Black Adagio (40 page)

“It’s just our little troop left. Now go get your things. Tracey will help you. She’ll show you to the room we have prepared. It will be all yours for the next two weeks, unless you’ve decided differently?”

“No, I haven’t. And thank you so much for being so understanding.”

“It’s fine, Melissa. I think you are even harder on yourself than I was on myself, and that is some achievement. Now go! We will be waiting,” she said, taking her mother’s arm.

Chapter Forty-
eight

“Hey, Todd,” Foster greeted.

“Hey, Foster,” Todd said, easing into the chair behind his desk. He gave his hands a fast rub as he waited for his computer to boot to life.

“Big doings. Don’t suppose you’ve heard,” he said, sitting on the corner of Todd’s desk, coffee cup in hand.

“Heard what?” Todd said, leaning back and looking up.

“Jack Harris handed Laurie Hilliard’s head to us on a platter.”

“And how did he do that exactly?” he asked, tilting his chair back and taking a sip of coffee.

“By giving us a confession that she wrote.”

“A what?” he said tipping his weight forward. The chair squeaking as it rapidly shifted positions, the soles of his boots banged hard on the floor.

“You’re surprised?” Foster coolly apprised.

“Shocked is more like it.”

“Cummings is grilling her now if you wanna watch.”

“I do. You joining me?”

“Sure. I’ve got a few minutes,” Foster said falling in line behind Todd.

“Is there a transcript of Harris’ statement?”

“Yup, the Feddie boys don’t waste time,” he responded. Heading to his desk, he handed the small sheaf of papers clipped together to Todd. “Here. Knock yourself out.”

“Thanks,” Todd replied, his footsteps entrenched in the well-worn path to the room dubbed, “the observation deck.”

They slipped in behind a row of agents who occupied front row seats. A few taking notes, Laurie balanced on the chair uncomfortably, her face reflecting a distancing from the perilous situation she was embroiled in. Mentally checking out, a lacquer of insolence hardened her features into someone prematurely aged beyond their years.

Batting mascara-soaked lashes, they were caked with black spidery flakes. The activity relieved her from the duty of confronting the adversary that was fast mounting an attack. Not yet in full-flight, Cummings braced and hunkered down waiting to leap onto the back of the gazelle seeking refuge in the wooden chair. Her blond hair spiked and badly need of a combing, it had crossed the boundary of being on the wild side into an unkempt mess. Like a fragile doormat, it had been trampled on by the heels of those wanting to get inside her head and discover what secrets her psyche held. Before this, Todd would have bet they were limited to opening fake social media accounts.

“Do you need us to reread what you wrote, Laurie? Or are you starting to understand that you need to tell us the truth?”

“I did tell you the truth,” she dully stated as if forced to recite the Pledge of Allegiance for the umpteenth time.

“Now we both know that you lied. We found that out through Jack Harris. It was a big mistake trying to finger him when it’s been you all along.”

“What?” she responded as if being shaken out of a dream. Her eyes no longer blankly staring ahead into oblivion, she was reanimating by being shot with electricity through an unknown port. “You asked me who wrote the emails and I told you!”

“Yes, but you stopped there, didn’t you? You didn’t tell us it was you that disposed of Larabee. What’d you do, Laurie? Lure him to that remote site and then bash him over the head?”

“No!” she objected. “I most certainly did not lure that pervert anywhere! I didn’t want him anywhere near me!”

“We got that much. And you solved that problem … permanently. Now where is he, Laurie? Where did you hide the body?”

“Body? What are you talking about?”

“Your confession,” Angela answered, springing the trap. A school notebook was in her hand. Fresh from Harris’ locker at Holybrook High, she slammed it down in front of the girl that was beginning to become alarmed. No longer the cool customer, there was a panic emerging in her eyes. Flitting over the lines written by a poison pen, she recognized the words as her own.

“No!” she objected, grabbing at the pages. Angela snatched back the crucial evidence from a destructive pair of hands.

