In Cold Blonde (25 page)

“She seemed calmer at dinner,” Betty said.  “But looking back I
realized she was too calm.  She had a plan.”

“That night she doused the inside of the Lexus with lighter fluid and set
it on fire,” Cliff said.  The car was a complete loss, we barely saved the
garage and she almost burnt down the house.”

“The police were going to prosecute her for arson,” Betty said. 
“But when we explained she was bi-polar and promised to send Alice back to the
Institute for treatment, they dropped the charges.”  Betty reached out and
took her husband’s hand.  A gesture that shocked Syd considering the way
these two sniped at each other.  “When we brought Alice back to Riverview,
she told us she never wanted to see us again.  That we were dead to her.”

“The doctors told us it might be a good idea for us to not see her for a
while,” Cliff said.  “Being around us was a catalyst for her resentment
and rage and we’d become a psychotic trigger.”

“We’ve only seen her a of couple of times in the last three years.” 
Betty said.  “She’ll call every so often and we get reports from the
Institute.  And the last report was very encouraging.  Over the years
they’ve tried a wide range of drugs and therapies, but just a few months ago
they seem to finally find one that stabilized her.”

“What was it?” Syd asked.

“The craziest idea I ever heard,” Cliff said. 

“It was an experiment.  The doctors ran it by us first; I had my
doubts, but they said it was very successful in a European trial, and we’d
tried everything else so…”

“They lied to her,” Cliff said.  “Told her she had cancer and only a
few months to live.”

“The idea was to focus her,” Betty said. “Give her a reason to apply
herself.  The risk, of course, was that she’d just give up, but Dr.
Samuels ‘sensed a stubborn spirit inside Alice,’ his words; and felt that with
a deadline on her life she might finally focus.  If she did, they’d
eventually tell her she beat the cancer, another
reinforcer
he called
it, and she might finally be on her way to a productive life.  And it
seemed to be working.  Dr. Samuels said it was almost like a light went
off.  She checked out of the Institute two months ago, she rented an apartment
and got a job at the Best Buy in Hollywood.  And she let us buy her a car
so she could get around.  She seemed to be doing so well the doctors said
we could visit.  So we drove up to Hollywood about a month ago and
surprised her.”

“Crappy apartment,” Cliff said.  “I wanted to get her something
nicer but she said she was happy.”

“The cancer-scare therapy seemed to really be working so we hoped that
maybe this time…”  Betty trailed off at the obvious reality of the
situation.  Alice’s focus wasn’t on getting a job and straightening out
her life, it was on seeking revenge.

“What kind of car did you get her?”

“A white Prius,” Betty said.   “She really cares about the
environment.”

The irony of someone who cuts off men’s cocks caring about global warming
wasn’t lost on Syd.  “You know the license number?”

“Sorry, no.”

 “Do you know Alice’s address and phone number?”

Betty frowned.  “I don’t remember her apartment address, do you,
honey?”

He thought about it.  “No, I think I threw it away when we got
home.  It was near a famous corner, though.  Just a couple blocks south
of Hollywood and Vine.  It was on Vine, though, I remember that.”

“How about a phone number?”

Betty looked embarrassed.  “She wouldn’t give it to us.  She
said she would call us if she wanted to talk to us.”

Syd knew they could canvas the buildings south of Hollywood Boulevard but
that would take time.  Syd’s best bet would be to figure out who Alice’s
next victim might be and get to him as soon as possible.

Syd asked, “How many boys raped Alice that night?”

“Three,” Betty said.  “Adam, of course.  Colin Wood, it was his
father who offered the settlement and the third boy was…” Betty shook her head,
unable to remember.  “Cliff, do you remember?”

He thought about it and then shook his head.  “No, sorry, I don’t.”

Syd reached inside her backpack and pulled out the list of names she’d
culled from Wood and Devlin’s phone books.  She handed it to Betty. 
“Do any of these names seem familiar?”

Betty went over the list.  “A number of them, but I don’t know which
of them might have been the third boy.” 

