[Suburban Murder 01.0] The Forgotten Girls

by Alexa Steele

  “No,” each girl responded sadly. Bella decided to switch gears.

  “I heard it was a hard year, with applications to college and all,” Bella remarked to the table.

  They all nodded vigorously.

  “Jessie, I heard you were wait-listed at Vanderbilt,” Bella commented. “Congratulations.”

  “Ugh, please,” said Jessie, looking at Bella like she was out of touch. “Congratulations for being wait-listed?”

  The girls chimed in at the same time.

  “You got into awesome schools, Jessie. Emory, Duke, UVA, USC.” They each took turns naming them.

  “So that’s fantastic! No?” Bella asked naively. She didn’t get why Jessie seemed so miserable.

  “I wanted Vandy,” Jessie said plain and simple. “It was my dream school.” Her gloomy expression matched her tone. “I found out I was deferred when we were in Mexico,” she explained. “We were on the beach. My mom had a cow. Car got in which made it worse. Not that I don’t love Car like a sister—I do. I was sooooo happy for her. But, ya know, I just felt like it wasn’t fair. We had the same GPA, test scores, sports letters, after-school activities—everything. It just sucked.”

  “She had all-county violin, Jesse. That’s a big deal,” Perry pointed out.

  “And I had three summers in India building freakin’ houses and digging water wells while she was at sleep-away camp.”

  She looked embarrassed at her outbreak. “Ugh, now I sound like my mother. SOS!!” she exclaimed.

  They all relieved the tension with a burst of laughter.

  Bella looked down at her phone. Still no word from Mack.

  “She’s too hard on you,” the girls were saying. “You got into sick schools. You can go to USC. I mean California? Poor you!” Sav laughed sweetly, trying to cheer her up. Ashley and Perry nodded their heads in agreement.

  “Yeah, she drives me nuts. I can’t wait to move out. California won’t be far enough away!”

  They all laughed.

  “Anything noteworthy happen in Mexico? Other than hearing from Vandy?” Bella tried to sound cool when she said this.

  “Not really,” they all chimed.

  “I think Joslyn and my mom had a fight, actually,” Savannah said quietly, looking self-conscious.

  “What happened?” Bella leaned forward.

  “I don’t know,” Savannah replied. “I think it had to do with Carly’s dad, actually,” she said nervously.

  “Really??”

  The other girls’ eyes widened and their mouths hung wide open.

  “Yeah. Do you swear not to say anything?” Savannah pleaded.

  They all nodded eagerly.

  “I don’t know. I think Jos saw my mom and Jamie talking and, like, thought Jamie liked my mom, something crazy like that. My mom said Jos was just feeling insecure and blaming her. I don’t know—it was stupid.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jessie was flabbergasted. “Jos was gorgeous. Nothing against your mom or anything, but I just don’t see her being jealous. That’s craaaazy. They were like the perfect little family. Did your dad know?”

  “Noooo!!!! Never!!!! That would be so uncomfortable!!!”

  “So did they make up?”

  Savannah looked upset.

  “I don’t think so. I mean they were speaking obviously. But, ya know, my mom said things were awkward. The four of them hadn’t gone out to dinner in a while. Since Mexico, I think.”

  “That’s unbelievable.” Perry sighed.

  “I just think everyone was stressed out this year, on edge, ya know?” Savannah said to no one in particular, looking for an excuse to explain it away.

  “On edge about what?” Bella tried to process what there was in these people’s lives to be on edge about.

  “I don’t know. One thing or another,” Sav replied dismissively. “I didn’t say anything to Carly. I don’t even know if she knows. It was stupid. Just don’t say anything ok? I don’t want her to feel bad or know about it. Especially now,” Sav added sadly.

