Chained

by Eileen Brady

  That caught my attention. “Such as?”

  “Oh, all kinds of things. Like their son is a secret online gambler, or their daughter is hiding from a stalker—stuff you think happens only on television.”

  “Gramps always reminded me that still water runs deep.”

  “That’s the truth. It’s the quiet ones who surprise you.”

  After we hung up, the image of still water stayed with me. Standing in front of the murder board, I paged through more notes. One of them said Alessa Foxley.

  ***

  There’s an old saying that you can run but you cannot hide. Thanks to the Internet, the saying is truer than ever. A Goggle search on the name Alessa Foxley gave me insight into why she might need a fortress.

  The stories dated over a five-year period. They started with Alessa signing a modeling contract and being called the “new face of the century.” Multiple pictures showed her walking the runway in Milan, New York, and Paris. One year later she had a huge diamond on her finger and a rich and powerful husband, Mark Evans. A multibillionaire real-estate mogul, Evans also ran a successful international investment company. His name was vaguely familiar to me, but I didn’t remember why.

  After scrolling through dozens of movie premiers, restaurant openings, and society events their storybook tale darkened. Tabloids caught them on camera fighting in a parking lot one week and the next week snuggling on a beach in Mexico. Canceled modeling engagements followed. A makeup assistant whispered to the press about camouflaging bruises with makeup and tear-swollen eyes. They were seen less and less frequently together in public. Just a matter of time before the big breakup, headlines predicted.

  What no one predicted was the depth of Mark’s anger. One night in their Park Avenue apartment he beat Alessa mercilessly, concentrating on that glorious “face of the century.” He left her lying on the bloodstained carpet and vanished with billions of his investors’ money.

  It took twenty surgeries and three years for plastic surgeons to put her together again. Their skill reconstructed most but not all of her former beauty.

  Mark brilliantly planned his escape. Although police received reports of sightings from all over the planet, he remained a free and very rich man.

  Scrolling by date, I read one of the last published interviews. Alessa told the New York Magazine reporter her last memory of the night she was attacked was of Mark whispering in her ear. He warned her to keep looking over her shoulder because he planned to return—return one night when she’d let her guard down. Then he’d kill her and kill any man she loved.

  Did Alessa’s horrifying story have anything to do with Flynn’s disappearance?

  That black-and-white photo of those four teenage boys kept haunting me.

  If I could see all the way to the bottom of the quarry Flynn and his gang dove into, whose face would stare back at me?

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Alone in my apartment Friday night I restlessly began folding up old newspapers, rescued one of several blankets crumpled up on the sofa and picked up a veterinary article to read. Jeremy had driven into the city to meet up with a professor friend for drinks and dinner. He planned on staying the night and coming back in the morning. I already missed him.

  My choice to be aggressively single for these past months had been deliberate. Over six months ago, in a mind-baffling move, Jared, my boss/boyfriend, dumped me for a nineteen-year-old airhead with big boobs who constantly flattered him—the polar opposite of me. That deep wound to my heart and my pride had barely scabbed over.

  Now I realize she gave him something he needed. With my anger finally burned out, I could see how ill suited we were as a couple. Too bad hindsight comes after the fact. Being hurt by the person you love is a paralyzing blow. My solution—not a great one, I understood in retrospect—had been to run away. You would think I’d know that ignoring painful problems doesn’t make them go away.

  My feelings for Jeremy were growing as Luke deliberately faded into the background. Back with Dina, he should be entirely out of the picture, like Mari reminded me. So why did he keep popping up everywhere Jeremy and I went and with that concerned look on his face?

  Good sense ordered me to put Luke on the shelf, but my silly heart couldn’t quite let go.

  The veterinary article I’d begun reading lost my interest. Looking around for something to do, I folded more laundry. Sorting the pile of cargo pants, button-down shirts, sweatpants, and giant sweaters that made up my depressing wardrobe didn’t improve my state of mind. I needed to talk this out.

