by Laura Wolfe
“She has a younger sister, Caroline Ramsay.” His eyes widened. “Holy crap! Look at her rap sheet.”
I edged closer, but Ethan’s shoulder blocked the screen.
“Assault, Reckless Endangerment, Public Indecency.” He said each word under his breath.
I grit my teeth but shook my head. “Beth mentioned her sister struggled with drugs. She’s changed her life around, though. She graduated from cosmetology school and lives in Ohio.”
“Yeah. That could be true. Her last arrest was almost two years ago.” Ethan straightened his shoulders. “Let’s do a simple Google search on Joe.” His fingers clicked across the keys. “Wow.”
“What?”
He turned the screen toward me, and I lost my breath. Dozens of images of oil paintings formed a mosaic across the screen. The brightly colored natural landscapes popped as if painted in 3D.
“Beautiful,” I said. I’d never seen any of Joe’s artwork other than the thumbprint image on his business card.
“This is Joe’s website.” Ethan reclaimed the screen. “I guess he has some talent.”
I exhaled, relieved my reckless decision to rent the apartment to Joe hadn’t put anyone in danger. He was a real artist with no criminal record. The storage closet was probably filled with his art supplies just as he’d told me, not kidnapped women who he planned to murder. Still, it didn’t explain his unusual midnight excursions.
“Holy shit.”
“Ethan!”
“Sorry.” Ethan’s eyes darted back and forth, reading frantically. “Look at this article.”
I stepped behind him and took in the words.
Royal Oak Woman Named Person-of-Interest in Death of Husband.
My arms dropped to my sides as if my hands were attached to anchors. An image of Beth and her late husband appeared just below the headline, but the person in the photo barely resembled the Beth I knew. It was a wedding photo. Her hair was blonde and flowing, she wore heavy makeup around her eyes and an elegant white dress. A tall, handsome man in a tuxedo stood next to her, his arm draped over her shoulder. I shuddered, although I didn’t have the faintest idea why. Beth had told me about this already. Nevertheless, I couldn’t stop my eyes from swallowing the words.
Jason McCormack (33), a rising star in the financial investment industry, died Saturday afternoon after falling from a privately owned 130-ft yacht into the frigid waters of Lake Huron. While the official cause of death has been identified as drowning, police are investigating whether McCormack fell overboard accidentally, or whether he may have been pushed. The coroner reported a blood-alcohol level of .18, indicating that McCormack had been drinking heavily prior to his fall. A small amount of blood discovered on the back of the boat suggests McCormack may have hit his head on his way into the water.
The exact time of McCormack’s death is unknown. Passengers stated they’d gathered for lunch inside the upper cabin where loud music was playing, preventing them from hearing anything unusual. McCormack wasn’t discovered missing until after the boat had docked at Lakewood Marina in Port Huron. A search and rescue team was immediately dispatched and his body was discovered six hours later.
McCormack’s wife, Elizabeth, was on board and was questioned as a person of interest before being released. She stated that she was in the upper cabin when her husband fell. Other passengers have accounted for her whereabouts. The couple had recently reunited after a brief separation. According to a family friend, Robert Langdon, they were “loving and happy toward each other.” Police will further question Elizabeth, which is the normal course of action in cases where one spouse has died under suspicious circumstances. Additionally, Elizabeth had been named as the sole beneficiary on a $2 million life insurance policy recently purchased by her late husband.
The owner of the yacht, Conway Stratton, was an investor in McCormack’s financial fund and is also being questioned.
I stepped back: $2 million? Beth hadn’t mentioned anything about an insurance payout. She’d paid me in cash, but she certainly lived frugally. Maybe she’d stashed the money away for a rainy day or donated it to the less fortunate.
Leaning forward, I squeezed Ethan’s shoulder. “This isn’t a surprise. Beth was very open with me about her husband’s death. On the very first day we met she told me her husband drowned in a boating accident.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes at the screen. “Look at these comments.”
I squinted at the words, acid rising in my throat as I read the horrible words underneath the article.
He fell off a boat? Yeah right. The wife is SO guilty!
I guess someone wanted to cash in on life insurance.
It’s ALWAYS the spouse. Police, do your job!
I turned toward Ethan. “Who are these people?”
Ethan shrugged. “Anyone can leave comments on these online articles.”
“Well, I don’t think these people know what they’re talking about. Beth said everyone, even her friends, suspected her. She was cleared, though. That’s why she decided to buy a tiny house and move to a new town.”
“Why did she change her appearance?”
“To get a fresh start, I suppose. Also, her husband was the one who told her to dye her hair blonde.” I examined Jason McCormack’s photo on the web page again. “Just between you and me, he didn’t sound like the nicest man. I’m glad she’s back to her natural color.”
Ethan ignored me and typed something on the keyboard, his head hovering inches above the screen. “You’re right.” He wiped the perspiration from his forehead. “She was cleared.”
I peered over Ethan’s shoulder. A different article spread across the screen.
Death of Successful Financier Ruled an Accident.