  “Poor Carly. And little Alex,” Ashley said. “Jos was the best mom, hands down. Like the sweetest woman. It was hard to believe she was so rich, the way she acted. You’re right, Jess. They were the perfect little family. Just perfect.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The gravelly dirt path wound its way from the foot of the hill down to the wet earth abutting the Hudson River. The riverbank reached for miles in both directions. The spot where they were heading was not on the bank but adjacent to it, deep in the rocky mountain that rose up on the Jersey side of the Bridge. Jay led the way and Ridley followed. Mugger B had resisted meeting at first but changed his mind when he heard Ridley was getting out of the game. He was giving him back his turf. Jay had suggested he use that as leverage and it had worked.

  Mugger showed up without his girlfriend, but did not come alone. He stood at the entrance to the dark, hidden mountainside with two men, one on each side, carrying guns in full display. Ridley had never seen them before and could tell instantly Mugger was angry as hell. For a moment he wondered if he and Jay were going to make it out of this thing alive. Jay looked calm but Ridley could only imagine what he was feeling. He wasn’t used to these kinds of guys and, oddly, neither was Ridley. After all these years exposed to the worst kinds of criminals and thugs, Ridley had yet to absorb their aggressive posture or ways. If anything, he was only more neurotic and high-strung than ever.

  “So we’re here like you asked,” Mugger began in a nasty tone with a snarled mouth. He was about 5’ 11”, Hispanic, with a figure buzzed into his shaved head. He had tattoos on both hands and up his arms, plainly visible next to his white tank. His two friends were Hispanic too but smaller. They were well built, though, and looked angry as hell, like Mugger.

  Jay looked at Ridley and spoke.

  “My name is Jay and I have known this guy my whole life,” he began slowly, pointing to Ridley. He looked nervous, but, as he was a pretty big guy himself, he seemed to hold his own. “He got in touch and told me what was going on.”

  “Yeah?” Mugger asked sarcastically. “What’s going on?”

  Jay looked back at Ridley.

  “He’s gonna be looked at for that woman’s murder up in Greenvale, the lady killed the other night.” Jay stopped, faltering. He suddenly felt out of his league but there was nothing he could do about it now, so he continued. His plan was to let Mugger know Ridley was out of the game so hopefully, if he did have anything to do with this, he would lose interest in Ridley if indeed he had any. He also hoped to elicit information as to whether or not he had been involved in the murder. Now, standing there across from these three guys, he wondered what the hell he had been thinking. Somehow in real life the guns and the mugs and the muscles all felt much more threatening than he had imagined.

  “He didn’t kill her. He doesn’t really care who did. He wants to get out of here and not come back. He wants to give you back your gig at the high school and get the hell out of town.”

  Ridley was shaking in his boots, shifting his weight from left to right, back and forth, over and over. It was annoying to all of them.

  “Cut it out, man, you’re making me nuts,” Mugger growled at Ridley. “Adios, Mio. You can’t talk for yourself? You bring a mouthpiece?”

  Ridley cleared his throat and in a jittery voice answered, “I was with Jay, down south at the shore. He thought I should call you and just talk, man. Talk plain and simple. I want out. It’s all yours if you want it,” he said, looking past Mugger, then back at him, then at his guys, then at Jay.

  “What, you high on your own stuff?” Mugger laughed a sinister laugh. “You a junkie now or what?” He and his two friends thought this was funny and snickered.

  “Nah, just real nervous, man. I don’t want that lady’s murder pinned on me, ya know? Am not going to back to the pen, I’ll tell ya that much.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you hit her huh? Don’t wanna do the time for the crime?” Mugger teased as if trying
to provoke him. It sounded like he was becoming more relaxed now and liked the idea of taunting Ridley. Mugger clearly knew he was in control.

  “Hey, man, it wasn’t me. I don’t even care who it was, but it wasn’t me,” he said again.

  “Look,” Jay interrupted. “You can have the school back. I am getting him out of town,” Jay said pointing to Ridley. You want it back or what?”

  “What’s this—y’all lookin’ out for me now? Why the hell you care?”

  Mugger lifted his gun, seething.

  “Ridley just didn’t want to disappear without giving you a heads-up,” Jay said falteringly. “In case you were still peeved or shit,” he added trying to sound cool.

  Mugger looked suspiciously at Jay.

  “You guys think I whacked her, don’t you?”