  A handful of corn chips and the last inch of salsa in my refrigerator later, I was ready. I called the only steady man in my life, the guy who had rescued me after my mom and brother had died. I’d gotten into the habit of sparing my Gramps any bad news or problems I thought would upset him. Maybe that was selfish in a different way.

  He answered on the third ring.

  “Hi, Gramps. Hope this isn’t too late to call. How’s everything going?” Since moving to an independent living situation he’d been busier than I’d ever seen him. “If you’re on your way out, I can call you later.”

  “Everything’s fine and much better now that I’m talking to you, Sweetheart.”

  “Good. Just wanted to hear your voice.” Each time I spoke to him on the phone I secretly assessed his lungs. Although his voice was husky from long-ago smoke damage, I didn’t notice any shortness of breath tonight.

  The phone became still. “Is something wrong, Katie?”

  He was the only one left who ever called me Katie.

  “Not really. Nothing to worry about.”

  “I know that sound in your voice. Here, let me get into my chair and then you can tell me all about it.”

  He’d brought his favorite old recliner chair to his new place. If I closed my eyes I could see him in it; that shock of white hair, kind blue eyes, and ruddy complexion—a big rough guy who filled up a room. When I was young it seemed like everyone in our neighborhood knew my Gramps and would shake his hand or give him a hug when he walked by. At fifteen I found it totally embarrassing, but when I came home from vet school at age twenty-four I was proud to learn he was the most popular guy around.

  “Gramps, I’m not sure what’s going on.” I sunk into the sofa. A few seconds later Buddy jumped up and lay by my side.

  “Tell me what you mean. Is there something at work?”

  “Work? No nothing to do with work.”

  “Is it that cold case you told me about? I warned you…”

  I interrupted him. “No, it isn’t that. This is hard to talk about.”

  In his wisdom he didn’t prompt me but simply waited.

  “Do you remember my friend Jeremy from college?”

  “Sure. Nice kid. A little awkward back then.”

  “Well, he’s up for a visit and we are really hitting it off.”

  His laugh erupted through the receiver. “So you’re thinking about jumping into the swim again. Welcome back to life, Katie. Messy, unpredictable wonderful life.”

  Without pausing, he plunged into it.

  “I’ve been worried about you, Honey. After that last disaster of a boyfriend, you walled yourself off from everyone except your clients. Your only, shall I say, romantic contact in the last six months was with Luke, who conveniently came lugging plenty of baggage of his own.”

  “But Gramps…”

  “You’re too young to hide away from life and love. Listen to me. Forty years ago I’d broken up with my girlfriend and vowed off women. Then my friend Mike made me go to a dance with him. I saw your grandmother across the room—a white gardenia in her hair—and I was lost. Completely lost and completely found. We’d never have been married for thirty years and had your mom if I’d told Mike to go to that dance by himself.”

  I’d listened to this story a thousand times but for
some reason tonight it sounded brand new.

  “I guess I’m afraid of being hurt again.” My confession embarrassed me.

  “Katie, if I could protect you from everything in the world that could hurt you, I would. I’d wrap you up in bubble paper so tightly that nothing would harm you. But that’s not how it works.”

  His words reminded me of what I already knew.

  “My last word to you, little girl, is take the leap. Take a chance on life. It’s time to follow your heart. But remember, the sadness and the joy go hand in hand.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  My Gramps’ advice rang in my head the next day as I got ready for a double date—Jeremy would be here any minute to pick me up and then we were meeting Luke and his girlfriend, Dina, at a local restaurant for drinks and dinner.

  I hoped the two guys would get along. At least I’d finally meet the elusive Dina.

  Competing with those random thoughts were worries about what the Keegan family expected of me. Three weeks had passed and I had nothing new to tell them. Flynn’s ten-year high school reunion was only a week away. My instincts told me that the best way to understand who Flynn was would be to talk to the people who knew him best. But did I want to crash the class of 2007’s big event?

