Deadly Deception

by Cade Brogan

  “Probably like, fitness apps, weather apps, or something like that.”

  “Yeah, probably.”

  *

  Images of what could be flashed through Elizabeth’s mind, seeing the sign: Quarantine Area—Authorized Personnel Only. The parking lot, usually full this late in the day, was nearly empty, with the vehicles that did occupy spaces, being emergency vehicles. She swept her hand across her forehead, assuming the worst-case scenario, that her dear, sweet Grandma Marge was the resident who’d died. They didn’t return your call because they needed time to consult their lawyer, thinking you’ll file a wrongful death lawsuit. And she would file a lawsuit, one way or the other, one way or the other, anonymously. Maybe on behalf of mom, she thought, pursing her lips tightly, unless she’s been discovered. She hadn’t checked for death notices since her last visit to the Boston Public Library, not wanting her browser history to be called into question should anyone get their hands on her laptop. One never knew what law enforcement would be monitoring. Having Claire helped, but there were limits to her knowledge. She hasn’t been found, she assured herself. And with her parts sprinkled in multiple locations, she won’t be. She cocked her head, looking into the rearview mirror.

  And why is that?

  Because I didn’t make the mistake that I made before. I didn’t act impulsively. I took my time, executing my plan cautiously.

  The Teacher nodded, smiling. That’s right.

  And because I was careful, Elizabeth added, the authorities will never find mom, Wilber, or his nasty little terrier, Joey. She chuckled, remembering the glorious bonfire. As she came to a stop, yards from the entrance to the parking lot, her thoughts returned to Grandma Marge. She considered the posting: Quarantine Area—Authorized Personnel Only… Authorized personnel…Hmm, that would include doctors. It would be risky, but she could use her credentials to gain access to the building.

  And then what? the Teacher asked. You’d find out what they’ll eventually tell you. And for what? To shave off a few hours? That’s the maximum that it could possibly be. More of a delay would invite another lawsuit. No way. No way should you hand over your name and signature to find out what you already know—that Granny is gone.

  And with that, Elizabeth turned around, heading home.

  *

  The front door opened as the toe of Rylee’s boot touched the porch. “Nothing new,” she said, kissing Kenzie, and stepping inside. She’d been calling and texting her throughout the afternoon, providing updates. “Frank says he’ll have the location data, what he can of it, first thing in the morning. I figure if I stop by on my way in we can get an early start.” She raked her fingers through her hair, then gathered Kenzie into her arms. “If I could think of one more place to check, one more thing to do, I’d go back out.”

  “I know you would,” Kenzie said, pressing her lips together, and nodding. “But you’ve been at it all day, and you’re tired.” She touched her cheek, forcing a soft smile. “You need to rest and go back out in the morning.”

  “I suppose,” Rylee said, her voice monotone as she shifted to another subject. “So, what time did Grams and Gramps go home?”

  “About an hour ago,” Kenzie responded. “Your grandma wants you to call.”

  Rylee nodded, glancing at her watch. “They’ll be up for another hour or so,” she said, “I’ll call in a little while.”

  “You hungry?”

  “A little.”

  “I’ve got barbecue leftovers,” Kenzie said. “I didn’t feel much like cooking. I’m sorry.”

  “You never have to cook,” Rylee responded, “not if you don’t feel like it.” She held her, her tone softening. “Barbecue’s fine. Whatever you have is fine.” Macaroni salad, chips, and pickles appeared on the counter. “So, patrol’s gonna keep looking through the night,” she continued. “Maybe they’ll come up with something.”

  “I hope so,” Kenzie responded, her facial muscles tightening as she dipped barbecue onto a bun. “She’s walked out after an argument, but she’s never stayed away this long.” She turned, peering into Rylee’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do if—”

  “You don’t have to know because she’s gonna be fine,” Rylee responded, coming up from behind to hold her. “I just know it. She’s in a jam somewhere, but she’s fine.”

  “You don’t know it,” Kenzie countered quietly. “You can’t know it for sure.”

