But the man ignores me as he continues to scramble to find his footing. There are only a few yards separating us now. I rush towards the wall, but my injured ankle finally gives out and I fall to the ground. The man doesn’t turn around. He takes this opportunity to propel himself over the wall and drop down onto the other side. I pull myself up from the ground, my clothes caked with the damp soil, petrichor permeating the fibers. I want to follow him, this man who breached the seclusion, the safety of our home, but I know that I won’t be able to catch up to him now, not with my ankle in this state. It’s throbbing now and I can feel the swelling growing beneath my skin, pulling it taught.
I’ve let Nicole down again. I couldn’t even protect us in our own home. I hobble back towards the cobblestone path heading towards the house. I’m pathetic. But I won’t be anymore. I can’t let this go on. I need to protect myself and my wife. I know Jeff told me to lay low, but I just can’t do it anymore. Not while my life is under siege. Besides, the more I think about it, the more certain I am that it was Jeff, my best friend, who I just caught leering at my wife when she thought she was safe and alone. I can’t be certain, but I do know that I don’t trust him right now. I’m going to need to handle this Layla situation my own way. After all, I’m the one that let it get out of hand in the first place.
Chapter 20
Vince
BEFORE
‘We can’t keep doing this,’ I say breathlessly as Layla’s lips pull away from mine. I can feel the velvety traces of her lipstick on my lips.
I gently disentangle her arms from around my waist. It’s late, and I’m fairly certain that we’re the last ones in the office, but I’m still worried that someone might walk in and see us together.
‘I know,’ she replies. She sounds disheartened but she doesn’t argue the obvious.
‘I’m married.’
‘I know that too. I didn’t mean for this … us … to happen.’
‘I didn’t either.’ I run my fingers through my hair as I fall back into my office chair. My head thrown back in frustration and longing.
These encounters with Layla have been happening more and more frequently over the last few weeks, since our first kiss on the Circle Line cruise. It may be in my head, but lately it feels like every time I turn around she’s there. Maybe I’m just noticing her more now, after what happened between us, but I can’t help but feel that her skirts have gotten shorter, her shirts clinging more closely to her curves. It seems that Layla is everywhere now. Biting her glossy lower lip and watching me with that seductive look of hers. It’s no wonder I can’t stop thinking about her. While I’m working, while I’m driving home to my wife, and while I’m alone in the shower. It hasn’t been easy to keep things from going further, from falling off the cliff that I’m standing perilously close to. But I know that I can’t.
Layla climbs onto my lap. Her skirt hiking up above her knees as her legs straddle mine. She kisses me long and deep.
‘Layla, don’t …’ I begin, but my protest doesn’t sound convincing even to me.
‘Listen, Vince. I know you’re married. I know you love your wife. I’m not expecting you to run off with me or anything. But I don’t think either of us can deny that there’s something here – a pull between us.’
She’s right. I feel a burning connection with her, a magnetic attraction that’s pulled me towards Layla since the first moment I saw her. We came together so easily, so naturally, that it was almost as if neither of us had a choice in the matter.
‘Besides,’ she adds with a coy smile. ‘No one ever has to know.’
Before I can continue with my half-hearted efforts to stop her, she reaches a hand between my legs and I feel my body surrender long before my mind has.
I know that I’m about to cross a line that I can never come back from, but in this moment all I can focus on is the feel of Layla’s wanting hands, the weight of her body on top of mine. I am overcome with need, a need for her, and I lift her off of my lap and sit her on my desk, her legs still wrapped around my waist. Her skirt is uselessly bunched around her hips and I run my fingers over her black, lace panties, the fabric smooth beneath my fingers. I’ve never touched her before. Not in this way. And it feels as if my private, forbidden thoughts of her over the last few weeks have materialized before my eyes. Layla writhes beneath my touch. She wants this as much as I do. I glance up at her and she gives me a mischievous smile as she grabs a fist full of my shirt and pulls me on top of her. All of the anticipation leading to this moment, the lingering glances, the stolen kisses, is boiling over now and I no longer have the power to stop what’s coming.
