over a week ago, and she was excited about us catching up.”

  “You said you were going to her place. Was she there?”

  “No.” Her voice lowered. “And the whole thing was strange, like out-of-a-bad-movie weird. Her apartment complex is in Gage Park. It has security, you know, where you buzz a box before you can get in the building?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “I buzzed and buzzed. Finally, this woman came out and asked me what I wanted. I told her that I was a friend of Leslie Milton’s and that I was there to see her. Kenni, the woman’s face turned white, like she’d seen a ghost or something. She told me to go to the front office and talk to them.”

  As Winnie’s voice became more concerned, I sat forward, placing my feet on the floor. “Did you go talk to them?”

  “Yes, but they said they couldn’t release information. It all gave me a weird feeling.”

  “Oh, honey...” I stood and paced along the tall windows. “...I know how excited you were to see her.”

  “I was, but it’s more than that. I’m worried. I want to be sure she’s all right.”

  My lip momentarily disappeared as I thought of the praises I’d heard from everyone regarding Reid’s technological ability. “Hey, no promises, but if you’d like, I can ask someone to look her up. I know this person who’s pretty good with that kind of stuff.”

  “A policeman?”

  I almost chuckled. “No, not quite.”

  “Hell, I don’t care who it is. I’d appreciate learning anything. I’m going to have the driver take me to the hotel, and then I’m cutting him loose. He creeps me out a bit, and well, I can just Uber to and from the office.”

  I’d probably been around Sterling and Patrick for too long, but I didn’t like the idea of her out around Chicago alone. “Really, the driver is no big deal. I mean, it’s what they do. Why don’t you let me ask my friend about your friend and you keep the driver for now?”

  “Fine,” she said. “After traveling, I’m too exhausted to argue. Once I’m checked in, it will be room service and bed.”

  “Maybe add wine,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Did you think that wasn’t implied?”

  “Hey, Winnie, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too. Please let me know if you learn a
nything about Leslie.”

  I’d made my way to the kitchen. On my fourth try, I found a drawer with tablets of paper and pens. “Before you go,” I said, “can you give me her name again? I’m going to write it down.”

  “Yes. It’s Leslie Milton. She’s my age, twenty-five. Blonde and...I don’t know... pretty. Not model pretty, but sweet. I can give you her phone number too, but it isn’t getting me anywhere.”

  “Yeah, give me what you have. The more information my friend has, the better.” I wrote down everything Winnie said.

  “Oh,” Winnie added, “lately, she’d mentioned a boyfriend.”

  “Do you remember his name?”

  “Paxon or Praxton...maybe Preston. I didn’t commit it to memory.”

  “Have you checked her social media?”

  “Kenni, it’s all gone. Everything. The more I look and don’t find, the more nervous it’s making me.”

  “I’ll call you if my friend...” It was then I heard footsteps coming from the way of the elevator. “...can help. Call me when you get checked in.”

  “Thanks, I will.”

  As I disconnected the call with Winnie, Lorna and Reid came through the doorway talking together. The way they were smiling at one another made part of my long day disappear. In every way visually, they contrasted one another—tall, short, dark, light—and yet together they were perfect. There was a glow about them when they were together—truly a handsome couple.

  “Oh, Araneae,” Lorna said, “We’re sorry to bother you. I wanted to check on the dinner and didn’t realize you were in here. I figured you’d be upstairs.”

  “No,” I said, waving my hand. “Sterling isn’t home yet.” I looked to Reid. “Will he be soon?”

  Reid pulled his phone out of the pocket of his jeans. “I’m a little surprised he isn’t already. He went to a job site late this afternoon...” He was texting as he spoke.

  “Job site? Can I ask?”

  Reid looked away from the screen to me. “Sparrow Enterprises is real estate. There are condos going up in Buena Park. There have been some issues with the National Register of Historic Places. It was supposed to be all settled. When another issue came up, Sparrow decided to handle it himself.”

  My lips curled upward. “Yeah, that’s right. He does real work, too.”

  “I’d say all the work he does is real.”

  Reid looked down at his phone again as Lorna opened the oven and pulled out a rectangular baking dish. The wonderful aroma that had been seeping into the air multiplied exponentially as my stomach growled.

  “Lorna,” I said, “I know I keep telling you that I’d be glad to cook for all of us or just Sterling and myself, but damn, what is that? It smells fantastic.”

  “Chicken parmesan. It was my grandmother’s recipe.” She nudged Reid. “Someone here likes it so much that our helping is twice as big.” She placed the dish back in the oven and reached for the controls over the stovetop. “I’m going to turn this down—”

  “He should be here soon,” Reid said, interrupting her. “They’re on their way now. This time of evening, they’re dealing with traffic.”

  I started to ask who they included. I presumed it was Sterling and whoever was now driving him. It eased my mind knowing he was safe, doing real work and not something in the darkness he spoke about.

  “You two have a good night,” I said. “I’ll clean everything up after dinner.”

  Lorna reached for Reid’s hand. “Come on, I want you to eat before the next five-alarm emergency hits and you’re gone again.”

  It was then that I remembered Winnie and the paper on the counter. “Hey, before you two go, could I ask a favor of you, Reid?”

  “As long as it won’t instigate that emergency,” Lorna said with a grin.

