“You piece of shit. You goddamned piece of shit.” Scott was leaning over the wheelchair. His face two inches from his father’s face. Nose to nose.
Ray grabbed Scott by the elbow and pulled him back.
Scott whirled around and snarled, “You stay out of this. This is family business.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Meryl muscled herself between Ray and Scott.
“Fuck this!” Scott yelled. He sprinted over to his table, said something to Christie and Mandy—they stood up, retrieved their coats, and walked out of the barn with him.
“What was that all about?” Meryl demanded. “Does this have something to do with that case you were working on?”
The music was blaring and I wasn’t sure if Meryl was raising her voice to get above the thumping bass notes or if she was incensed. Her expression was more aghast than angry. I led Meryl away from Stanley and from the corner of my eye, I saw Lori rushing toward us. I moved toward the entrance, away from the loudspeakers. Lori caught up with us near the seating-cards table.
“What just happened there?” Meryl asked. Her voice quieter, but definitely oozing indignation.
“What’s going on?” Lori asked.
“I think this has something to do with the Trudy Solomon case,” Meryl said. “Am I right?”
I thought to myself, just tell them, Susan. Lay it all on the line. “I’m sorry. I can’t get into it with you right now. But new evidence has come to light that, um, implicates, um . . . your parents.”
“I thought you found Trudy. I thought you said nothing happened to her,” Meryl said.
“I never said that,” I said. “She’s alive, but in the course of our investigation, we uncovered . . . well . . . other things.”
“Other things? Is that police jargon?” Meryl’s voice ratcheted up a hair more. “I want to know what you think my parents did.”
“Is this why you got in touch with us, Susan?” Lori asked. “Is this why you accepted the invitation? To dig up dirt?”
“I . . . I . . . ” That phrase—at a loss for words—popped into my head. Or maybe it was more like a deer in headlights. Either way, I felt cornered. “No . . . and yes. I first turned down the invitation, because we were knee-deep in this investigation. But new information came to light last week, and I was actually excited about the prospect to see you all again, and so¾”
“This was my idea.” Ray suddenly appeared at my side. “I’m the lead detective on another case that intersects with the Trudy Solomon case.”
I glanced up and saw Rachel making her way toward us. Great.
Rachel directed her ire at me. “What’s going on here? Stanley nearly had a heart attack. I thought you said you were done harassing my family? You said you were closing all lines of inquiry.”
“Mrs. Roth—” Ray began.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Ray—”
Rachel held up her hand, palm flat, as though she was being sworn into office. “Actually, I don’t care who you are. I think it’s time you both leave.”
THE COATROOM was on the far side of the barn, to the right of the entrance. While Ray headed off in that direction, I hurried over to Table 6.
“Where was Rachel sitting?” I asked the lone man at the table.
He pointed to the empty chair next to him. I picked up a discarded napkin.
“Thank you,” I said, gingerly picking up the lipstick-stained, empty wineglass positioned in front of the half-eaten dessert. I wrapped the glass in the napkin and made for the exit.
Trudy
Trudy removed the panties she was wearing and tossed them into a laundry basket filled with other dirty clothing. She opened her top dresser drawer and took out a clean pair of underwear, then hurried back to her bed and slid underneath the covers. She reached toward her toes and inserted a foot in each opening. She slowly inched the panties up from her ankles to her thighs, then stopped abruptly when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Is that him? Is he back? A deep moan escaped as she tried to catch her breath. Trudy slowly sat up and leaned her head against the headboard. She smoothed her hand over her nightgown, tugging at it until it covered her knees. Then she quietly sobbed into her curled fists.
A rap at the slightly opened door startled her.
“Is everything okay in there?” Dr. Meadows asked.
That wasn’t his voice, she thought. She quieted her cries, hoping whoever it was would go away. But the tears continued to flow and her breathing picked up pace, betraying her resolve to remain silent.
“Trudy? Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she croaked. “Please leave me alone.” She glanced up at the door. She couldn’t see the room number, but she remembered: 226.
