Of course, that would then imply that Peg Ryan was fun, an adjective she couldn’t place with that dour-faced, patronizing bitch. No, there was something else that attracted Allison to her, and she couldn’t figure it out. But Camille could do plenty to take the bloom off that rose. If Tim’s news panned out, they’d soon see how a crippled Peg Ryan looked to Allison. She’d be waiting to take Allison back into her arms when she dumped her.
She pulled the Jeep into the pickup lane in Terminal One and got out to wave Tim over. He didn’t know about the Jeep. He trotted over and threw his bag into the back before climbing into his seat. “What’s with the car?”
Camille plunged into traffic. “Like it? I just picked it up today.” She was weaving between lanes, punching the buttons on her satellite radio.
Tim looked skeptical. “It’s, uh, sporty.” He gripped the door handle as Camille crossed three lanes to exit onto the Kennedy. “Why don’t you let me handle the radio?”
Camille snorted. “Pussy.”
“Whatever you say. I’m really not ready for my last day on earth.” He found a classical station and left it there. “What do you want to do with this information I got on Ryan?”
She glanced at him. “He didn’t give us much, did he? Just that she did something illegal back in the day. That could be jaywalking for all we know.”
“Well, he’s bargaining for money. We’ll get the full story when he gets back from his trip. He reassured me that what Ryan did was bad enough that he could blackmail her then.”
“This trip of his sounds like bullshit. I want to move on this now, not in three weeks. Allison and Peg could be married by the time he gets back from wherever. Couldn’t you talk him out of leaving?”
“No way. The guy seems down on his luck, to say the least. I got the feeling wherever it is he’s going, if he doesn’t show up he’ll get his ass kicked, or worse. He’s a gambler. Smart enough guy, though.”
“Yeah, he sounds brilliant.” Camille started punching the radio buttons again.
Tim sighed. “He doesn’t like Ryan, that’s for sure. He wants some money from us, but I get the sense he hates her enough that anything we have in mind he’s happy to help make happen.”
Camille turned the radio off. “I’ve been thinking about what it is we can do to her. Braddock could approach her and say he’ll report and publicize whatever her malfeasance was unless she pays up. But do we want to have her pay with only money? Or do we have him demand that she stay away from Allison also?”
Tim looked at her with surprise. “That would be the worst thing you could do. Peg and Allison would easily figure out you were behind it. I can’t believe you even suggested it.” He sounded indignant.
“All right. Settle down, for God’s sake. I’m just brainstorming here.” Camille streaked across another three lanes of traffic to get to the Addison exit.
“You never brainstorm, whatever that is. You issue orders.” Tim’s knuckles were white as they gripped the door handle. His right foot was jammed against the floorboard. “I think if Ryan is confronted with whatever this thing is from her past, she’s going to freak out. She’s going to pay whatever blackmail Braddock demands, and she’s going to keep Allison from knowing what a loser she is, probably by breaking up with her.”
Camille was silent for a moment, savoring how that scenario would play out. “What else does Ryan have to lose if this illegal thing she did is of any significance, which it better the hell be. I don’t want to wait three weeks to find out she failed to file a tax return.”
“I don’t know. Her law license might be in jeopardy. Maybe she’d be open to prosecution. Let’s hope it’s both.”
Camille roared east toward Tim’s lakefront condo building. “Let’s see what we can find on Braddock also.”
“Okay.”
“And give me an update on our FDA project. Is everything set for that meeting this week?”
“Yep. Daniels is set to demonstrate her software model to the FDA on Wednesday. If they’re comfortable with it, they should give her the go-ahead to market.”
“Our clients want to get in there first. Is everything in place to make that happen?”
“It is. I had one of our people plant the back door virus when Daniels was setting up her company and getting started on all the code. He’s still an employee there, so we have someone on site to report to us on Wednesday.”
“He’s the one who’s been feeding us code all along, right? The client has been really impressed with that. They always are.” This was the big thrill for Camille. To deliver what shouldn’t be deliverable, to give her clients what they were desperate for and charge enormous sums for it. To transfer the hopes and dreams of one entrepreneur into the hands of a salivating corporation, simply because she could.
“Take me through what happens on Wednesday.”
Tim looked relieved to move from Camille’s romantic problems to his area of expertise. “The virus has remained dormant this whole time. I checked with Henry before leaving New Jersey, and he said the software is still in testing. At four in the morning Wednesday, we unleash the virus and it crashes their system. It crashes it so bad that it’ll take them forever to get it up and running again. They’ll have to cancel with the FDA.”
“Excellent.” Camille pulled into the circular drive in front of Tim’s high-rise. “That’s great work, Tim.”
He jumped out and Camille sped back onto the street and headed home. She wanted a bite to eat and a nap before her guest arrived, the one she paid by the hour. She hoped Sandra would help her free her mind of Allison, if only for an hour. She suspected that instead it would only remind her how much better it was being with Allison.
Chapter Seven
Wednesday, December 10
Peg crawled back up the bed and poked her head out of the blanket. Allison almost laughed—she looked like she’d just crawled across a desert without a drop to drink. She pulled Peg the rest of the way up, got her propped on the pillows, and handed over a bottle of water.