  “No,” Rylee admitted, planting a kiss, “but I know that we’ve gotta hold onto the idea that she’s alright, that she’s out there waiting to be found. If we don’t, we’re gonna go nuts.”

  Kenzie nodded, setting one plate on the table.

  “You’re not eating?” Rylee asked, wrinkling her brow.

  “No,” Kenzie answered. “I ate a little something a while ago.”

  “You need to eat, Kenz.”

  “I know. And I will when my stomach settles.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Elizabeth,” Claire called out, each syllable dragging longer than the one before, “are you home?” She set her satchel on the counter. “Snuggles.” She walked into the living room. “There you are,” she said, scratching the top of the canine’s head. “Come on, let’s go potty.” She clipped on his leash, thinking about her last encounter with Elizabeth, and wondering where she was. She’d tried to call that afternoon, but as was often the case when Elizabeth was upset, she didn’t answer her phone. “Come on,” she said, tugging Snuggles to a narrow strip of grass in the front. “You go potty right now.” Her stomach rolled, stepping the stairs, and unlocking her door. When Elizabeth got home, what was she going to say to her? Would she bring up what she’d seen, what had troubled her as much as anything had ever troubled her about a lover? Or, would she act as if she’d seen nothing at all? “Go get in your bed,” she directed, watching her little dog do as he was told. “Come on, Elizabeth, come home,” she said, opening her laptop, and deciding to use the time to type up her notes. But what if she doesn’t? What if she’s run off? She set her device on the coffee table, going into the bedroom and bathroom to see if she’d taken her belongings with her. There weren’t many, but at least there were some. She thought back to how long it had taken for her to leave anything at all, remembering the joy she’d felt, discovering Elizabeth’s toothbrush on the lavatory. She’s a grown woman, a brilliant woman, and she didn’t leave because you saw her without clothing. She’s running an errand, that’s all. She swallowed, touching Elizabeth’s blouse, and inhaling the sweet scent of her cologne. “See, what’d I tell you?” she whispered, smiling. “She’ll be home before you know it.”

  *

  “Yes, she will,” Elizabeth snapped, storming into the bedroom. “And you’d better have a stellar explanation for being in her closet.” She crossed her arms, her eyes becoming like surgical lasers.

  “I, uh…” Claire stepped back, swallowing.

  “Start talking,” Elizabeth snarled, her nostrils flaring. “What were you doing in my closet?”

  “Nothing,” Claire responded, color draining from her cheeks. “Nothing. I was just checking to see if your clothes were still here, that’s all.”

  Elizabeth tilted her head.

  “Because I was afraid,” Claire continued, her voice softening, “afraid that after what happened today, you’d left me.”

  Elizabeth lifted an eyebrow. “Not what I expected, but enough to get you off the hook.” Her tone became deadly serious. “This time. Don’t do it again. I don’t appreciate having my privacy invaded.”

  Claire blinked. “No. No, I won’t.”

  And with that, Elizabeth turned, stepping through the doorway. “I’m having a glass of wine,” she said. “Do you want one?” She smiled, reflecting on the encounter, pleased that Claire liked her cologne enough to bury her face in the sleeve of her Sunday blouse.

  “Uh, yeah, yeah, sure,” Claire answered.

  As Elizabeth stepped through the living room, she noticed Claire’s laptop
on the coffee table. “Burgundy?” she called out. It was a French wine with a hint of dark berries, one that they both enjoyed.

  “Yeah, sounds good,” Claire said, following along like a dog who’d just relieved herself on the carpet. “I could use a glass of wine after the day I’ve had.”

  Elizabeth glanced at the coffee table, stepping to one side, and blocking Claire’s line of sight from the laptop. “Some days are like that,” she said, popping the cork, and leaving room for the wine’s full-bodied aroma in each glass. “Let’s have it in our bedroom,” she suggested, her tone lowering, and becoming sultry.

  “Yeah, sure,” Claire answered. “Wherever’s fine.” More confident now, it was clear that she had things on her mind, things that Elizabeth had anticipated she’d want to talk about.