“Now that we know it was you, you just need to tell us how,” Ace goaded.

“You’re crazy! You’re all crazy! Why would Jack do this? Why?” she blurted, starting to cry.

“You mean, tell us the truth? Maybe because he wants justice?” Angela theorized.

“Or maybe he doesn’t like being blamed for crimes he didn’t commit,” Ace countered. “Especially since it was you! You, Laurie! You say so right here!”

“But this isn’t what it looks! I wouldn’t hurt anyone! I don’t believe in hurting anyone! I let him hurt himself! That’s all I meant!”

“So you’re saying that he ran headlong into a tree? Knocked himself out? And then maybe crawled away into a hole he dug for himself? Yeah, maybe that’s why we can’t find him?” Ace mocked.

Leaping to her shackled feet, she began to scream.

“Stop it! Stop making fun of me! That’s not what I’m saying at all!”

“Then why don’t you have a seat and tell us all about it. It’s your chance. Maybe your only chance because we just got confirmation that the blood in the woods was Larabee’s. That means you’ll be going down for murder.”

Letting out a scream of frustration, she fell back down like a deflating tire. Her shoulders pinching together, her hands went to her head, covering her face from prying eyes. Fetally seated, Ace and Angela gave her time to collect her thoughts. They could read the signs. She was broken and about to spill her guts. Poised, they silently waited for her to begin.

One eye peeked out between her fingers, her hands sliding down over her face like melting ice. Pulling at her taut skin, these past few days had been hell and it showed. Like an animal that was stalked and cornered, she was defeated and submissive. It wasn’t easy to watch, but necessary.

Swallowing, she began slowly, trying her best to explain what she’d done. Her fingers spread out before her, her head tilted to the side in a birdlike gesture.

“I didn’t feel safe,” she admitted softly, almost gracefully. Reduced to subservience, she took on a childlike quality. “He was watching me. All the time,” she continued, her eyebrows knitting together. The dusky appearance of a few stray dark hairs beneath her severely plucked brows added a harshness to her appearance. She looked like a girl that had been around the block—way too many times.

“I’d go in my room, and he’d follow me there. There was always some excuse for him knocking … or barging in. I started putting my chair against it … to try to keep him out. When he found out he couldn’t get in, he went ballistic. Told my mother it was a sign that I was up to no good, but it was him. Him, all the time.

“My mom, she didn’t believe me at first, but one night I came home late. I went into the kitchen for a snack. I was eating at the counter, and he came up behind me. I didn’t hear him, and … he tried to kiss me,” she said in a ghostly whisper, a lonely tear running down her cheek.

“I tried to move away, but he put his arms on either side of me. I was moving my face to try to avoid him. I should have screamed, but I didn’t even think to do it. I was just so confused, and … I just wanted to get away!” Searching Angela’s face for understanding, she thought she’d found it.

“It must have been hard for you,” Angela soothed. Taking on the role of a sympathetic listener, no more aggression was needed. She was a young girl—one that had done something terribly wrong.

“It was! But this time it worked out! My mom got up and found him gone. I’d told her how he’d tried to get into my room in the middle of the night and she decided to check. So she went to my bedroom, but found I wasn’t there. She was going to go back to bed, but heard something in the kitchen. She decided to see what it was and caught him! Saw him on top of me trying to kiss me! Don’t you see? He couldn’t explain himself out of that one!”

“Yes, we see,” Angela confirmed. “What happened?”

“She told him to leave. I was so happy! He started with some nonsense, about trying to smell alcohol on my breath, but she refused to believe him. She threw him out, threatening to make trouble for him. He left, but he kept calling and calling. I decided to do something.”

Ace and Angela exchanged knowing glances. Her confession had a ring of truth. Their muscles tensed as they waited for the entire story to pour out of the troubled teen.

“I wanted to help my mother out, so I … so I decided to cast a spell.”

The words sounded as hollow as the squawk of a duck flying with sparrows. Like a rock crashing through a glass window, the sanctity of the structure Laurie had erected was demolished in one stroke. The dynamics of the room changed in the blink of one heavily coated, shadowed eye.