The article described how Beth’s whereabouts had been accounted for during the cruise, and how Jason had wandered toward the back of the boat where the railing ended to smoke a cigarette over the water. The police concluded that his actions, paired with his excessive drinking and the violent waves on the lake that day, had resulted in his tragic death. No foul play involved.
I nodded my approval at the article. “Maybe we need to stop worrying about Beth and start worrying about catching Amanda’s killer.”
Ethan closed his laptop.
“Let’s get down to the police station. I bet Beth is there. I’ll tell the detective Amanda used to rent my apartment. They might want to search it for clues.”
Ethan stood. “Okay. Yeah. This is crazy.”
We looked at each other, and his eyes wavered with the same watery depth as when I’d dropped him off for his first day of kindergarten. I was more thankful than ever that he was back home.
He strode toward the door. “Let’s go.”
I scooped up Rascal and put him inside his crate, turning a deaf ear to my puppy’s high-pitched cries. It was harder to ignore the shaking of my fingers as I secured the metal latch.
Twenty-Four
Elizabeth
Before
“You’re wrong about me, you know?” Caroline dragged her suitcase toward the front door. “I haven’t been doing drugs. I don’t need to go back to rehab.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. My heart wrenched for my sister. I wanted to believe her.
“I’m sorry, Caroline. I just want what’s best for you.” I stepped forward to hug her, but she pulled away, leaving me teetering over an empty space.
It had been two days since the mobster had been lurking around the house. That same night, Caroline hadn’t returned home. I’d paced the hallways, checking the multiple texts I’d sent to her. She hadn’t responded. I’d been terrified by the possible horrors that could have befallen her. By yesterday morning I’d been ready to call the police. She’d stumbled through the door, her normally shiny hair sticking out in all directions, and long sleeves covering her arms despite temperatures in the eighties.
“Let me see your arms,” I’d said.
“Screw you.” Caroline stomped past me toward the guest room.
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br /> “Where are my rings?” I screamed at her through my sleepless haze.
“Hell if I know.” Caroline slammed the door.
I’d had enough. Jason had been there for me, talking through everything on the phone, listening. He agreed that I had too much on my plate. I could no longer balance salvaging our marriage, nurturing my unborn baby, maintaining my career, and babysitting my irresponsible twenty-five-year-old sister. He was worried about my safety, but we decided it was best not to call the police. Jason insisted on moving back home so he could protect me and the baby from the mobster, should he return. We didn’t want to implicate my sister in whatever shady scheme she and her new lowlife friends had gotten themselves involved in. Besides, Caroline didn’t need jail time. She’d been down that road before and it had only made things worse. It was best to get her out of town and into a treatment center. Last night, I’d pressed Mom’s cell number on my phone and asked her to come and pick up Caroline.
Now, Dad stood next to me in the foyer, rocking his weight from foot to foot. Mom exited the bathroom, a frown pulling down her tanned face. Their cruise ship had already docked the day before but they still had to cut their trip a day short.
“You did the right thing, Lizzie,” Dad said after Caroline had reached the car. “We need to get her away from this Josh fellow.”
Mom tipped her head back and sighed. “We’ll take care of Caroline. Her doctor will be able to sort this out. I’m just glad you and Jason are getting back together.”
Dad kicked the ground and grunted. I wondered if he’d ever sit in the same room as Jason again.
“We’re taking things slowly. It’s a trial period.” I glanced at Dad. “I’ll keep you updated on the baby,” I added, attempting to turn the conversation to a happy subject.
“Please do,” Mom said.
We hugged and made our way outside. They climbed into their minivan. I waved as they drove away. Caroline only stared out the window at me, her eyes swimming with anger.
Later that afternoon, I motioned toward the beige walls of the nursery. “Looks like we better start painting.”
“We’ll hire someone.” Jason massaged my shoulders. “You shouldn’t breathe those fumes. We need to pick out a color.”
He held my hand as we strolled into the master bedroom, his touch sending an intoxicating jolt through me.
“Wow. This looks different.” Jason surveyed our altered room.
“I rearranged it. You know… for obvious reasons.” Despite my agreement to let Jason move back in, my anger surfaced at unexpected moments. He would have to earn my trust over months and years, not days, and I wouldn’t hesitate to remind him of the pain he’d caused. The day after our date night at the French bistro, we’d completed another session with Dr. Brennan where we’d told her about the missing rings and expressed concern about Caroline living with me. Dr. Brennan agreed it was a good time for Jason to move back in, at least on a trial basis. The sessions with the psychologist had helped, but only time would tell if he’d really changed.
“Sorry, babe.” He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed. “I’m sorry I put you through all of this.”
“I know. And I’m sorry I threw away all your clothes.”
“And my watch.” Jason’s mouth formed into a lopsided smile.
“Yeah. That, too.”
“I’m going to run down and bring up a load of clothes from the car,” Jason said.
“Do you want me to help?” I asked.
“What? No. You shouldn’t be lifting anything.”
We’d spent the previous hour back at Dr. Brennan’s office, opening up and sharing our feelings. She suggested that we plan regular dates together, maybe even a vacation. She promised these shared experiences would strengthen the foundation of our marriage. Even a weekend getaway would give us the time to focus on our relationship away from our everyday stresses.