  Elizabeth swirled the red liquid, handing her the etched stemware. “Biblical nectar,” she said with a smile. “Cheers.”

  “Yeah, cheers,” Claire responded, lifting her glass, and clinking rims.

  After a sip, Elizabeth brought one leg under the other, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I have things to tell you,” she said softly. “Things that will be difficult for me to share.”

  Claire sat down beside her, stroking her thigh with her fingertips. “Take your time,” she cooed. “I’m right here.”

  “I know you are,” Elizabeth responded, smiling thinly, “and you can’t imagine how good it feels to know that you’re there for me, to know that finally, someone is there for me.” Guilt slithered through the crevices of her mind. Proverbs 12:22. She closed her eyes, hearing sacred words from the King James Version of the Bible. Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord: but they that deal truly are his delight. She hitched a breath, straightening her posture. But it’s only a white lie, she countered silently. My falsehood will hurt no living person. A chill traversed her spine. Yes, but ends never justify the means, especially when it comes to following scripture. Hair lifted on the back of her neck. Do it, knowing penance will be required of you.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth responded, opening her eyes. “Yes, I’m fine.” She swallowed, her saliva coating a quiver in her stomach. “Or at least I will be in a moment.” Communing with God was at times an emotionally draining process. She stared into the corner, her voice becoming quiet. “So,” she began, “I know you remember our conversation about past lovers.” She pressed her lips together, shaking her head slowly. “I acted badly that night, and I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Claire said. “I told you then that it wasn’t a problem.”

  “I know, but it was,” Elizabeth responded, her facial muscles tightening. “Just thinking about you touching other women, about them touching you, it made me crazy, and I’m sorry.”

  “It was fine,” Claire said, palming her cheek. “You were fine.”

  “So, I bring it up,” Elizabeth continued, “not to relive the emotions, but because I need to come clean about something.” She dropped her eyes. “When I told you I’d never been with anyone else, insisted that you were my first, I lied to you, and I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Claire responded. “None of it matters.”

  “But it does,” Elizabeth responded, “and I need to explain. I need you to know that the reason I lied was because I didn’t know how to tell you what I should’ve told you, what you deserved to know.” She clamped her hand over her mouth, willing tears to fall.

  “Really, it’s okay,” Claire cooed, brushing them away with the heel of her palm. “I told you it’s all fine, that none of it matters.”

  “But you see, it does,” Elizabeth responded. “It matters, tonight especially because it relates to what you observed earlier.” She brushed her cheek. “What I know, troubles you.”

  Claire looked away, clenching her jaw. “That someone would hurt you like that,” she growled, low and primal, “makes me want to hunt them down and rip their throat open.”

  “No, you can’t,” Elizabeth responded. “You have to promise me that you’ll never follow up on what I’m about to tell you.” She willed more tears, allowing plenty of time and room for them to tumble. “I want to share this part of me, a part that I’ve never shared with anyone, but I won’t be able to if you don’t promise.”

  “I promise,” Claire said, brushing tears from her cheeks with her thumbs. “I promise. I won’t tell. And I promise that no matter how much I want to, I won’t hunt the son-of-a-bitch down.” She pulled her close, kissing her. “You can trust me, baby. You know you can.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes, opening them to Claire’s. “Yes,” she whispered, unbuttoning the top button of her blouse, “you’ve proven that time and again.”

  Claire bit her lip, her eyes widening.

  “I’m not sure how much you actually saw,” Elizabeth said, unbuttoning her second and third buttons.

  “I’m not surprised,” Claire responded. “You were so upset. God, I felt so bad for you.”

  “I was more than upset,” Elizabeth corrected. “Mortified would be more like it. I don’t remember ever feeling more exposed than I did as your eyes swept across my body.”

  “I’m sorry,” Claire said, fingering back a lock of hair. “I would never do anything to hurt you. Not intentionally. Not for anything in the world. You have to know that.”