Chapter 21
Allison
DAY 4
My desk phone rings and I snatch it off of the receiver.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey, Barnes. It’s Keith down in evidence. I finished pulling the prints from that diary page you sent me. The only prints I could find belonged to the vic. But, I should warn you that pulling prints from paper isn’t always an exact science. Sometimes they’re hard to lift because of the texture of the paper. I can’t say for certainty that no one else ever touched this page. All I can tell you is that only the victim’s prints are identifiable on it right now.’
‘Thanks, Keith. I appreciate it,’ I say as I end the call. Damn. That missing page was helpful in showing that Vince’s relationship with Layla was more involved than he wanted us to believe, but it didn’t bring us any closer to proving that he was responsible for her death. I know Vince Taylor lied to me about where he was the night Layla died. I just know it. I don’t care that his security records show that he was at his office. I’m not buying it.
I walk over to Lanner’s desk and find him half-way through a fried chicken sandwich.
‘What’s up?’ he asks, his cheek stuffed with food.
‘Only Layla’s prints were on that new diary page.’
‘Damn. I was hoping we’d find Taylor’s, to be honest. It would make this case a whole lot easier to wrap up.’
‘Sure would. I know he was involved somehow.’
‘Barnes, I know you’ve got good instincts, but do you think we’ve been too focused on Taylor?’
‘I don’t think so. My gut is telling me we’re on the right track with him. But I think you have a point. We need to consider all angles. Let’s go over what we have so far.’
Lanner nods. ‘Kinnon went through the vic’s phone when it was first found on her body. That’s how he got in contact with the neighbor, Mindy. But there wasn’t much on it. She has the Friend Connect app, but her login info wasn’t saved so he couldn’t access the account. Doesn’t look like she was too active on it anyway. I checked out her public info. From what I can tell, she only joined up once she started at KitzTech and she’s only connected with the other KitzTech interns.’
‘Guess I’m not the only one that doesn’t care about Friend Connect then. Anything else on the phone?’
‘There were a couple of texts back and forth with Mindy, making plans to get drinks and stuff like that. There were a few with co-workers about work-related stuff too. Nothing useful. I did find it a little odd though. Most people her age communicate solely through texts. I expected to find a lot more.’
‘She was new to the city. Maybe she hadn’t made many friends yet.’
‘Right, but she didn’t keep in touch with a single person from back home? Looks like she bought this phone once she moved to New York and there’s not a single text, call, or e-mail from anyone she didn’t meet here.’
‘Mindy did say Layla wanted a clean slate,’ I respond with a shrug. ‘What else have we got?’
‘Nothing useful came from the CCTV footage we pulled from the areas around Central Park. IT just finished with her laptop this morning. I haven’t gotten the report yet though.’
‘Let’s call down and see what they’ve got.’
I punch the extension for the IT department. Stu picks up on the first ring.
‘Stu Fr
inge here. How can I help ya?’
Stu is incredible at his job. He’s helped us out on countless cases. If there is anything hiding on Layla’s laptop, I have no doubt he will have found it. Although Stu couldn’t be less ‘cool’ with his unwieldy red hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and slight lisp, I secretly suspect that Lanner is jealous of his tech skills. Personally I think it sounds like Stu is speaking a foreign language every time he discusses his findings with me, my eyes glazing over within seconds, but I do appreciate that he’s always polite enough to break the information down into layman’s terms for me without judgment.
‘Hey, Stu. It’s Barnes and Lanner. Calling to see what you found on that laptop we sent over on the Bosch case.’
‘Oh, hi, guys! Truthfully I didn’t find much. I suspect she bought this laptop second-hand. First of all, it’s like, not the best. The processor is still running on … right. You don’t care about all that. Anyway, it looks like the hard drive was wiped clean about six months ago. Probably when she bought it. There wasn’t anything personal on it. No photos, contacts, that sort of thing. Looks like she mostly just used it for work and job applications. She did, like, a lot of research on KitzTech and Vince Taylor. Her browsing history is all KitzTech related. One weird thing though – seems like she watched a ton of videos about software programming.’