“Drink this. You’ve been working awfully hard.” She smoothed Peg’s hair, which was sticking straight up in many directions. She watched her guzzle the water, a dazed look in her eyes. When she finally put the water down, she grinned at Allison before leaning over and giving her a lingering kiss.
“All better,” Peg said. “I’m ready to go again.”
Allison slapped her on the arm. “Do you know what time it is? It’s two in the afternoon. We’ve been in this bed since last evening.”
“Uh huh.”
“Don’t you want to get something to eat? Maybe go out, play in the snow, see a movie? Something?”
Allison wanted to get out of bed, though she’d enjoyed every minute she’d been in it. In the week they’d known each other, she’d thought of little else but being in bed with Peg, who was a magician. She kept tricking Allison into wanting more, responding more, giving more. She’d never known a woman to affect her so thoroughly. But in the end, they were human. Peg’s stomach growled.
Allison swung out of bed and put her robe on, tying her own unruly hair in a ponytail. “I’m going to make us some food, which, by the way, is my third attempt to do so.” She kissed Peg quickly and turned toward her kitchen. “Come join me when you’re ready. To eat. Food, I mean.” She heard Peg laugh as she left the room.
Allison’s kitchen looked out on a large back lawn that was enormous for the city. Tall windows spread the width of the room, bringing in what light there was on the gloomy day. She heated a pan and poured scrambled eggs into it, involuntarily smiling as she cooked. Peg strolled in wearing the sweater and jeans she’d had on the night before and Allison felt another rush of arousal. She didn’t know how she could keep this up.
“So, what would you like to do this afternoon?” Peg said.
“How about a bookstore and a movie? Two of my favorite things. Then we can come back here for a quiet evening.”
“Sounds perfect. But I don’t know about
the quiet part. You’ve got a set of lungs on you, Allison. It’s very impressive.” Peg drank some orange juice as Allison flushed.
They walked up the street to the feminist bookstore that was Allison’s home away from home. She bought her books there, went to readings there, occasionally joined one of their book clubs, knew the owners and staff. When they walked in, she peeled off to the LGBT section, while Peg started looking at the new fiction display in the front of the store. Allison searched the shelves for something new and ended up holding the Lesbian Kama Sutra. It was as if it leapt off the shelf and into her hands. She’d seen it before but had never opened it. Now she was curious whether there were any positions that she and Peg hadn’t tried in the past week. It didn’t seem possible. The book fell open to a picture of two women doing, well, she wasn’t quite sure what they were doing. It involved a headboard. That much she could tell.
“Would you like to try that, Allison?” Allison jumped away from the voice whispering in her ear. It wasn’t Peg. She knew in an instant it was Camille.
Allison whirled around to face her. “Jesus, Camille. You scared the hell out of me.”
Camille seemed relaxed as she grinned at Allison. Her long legs were in expensive jeans, her boots had a heel that added a couple of inches to her already imposing height. Her leather coat draped around her perfectly. What Allison once thought hot now looked sinister.
“Sorry,” Camille said, clearly unrepentant. Allison put the book back on the shelf and tried to walk past her. Camille blocked her way. “What’s the hurry? I haven’t seen you for a while.”
Allison looked straight at her. “It doesn’t seem like long enough to me.” She saw a frown form for merely an instant before Camille’s confident smile returned.
“I thought we agreed to be friends. Did I misunderstand? Is saying hello when I run into you not part of being a friend?”
Allison looked up at her. “Where do I begin? First of all, you have a very fucked up way of saying hello. Is intentionally scaring someone what you do to friends? Or don’t you have any? Secondly, I don’t appreciate the sexual innuendo. That was just creepy. I’m having a great deal of difficulty finding you the least bit likable, Camille.”
She could see her words had stung. There was a flash in Camille’s eyes that could have been hurt, but most likely was anger. “It’s odd that you didn’t have that problem when we were dating. I think you used the words ‘commanding’ and ‘in charge.’ Allison, please tell me what changed.”
Allison tried to walk past her again, but this time Camille grabbed her arm. “Please give me a chance to show you. I know I can make you happier than Ryan can.”
Allison now saw desperation in Camille’s eyes, which shocked her more than anything else. It made her feel a little desperate herself. She felt Camille’s grip tighten around her arm. “Let go of me or I’ll scream bloody murder.”
“You heard Allison. Let go of her now.” Peg stepped in between Camille and Allison. Camille dropped her hand and took a step back, turning to face Peg as she did so.
“And here she is, right on cue,” Camille said. “Is your white horse hitched out front?”
“Camille, for God’s sake, give it a rest,” Allison said. She suddenly felt very weary. Peg stayed in front of her. She didn’t look the slightest bit concerned about the glare Camille was giving her, or her aggressive tone.
“No, really, I’m curious,” Camille said, staring right at Peg. “How is it, Allison, that in the space of a few days you’ve completely given yourself over to this loser?”
Allison could see the puzzled look on Peg’s face. She didn’t imagine she’d ever been called a loser. She so clearly wasn’t a loser.