  Jay and Ridley looked at each other. Ridley answered, surprising Jay.

  “I don’t think so, man. I know you didn’t even know her.”

  “Yeah? How you so sure?” Mugger teased.

  Ridley opened his mouth then closed it. He was scared. He didn’t know if he was being played or not.

  “I don’t know, man. You knew her? C’mon, you’re joking, right?” Ridley was starting to look really worried.

  “I met the bitch last week. And who do you think introduced us?”

  The silence was deafening. All they could hear was the sound of water dripping slowly from a boulder behind them. Mugger’s friends were smiling.

  “Your crazy bitch of a mother, boy!” Mugger broke out into laughter.

  Ridley’s face went ashen and Jay noticed. It was hard not to.

  “She drove her right up in the car and introduced us,” Mugger sneered. “Your momma told her, right to my face, that I was the guy she wanted, not you. Can you fucking believe that shit? I said to your momma how the hell you even know how to find me? And the old wench just laughed and told me she knew everything. Some broad, man. She’s some fucking crazy broad.” Mugger laughed out loud and his friends joined him.

  Jay and Ridley stood frozen in place. His mother had brought Joslyn to meet Mugger B? Was she insane? How the hell had she found him? She had to have known the danger she was placing Joslyn in. Was that why she did it?

  “I don’t believe you,” Ridley said calmly. He stood absolutely still now. No more shaking back and forth, no more agitated behavior. He was a stone statue, transfixed on something in the distance.

  “No?” Mugger challenged. “You think I’d make that shit up? You think I’d tell ya knew a lady who just got hit a few days ago ’cause I think that’s funny?” Now he was angry.

  “Let me tell you something, you son of a bitch,” Mugger exploded, putting his gun to Ridley’s head. “You’re gonna hightail your ass out of town, I’m gonna take back the school, and I don’t want to hear from you or see you again, you got that? And you’re gonna tell that loon of a mother you got she better steer clear of me as well. I don’t like her one bit, you hear me?” Mugger looked scared when he spoke of her. “She gives me the fucking creeps. You so interested in who hit that lady, go ask su madre.”

  CHAPTER 24

  He sat at a table for two in the back sipping his usual dry martini, considering how he felt about being there. It was especially quiet tonight and waiting for her, alone, made him contemplative. He hadn’t seen her since their breakup and wasn’t sure how he felt about seeing her tonight. The past month without her had been hard, much harder than he anticipated. He had taken her to Alfie’s on their first date, and they had sat at a table not too far from where he sat now. They had talked for hours that night, as though making up for lost time. It had remained that way, the two of them drawn to one another almost chemically. Seven years later and they still had way more to talk about than they had time.

  Alfie’s was his go-to place, one of those tried and true, old-world Italian joints with superb service and even better food. It hid on the border between little Italy and the Bowery, a real New York hovel known only to those lucky few with the good fortune to have discovered it. He was an NYU freshman when his tutor, a woman twice his age, introduced him to it.

  He had been new to New York City—new to the country, in fact—having arrived straight from Dublin. Alfie’s became his home away from home all through college and grad school. When he finally earned his PhD in Criminal Psychology and was offered a job as adjunct professor at John Jay, he took his mom and his buddies there for dinner to celebrate.

  His career took off almost instantly. It didn’t take long for his class, The Criminal Mind of the Female Killer, to become one of the most requested; and, with the publication of two books, The Criminal Pathology of Women and Profiles in Murder: A Woman’s Guide, his stature as an expert in this field was cemented.

  These books had proven a smart move for his career. Murders committed by women were on the rise in America. The female prison population was growing and politicians were increasingly calling for intervention and answers to this new wave of crime. His published research in this niche garnered him quite a bit of attention and, before long, he was promoted to a full professorship with another class added to his roster: Women and Murder: A History—quickly becoming one of the most popular electives for the graduate students.