‘Why is that weird?’ I ask. ‘Wasn’t that her job?’
‘Well, yeah, but do you have any idea how competitive those internships at KitzTech are? They only take on the best programmers from the best colleges. Not someone that has to look up basic coding on YouTube, if you know what I mean.’
‘Interesting. Thanks, Stu. Very helpful as usual.’
‘Happy to help. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you guys!’
I end the call and turn towards Lanner who is looking at me expectantly.
‘What do you make of that?’ he asks. ‘Seems like Layla lied on her job application to KitzTech.’
‘Or … she and Vince were already involved before she ever started at KitzTech and he gave her the job to keep her close by. Either way, one of them is lying, and we need to figure out who it is.’
By the time I get home I’m bone tired. I push through the door to my apartment and I’m greeted with a gust of warm air. How does it feel even hotter in here than it does outside? The air is so thick with humidity that I feel like I’m walking through fog. I can hear the window air conditioning unit chugging away, but it’s clearly losing this battle. Josh and I have named it ‘The Dinosaur’ both because of its age and the way it sounds like it’s roaring whenever it’s on. The damn thing is so loud that we often have to choose between watching TV or living in tolerable conditions.
I toss my keys onto the counter of the small efficiency kitchen that is just beside the door. I notice rogue grains of rice stuck to the stovetop. I guess Josh did some cooking today.
‘Rough day?’ Josh asks. He’s leaning back into the couch, legs spread, shirt off. I can see the sweat beading at his temples. He must have only just turned on The Dinosaur.
‘Very.’ I pull off my shoes and chuck them aside. I begin stripping out of my work clothes before I even make it into our minuscule bedroom. The apartment was once a studio, but in a ploy to charge more rent, the landlords erected a flimsy wall to cordon off a corner of the room and called it a one-bedroom. It’s so small that Josh keeps his clothes in the coat closet. There’s not enough room for two dressers in the bedroom.
To be fair, when I rented this place, I thought I’d be living here alone, and it seemed like more than enough for just me. Meeting Josh was an unexpected development. After Mark, the last asshole I dated, I swore off men for the foreseeable future. I wanted to focus on my career, on myself. But then I happened to meet Josh purely by chance.
It was one of the rare occasions that I let Lanner talk me into going out for a Friday happy hour with some of the guys from the station. I usually hate those things. They all get so drunk and rowdy. Meanwhile, when I drink, I tend to grow quiet. I withdraw into myself and I end up just feeling displaced, as if I’m watching the party pass me by. I see everyone smiling, letting loose, but I’ve never been able to let myself go in that way. I hate feeling out of control. But on that particular night it was someone’s birthday, not that I can recall whose, and I had agreed to tag along to some crappy dive bar near the station. I only planned on staying for a drink or two, but two drinks soon turned into three, then maybe four, and by then I’d had enough. I stumbled out onto the sidewalk, annoyed at myself for getting drunk when I hadn’t intended to. It was bitterly cold, and I wrapped my coat tightly around myself, bracing myself against the wind that was whipping around me. In the distance I could hear the familiar bells of the Salvation Army Santas collecting donations. The streetlights were wrapped in spiraling red and white lights making them look like over-sized candy canes. I stuck my hand into the frigid wind to hail a passing cab, but the driver either didn’t see me or chose to ignore the drunk woman needing a ride home.
‘Need a hand?’ said a broad-shouldered man with a wide grin and deep brown eyes.
‘No, I think I know how to hail a cab.’
‘Could have fooled me,’ he replied, his crooked smile growing even wider.
‘Very funny.’ I raised my hand again, but yet another cab sped by. ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’
The man laughed. ‘I’m Josh.’
‘Allison.’
