by Beck Jones
“Not if you don’t tell them where I am. Can I come get the key?”
“You can’t use the house. It’s closed up. I’m having it fumigated. Termites. They’re supposed to finish in a couple of days. We need to stick to our schedule. In the meantime, we’ll get the corporate lawyers to come up with a get-out-of-possible jail card for you.”
“Screw the lawyers. Screw the schedule.”
“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”
“I’m listening. I’m just not changing my mind.”
“Russ!”
He ended the call, checked the airlines.
A late morning flight to Raleigh, and he could rent a car from there. But that would leave a paper trail. No, his own car would be better. It was still early.
In the garage, behind the wheel, he debated for a few moments. The decent thing would be to go up and see Liz before he left. But what would he say to her? And there was sure to be drama. He didn’t have time for that. He would text her later. He needed to get on the road.
LIZ
Eleanor’s voice was wavering, her words rushed. Demanding Liz call her if Russ showed up at the apartment.
The two of them only occasionally crossed paths, but this was not the Eleanor that Liz knew and despised. The one who just an hour ago was so casually, brutally efficient, as she always was. She had claimed not to know Russ’ whereabouts, but then she was always studiously indifferent about her knowledge of Russ. She might as well have worn a sign: I slept with your husband, but I’m very discreet about it.
Yet Liz had often wondered how Eleanor felt about all of the other women that Russ had chased and caught over the years. She had supposed Eleanor had her own cache of lovers, probably one for every occasion, filed away according to mood and need. That would suit Eleanor—Eleanor is a woman of efficiency and sufficiency Russ had said once, off-handedly, with an infuriating half-smile.
But then again, Eleanor, like all of them, was getting older. Were the lovers getting hard to find and file? Liz felt a certain grim satisfaction at this.
But she was now also sure that Eleanor believed that Russ was “in the wind.” She had heard Russ use that term once about a crooked banker who had run off to the Virgin Islands to avoid the cops. Russ was running away from home. And Eleanor knew where.
That meant she needed to make an appearance with Eleanor.
No, make that a scene with Eleanor.
A scene that no one would forget.
It was another grimly satisfying moment when she turned up at Eleanor’s office and saw her face twisted in surprise.
“You need to be home to catch Russ!” Eleanor exclaimed.
Liz spoke deliberately, coldly. “I think you know where he’s gone. You always know his comings and goings. I’m not as stupid as everyone seems to think. I am his wife, you know.”
It was initially gratifying that Eleanor did not meet coldness with coldness. Instead she was near hysteria. “Yes, you’re his wife, so why don’t you start trying to get him on the phone to convince him to come home. He’s screwing up everything that we have worked for. Sabine will never go sink nearly a billion dollars into a network startup with a guy who acts like a flake.”
A billion dollars? Liz’ stomach lurched. “What are you talking about?”
Eleanor regarded her with a mixture of contempt and surprise that somehow did not negate the evident panic in her expression. In fact, it seemed to aggravate it. “So he really hasn’t told you about the deal with Vincent Sabine? Oh, Jesus, Liz! It’s huge. It’s industry-changing. Life-changing. Matt Lauer money and then some. And Russ is flushing it down the drain on a—a—a whim.”
“I don’t understand!” Liz fairly wailed.
“What is so tough to understand? Eleanor snapped. “Even for you it’s pretty simple. Massive deal. Massive money. Massive break for all of us.”
Liz felt the blood drain down to her feet. “We have to get him back here.”
“Oh, well, thanks for the news flash, Liz. But I really don’t have time for this. I’ve got a dozen fires to put out. If you see Russ, tie him to a chair if you have to. If you can talk him into coming home, talk. Sweet talk him. If you know how,” she added in an acid tone that would have made Liz furious at another moment.
But now she didn’t have time for fury. She rushed out of Eleanor’s office. The situation required immediate action. She wanted to stand on top of this building and scream. Nearly a billion dollars? Matt Lauer money and then some. Everything was going so wrong.