“Trudy?” The man said as he slipped into the room.
Trudy blinked furiously in an attempt to clear the tears. Before her stood Scott Roth. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her nightgown tighter around her thighs.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Dr. Meadows asked.
Trudy shook her head. Scott was gone. “He told me to shut up. He told me I can’t tell anyone. Or else.”
“Or else what, Trudy?”
Trudy remained silent. Rocked back and forth, her nightgown tight around her thighs.
“Whoever he was, he’s gone now. And he’s not coming back,” Dr. Meadows said, attempting to cajole Trudy back to the present. “Shall I call a nurse to stay with you?”
“You just saw him, didn’t you? Crossing the skybridge.”
“He’s no longer here. He can’t hurt you.”
“I can’t tell anyone—” She pressed her lips tight.
“Trudy, Nurse Mann is here now. You’re safe.”
The tears started up again.
35
Monday, December 10, 2018
“SUSAN. It’s Meryl. Please call me when you get a chance. We need to talk.”
I replayed the voice-mail message for Ray.
“I’ll call her later this afternoon.”
“Why the wait?”
“Maybe by then I’ll have the fingerprint results. Detective Flannery said I’d get them later this afternoon. If the prints we lifted off Rachel’s wineglass match the latent prints lifted from Trudy’s apartment, at least we’ll have some concrete evidence to prove we aren’t barking up the wrong tree. I just want to know if there’s a match before I call her . . . in case she accuses me of harassing her family for no good reason.”
“Gotcha.”
“And I’d like Dad in on the call.”
“What about Stanley’s fingerprints?”
“I couldn’t figure out which glass was his. But his prints showed up on AFIS because he was involved in the racino. State law requires all people working at gambling operations to ink and press. I sent those to Flannery as well.”
Ray stared at my whiteboards.
“Where are you on the Renee Carter case?” I asked.
“We’re just wrapping up. The case seems pretty straightforward—David sent Panda to do his dirty work. Panda enlisted Lenny’s help. He confessed to his sister about killing Renee. We know Lenny gave the kid to Ben, who in turn gave him to his sister, Joyce.” Ray downed the rest of his coffee. “And we got the gun.”
“Will there be a search for Jake's birth parents? I mean, it’s quite possible they put David up to this, no?”
“We closed the case, Susan. Eldridge told me to put it on the back burner. You know we ran his DNA through our database and nothing came up. It would be a huge undertaking to try and find whoever David brokered babies for back then. Besides, didn’t you say that Jake is doing his own DNA sleuthing? If he finds something, I can revisit the idea.”
I got the message loud and clear, and backed off. Ray had enough on his plate with current cases. Resources were tight. We had to pick and choose our battles. Last week’s murder of a twelve-year-old girl was foremost on Ray’s mind. This baby business was yesterday’s news. Hashtag WhoIsBabyDoe no longer trending.
AT FOUR o’clock, on my way to Horizon Meadows, I got the call I’d been waiting for. Detective John Flannery confirmed that the fingerprints on the purloined wineglass were a match to fingerprints the Waltham police lifted from the inside doorknob. Even more damning, the fingerprints on the counter were inches from the knife block. Of course, it was possible Rachel was in that apartment just prior to the murder, said her piece, and left. But why would she lie and say Stanley went to see Ed on the day he was murdered? And in the process, give herself an alibi? I’d seen my fair share of cases where guilty people find someone they can pin the blame on. Especially when that someone else was unable to speak or defend themselves, let alone remember what they ate for breakfast. There was no evidence of Stanley being in that apartment. Sure, he could have been wearing gloves, but it was July. And with the evidence suggesting the murder was spur-of-the-moment, the chance of him having gloves handy fell into the slim-to-none column. Then there was the stabbing trajectory—Rachel was about three inches shorter than Ed. Everything pointed to her.
