She's Not There (27 page)

James despised New Year’s Eve, although tonight he’d enjoyed being with Claire. When he’d turned to her at midnight, she kissed him, but he’d felt the gulf between them.

That party—all those people dressed up like teenagers, pretending the year to come would be better than the last. Pathetic. He’d seen that smug bitch, Lisa Rayburn, dancing with big-shot Schindler, and censured himself once more for mistaking the Ventura woman for her.

Richard hadn’t wanted to come to Schindler’s party and James had seen him looking over his date’s shoulder for Ms. Peacock. Something about TJ had always rankled James. That whole bunch thought they knew how to investigate the missing women, but they had no proof of foul play. They’d done their meaningless little bit of damage. He was confident the police wouldn’t find anything new, so why let them get to him?

After he took Claire home–she didn’t ask him in anymore—he couldn’t unwind. His hatred of Lisa Rayburn and her band of pseudo-sleuths kept eating at him and the urge to resume his hobby was clinging to him like a cloak of leeches. He needed a new subject.

Risky or not, it had to be one of them.

On New Year’s Day the thermometer remained stuck at twenty below zero. TJ woke up lying on her stomach in a strange bed, the delectable smell of coffee and frying bacon summoning her from under the covers. Turning over, she remembered where she was and why.

She wondered if Jeff had left the bed because he’d been feeling a twinge or two of regret for the night before. The last thing she wanted was to complicate his life—or hers. Too late, though, she’d already done just that. Remembering, she smiled and decided she wouldn’t dissect it now, just enjoy. She stood, slipping into a white, terrycloth bathrobe she found at the foot of the bed.

He was setting the table for breakfast, and smiled when he saw her come into the kitchen. “I hated to leave you, but I was hungry. We never ate anything last night.” He took her in his arms and held her for a few seconds before giving her a lingering kiss. “Last night was wonderful.”

TJ read the question his eyes. He wanted her to agree, tell him they hadn’t made an impulsive mistake.

She smiled back at him. “Yeah, it was.” She held him, never wanting to let him go, but knew reality would soon intrude on their afterglow.

He broke the embrace. “I don’t want you to think I’m sorry about anything. I know this is happening too soon, but it’s not like either of us were planning it.”

Best to keep things light.
“Honey, I been plannin’ this since the day we met.”

Jeff laughed, pulling out a chair for her. “Sure you have.”

He served her half of a fluffy cheese omelet sided with bacon, toast, and orange juice. She picked up her fork.

Back at her apartment that night, TJ experienced that lovely, after-new-sex mood that made a woman feel all warm and tingly inside. But soon, thoughts of James Wilson dispelled her good spirits. Hate was an ugly thing and it was burrowing into her life like a maggot. She had to convince Lisa to up their timeline.

Jeff turned his energies onto his neglected home, wanting it looking its best for TJ. They’d agreed to take things slow, but he couldn’t wait to see her. She’d suggested a movie the next night, but it felt like weeks away.

He was surprised when the doorbell rang and walked to the door hoping it would be TJ surprising him. When he opened the door to James Wilson, he didn’t know what to think. “Mr. Wilson. What can I do for you?”

James Wilson stepped inside. “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I’ve been thinking about some of the things you and your friends talked about when we were at Eric Schindler’s place. There are a few questions I forgot to ask. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Sure. I’ll answer them if I can. Come on in.”

Wilson slipped his coat off and entered the room, taking a seat on the couch. “Nice place you have here.”

“Thanks. Can I get you something? A glass of wine? I have a bottle of merlot open.”

“Sure. Whatever you’re having.”

When he left the room, Wilson reached for Jeff’s glass, deftly adding a fine white powder to the dark-burgundy liquid.

Shortly after ten Monday morning, TJ’s cell phone rang as she was about to leave her apartment. She didn’t recognize the number on the small screen.

A deep male voice asked, “TJ?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t know me. My name is Jon Engel; I’m a friend of Jeff Denison.”

“Sure, Jeff talks about you.”

“This is probably nothing to get worried about, but—“

That spooky feeling crept up the back of her neck. “Probably nothing to worry about,” usually turned out to be something for which the word worry was an understatement.

 “Jeff’s supervisor called me because Jeff didn’t come into work today and didn’t call in. They tried his parents first, but I think they’re out of town. I know you’re a good friend of his, so I thought maybe you’d know why he isn’t at work. It’s not like Jeff to be a no-show without calling.”

It isn’t
. “No idea. I haven’t talked to him today.”

“I hope you don’t mind my calling; I looked up the number of your security business. I’m getting worried; he’s not answering either his cell or his landline. Maybe I should go over to his house and see if he’s there.”

Rivulets of fear trickled through her. “Do you have a key?”

“No. I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“I’m about twenty minutes away from Brookfield. I’ll drive over and check it out.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

TJ closed the phone and rushed out the door. 