  His roguish good looks hadn’t hurt him either: 6’ 2” and well built, he sauntered around school in his signature fitted white button-down, denim jeans, and navy blue suede loafers. Sometimes he donned a navy sports jacket, sometimes a herringbone vest. He never fully shaved and his dirty blond hair usually looked like it had dried in whatever direction it was in when he stepped out of the shower. His eyes were crystal blue and his jawline well defined, lending a masculine look to a face that might otherwise have been described as pretty. His one cherished accessory, a worn brown leather satchel filled with papers and files, hugged his chest daily when he rode his twenty-speed Schwinn racer to work each morning.

  The front door opened and in she walked, straight toward the back, where she knew he would be. She was still in her Friday with the girls outfit: the tight white jeans, heels, jewelry—she was even carrying the bag.

  “Is that what I think it is?” he said, in mock bewilderment, pointing to the Proenza slung over her shoulder. “Are my eyes seeing correctly?”

  He was joking, but she could tell he was nervous.

  “Ha, ha,” she said, smiling. “Very funny.”

  She leaned over and kissed him on both cheeks, plopped down in her seat, and sucked down the wine tumbler he had ordered in two seconds flat.

  He laughed.

  “Hard day, huh?”

  She nodded and exhaled.

  “It must have been if you’re dressed like that,” he teased.

  She looked fantastic, and he could feel his resistance ebbing. Their ending last month had been brutal, at least for him. Before Bella, he had remained single by choice. Rooted to his work, his freedom, and his friends, he had plenty to keep him busy and fulfilled. But once Bella appeared in his life, no matter how much he told himself she was just another girl, he was not able to believe it. No matter who else he was with he would wonder where she was, what she was doing, how she was. He was unable to shake the constant ache he had developed for her.

  From the moment they met, there was just that something between them. For the first time in his career, he had trouble concentrating on his own material when she sat in his class. It had been seven years, but he relived the night they met often. A sudden, fierce summer thunderstorm had drenched him as he made his way to school that night and, as he shook out his blazer upon entering class, he inadvertently sprayed the student standing behind him with water. He heard laughter, turned, and saw a face peeking out of a Yankee baseball cap worn backwards, a long mane of wavy strawberry blond hair tumbling down, a dark blue police uniform hugging her body. He actually felt nervous when he apologized for getting her wet.

  “Don’t worry,” she had said sweetly, smiling. “I won’t arrest you.”

  Seven years was
a long time, though, and things had changed. Her career had grown along with her drive. He had gotten used to her erratic schedule and the slate of unsavory men in her life; but when she refused to take off time from work to go to Ireland with him last month and meet his mother, it finally hit him. She would never be available to him in the way he wanted, in the way he had grown to need. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—rein in her drive. Her work would always come first.

  Now, back in the dating scene after so much time, he was pleasantly surprised to see how many single, available women were floating around New York City; he heard they outnumbered men six to one. Many were even young, beautiful, and smart.

  But he had yet to meet anyone like her.

  He bolted the door to those feelings and focused on the business at hand.

  “So, how can I help?”

  CHAPTER 25

  Ryan ordered another white wine and a bowl of butternut-squash ravioli, even though Bella claimed not to be hungry. He knew the second the food was in front of her she would polish it off. She dove into the case and brought him up to speed, ending with her impression of Dr. Weber and Joslyn’s friends.

  “Look, we know we are dealing with the same killer for all three, someone who wants us to know the deaths are connected. And connected through the crests. The question is why?”

  “What do you know about the crests?”

  “Not enough. We know the Latin inscription reads ‘To each his own.’ Whatever the hell that means. No one we have spoken to has ever heard of these crests before.”

  “Where were they made?”

  “Looking into it now. Got a hit on a place out of Sussex, England, that might cough up some answers. Our working thesis at the moment is that Jos and the girls got caught up in a drug ring at school.”

  He nodded and she continued, “The kid who pushes has an alibi. He could have hired a hit, but he doesn’t seem sophisticated enough, or old enough for that matter. He’s sixteen. We’re looking for his supplier—working our way up the chain. I haven’t ruled out her husband either. I am pretty sure he has something going on with one of her best friends, but I don’t see him hurting those girls. He’s arrogant and powerful, but he doesn’t strike me as that unhinged.”