I had texted Meryl a few hours earlier to let her know I would call her when I got home at five o’clock. Ray wanted to listen in on the phone call, so I needed enough time to pick up Dad, drive home, and settle my nerves with a glass of wine before hearing what it was Meryl wanted to tell me. I was fairly sure I was going to get an ear load about ruining the party. But all I thought about was what I planned to unload on her.
Ray’s Jeep was not in the driveway. In its place: a silver Audi. When I killed the ignition, both the driver-side and passenger-side doors to the silver Audi swung open. The guys from the bar? I glanced at the glove compartment, my gun nestled inside.
“You have company,” Dad said, reaching for the door handle.
“Dad, don’t get out—”
Two women emerged from the Audi. Meryl and Lori. What the fuck?
When I cut my headlights, Ray’s Jeep turned in, re-illuminating the driveway. Meryl stepped into the Jeep’s headlights. Dad and I opened our car doors as Meryl approached.
“Sorry to barge in, but we really needed to speak with you . . . and thought it would be better to do so in person.”
Dad crossed in front of my car, his hand outstretched. “Well, look at you two. All grown up.”
We were all plunged back into darkness when the Jeep’s headlights automatically switched off.
Ray walked toward us and flicked on his flashlight. “Let’s all get inside before we freeze to death.”
“CAN I get you anything?”
Meryl and Lori glanced at each other. “A glass of wine, if you’ve got it,” Lori said. “It’s been a long day.” Meryl nodded in agreement.
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
“In Bethel, an Airbnb near the festival site,” Meryl replied.
“I’ll open a bottle,” Ray said. “Susan?”
“I’ll pass. Gotta drive Dad home later.”
“I’ll take a beer, Ray. One of those fancy IPAs you got. I’m not the designated driver,” Dad said.
“Two glasses of wine and one IPA coming up.”
“Before you tell me what you want to tell me, I want to apologize for using Josh’s barn as an interrogation room,” I said. “We crossed the line. We could have handled it a different way.”
“Look. We know our family is the epitome of dysfunction. I threw that party hoping to bury old feuds. Call me a cock-eyed optimist. As Lori predicted, it was an utter disaster. After you left, well, let’s just say it went downhill from there.”
Ray entered the living room and placed two glasses of wine on the cocktail table. “Be right back.”
Meryl continued: “If our parents or Scott are mixed up in something, we want to know about it. I am not trying to help anyone shirk responsibilities. But that’s not why I called you.”
Ray reappeared, this time with two pilsner glasses, and handed one to Dad. “I think you’ll like this, Will. It’s called Arrogant Bastard.” He smiled at Meryl, signaling her to continue.
“I think I mentioned to you that I was doing a family genealogy project.” Meryl plucked a piece of paper out of her pocketbook and placed it on the cocktail table. “This is the profile of a man whose DNA suggests he is our half brother. Which, knowing my dad, didn’t surprise me as much as you would think. But look at his name.”
I spun the piece of paper around. Jake Solomon. Holy shit.
Now we knew why David sent Panda to silence Renee. Gave new meaning to being your brother’s keeper. Renee wasn't going to expose David’s role in her baby-brokerage business. She was going to expose his brother, who had obviously fathered more children out of wedlock than Trudy’s twins.
MERYL AND Lori stood motionless in front of my whiteboards as I explained the two cases and what we discovered about Scott’s and their parents’ involvement. I chronologically retraced the steps of our investigation so they understood how each rock was turned over, leading us to where we currently stood. The final rock—the party. Scott revealing to us the incident—the rape—that set Trudy’s disappearance in motion. The reaction from Meryl and Lori was not what I expected. Both stone-faced, no tears, no hysteria. No pushback. They knew their father well. They knew he was capable of this.
When I hesitated, Meryl prodded, “Go on.”
I launched into the story of Renee Carter.
Ray scrolled through his phone, looking through the uploaded pages from Panda’s journal, then read the entry related to Renee and David Roth.
“Maybe David was helping Stanley sell his child. And if Renee knew the kid was Stanley’s she might’ve wanted more money,” I said.