She passed the list to Cliff who glanced at it, then shook his head. 
“Sorry.”  He started to hand it back to Syd then stopped.  “Wait a
minute,” he pulled the list back.  “This name here, Blake Hunter, I
remember the name Blake.  I had an Uncle Blake, and I remember thinking
about that when we heard the name eleven years ago.”

“So, Blake Hunter
was the third boy,” Syd asked, excited.  “You’re sure?” 

“No.  I’m not sure.  I remember the name Blake is all.  If
there was more than one Blake, I’d have no idea which one it was.”

Syd took the list, double-checked.  Just one Blake, Blake Hunter,
and he lived in Malibu.  Syd stuffed the list back in her backpack, stood
up.  “Mr. and Mrs. Waterman, thank you very much.”

“Detective,” Betty said, “Do you think Alice is right?  Do you think
we sold her out?”

 “Don’t ask her that,” Cliff said.  “She won’t give us an
honest answer.   I mean, you can’t really, can you?” Cliff asked
Syd.  “You’re just going to say what we want to hear.”

“And what is it you want to hear?” Syd asked.

“Betty wants to hear that we did the right thing,” Cliff said. 
“Which we did.”

“Let me ask you this,” Syd said.  “When the lawyer offered the cash
settlement, did you ask Alice which she would prefer, the money or a trial?”

“Of course not, she was just a kid, besides she was in no state of mind
to decide.”

Syd nodded.  She knew what she should say, and Syd also knew the
truth.  She chose.  “You did do the right thing, for you.  You
spared yourself the embarrassment of everyone learning in open court that your
daughter was promiscuous.  But you did a terrible disservice to your daughter. 
You prevented her from fighting back against the men who raped her, from
punishing the men who raped her.  The men she is punishing now.  So
not only did you betray Alice, you are responsible for turning your daughter
from rape victim into a murderer.”

Cliff stared at Syd, stunned by her honesty.  Betty was shocked
too.  But it didn’t stop her from turning to her husband with an,
I
told you so
glare on her face.

“Is that what you wanted to hear, Mr. Waterman?”  Syd left without
waiting for an answer.

Syd drove quickly.  With luck she was just over an hour from
Malibu.  Of course, she could call dispatch and have the place surrounded
in a matter of minutes, and she almost made that call.  But Syd wanted to
catch the Lady in Red herself.  Not for the glory of the capture, but so
she could have a chance to talk to her. 

And now Syd had an answer for the question, why now?   Why had
Alice Waterman waited eleven years to get revenge for the rapes?  Because
she was given a death sentence by one of her shrinks.  And since she
thought she was going to die, she had nothing to lose by killing the men who
attacked her.  She wouldn’t be risking jail or the needle for her murders
because she was doomed already.

Except the diagnosis was a lie. 

A trick to help poor Alice straighten out her life.  

Syd felt a growing affinity with Alice Waterman.  And seeing the
house she grew up in tonight, the weak mother, bullying father, hearing about
how she was betrayed by her parents and abused by men only made Syd want to
meet her more.

She’d still have to arrest her, of course.  She had no illusions
about somehow helping the Lady in Red get away with murder.  But she felt
a bond with Alice, a bond she wanted, needed to share. 

Now the only question was, what to do about Ryan?  She wanted to
share these feelings with him.  Wanted to tell him about who she really was,
why she understood the Lady in Red.

Could they actually be a couple if he didn’t know all of her
secrets? 

More importantly, were they even a couple now?  What was he doing,
right now, with that bitch, Anne?

One way to find out, Syd decided.  Call him.

She picked up her cell phone and hit the one on her speed dial.

The trouble started on the elevator.  Ryan and Anne were alone and
Anne shot Ryan a mischievous look.  “Should I hit the Stop button?”

Ryan laughed, the memories flooding back. 

 When they were married, Ryan and Anne loved to make love in
public.  Trader Vic’s was the first time, but so exhilarating they found
themselves daring each other to have sex almost anywhere.  Anne climbed
into Ryan’s lap when they were stuck in a traffic jam on the 405 and, to the
delight of Fed Ex driver stuck next to them, she pulled out his cock, pulled
down her panties and mounted him.  The
Anne-on-Ryan’s-lap
became a
favorite position.  They used it in movie theatres, Starbucks’ bathrooms,
during the half-time show at a Rose Bowl game, and in the back row of a lecture
hall during one of Professor Moylan’s interminable Psych classes.  