It took her longer than she’d counted on to get to Brookfield. Getting out of downtown Milwaukee quickly was hopeless during winter. Stacked snow, heavy traffic, and road closures turned the area into a maze. Her fear for Jeff niggled at her, while visions of them together on New Year’s filled her thoughts. She didn’t know what the two of them were all about; she just knew that right now she needed him in her life. When she finally pulled up at Jeff’s townhouse, an extended-cab pickup was parked in the driveway. A tall red-haired man approached her as she got out of her car.

He held out his hand. “You must be TJ. I’m Jon Engel. Did you bring a key?”

“Nah. I have other resources.”

He shuffled from foot to foot in the frigid air and watched as TJ pulled out a small leather case. She selected a tiny silver tool and began working the lock on the front door. It didn’t take long until it opened; she’d warned Jeff his security was pitifully inadequate

Jon Engel frowned. “Maybe we should wait.”

“For what?”

“I think we should call the police. His car is in the garage. He could be injured—or sick.”

“Has he told you what we’ve been workin’ on?”

Engel froze in place. “You think something’s happened to him because of that?”

TJ read concern in his face, but nothing would keep her from entering the house. “I’m goin’ in.”

She stopped in the opened doorway. “Wait here. If this place turns out to be a crime scene, the fewer people in here the better.”

TJ edged into the foyer, letting the front door swing shut behind her. “Jeff? Jeff?”

The palpable silence drew her into the living room. An all too familiar smell permeated the warmth of the room, its presence in Jeff’s home a terrifying message of doom. TJ’s throat constricted as she entered the room, which appeared to be in order. She glanced at the recliner she’d slept in only two nights ago, the one she’d vacated to share her bed with Jeff. The memory of their lovemaking failed to dispel her fear.

She looked up to see the body of a man hanging suspended by the neck from the railing of the loft, the body dressed in Jeff’s clothes. TJ felt like she’d been hit in the stomach by a cannonball. Her knees buckled as she screamed, “No!”

It was too late for paramedics; Jeff’s face was the color of winter twilight.  Silent tears poured down her face as she collapsed to her knees, struggling to remind herself to respect the room as a crime scene. When her legs would support her again, she walked, sobbing, back into the winter air.

Jon Engel took her in his arms, drawing her away from the door.

She managed to croak, “Jeff’s dead,” then sobbed against his chest, fighting nausea, berating herself for not preventing Jeff’s murder. She wanted to scream out the name—James Wilson.

She hadn’t thought Wilson realized her suspicions. But what if he’d seen her following him? If he had, then Jeff’s death was on her.

Jon trembled against her, struggling to stay in control of his emotions. She had to get a grip on hers.

She wiped her face on her sleeve. “I have to call Maggie. She’s a detective we’ve been working with. And the Brookfield guys, too.” Her fingers fumbled for her cell phone, while her every instinct wanted to be back in the house, searching for evidence.

After the calls, she said, “Jon, don’t judge me for this, but I have to go back in.” She quickly explained that it appeared Jeff had committed suicide.  Before he could protest, she said, “I know he didn’t. Don’t know how much he’s told you, but we’ve all been in danger. I know he’s been murdered, but the police might not see it that way. I have to know if he—or someone else—left a note.”

Jon handed her a handkerchief. “Whatever you think. I’ll wait here for you.”

TJ entered the house.
It’s only a crime scene. It’s only a crime scene.
The repeated mantra kept her focused while she bent her head down, her eyes scanning the room for a note. Nothing. She hurried into Jeff’s office. The room was immaculate, but his laptop was open. She tapped the return with a fingernail and a Word screen opened. It was there—the note.

To my family and friends,

I’m sorry to leave you this way. I can no longer live with my guilt. Believe me, this is the best thing. TJ, I’ll miss you. Please try to understand.

Jeff

The note’s brevity would give it credulity with the police. They would assume the guilt he referred to would be an admission that he’d done something to Jamie. But TJ knew Jeff would never have left a note on his computer. To him, computers were machines; he wasn’t a gamer, an emailer, or social-site user. The electronic note had to have been Wilson’s idea.

As she turned to leave the room she saw the open door to the guest room where only two nights ago they’d made love, slept together, and discussed the future. She could feel his arms around her as they’d been that night, see his golden-brown eyes searching hers for shared feelings. God, she had to get out of here. She couldn’t be in the  house when the law arrived. Somehow, she’d have to convince them to test his keyboard for residue from rubber gloves. The bastard would have been way too careful to leave a print.

Lisa excused herself when Shannon tapped on her door, certain it wouldn’t be good news; Shannon had never interrupted her while she’d been with a client.

Shannon, her face tear-stained, pulled her into the conference room. “TJ just called. It’s Jeff—he’s dead. It looks like suicide.”

After the initial shock, Lisa’s first thought was, suicide—no way. But he could have slipped into a depression if his guilt about Jamie and his attraction to TJ pulled him over the edge. Or maybe that was just easier to imagine than the alternative—an alternative Lisa could have prevented if she hadn’t convinced TJ to give the police time before the two of them intervened. She wanted to scream and throw things, at the very least sit in a corner and cry. But Lisa had to stay calm. Hysteria and grief would have to wait. “TJ found him?”