Meryl turned to Lori. “Do you think Mom knew about Dad’s affairs?”
Lori shrugged. “How would I know? Besides, do you really think she gave a rat’s ass? She wasn’t exactly the doting housewife.”
Meryl snorted derisively. “Well that’s the understatement of the century.”
Lori spun around to face me. “My mother had her fair share of dalliances.” She shook her head. “And yet, we all pretended to be the perfect family!”
“So I take it Josh told you about Mom’s affair with David.” Meryl looked at her sister.
“What? No!” Lori shouted. “Uncle David? Are you fucking serious? Jeez. Why am I always in the fucking dark in this family?”
“You’re in the dark because you choose to be in the dark,” Meryl snapped back. “You made yourself an outsider. You moved out to California. You changed your appearance. You married outside the religion.”
Lori sat down in the chair next to Dad. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. “While your life has been all sunshine and lollipops, my life has been a struggle. But you don’t bother to know about that either. You don’t even try to understand why I wanted . . . no, why I needed to make drastic changes in my life.” Lori unfolded her arms and leaned forward. “Do Scott and Josh know about this?”
Meryl nodded. “Josh and I came home early from school one day and we saw them. I’m pretty sure Josh still hasn’t forgiven her. We thought it was best to keep that affair to ourselves. If it makes you feel any better, I never told Scott. And whatever it was between Mom and David, it was short-lived.”
“Like all her affairs,” Lori mumbled. “I knew coming here was a mistake.” She turned toward me. “I don’t mean here in this house, Susan. I mean here, back home, where my fucking family is involved with murder, kidnapping, blackmail, adultery, and who knows what else.”
Dad banged his fist on the dining-room table. “Time out!” He stood up suddenly, then sat back down. “So your family’s fucked up. Whose isn’t? Though I have to say, yours is a doozy.”
“Lori, I’m sorry,” Meryl stammered. “I didn’t mean to say all that. I did see what you were going through. I’m just . . . I’m just a little tired. Which is no excuse.”
I was not sure what I was witnessing, but I felt like I was sitting in the audience of a Dr. Phil show. The knives were out, and
Dad’s attempt to steer this back to the Trudy and Renee cases landed with a resounding thud and a detour into Rachel’s extramarital liaisons. My turn.
“Lori. Meryl. I’m not gonna pretend to understand what’s going on between you two, but some pretty shocking shit just came to light—and obviously unearthed some deep resentments here. But we’re all here now, in the same room. Can we try to figure out how all these pieces fit together, and where we go from there?”
For roughly thirty seconds, the only sound I heard was the wind whistling through a hairline crack in the dining-room window, which I should have fixed months ago.
Lori sighed. “Just so you know, Meryl, I had my own issues with Mom. Remember the time she claimed she needed alone time and dumped us with David and Diane for six months so she and her sister could frolic down in Florida for the winter? I had gotten into a fight with her right before she left and I heaped a ton of guilt upon myself thinking her desire to get away from us was my fault.”
“Yeah, I remember. She took off right after the high holidays and came back just in time for the Passover opening," Meryl said. “I’m pretty sure it was not your fault. You were too young to see it, but the strain between Mom and Dad at that time was quite palpable. Y’know the cliché, 'the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife’? Well, a hatchet couldn’t even slice through what hung in the air between them.”
Meryl gazed at Jake’s picture taped to the whiteboard. “I think it’s important we focus on why Lori and I came to see you . . . which, in light of your investigation into Trudy Solomon, was why we wanted to tell you about Jake Solomon.”
Okay. We were back on track. Somewhat at least. I told Lori and Meryl about my conversation I had with Jake—his desire to find his relatives and my suggestion he get a DNA test. Which, obviously, he did.
“Can we rewind for a second?” Ray said. “This affair between Rachel and David got me thinking. Maybe David felt guilty about betraying his brother and was willing to be the heavy . . . or the fall guy. DR gave Panda the order, but maybe SR was really behind this.”
The Disappearance of Trudy Solomon Page 26