They also used a variety of other positions depending on where they were;
standing when Ryan pinned Anne to the wall in the Travel section of Barnes and
Noble, missionary when Ryan took Anne golfing and she couldn’t find her ball in
the woods, doggy style in the back of L.A. County Natural History Museum’s
dinosaur display, and reverse cowgirl when Anne dragged Ryan into the empty
break room of a Ralph’s grocery store. 

But their favorite spots were elevators.  In high rises they used to
wait until they could get a car by themselves, press the button for the top
floor and see if they could finish before the car stopped.   In
smaller buildings they’d press the Stop button, the alarm would always sound
but it actually served to drown out Anne’s orgasms.

Good times, he thought.  He was a different guy then, he suddenly realized. 
Less serious, certainly less structured, much more spontaneous.  He’d
closed down after Anne left him.  He became much more conservative, cautious,
not nearly as much fun, he realized.

Or was it just that he was a different person with Anne?  And if
they got back together, would he revert back to a more carefree persona? 
He glanced at her and she was smiling. 

Standing so close to Anne, feeling her body heat, her scent, Ryan’s hand
dangling just inches from hers, was such a turn on.  And Syd be damned,
there was something unfinished here.  What if, okay, he knew it sounded
stupid, but what if they were meant to be together?  What if his getting
the lottery ticket was all part of some huge master plan to get them back
together?  And as insane as he knew that kind of thinking was, Ryan was
having a visceral reaction to Anne that he never felt with any other
woman. 

Anne felt it, too.  She had to admit she missed those crazy days
herself.  Anne and Ryan’s love affair was filled with wild abandon. 
Sure they were kids, but during those first couple of years she felt
electrified. A feeling she hasn’t had since.  Not with Rick, never with
any of her lovers.  And she suddenly wondered if she was a different
person with Ryan?  If, no,
when
they got back together, would they
be able recapture that exultation?  And suddenly, more than ever, she
wanted to find out. 

DING.  The elevator arriving interrupted both of their
reveries.  But as they stepped out of the elevator and walked down the
thick carpet, something palpable had changed.  They walked closer together,
Ryan’s hand brushed Anne’s hand with every step until he finally wrapped his
fingers around hers. 

They faced each other as they reached the door to her suite.  Anne
slid the keycard into the door but her eyes never left Ryan’s face.  Ryan pushed
open the door; they were still holding hands as Anne led him inside.  The
door swung closed behind them.  Without a word, Ryan pulled her close and
kissed her.    

It ignited a wildfire.  Hands started flying, jackets hit the floor,
he pulled out her blouse, she ripped open his shirt, undid his belt, he pulled
up her skirt and pulled down her panties, she pulled down his pants and slipped
his penis out of his boxers.  Then, in a move they practiced while still
UCLA undergrads, she leapt up throwing her legs around his waist as he caught
her under the arms, then lowered her onto his cock.

They both gasped as he entered her. 

And they stood there, staring into each other’s eyes, neither moving,
both just enjoying the feeling of being a part of the other; a completeness
neither had felt for so long. 

“You feel so good,” he whispered.

“No,” she replied.  “
We
feel this good.”  As she began
to gently rock her hips, he responded and seconds later the passion that had
been building between both for the last two days exploded in simultaneous
orgasms. 

They lay in each other’s arms an hour later.  Naked now, sated after
another less frantic lovemaking session, Anne cuddled contentedly.  She
was surprised by the passion of their lovemaking.  And she knew that
something monumental had happened.  She’d had a life changing
epiphany.  She loved Ryan. 

Ryan. 

Not his lottery money.  Not the chance at a job running his
foundation.   But the flesh, blood, synapses and dimples of Ryan
Magee.

She felt safe in his arms.  Protected in his arms.  At home in
his arms.

This man, she realized, was her soul mate.  She’d been a fool to
leave him.  The humiliating poverty of her childhood had skewed her
priorities, and seven years ago, when she bolted from that cramped studio
apartment, she made the biggest mistake of her life.