“Yes, but a friend of Jeff’s was with her. She says she’s staying until the police leave. Maggie and David are there too.”

“I have to go to her. I’ll end this session and cancel the rest of my appointments.”

“I’ll make the calls for you. Go ahead and leave.”

On the drive to Brookfield, Lisa took out her phone. She normally didn’t use her phone as she drove, but there were calls that couldn’t wait. She tried Eric first. She told him the little she knew about what happened. “I’m headed there now.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Her next call was to Robert Bernstein. Since starting their interviews, Jeff had been in therapy with Bernstein. His answering service picked up and she left a message, explaining that it was an emergency.

Five minutes later, her cell phone rang. Glancing at the number, she saw it was Bernstein and pulled into a parking lot to take the call.

“Lisa? What’s wrong?”

“Jeff Denison is dead.”

“Good God! I’m so sorry.”

“I have to talk to you about it—call it a consult if you need to, but trust me—it’s important.” There was a pause while Bernstein considered the request.

“I have about twenty minutes between clients at one o’clock, if that’s enough time.”

“That’s perfect. What I need from you won’t take long.”

Filled with a sadness that was evolving to rage, Lisa moved back into traffic, all her instincts screaming that Jeff did not kill himself. That monster James Wilson had to be projecting his madness on them again. On TJ. He’d screwed it up once when he attacked TJ at that Mexican restaurant—actually, screwed up twice including Danielle Ventura.

He probably wanted to punish them for putting his freedom at risk. They’d been mistaken in thinking the pressure would be off them once the police opened an investigation.

Jeff’s street was filled with police cars; an emergency vehicle sat in the driveway. TJ, Maggie, and a tall man wearing wire-rimmed glasses were standing next to the van. TJ, her face streaked with tears and mascara, leaned against him. The three were red-eyed and clutching to-go cups of coffee.

She rushed over to TJ. “Honey, I’m so sorry.” She took her in her arms. Lisa felt hot tears travel down her cheeks and turn icy in the frigid air. She whispered, “You don’t think he did this, do you?”

With her lips against Lisa’s ear, TJ rasped, “I know he didn’t,” and broke the embrace.

Lisa took a deep breath. They had to talk before Eric arrived—and without Maggie and Jon.

TJ introduced Jon to Lisa. He held out his hand, smiling sadly. “I’ve heard so much about you. I wish we weren’t meeting because of this.”

TJ said, “Jon was staying with me till you got here. He’s going to try to get in touch with Jeff’s parents. They’re on a cruise somewhere.”

Jon left, promising to keep in touch and let them know what he found out about Jeff’s parents. They’d need to make arrangements for a service. TJ didn’t tell him that there would need to be an autopsy, and if anything suspicious were found, it would be days before his body was released to the family. That bad news could wait.

Maggie said, “I’m going to go in and find David. They haven’t told us much yet, and I haven’t been in since the tech crew arrived. TJ, why don’t you and Lisa sit in the car where it’s warm?”

Attempting to avoid the attention of the media, TJ and Lisa walked quickly to Lisa’s car. Lisa cranked up the heat. “I don’t think Jeff would do this either, but we have to consider the possibility.”

Nostrils flaring, TJ nearly shouted. “No! We won’t consider it.” She paused a moment. “There’s something I haven’t told you. New Year’s Eve—we slept together. And before you ask, no he wasn’t feeling all guilty. We talked about it, about us, and you know how I hate that. He was happy about everything.”

Lisa asked, “Your talk—what did you say to him?”

TJ shot her a dark look. “I didn’t tell him he was just another fuck if that’s what you’re thinking. We agreed to take things slow. We were going to a movie tonight, and . . .” she choked on the rest of what she was going to say and pulled a crumpled tissue out of her pocket.

“I’m only saying we need to be sure.”

TJ wiped her eyes. “Being sure don’t change anything. We still have to get Wilson. He did this.”

Lisa pulled a small box of tissues from the glove compartment. She took one out, and handed it to TJ just as Eric pulled up in front of them and got into the back seat of Lisa’s car.

He reached over and put his hands on TJ’s shoulders. “I know Jeff wouldn’t do this.”

TJ turned to him. “Tell me somethin’ I don’t know,” she said bitterly.

“Come home with me. I’ll give you something to calm you down and you can stay as long as you like. Lisa, I think you should come back too. And bring Shannon. I don’t like this. If we’re right about Jeff, we’re all still in danger.”

TJ acquiesced. “Okay, but we can’t leave here until we know if they’ve found anything. Gotta make sure they don’t just put this off as a suicide. I called Richard. He and his partner are going to be here any time now—talk some sense into these Brookfield cops if Maggie and David can’t.”

Eric’s suggestion that they move back in with him had given Lisa her out. “Eric, if you can stay with TJ, I’ll pick up Shannon. We’ll pack up and come out tonight.”