by Merit Clark
Evan walked to the window and, from force of habit, closed the drapes. “I need you to tell me everything. Would you like some wine? Tell me exactly what happened.”
She rolled her eyes. “I already told your lawyer.”
“Don’t roll your eyes at me. This is important.” A quick step across the room and his hand rose of its own volition to smack her before he sternly checked himself. A vision of Vangie’s lifeless body flashed through his mind.
But she seemed oblivious to Evan’s mood and flopped down on the bed with a whiny whimper. “I’m tired. I need to sleep.” She glanced up at him flirtatiously. “Why don’t you join me?”
“Sleep is for the weak. I need to know why. Don’t you understand how much this is impacting my life?” He quickly corrected. “Our life. Why would you take a risk like that? Why would you kill him?”
“What?” She bolted upright in the bed.
“Vangie, the gun and his cell phone were in your van.” Evan spoke as if to a child.
“I don’t know how they got there. I told the detectives.”
“That’s it? That’s what you’re going to stick with? You don’t know? Who believes that, Vangie?”
Brown raccoon eyes stared up at him.
Evan paced, his feet silent on the carpet. “Don’t forget you were alone for three hours that morning. I’m not your alibi and, as far as I’m aware, you don’t have another one.”
Vangie tossed her hair back and sat up straighter. “How do you know it wasn’t your wife?”
Evan sat down on the bed next to her. “I can help you, Vangie. I can say that I left you restrained while I was gone to play golf, that it was impossible for you to move. But only if you’re completely honest.”
“I didn’t kill anyone!”
Evan tried to put his hand on her shoulder but she flinched away from his touch. “You’re not giving Stu and me anything to work with. I have to know why and I have to know who else you told.”
She slid away from him toward the head of the bed, as subtle as a snake. “No one. I told you first.”
“First?” The word lingered like poison on Evan’s tongue.
“I mean, I told you right away and I haven’t told anyone else.”
“You told the handsome detective quite a lot, so it’s only fair that you tell me.” The fact that this was his own fault didn’t make anything better.
Vangie plumped a pillow and then slouched back against it. “I didn’t tell the detective. I didn’t know the gun was in my van. All I did was show him where I usually keep it, in the nightstand.”
Evan stared at her throat. Felt his hands circle, felt her Adam’s apple bulge under his thumb. But his voice was soft, almost sensuous. “Why would you do that?”
Vangie’s voice was whiny. “Because he asked. And he was so rude. Before that, he asked to use the bathroom and he snooped around and looked at my things.”
“Did he? Before he had a warrant?” Still in the soft voice. Evan stood, walked to the mirrored closet door, and smoothed his hair. “If so, that was very foolish of him.”
“What about your wife?”
“What about her?” He turned back toward Vangie.
“Maybe she killed that man. And planted the gun in my van.”
“Vangie, she didn’t even know you were here. As far as she's concerned, you're happily married and living in Texas.”
She rose up onto her knees on the bed. “I was right. You’re never going to leave her.”
“You did kill him.” In two quick strides he was standing over her. He wrapped a hank of her hair around his hand and jerked Vangie’s head back.
“Stop it.”
She tried to pull away from him but he tightened his grip. Wearing one of her usual tight, low-cut tops he could see the mounds of her breasts. He imagined the point of a blade scoring that olive skin.
Abruptly, Evan let go of her hair and took a step back. “I understand. Our future was in danger. If Brice had told Corie about us, then I’d lose the advantage. Do you think my wife would have been agreeable about a divorce if she’d found out about you?”
Vangie looked wary. “When you said to tell the truth, I thought it meant we were finally going to be together. Was I wrong?”
He watched the pulse beat in her throat. “No. You weren’t wrong. You’re going to be mine. Forever.”
Vangie gasped. “What do you mean?”
“You killed him,” Evan said, “and then you found the scrapbook and sent it to me. To protect me.”
“Scrapbook? What scrapbook? Evan, what are you talking about?”
If he was going to get the truth he couldn’t do it here in the hotel. “I have a few more things to do and then I’ll be back for you. We’ll spend the whole weekend together. Would you like that?”
Her excitement was pitiful. With a happy shriek Vangie jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. Evan tolerated the embrace.
Chapter 18
Corie sat in her car in the driveway staring at her house. She needed to do something, pack a bag, get out of there; any action at all. But the more she tried to goad herself into moving, the more relentless the images became. She’d been ignoring her instincts for so long they’d atrophied. For example, Corie’s instincts hadn’t told her to be tied up, flogged, or have a needle inserted into—stop it. Ever since she’d told Jack about the S&M, the memories wouldn’t quit.
She especially didn’t want to remember the last time she had sex with Evan. No, that wasn’t right. She didn’t have sex; she didn’t have any say at all. Evan had forced her. Corie screwed her eyes shut but the memory kept playing in her mind. Maybe it was some kind of weird penance, reliving everything.
One night six months ago, right after they’d moved into the new house, Evan said, “I’m beat. Let’s get in the hot tub for a little while before dinner. We haven’t tried it yet.”
He acted casual, but for some reason he frightened her. Run, a voice said in Corie’s head. As usual, she didn’t listen.