  “I do know that,” Elizabeth responded softly. With Claire and only Claire, she’d felt human love, like never before. “So anyway,” she continued, “I’m not sure how much you saw of me, but judging from your expression, you saw enough, enough to understand why I’ve always chosen to remain partially clothed when we had sex.” She unbuttoned her fourth and fifth buttons. “Odd, isn’t it,” she continued, “that we’ll soon be together a year, and tonight of all nights will be the first time that I’ll allow you to see my upper body.” She bit her lip, willing tears to stream down her cheeks, unbuttoning her sixth button.

  Claire licked her lips, watching her blouse fall open. “You’re beautiful,” she murmured, “so, so, beautiful.”

  Elizabeth smiled, holding her gaze, and reaching back to unclasp her bra.

  As the garments fell from her shoulders, Claire sucked in a breath and locked her jaw.

  “So, I lied to you,” Elizabeth continued, “but not completely. I have had sex. In fact, I’ve had it many times over, more times than I care to remember, with my step-father, but never with a woman. In that, you were my first.” She hiccupped a soft sob. “I’d say, ‘no, don’t touch me.’ But he’d tie me down, anally penetrate me, and whip me.” She touched the crisscross pattern of scars covering her shoulders, turning so that Claire could see that they covered her back as well. “He abused me from the time I was five until you came into my life.” Before Claire could speak, she went on. “I know what you’re thinking,” she said, meeting her gaze directly, “you want to know how I could allow that to continue once I was an adult.”

  “No, you were a victim,” Claire said quietly.

  “I’ll tell you anyway,” Elizabeth said. “I made regular trips back, knowing that he’d violate me, to protect my mother and Joey, her little dog.” She willed tears to roll as she collapsed into Claire’s arms. “He threatened to burn them alive.”

  “Oh my gosh,” Claire responded, stroking her gently. “I know you don’t have contact. Is your mom alright?”

  “I’m not sure,” Elizabeth answered. “You see, when I started dating you, I think it scared my step-father, you know, that I was in a relationship with a police officer, and might report him. They moved without telling me where they were going.”

  Claire met her eye. “That needs to be reported.”

  “No,” Elizabeth said, “you promised.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Look,” Elizabeth said, “if I thought my mom was in danger, I’d make a missing person’s report. But I don’t, I think she’s fine. See, the part I forgot to tell you was that my step-father had a stroke around the time I met you.
After that, he wasn’t capable of much. I’m fairly certain that my mom’s the one who moved them.” She began to cry. “She always did take his side.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Elizabeth stared at the bedside clock—2:22.

  Ninety minutes since she’d shed the rest of her clothing, her body tingling with desire.

  Sixty since her breaths came in long, surrendering moans.

  Fifty since she’d cried out, waves of pleasure throbbing between her thighs.

  Forty since she’d rolled to her side, Claire’s arm coming around her.

  Thirty since she’d yielded to exhaustion, allowing her eyelids to close.

  Twenty since her thoughts intruded, prying them open.

  My sweet granny, she whimpered silently.

  You don’t know it was her, the Rational One countered, and you won’t until you see it in the news or get notified. She’d been with her next to the longest, revealing herself when she was in college.

  But I do know, Elizabeth shot back. You think I’m stupid, but I’m not. I have degrees in microbiology, forensic toxicology, pharmacy, and medicine. A person lacking in intelligence couldn’t have accomplished a fraction of what I’ve accomplished.

  I never said you were stupid, the Rational One answered. And I don’t think you are. You’re just stubborn, too stubborn for your own good—for our own good—sometimes.

  Always thinking about yourself, Elizabeth snarled. And always of the opinion that you’re the only one who knows what’s going on. Well, let me tell you, you’re not. Take this situation, for example; you think that just because we haven’t been notified, Grandma Marge isn’t gone. Naïve, that’s what you are. You haven’t figured out that the reason we haven’t been called is because they’re busy strategizing with their lawyers, trying to avoid a lawsuit. That need to notify her next of kin business is nothing but—excuse my French—a load of bullshit.