As she was starting down the hallway, Gabe caught up with her.
“I need to talk to you,” he said. He reached for her arm, then drew back as if surprised by his own nerve.
“I’m sorry, Gabe. I don’t really have time.” She kept moving as she spoke so that she was already a few steps ahead of him, her head turned away from him by the end of the sentence.
Gabe made a giant step to cover the ground between them. This time he actually took her arm and whispered, “I think I know where Russ is.”
Liz stopped. He had seemed a minor annoyance, but now.
Gabe looked around furtively before he whispered again. “Eleanor won’t tell you this, because—well, Eleanor—well, anyway I overheard her. Russ is headed to the North Carolina. He wanted to stay at Eleanor’s house down there.”
Well, this kid was full of surprises. “What in the world is he doing going there now?” she asked slowly, even as her brain raced to formulate what she needed to do next.
“It’s a long story, “ Gabe said. “Well, it’s actually a story we’re doing, maybe for the network or maybe—” He paused.
How many ways had she been misled and left in the dark? “For Vincent Sabine?” she said, and felt almost triumphant when Gabe looked surprised. Yes, I know things, you little minnow. At last, I know things. But she really had no time to waste.
“Well, thanks. I’ll head down there today,” she added.
“I want to go with you.”
Liz regarded him with horror. He did not need to be there for this particular scene. “No, but thank you, I really appreciate your offer.”
Gabe frowned. A stubborn scowl, really. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to go alone. I just heard this morning that Mrs. McGann was killed last night.”
Again, Liz felt the world wobble. “Anna Beth McGann?” As if there was any other Mrs. McGann other than Anna Beth, even though there was an endless parade of women Paul had pawed.
Gabe leaned in a little closer. “She fell or she was pushed off her apartment roof.”
Liz drew in a breath. On the one hand, the fact that Anna Beth was out of her life forever was grimly satisfying. On the other hand, why did Eleanor neglect to tell her this little piece of information? It was scary to think about someone killing Anna Beth—maybe she just jumped—but then given the past few months and her very own evolution from reasonably satisfied wife and mother to what—what was Liz Stockton now? Certainly not a person she would have recognized six months ago.
“I’m not letting you go alone,” Gabe said, standing his ground. He was only a few inches taller than she was, and probably not forty pounds heavier. What did he even think he was going to do? He was such a ridiculous complication.
“I will follow you if you don’t let me go with you,” he said. “Russ has been my mentor. And yes, I’m not ashamed to admit he’s been my hero. And I would be letting him down if I let any harm come to you.”
She took in a breath. She supposed it would be less complicated to have him with her, since he really might follow her down to North Carolina anyway.
They left the building together and made reservations for the noon flight, which didn’t seem soon enough. If she could sprout wings on her feet, it wouldn’t be soon enough. Dammit, why did Russ always keep her in the dark? Why did he always treat her like a second-class nothing?
Dammit, dammit, dammit.
THE COPS
It was only nine in the morning, an
d the entire office had vanished, and the ever reliable Madison had no idea where. Russ never came in. Mrs. Stockton came in. I saw her and Gabe in the hallway, and then he didn’t come back to his office. And Eleanor left and said something about a sick uncle. Said she would check in tomorrow. She must be really close to this uncle because I’ve never seen her so upset.
Madison did provide the money quote I’ll punch you in your ugly face.
No answer at the Stockton apartment either. Liz Stockton had now apparently flown the coop as well.
Yablonski sighed. “Your bite to eat just bit us on the ass.”