Instead, she met Evan in the hot tub room like he suggested. She wore a robe. He was naked and snuggled up against her from behind. As was his habit, he picked out a few strands of her hair and gave them a tug.
“Evan, quit it.”
“You don’t tell me no, remember?”
“I’m not doing that anymore.” She tried to pull away and his grip tightened.
“Here’s what you are going to do, Corie.” He was holding her so close his lips grazed her ear when he spoke. “You are going to take that robe off for me now. Or I will cut it off.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
Suddenly Evan started laughing. The sound was shocking. It bounced off the hard tile floor and Corie froze with confusion. He stopped laughing as abruptly as he started, and she felt as much as she heard his silky whisper. “I bought you a million-dollar house. I thought it would make you happy.”
“You wanted the house, Evan. Not me.” Corie pulled away and took a step back.
His face changed and he looked hurt. “Why do you hate me?”
She took a second careful step backward. “I don’t hate you. Don’t do anything to change that.”
“I only wanted to try out the hot tub. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that.”
“You scared me.” A third step.
“I thought you liked it when I was rough with you.”
“I’ll go get dinner ready.” The door was ten feet away. Then the hallway, then freedom.
“If you don’t love me anymore, why did you move here with me?”
And he had her. “I do love you.” She longed to explain, to tell him how confused and frightened she felt. What were the words that could get through to Evan?
“Get in the water with me for a couple of minutes. I want to try it out and make sure it works. You’ll be too full after dinner.”
Why didn’t she keep walking out of the room, out of the house, out of his life?
“This is nice, huh?” Evan watche
d as she timidly shed the robe, hung it up on a hook, and then sat down cautiously on the edge of the tub.
“Just for a minute.” Corie slipped into the water slowly and took a seat across from him. Evan’s demeanor had completely changed to warm and friendly. This was the face he presented to the world when he wanted to seduce a new client or reassure a jury—or manipulate his wife.
Her handsome husband grinned at her. “We can have a lot of fun in here, baby. No one will be allowed to wear clothes in our hot tub. It will be a rule. You get naked or you don’t go in. Remember Cabo?”
“Of course I do.” It was a reference to their honeymoon. They’d stayed in a cottage at a luxurious beach resort and had their own private hot tub. Evan had made love to her—if you could call it that—in the water.
“We could do that all the time.” Still smiling, Evan slithered across the tub and positioned himself behind her. His hands cupped her breasts and he pinched her nipples between his fingers.
Corie tried to turn around and face him but he wouldn’t let her. “What are you doing?”
“What do you think?” Before she could react, Evan bent her over the side of the tub and took her roughly from behind. Pain seared through her, made worse by the lack of any kind of lubrication and the hot water. She struggled, but he had her pinned against the side of the tub. Her knees banged against the fiberglass seats and her elbows slammed onto the tile floor. Her hands scrabbled but there was nothing to grab onto for leverage. She screamed, but there was no one close enough on the two-acre lots to hear.
When he was finished, she fought her way up out of the tub and onto the cold floor where she lay sobbing. Evan got out too, picked up his clothes, and looked down at her. “Corie, you’re too uptight.” Then he walked out of the room. And he never touched her again. Until last night.
Corie loathed herself. Not only didn’t she report the attack, she never so much as mentioned it again. Could she tell Jack? Did she have the nerve? Would he believe her? Would anyone? Six months later she discovers a body in the guesthouse and all of a sudden she cries rape? Evan’s attorney would tear her apart.
Maybe Vangie liked all of that sick shit. Well, she was welcome to Evan. Were there others? Had he given them all money? Corie used to do all of the books for the business when they were first starting out, but she had no idea where things stood now. She gritted her teeth and opened the car door.
Vi was in the kitchen making lunch. Corie began to congratulate her for making the effort but choked back the sarcasm. She needed someone and her mother was better than nothing. Maybe.
“That was a long ride,” Vi said. “Evan and I were wondering where you were.”
“Oh? Where is Evan?”
“I would imagine working. Although how he can concentrate with everything that’s going on is beyond me.”
Corie plunged in, deciding it was like entering a cold swimming pool—best to jump in and not prolong the inevitable. “Did you know Evan was having an affair?”
Vi, at the kitchen counter, scraped a butter knife around the bottom of a nearly empty jar of Miracle Whip. It made a clanking sound. “Your police buddy tell you that?”
Police buddy? “A woman named Vangie Perez. You ever hear of her?”
Vi kept on making sandwiches.
“Did you hear me?” Corie asked.
“I heard you. Do you want mustard, too? You really need to go to the store, Corie. There’s almost nothing to eat in this house.”
“I hate mayonnaise. But why would you remember that? I don’t want a sandwich. I want you to acknowledge what I said.”
Vi folded slices of deli ham and placed them neatly on the bread as she talked. “The police will tell you anything. They want to get you to talk to them. They’re looking to railroad your husband. It’s what they always do.” Vi placed slices of Swiss cheese on top of the ham, placed the second slice of bread on top, and sliced the sandwiches into neat triangles.