But now, somehow, she’d been given a second chance and she wasn’t going
to blow it.  She knew Ryan still loved her.  She saw it in his eyes,
the way he touched her, the way he made love to her.  Now she needed him
to realize what she now knew to be a cold hard fact; they belonged together.

Ryan propped himself up on an elbow, looked at Anne.  “You lied to
me,” Ryan said.

Fear rattled Anne.  “I did?”

“You promised no funny business.”     

Relief flooded Anne.  “If I’m not mistaken, you kissed me.  So,
from a strictly legal point of view, you were the funny business instigator and
I, the helpless victim.”

“There’s nothing helpless about you, baby,” he said kissing her. 

Okay, Anne thought.  Let’s see how he feels.  “Regrets?” Anne
asked. 

No, more like a revelation Ryan thought. 
Wanting
to be in
love with Syd was different than actually being in love.  Ryan cared
deeply about Syd, knew how much she loved him and wanted to love her back because
well, it would make Syd happy. 

But the depth of his affection for Syd didn’t compare to the feelings
suddenly unleashed in Ryan for Anne.  A giddy, intoxicating, euphoria he
forgot existed. 

“No regrets.” Ryan said.

Okay, then here goes, thought Anne.  “Leaving you was the stupidest
thing I’ve ever done.  I love you, Ryan.  I’ve always loved and I’ll
always love you.  If this was a revenge fuck, fine, I deserve it. 
But if it was more, if you feel the way I do, then please, take me back.”

There they were, the words Ryan wanted so desperately to hear in those misery
soaked months after Anne left him.  He’d fantasized about a midnight phone
call, a frantic knock on his door, an apology-filled email.  He checked
his cell phone obsessively hoping for
the
call.   

Then, slowly, his heart healed.  Albeit a cell at a time, the way
the body heals itself, and it took a long time.      

 But deep down, Ryan realized, he never stopped hoping that one day
he’d get that call, hear that knock, read that email.  And now, finally,
here it was.

Please, take me back.
 

He stared into Anne’s beautiful brown eyes, smiled “Welcome home.”

Anne squealed with delight, threw her arms around his neck and kissed
him.  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said, punctuating each
thank
you
with another kiss.  Then her fingers slid down his chest to his
understandably exhausted penis.  “Got anything left down there, big boy?”

Ryan laughed.  “Yeah, a full bladder.”  He slipped off the king
size bed.  “Be right back.”  He walked naked into the bathroom, closed
the door.

Anne fell back on the pillow nearly dizzy with joy.  Somehow she’d
turned Rick’s financial disaster and her own career debacle into a gold-plated
life with the only man she’d ever loved.  Life, go figure.

She heard the muffled sound of a cell phone vibrating.    She
scrambled across the bed to her purse, but her cell phone was silent. 

She heard another vibration from Ryan’s clothes piled on the floor. 
She climbed off the bed, dug through the clothes and found the phone in Ryan’s
jacket pocket.  She looked at the Caller ID, Syd.

Shit.   Anne did not want Ryan talking to her now. 

The phone vibrated again.

Anne turned the cell phone off, dropped it back into Ryan’s jacket then
leapt back into the bed.

Uh oh, Syd thought as she picked her way through traffic on the
northbound 405.  Ryan
always
picks up his phone.  
Possible exceptions: One, he’s already on the phone, and even though his phone
would beep and tell him he had an incoming call and identify it as Syd, he’s so
engrossed in the conversation he can’t possible pick up; two, he’s fucking the
shit out of that bitch; three, he’s dead. 

Well, Syd thought.  If it’s not one, and it is two, he’s going to
wish it was three.

His message came on, “Hi, this is Ryan Magee, sorry I missed your call. 
Please leave a message.”  

Syd thought about just hanging up, but there actually could be an
innocent reason for the call not going through, so she said, “Hey Ryan, it’s
me.  Three boys raped Alice that night: Colin, Adam and a guy named Blake Hunter. 
He lives in Malibu, 22756 Pacific Coast Highway.  It’s nine forty-five
now, I should be there in less than an hour.  Call me.”

She disconnected then refocused on her top priority.  The Lady in
Red.