Peg reached down for Allison’s hand. “That’s enough,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Camille stepped aside, her arms wrapped around herself, glaring all the while at Peg. “I wouldn’t be so smug, Ryan.”
Peg gave her a disinterested look in return and led Allison out of the store. When they reached the street, Allison looked through the window and saw Camille standing in the same spot, a deflated look on her face. If she didn’t hate her so much at the moment, she might have felt a little sorry for her.
“What the hell was that?” Peg said. She still held Allison’s hand as they walked back to Allison’s house.
“I’m not sure. Camille isn’t used to not getting what she wants. I’d never have guessed she’d take this so badly.”
“She has a major thing for you. Not that I can blame her,” Peg said.
Allison buttoned her coat up to her chin as they walked. “I’d have thought she’d have moved on to another woman by now.”
Peg walked with her hands jammed in her coat pockets. “It’s a little alarming, if you ask me. The way she was holding on to your arm? I thought I was going to have to hit her.”
Allison smiled and pressed herself against Peg. “Do you think it’s your job to protect me?”
Peg thought for a moment. “I don’t think I’d ever hesitate to try if you needed help. The only thing is, I don’t really know how to throw a punch.” She shrugged. “I only fight in the courtroom.”
“That’s okay, darling. Camille has a black belt in something or other, so your punch wouldn’t have got you far. But it’s sweet that you’d try.”
They entered the walkway on the side of Allison’s house and headed to the garage. “Do we have any reason to be concerned about her?” Peg asked. “I’m not sure it’s a coincidence she was in the bookstore when we were there. Do you think she’s been watching you?”
Allison hesitated. “Maybe. There was one time just before you and I got together when she showed up right behind my car. She called and asked me to coffee at the café I was just driving past. I looked in my rearview mirror and there she was, waving at me. To tell you the truth, that creeped me out more than today did.”
“We’ll have to keep our eyes open.”
Allison backed out of the garage. “Let’s go make out in the movies. I don’t want to think about Camille anymore.”
*
Morgan rocked back and forth on her rickety old desk chair. It sat before a rickety old metal desk, which butted up to an identical desk and chair. The classic arrangement for detectives. It was a design meant to not only save space in the undersized squad rooms, but also to encourage brainstorming by the detectives as they sat face to face. Morgan did very little of that with her partner, a middle-aged mope called Ben Plath. She often wondered if he was any distant relative of Sylvia Plath. She wouldn’t be the least surprised to learn Ben had stuck his head in an oven and escaped this mortal coil.
He sat across from her now, his eyes glued to his computer screen, running through the registered blue Impalas in the Chicagoland area. A witness had identified the car at the scene of a murder they’d caught the day before. Morgan had just finished unsuccessfully going through mug shots with a witness. She could tell this one was headed for the cold case files. They had nothing else to go on.
“How many are there?” she asked Ben. She could see the slight wince that crossed his face every time anyone addressed him. He was such an extreme introvert that it made no sense he was a homicide cop. Yet here he was, saddled to Morgan. She found him so unhelpful in the field that she considered his only value to be providing the necessary second pair of ears and eyes when she interviewed witnesses and suspects. He had mean computer skills, though. Somehow they managed to get by.
“Nine hundred twenty-five,” he said.
She had nothing to say to that. If there was a way to narrow that down, he’d find it. If not, he’d start slogging through the list as it was. The only thing Morgan was focused on was the clock. Her shift ended in an hour, at three o’clock, and the time was crawling by. She looked over at the lieutenant’s office. He was there, visible through the glass walls, just as the detectives were visible to him. She couldn’t bear to stay a second longer. She’d just have to sneak by him.
“Ben,” she
said. He looked at her with his small eyes and protruding, low brow. He didn’t look very smart, but she knew he was. “I’m heading out early. If the lieutenant asks, tell him I went to the dentist.”
“You’re supposed to tell him yourself.” This was a long-drawn-out sentence for Ben.
Morgan slung her bag over her shoulder and shut down her computer. “Well, I’m not going to. Let me know if you get anything on the Impalas.” She skirted around the lieutenant’s blind side and made it safely out the door. Then she gunned her car toward the expressway and hoped she was in time.
Laura’s meeting with the FDA should be over and Morgan wanted to surprise her at the office and help her celebrate. She had a bottle of Champagne sitting in a cooler in her back seat. She’d been frustrated the entire week, wanting desperately to see Laura but respecting her request to be left alone until the meeting was over. They hadn’t seen each other since Sunday, and she’d waited long enough.
She pulled into the parking lot of the office suites in Skokie, just north of the city. The door to the building was unlocked, Laura’s suite the first behind it. As soon as she entered, she could see something was wrong. The huge, open room was strewn with desks, but they were mostly deserted. A woman was packing wine bottles into a cardboard box, and an exhausted looking young man walked through the room drinking from a bottle. She could see a few others at their desks, some with their heads in their arms, others whispering into their phones. At the far end of the room, she saw Laura in front of the window, gazing out at the parking lot. She wondered if she’d seen her walking in.
Morgan walked over to her and quietly called out her name. She put her hand gently on Laura’s shoulder. “What happened?” Laura didn’t turn around.
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