“Mom, he’s sleeping with someone. Her name is Vangie.” Corie ignored the plate Vi tried to hand her. “I don’t want a sandwich. Jesus.”
“Suit yourself.”
“Don’t you care? My husband is cheating on me. And I know who she is. She’s someone we work with. She’s even kind of fat.” Corie hated herself for saying that. It was so beside the point. She just wanted some reaction from her mother. But Vi sat down calmly at the kitchen table, ate her ham and cheese, and leisurely turned the pages of a magazine.
Corie fought back a frustrated sob. “I’m going to go pack.”
That did it. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?”
“You’re in the catbird seat here and you don’t realize it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Now that the affair has been revealed, he’ll treat you like gold. You can write your own ticket.”
“That’s repulsive.”
“Men stray, it’s what they do. What we do is use it to our advantage.”
“We?” Corie stared. Her mother could still astonish her. “Is there some kind of sliding scale I should know about—$10,000 for a flirtation, $100,000 if there’s actual penetration, a million if there’s livestock involved?”
“Are you really going to throw all this away because he had a fling with some chubby little tramp? I wouldn’t be surprised if the cops made that up. It’s all a game to them.”
Corie pointed in the general direction of the guesthouse. “What about my dead friend? What part does he play in this game?”
“I’ve expressed as much sympathy about that as I’m going to.”
“Yes. Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself. After all, your compassion muscles are pretty out of shape.”
“What you need to do now is think about your future.”
“I don’t have a future.”
Vi let out a heavy sigh. “What did the police tell you?”
“That he was having an affair. They weren’t sure for how long. She’s his alibi. Oh, and they have some inkling of his sexual proclivities. Let’s just say Evan ‘thinks outside the box’ in the bedroom.”
Corie wanted to shock her mother but Vi didn’t react. “It could have been a onetime thing.”
“And conveniently that one time is the night of the murder.”
“I know it hurts.”
“From personal experience?”
Vi narrowed her eyes. “Have you told Evan?”
“Why?”
“I recommend that you wait awhile before you confront him. Give yourself a chance to calm down.”
If Corie had her way she’d never see Evan again. She stared into her mother’s watery blue eyes searching for some sign of compassion, empathy, or connection.
There was none. “I’m sick and tired of watching you throw everything away,” Vi said. “You have what everyone wants. Do you even know what it’s like to have to set an alarm and get up out of bed while it’s still dark out, or it’s snowing, or you’re sick and feel like crap, but you’ve got no choice and you have to drag yourself to some demeaning job? Do you even know what you have?”
“I know it was hard for you after Dad left. This is different.”
“Oh, different." Vi mocked her. "You’re the same spoiled brat you always were. It’s all your little heartaches and your little hurt feelings and your need to feel good. Meanwhile, everyone around you is slaving away to give it to you. And then the moment it doesn’t suit anymore, you throw it away and expect to be given something new.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Who paid for your first car? And your prom dress? And all the getups you needed for the rodeo?”
“I never even wanted to compete in the rodeo. That was all about you. I hated it.” Her mother did the same thing as Evan, blame Corie for making them fulfill desires Corie never even had.
“Of course you did.” Vi spat the words. “I said you were spoiled and I stand by it. You’ll say anything to get your way, even accuse a
good man of dreadful things. A man who has given you everything.”
“A good man. That’s funny. You wouldn’t recognize a good man if you tripped over one. And up until now, neither would I. I’m going to go take a shower and then start packing. When I come back out of the bedroom, I want you gone.”
“Or what? You don’t tell me what to do, you silly little bitch.” Her mother’s voice, raised in a scream, followed Corie out of the room. “You’re nothing without Evan. Nothing.”
Chapter 19
Jack saw Aranda in line at Starbucks wearing another well-cut suit with a pair of high-heeled boots, her dark hair pinned up in a loose knot. He joined her as she was getting to the cashier and extended a twenty. “Let me get that.” He added a large drip to the order for himself.
“Most cops don’t look like you,” she said while they waited for her drink.
“Yeah? What do they look like?”
She laughed. “They don’t wear Armani, for one thing.”
“You have a good eye. Just out of curiosity, what are cops supposed to wear?”
“Something from the Men’s Wearhouse maybe. With a higher synthetic fiber count.”
“I’m surprised you go out for Starbucks when you make a wicked espresso right there in your office.”
“I’m glad you liked it.”
“Nice perk having an espresso machine in your office. I’ll have to see if I can get one for the station.”
“Well maybe if you didn’t spend all of your money on suits . . .”
“Good point.” Jack led her to one of the small round tables.
Aranda crossed her long legs and leaned back in the chair. “So, I got the files you asked for.” She hesitated and poked at her frozen coffee drink with a straw. “I think Roger’s finally had it with Evan. This Utah deal they’re about to close is going to be the last one. There’s also a golf course we’re developing in the foothills, but Evan’s consulting work on that is pretty much done.”
“Has he told Evan that?”
“’Course not.” She took a sip of her drink through the straw. “I told you Roger’s careful, but when we ran a background check on Evan nothing showed up. This is his first marriage, he has no record.” She gave a little shake of her head. “I know a lot about you, too.”