  “No, I don’t think so. It’s for my assistant, the one here from Boulder. She’s my friend too...” I handed Reid the piece of paper. “...and she has a friend who lives in Chicago, actually in Gage Park.” Chicago had a plethora of smaller neighborhoods.

  Reid stood taller as he looked down at the note I’d written. “This is your friend’s friend?”

  “Yes, Leslie Milton. Winnie can’t find her. They were supposed to get together. She said the people at her friend’s apartment complex were acting strangely.”

  His dark eyes stared my direction, and I would swear that his jaw clenched.

  “Did she give you any more information?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Not really. I told her that I had a friend who might be able to help. Can you?”

  “He can do anything,” Lorna volunteered, “after dinner.”

  “That’s fine with me,” I said. “Just if you learn anything, please let me know.”

  Reid nodded. “I’ll do that.”

  Their footsteps disappeared toward the secret elevator. Finding myself alone again, I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of moscato I’d opened a few days before. Winnie was right. After today, wine should be implied.

  Annabelle

  Twenty-six years ago

  The bell on the front door of the motel’s office jingled as the door opened, and frigid air and blowing snow entered with Daniel.

  “Annie, what are you doing?”

  I looked from my husband to the telephone in my hand. “Where have you been?”

  “Come back to the room.”

  “No, I’m going home.”

  His features changed from curious to stern before me. “I said come back to the room.”

  My gaze went to the woman behind the desk. Maybe girl was a better description. She was petite and couldn’t have been any older than early twenties. She was watching us with big eyes. I’d had to convince her to allow me to use the motel’s telephone. At first, she told me in broken English that it was against their policy.

  “Ma’am,” she said, “you go back to the room. We don’t want trouble.”

  I stood taller. “There isn’t any trouble. I need to reach my sister-in-law. She’ll help me.”

  Daniel came forward and took the phone out of my hand. “Annie, the roads are getting worse. There’s no way we can go or anyone can get to us.”

  I closed my eyes as my midsection contracted. The doctor called them Braxton-Hicks. I’d been having them for the last few weeks, but since the FBI man and this impromptu trip, they were getting stronger. Their frequency was still all over the place. “Daniel, I need to get to the doctor.”

  He tilted his head. “Come to the room. We’ll call her.”

  “How? We don’t have a phone.”

  “There’s a phone in your room,” the young lady volunteered. “You go there.”

  “It doesn’t work. That’s why I came in here.”

  Daniel pulled a rectangular phone from his pocket, the bottom flipped outward to talk and the buttons to dial were hidden underneath. “Come to the room.”

  “Where did you get that?”

  His eyes closed as he exhaled. “Come to the goddamned room.”

  I turned to the lady at the counter and reached for a piece of paper and a pencil. After scribbling on the paper, I handed it to her. “Please?”

  She took the paper. “No trouble. Now, you go.”

  I looked back at Daniel. “You’re going to get me home.” It wasn’t a question.

  He again opened the door, pushing outward against the increasing winds. More snow and cold air filled the office as he gestured for us to leave. Bowing my head to the freezing mixture pelting my face, I stepped unsteadily onto the sidewalk.

  “Let me help you,” he said, reaching for my arm. “Everything is getting icy.”

  I wrapped my coat tighter as I held onto my husband’s arm. With the wind and snow whipping around us, I gritted my teeth together as I asked, “Where were you?”

  Opening the door to the room he’d rented, Daniel waited for me to enter. “What the hell did you give that girl?”

  “My name and Pauline’s name and number. I asked her to please call P
auline for me.”

  Daniel grunted as he locked the door.

  “Why the hell don’t you understand what’s happening?”

  “Well, mostly because I don’t know what’s happening. I’m scared to death that I’m going into labor, and you have me in some godforsaken place in the middle of a blizzard.”

  “Take off your coat,” he said. “Let me try to explain more. There’s no way Pauline or Rubio can get to you. No one can. Not on those roads.”

  Tears came to my eyes. “Damn you, Daniel. When I woke and you were gone...” I gasped for breath. “...I thought you’d left me here.”

  He came closer, but I flinched away. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  Retreating, he reached for my coat. “May I help you get this off?”

  I nodded.

  “Annie, I thought about what you said. How you can’t know what I know for if you did, they could consider you an accomplice, charge you with conspiracy to commit the crimes.”

  I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say about what he knew or what he’d done. I needed to know he’d help us get home. “Where did you go? Were you going to leave me? Us?”

  “No,” he said as he removed his own and shook the snow from both of our coats. Dejectedly, he sat on the end of the bed. “I went to Cambridge.”

  “Cambridge? Cambridge, Wisconsin?” My mind tried to process. “Where we were married?”

  He nodded. “I guess I wanted to talk to someone. I talked to Minister Watkins.”

  “The man who married us is still there?”

  Daniel nodded again. “The church isn’t large, but it’s on the National Register of Historic Places and a favorable posting. He said he’s been offered bigger churches but doesn’t want to leave.”

  “Why did you risk going there in this weather?”

  He didn’t answer; instead, he went on with his story. “Minister Watkins remembers us. He talked about how the rain stopped the day we wed. It had been forecast for an all-day downpour, but do you remember?” he asked hopefully. “Two hours before the ceremony the skies cleared. It was like God was telling us it would work out.”