“Relationships are often tested once a baby arrives,” she’d said, a dire look in her eyes.
We’d agreed to plan a fun outing, something we wouldn’t normally do. We’d only begun talking about our hopes for the future when the hour was up. Lydia had been right; Dr. Brennan was a lifesaver. In the span of only a few weeks I’d gone from losing everything, spinning in a freefall off a cliff, to landing unexpectedly back onto the secure foothold of my family and my dreams of the future. Imperfect as our marriage was, at least it was truthful.
I waited on the bed as Jason returned with an armful of suits, shirts, and pants. He hung them on the empty side of the closet.
“I ordered some new shoes and belts online. They should be arriving in the next few days.”
“Okay.” I wondered how mad he really was about me trashing his belongings. I got up and looped my arm through his. “I was thinking about what Dr. Brennan said. It would be fun to plan a vacation. Maybe we could fly somewhere for a weekend?”
“Yeah.” He wrapped his solid arms around me again. “We should definitely do that.”
“Any ideas?”
“Maybe California? Or up north?” A smile stretched across his face. “I know. One of my investors has a yacht. It’s sick. Like, 130 feet or something. Maybe he’ll take us out for a cruise.”
“Where?” I asked.
“He docks it on Lake Huron. We could make a weekend trip out of it. Let me talk to him.”
“Okay.” My palm rested on my belly. A cruise sounded fun, although I wondered how my nausea would hold up on a boat.
“By the way, I bought something else.” He led me over to the bed where we sat down. “For you.” Jason reached in his pocket and pulled out a tiny square box. He opened the lid, revealing a massive diamond set on a silver band. Next to it sat another ring encrusted in tiny diamonds. “Since we don’t know what happened to your other rings, at least not for sure, maybe it’s better to start fresh.”
“Oh my God.” My hand shielded my gaping mouth. I’d never seen a diamond so enormous, so beautiful. I ignored the familiar tightening of the knot in my stomach, the one that worried about how much it had cost, and whether we could afford it. A smart remark about whether he’d bought the same rings for his girlfriend balanced on my tongue, but I swallowed the words, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Jason nudged me. “Put them on.”
My hands quivered as I removed the rings from the box and forced them over my knuckle onto my ring finger. They were tight, probably because of the pregnancy weight. I held up my hand, admiring the way the light reflected off the precision cuts in the gems. “They’re gorgeous,” I said.
Jason leaned in and we kissed. He pulled me closer. “I love you,” he whispered into my ear.
“I love you, too.” My hand caressed his back as I tried to ignore the way the silver bands cut into my finger.
Twenty-Five
Gloria
Now
I followed Ethan across the steaming asphalt toward the police station. Beth’s red pickup truck was already parked in the far corner of the lot. My shoulders loosened and I looked at Ethan.
“That’s what I thought. She’s already here.”
Ethan stared at the truck and nodded. He opened the glass door to the nondescript beige building and ushered me into the lobby. The smell of burned coffee and stale cigarettes filled my throat. We approached the front desk, my stomach bubbling with nerves.
“Can I help you?” asked a woman with a gap in her front teeth and severely cut bangs.
Ethan stepped in front of me, his fingers tapping on the counter. “Yes. My name is Ethan Flass. We’re looking for our friend, Beth Ramsay.”
“Oh.” The woman puckered her lips. “She’s speaking to the detective. You’ll have to wait.”
I stepped forward. “I also have some information I’d like to give to the detective. It’s related to Amanda Jenkins, the woman who was just found. She used to rent my garage apartment. That was over six months ago, but you never know what clue might help solve a case.”
The receptionist
twisted her mouth to the side. “I’ll let the detective know. Would you two like some coffee?”
“No, thank you.” I made a face at Ethan. I couldn’t imagine anything less helpful than filling up on caffeine just as I struggled to get my heart rate under control.
We sat in seats against the wall. I clutched my purse in my lap as the receptionist ogled us from behind her desk. She only averted her eyes when I stared right back at her.
A moment later, a portly man with a balding head opened the door of a side room. He wore a white button-down shirt and a tie the color of untilled soil. The receptionist whispered something to him, and I presumed he was the detective in charge. He glanced toward me and nodded. Then he ducked back into the room.
Beth’s eyes were rimmed with red, her face puffy. She stared at the ground as she stumbled back toward the lobby. It took a second for her to notice us standing there.
“Ethan? Gloria?” She rushed toward us and embraced me. “This is horrible.”
“We were looking for you this morning.”
“I just saw your text,” Beth said.
Ethan leaned in close to her. “I’m sorry about your friend.”
Beth bit her lower lip and nodded. She tugged on her sleeves and looked as if she might burst into tears again. “I drove straight here when I saw the news. I’m sorry. I should have stopped by your house first. I was in a panic.”
“It’s okay.” I patted her shoulder, remembering how she hadn’t been sleeping well.
“Gloria Flass?”
We turned our heads toward the deep voice that boomed through the room. The detective stood in the doorway, his thumb hooked over his belt.
I stood and approached the man, eager to assist with the investigation.
Beth stepped in front of me. “Gloria. What are you doing?”