  Hair finished into a high sleek ponytail, I stepped into my new dress. Simple, black, with a scalloped neckline and hem, it looked flirty and carefree—two adjectives that normally didn’t apply to me. I loved it. Eyelashes bristling with mascara and lipstick in hand, I was applying the final touch to my makeup when the doorbell rang. Buddy immediately barked until I gave him a hand signal to stop. Shrugging on a wool coat and clutching a small black purse, I glanced around the apartment feeling as though I’d forgotten something. Then I looked down.

  Oops. My toes were still nestled in fuzzy purple slippers. With a tug I slipped on the fancy pair of black leather boots I’d left next to the sofa. Finally put together, I opened the door.

  Jeremy’s eyes widened. He smelled good, and looked great in a Brooks Brothers-style camelhair coat, a thin gray cashmere muffler draped around his neck.

  “Hello, beautiful.” He held me at arm’s length like we had all the time in the world.

  “Hello, yourself.” Our soft kiss knocked the temperature up a notch.

  We stood close for a moment until a gust of cold wind reminded us where we were. Together we scuttled over to his Mercedes. Like the gentleman he was, he held my door open. The inside of the car immediately hugged me in a toasty embrace.

  “Where exactly are we going? Do I need to put the address into the GPS?”

  Amused, I settled in and straightened out my dress and coat. “Oak Falls is a pretty small town. Don’t worry, I’ll be your guide.”

  He strapped in his seat belt. “I’m at your mercy then. Guide away.”

  During the car ride, to my surprise, I started having fun, all nervousness dissolving. We spent the time talking about college days and friends I hadn’t thought about in years. Late nights cramming to get our term papers done and long breakfasts at IHOP. The day I dropped Professor Tatum’s notebook into one of the anthropology dig holes after a rainstorm, and desperately tried to scrape the dirt and mud out from between the pages. Once again I was glad Jeremy had come for a visit. He wasn’t a stranger anymore.

  “Tell me how you got into investigating murders.” He sounded a little bewildered at my exploits.

  I started by explaining about life in Oak Falls and how I’d been pulled into crime investigations through the suspicious deaths of some of my veterinary clients.

  “That’s a strange thing for you to be doing,” he commented. “And now there’s this cold case.”

  Seen from someone else’s perspective I’d have to agree. “I’m not sure you can understand, but in an odd way, I find it a challenge to try and solve the mystery of Flynn’s disappearance and death. The situation has been especially hard on his sister, Fiona, not knowing what happened. There’s a lot of unresolved anger in her and I sympathize with that.”

  “So you’ve solved two crimes up here? Very interesting.”

  “I didn’t do it alone. Luke helped quite a bit.” We turned off Main Street, now only a few blocks from our destination.

  He downshifted, before casually asking, “Anything between you and Luke I should know about?”

  I thought carefully about my answer. “Nope. Only friends.”

  “Murder in common, I suppose?”

  “Hey, plenty of other people gave me leads, too. Ultimately, I’m persistent—a lot like my Gramps.”

  He slowed down, looking for a space. “Wasn’t your grandfather an investigator or something?”

  “Fire department. Arson cases mostly.”

  “Remember you asked me why I thought you felt compelled to investigate Flynn’s murder?” He pulled in between a big truck and a tiny Smart Car and put the Mercedes in park. “Maybe it has something to do with your past—not knowing who the hit-and-run driver was who killed your mom and brother.”

  His words startled me.

  I’d never given much thought to why I kept trying to solve crimes. It was only recently, with this cold case, that I’d questioned my motives.

  Uncomfortable with his perceptive analysis, I came up with a lame response. “I don’t know. Like I told you, it feels like the right thing to do.”

  “I’m sure it is.” He turned off the car and faced me.

  We sat for a moment before I picked up my purse and buttoned my coat. All the while I pondered his conclusion. Maybe Jeremy was right.