They put out an ABP on Russell Stockton and went back to the precinct for interesting news. No DNA from Russell Stockton on Vanessa West’s body or the pen. Just Paul McGann’s on the pen. Could be days old or months old. But it was worth digging into his file. They had nothing else to go on anyway. Nothing much from the guys in charge of checking out the twenty former Take Stock interns from the last ten years. Most of the young beautiful women who had been tracked down—and they were uniformly beautiful young women—apparently had nothing but good things to say about their experience. Especially about Eleanor King. Two of the former interns were out of the country. Scarlett Sharpe wasn’t answering her door, and hadn’t been seen by any of her neighbors since Monday morning. So that was worrying, but not much to go on.
The file on Paul McGann, on the other hand.
“Think about it,” Yablonski said. “One finger. Body blows sky high and one perfect finger left floating in the water?”
Murphy shrugged. “Easiest conclusion. The tail on the wife came to nothing. Looked like a professional job, maybe, but under the circumstances who can blame the insurance company? Thumb on the scale, I guess you could say.”
“Ha ha. But yeah, ten million is a lot to pay out for a louse whose earning power has just been cut to just about zip. And there were the emails, about how he was ready to end it all.”
“If you’re trying to leave your wife with insurance money, why leave anything like that to be found?”
“Maybe he didn’t give a rat’s ass about leaving his better half with a settlement. Maybe he just wanted to be stamped dead officially. On his way out, gave his wife the finger as it were.”
“Ha, ha. The absence of life is not proof of death.”
“Insurance company wanted to close the books. Maybe not our finest moment, but maybe not our worst. And the pen may change things.”
“Maybe.”
LIZ
“That’s okay,” Liz said when Gabe tried to take her carry-on bag. “I can get it.” She packed the bag for show, for his benefit. She only went back to the apartment to get some privacy in her bedroom, texting furiously, but getting no reply.
She had no intention of staying in that awful place in North Carolina one second longer than was necessary to straighten out this mess and get Russ back home.
She shuddered when she thought of the house. Oh, the house itself was pretty enough, but Paul and Russ disappeared for virtually the whole weekend. Supposedly on a story. Leaving her and Anna Beth “to their own devices,” Russ had said later. Can’t you be left to your own devices, Liz? Anna Beth drunk the whole weekend, which made her even snottier. And then being thrown out of a crummy seafood place because of disgusting Paul.
Well, this deal with Vincent Sabine made everything a lot simpler. There would be money enough for a generous divorce settlement. There was more than one way to skin a cat, or a marriage.
Weeks ago she had crossed the bridge to the realization that she was sick of being Russell Stockton’s wife. Sick to death. He’d put the whole family at risk so many times. And he’d screwed so many women she’d probably met some of them without even knowing it. Eleanor might not care, but she did.
It occurred to her suddenly that Eleanor was probably going to get a big raise with this new deal.
Why, why, why hadn’t Eleanor told her?
Because Eleanor expected Russ to tell her.
Damn Russ.
But it didn’t matter. This new deal made everything easier. She would shed the skin of the old Liz, Dutiful Wife and Mother. She would become someone new. Someone better and smarter. And richer.
Mercifully, Gabe didn’t try to make conversation, and so mercifully they sat in silence on the flight, while her mind raced ahead of the aircraft as if she could think them out of this pending catastrophe.
RUSS
Two grisly highway accidents snarled traffic, and it was well past noon by the time he crossed into Virginia. He stopped for gas, coffee and fast food. He texted “Larson’s” number: On my way. He’d snapped his SIM card in two in New Jersey, and picked up a burner phone. So now it was burner phone to burner phone with this manqué Larson. Manqué. A word that would have pissed off Paul. The thought of pissing off Paul cheered him.
He was going to piss off Paul in a big way. Soon.
He bolted down the crap food almost gratefully. He didn’t need Amanda’s caviar. Or her expensive, expansive view. Here was America at ground level, here was where he belonged. Chasing a story. At least—at last—he was chasing the story of a lifetime. And it was incredible. How had Paul McGann, who had an instinct for news but zero mechanical ability, faked his own suicide? Why fake a suicide if you aren’t going to cash in on the life insurance? He probably hated Anna Beth that much. Rather than split the insurance, just make sure she had none. Empty out the accounts beforehand.