Josh stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, an ear-splitting sound that seemed to reverberate off of the brick buildings lining the street around us. He raised his other hand into the air, and within a matter of seconds, a yellow cab pulled over to the curb, its tires crunching on the graying snow mounded along the edge of the road.
‘You got lucky,’ I said.
‘Whatever you say …’ Josh teased, shrugging his shoulders.
‘Well, go on then, get in,’ I told him.
‘No, this one was for you. Unless … where are you headed? Maybe we can split the fare?’
‘Brooklyn.’
‘Me too.’
We slid into the back of the cab that smelled distantly of cigarette smoke and body odor, but the interior was warm and it was a welcome reprieve from the icy air outside.
Josh sat next to me on the leather bench seat, his legs spread confidently. I noticed that his thigh grazed mine, but I couldn’t be sure if it was intentional or not. Josh hummed to himself as the cab crawled through the tight roads of Manhattan. What an annoying habit, I thought, but as I cast a sideways glance in his direction he looked genuinely happy, humming along with the radio and tapping his knee in time to the beat. Unlike me, Josh seemed confident and unapologetic about who he was and where he fit into the world. The cab picked up speed as we made our way out of the city and into Brooklyn.
‘So,’ Josh finally said. ‘What’s your story?’
‘What story?’
‘Like, what do you do, for starters?’
‘I’m a cop.’
‘No kidding?’ His voice sounded both surprised and impressed.
‘Nope. Definitely not kidding.’
‘Well, that’s pretty badass.’
‘Thanks.’ I paused for a moment. I never know how men are going to react to the news that I’m a cop. Some find it intimidating I think, while others make tasteless jokes about whether I get to take my handcuffs home. Not that I date much, but when I have, I’ve found that as soon as the topic of my career comes up, the tone of the evening changes immediately, one way or another. But this time was different. Josh seemed so casual about it, as though the idea of a reasonably attractive female cop wasn’t beyond the pale of his limited male imagination.
‘What about you?’ I asked.
‘I’m a personal trainer. But not for long. I’m opening my own gym. Ever heard of CrossFit?’
‘Yeah, of course.’
‘It’s going to be something like that. More of a workout club than a gym wher
e the trainers will create daily workout challenges and our members will feel a sense of community. I think it keeps the momentum going, ya know? We’ll play cool music, hype it up on social media. My gym is going to be the place everyone wants to be. I’m calling it Lift.’
‘Sounds really cool,’ I replied, even though I hate the gym, and that one sounded particularly off-putting to me. I keep myself in shape, but I prefer to work out at home or run on my own with only my headphones to keep me company. But the way Josh’s face lit up when he spoke of his plans, the bare ambition in his voice, was undeniably attractive. Maybe there’s more to this guy than the cute smile, I thought. And it was pretty cute.
‘Thanks,’ Josh said. He was beaming.
As the cab pulled up in front of my building, Josh suddenly seemed shy. ‘So … do you think I could get your number?’
‘Really?’ I asked. I was surprised to hear him ask. He just seemed like one of those friendly people who talk to everyone they meet. I hadn’t realized he was interested in me that way.
‘Yes, really.’
‘Oh, okay then.’
I gave him my number and he promised to call soon. He in fact called the very next morning.
That was over a year ago. And Josh is still just as positive and happy as he was the day I met him. I think he’s good for me. He reminds me to get out of my own head sometimes.
I walk out of our bedroom in a pair of cotton shorts and one of Josh’s Lift shirts that hangs loose on me.
‘That shirt looks good on you,’ Josh says with a coy smile.
‘Thanks.’ I flop down on the couch next to him.
‘Hang on,’ Josh tells me as he jumps up off the couch. He walks into the kitchen and pulls open the refrigerator. I hear the glass jars of jelly, salad dressing, and mayonnaise lined up on the door rattling as he does so. I poke my head over the back of the couch to see what he’s up to, and I watch him pull out a bottle of white wine and twist off the foil top. He pours us each a portion into plastic cups.
The Guilty Husband Page 10