  I was searching for the justice my mom and brother never got.

  We strolled, arm in arm, in silence across the blacktopped parking lot. Stars lit the dark sky above us. The cold crisp air felt invigorating after the warm car. Many a night on campus we’d walked like this in the cold, chatting all the way to the dorm. I’d forgotten how many times the two of us had stayed up till midnight talking about our families, his rich and demanding, mine distant and disinterested, except for Gramps. Jeremy knew all my secrets back then and I knew all of his.

  The pungent smell of Italian cooking and my demanding stomach drew me abruptly back to the present.

  A laughing couple rushed past hoping to sneak ahead of us. We followed in their wake and almost immediately saw Luke signaling to us from one of the small tables next to the bar. At least ten people milled around in front of the reservation desk. Snaking our way through the crowd we arrived at their table after only one minor accident when my purse smacked someone in the head.

  Luke stood up. “It’s going to be another half-hour wait, but we saved you seats.”

  “Good to see you again.” The two men shook hands.

  “Likewise. Let me introduce you both to Dina.” In the chair next to him sat a women, her back to us. All I registered was a fluffy mane of streaked blond hair. Then she turned around.

  “Everyone, this is Dina Chassen.”

  I’d heard Dina was pretty, that she’d been a cheerleader in school, but we’d never met. Big blue eyes with lots of black mascara stared at us from a babyish round face. Her perfect pink lips reminded me of a kewpie doll, but a doll built with an eye-catching rise of bosom that filled out her fuzzy peach sweater.

  “Nice to finally meet you, Kate.” Her voice stayed pleasant but her expression suggested something else.

  “Nice meeting you, too.” Now I understood why Luke kept breaking up with, then going back to, his high-school sweetheart.

  “And who is this handsome man with you?” Her lake blue eyes zeroed in on Jeremy, a little half-smile on her face. Damned if she didn’t have dimples, too.

  “This is Jeremy Engels. He’s an anthropologist friend of mine visiting from Africa.” My introduction sounded lame but no one appeared to be listening that closely. Luke nervously gestured for us to sit down. I slipped off
my coat and hung it on the back of the chair. Glancing demurely through her long lashes, Dina gave my little black dress the once-over.

  “This place is pretty busy.” Jeremy took in the full bar and the crowd waiting to be seated.

  Luke explained that the owners, transplants from New York City, had tried to create a Tuscan country atmosphere in upstate New York.

  I added, “Trattoria Toscano got mentioned in the New York Times food section a couple of days ago. Nothing like a little publicity to bring people in.” Again, no one seemed very interested in my news update. Jeremy craned his neck to glance at the beamed ceilings, Dina stared at Jeremy’s Rolex, and Luke observed it all.

  I made another lame comment on the weather while Luke signaled for our server. The waiter must have gotten the message because thirty seconds later he squeezed out of the crowd like toothpaste from the tube.

  Will, our young red-haired server for the evening, introduced himself then earnestly recited the evening’s specials and their preparation, and asked for our drink orders.

  “Champagne cocktail for me.” Dina gazed up from the menu and giggled. “I like the way the bubbles tickle the inside of my mouth.”

  All three men smiled.

  I could have puked.

  Jeremy was still studying the drinks list, so Luke added, “I’ll have a glass of Zinfandel.”

  The waiter caught my eye next. “The house Chardonnay for me, please.”

  Will’s attention turned back to Jeremy, the last holdout. His order was surprisingly sophisticated. “Rémy Martin. No ice.” The server nodded and took off. My college buddy gently clasped my hand and made a surprise announcement. “By the way, everyone. I insist that drinks and dinner are on me. You have no idea how much I’ve missed evenings like this. It’s so kind of all of you to include me.”

  “Are you sure?” Luke tried to catch my eye as if to doublecheck.

  “Absolutely. You can thank my family trust fund. I certainly do.”