“A spell?” Ace skeptically spat as if shooting a wad of rancid chewing tobacco out of his mouth.

“Yes. Like my mother said, I’m a witch. I was initiated last year, but we’re sworn to doing no harm.”

“Oh, like a doctor,” he mocked, Laurie not getting the brunt of his humor.

“Yes, exactly,” she answered, believing the oath taken as sacred. “We’re bound by it. The thing is that any spell we cast comes back to us three-fold, but one night it hit me to only wish for his intentions to come back to him ten-fold. This way, if I were wrong, which I wasn’t, he would experience tremendous good fortune. But if he were the perv that I knew he was, he’d get punished—big-time.” She relaxed, folding her arms. “And look what happened,” she knowingly mused.

“What did happen?” Ace asked, inquiring about the obvious.

“Somebody got him good—that’s what happened! Probably another woman he was harassing. Oh, I don’t doubt for one moment that he pulled this shit before. Just picked the wrong one.”

“You speaking about yourself?” Angela queried. Jumping into the deep end, she was angry at herself for feeling sympathy for this psychopath.

“No!” Laurie blasted, getting agitated. “Didn’t you listen? I said I cast a spell! That’s all I was saying in these notes I wrote to Jack! I thought he’d get it because he’s into the same things as I am.”

“Yeah, sure. A spell did him in,” Ace repeated. His saturation point reached, he rose to his feet, pushing his chair back. “And here, I thought you were getting smart! You’re going down! You’re being charged as an adult. It makes it a capital offense which means the death penalty! You really prepared to go there instead of telling us who helped you?”

“Nobody helped me! And that’s all I did!” she protested with a howl.

“Right! The Spell Fairies took care of him for you. Or was it karma?” he sneered. “All I know is that a spell isn’t going to get you out of this one!”

“Laurie,” Angela pleaded, leaning across the table, “your only chance is to tell us the truth. Where is Larabee? Is he dead? And what about Christina? And Brandi? If they’re alive and being held somewhere, we can get your charge reduced, but you have to cooperate.”

“I am cooperating!” she yelled in a last ditch defense.

“No, you’re not,” she responded. “Just tell us who helped you! You had to have help. You’re not big enough to dispose of a body by yourself!”

Fuck! They weren’t listening to her. If they wanted a name, she’d give them a name. She’d get that bastard back for doing this to her.

“Jack Harris!” she spurted.

Ace rubbed his forehead, his hand going to the waist flat from reverse abdominal curls.

“Try again. Jack has an alibi for that entire evening. Besides, he has immunity.”

“What! You gave that creepy bastard …”

“So you’re lying just to get back at him? I think we’ve had enough. You don’t play ball with us, we don’t play ball with you.”

Stomping his way to the door, he yelled at the agents in the hall.

“Get her the hell out of here, and bring in Carol Hilliard! Now!”

Like action figures, the agents sprang into motion. Laurie struggled against the hands leading her away.

“You’re arresting my mother? Why?”

“Obstruction of justice for starters. Maybe accessory after the fact.”

“No! This is wrong! She didn’t do anything and neither did I!” she screamed, kicking at the legs of those escorting her back to her cell. “I only cast a spell!” she whined, her cry streaking down the hall and obliterating credulity with its false claim of persecution. “My only crime is that it worked! Don’t you see, the magic worked!”

Todd watched, not knowing what to believe. Giving Foster a glance, he raced out of the room, his eyes perusing Harris’ words. Skimming through, there were a lot of unanswered questions. He had a burning desire to talk to Mulligan again. Leaving the report on his desk, he hurried out the door, anxious to have another word with the man left at the altar.

Chapter Forty-nine

A blast of wind made it difficult for him to open the car door. Waiting a moment, he gave another shove, shielding his face from the blustery assault. He tugged his cap over his ears, pulling the collar up until it covered his neck. Like a football linebacker, he fought his way to Room 112.