But now Paul probably figured he had just one piece of unfinished business. Revenge against the man who didn’t get sucked into his filth. The man who was going on to bigger successes, more money. But that desire for revenge would be Paul’s undoing. Nobody had wanted to look too closely into the explosion of the boat. The insurance company and the cops were only too happy to catalog it as a suicide. And Russ hadn’t wanted to think about it at all. He was simply relieved to be rid of Paul.
God, what a chump he’d been. Filled with so much fear that he couldn’t really see the truth of what he said to Vince Sabine. This was indeed a hell of a story. And he owed it to Vanessa and Phoebe to get to the bottom of this. Beautiful young girls with their whole lives ahead of them. How could Paul have done this? How did Paul do this?
In a few hours it would all be clear, and it would all be over. He would play this thing out. He wasn’t worried. He had a Glock in the glove box, part of the firepower he purchased after the car bomb.
How furious Liz had been after that bomb. You put our whole family in danger! She didn’t understand, she never understood. But the kids were still at home then, so she probably couldn’t help her motherly instinct.
Maybe he hadn’t been fair to her. She had, after all, been faithful to him, all these years. He should text her, tell her he was all right. But she needed to be able to face the cops honestly, innocently. Eleanor would stonewall till the end of time. Eleanor, precious Eleanor. He had not treated her fairly either.
How girlish she had been, in those long-ago days, balanced astride him, undulating, her still young face upturned in ecstasy. His cock swelled with the memory.
The wanderings of your cock are an open secret.
He felt his erection shriveling. But still, the fact that she was so angry simply meant that she still cared about him. Would she have him now if he asked her? Why not settle down, finally? Galloping the fields and furrows had brought him to this. Yes, their bodies were beautiful, their youth was an intoxicating fragrance that he could practically breathe in. But had any of those beautiful young women been the spirited lover than Eleanor had been?
Eleanor. She was his treasure.
LIZ
As Liz stepped up to the rental counter, Gabe marched up next to her. He really made her head ache. “I need to rent a car,” she said to the agent at the same moment Gabe said, “We need to rent a car.”
“Okay,” the agent said. “I’ll list you both as drivers, but I’ll only need one credit card.”
“Let me do this,” Gabe
said, brandishing his wallet from his back pocket as if he was out on a high school date. “You don’t need to drive. You need to rest. I know this is stressful for you.”
“I’m perfectly fine to drive,” she said, suppressing a sudden urge to slap this annoying little gnat. “And I’ll pay.”
He looked a little hurt, but said nothing.
“Shall I list you both as drivers?” the agent asked.
“Yes,” she said. This actually might be easier. She tried to soften her expression. “You can drive the first hour,” she said to Gabe who seemed gratified.
She rented a four-wheel drive with all the extras and tried to make conversation about it as they set off, getting him to show her this feature and that feature. She should probably exhibit some kind of interest in him, too. That would be the normal thing.
At the 55-minute mark, she seized on a sign for a turn off. “Let’s stop up here. I need to use the restroom, and maybe we should get something to eat. Fast food is fine,” she added, nodding at the signs flowering on the off ramp. “Any one is fine.” She smiled at him. “At my age, I can’t see much difference between them.”
When he parked the car, she plucked the keys from his hands. “Now no arguments. I’ll drive the rest of the way to Eleanor’s house. I’ve been there before.” She opened her car door with a smile. “Let’s go get some terrible food.”
Inside, she said, “You go order. That will be faster. Just any kind of burger and a soft drink,” and headed toward the restroom. Gabe moved toward the counter, another small mercy in her day. She glanced over her shoulder as she reached the restroom door. Gabe was staring up at the menu board, ordering.
She almost felt bad for him. He was so trusting. He must have been so easy for Russ to manipulate. And then just as she opened the side door to the outside, he called out, “Liz!”