“Thanks for the input.”
Laura stepped away from the counter. She ran her palms over the sides of her hair again, but the result was more static, and the cloud of hair seemed to grow larger, straining up toward the glow of the lights. She walked around the corner. The sound of her heels scratching at the carpet faded after a few seconds.
JUST AFTER TWELVE, Vanessa put on her coat, looped her purse strap over her shoulder, and walked out of her cubicle. She took the back stairs to the first floor and went outside. It was sunny and breezy, not too cold, but she shivered as the fresh air swept up beneath her skirt. She had no idea why she’d worn a short skirt today; she wouldn’t be seeing Hank. It was a total waste.
Yellow leaves clinging stubbornly to the branches of liquid amber trees fluttered on the branches, tiny spots of color, waving at her as she walked to her car. She unlocked the door and climbed in. Hard, cold leather greeted the backs of her legs. She bent her knees and inched the seat forward to minimize contact.
She needed to get away. It had been fun watching Laura pretend she wasn’t worried about whether she appeared to be attracted to Hank. Despite Laura’s height, her good posture, her elegant walk, and her expensive clothes and haircut, she looked anxious. Desperate was right, and Laura was oblivious to the impression she made. Was everyone that blind to how others saw them? Was she?
She drove out of the parking lot and turned north along the frontage road circling the edge of the bay. Gulls drifted across the low water, still mucky around the edges. She turned left, wound past other high-tech companies and turned toward El Camino Real.
She drove to the natural food market. It was a strange choice for taking things she wanted, but they carried a lot of nice lotions and candles. They actually invited sampling with occasional stands of cheese and crackers or sweets placed throughout the store. It was an easy target because they were so concerned with being welcoming, trusting the goodness of the human race.
The parking lot was crowded at lunchtime with people clamoring for healthy deli and salad bar offerings. She found a spot near the doors into the produce section. She grabbed her reusable bag from the trunk and went inside.
She already knew what she wanted—three beeswax candles, a few bead bracelets, and a jar of vitamin C tablets. Oddly enough, the vitamin C would be the most challenging. That section of the store was littered with wannabe nutritionists eager to impart their knowledge of natural remedies.
Beeswax candles were expensive. For most people, candles fell into the nice-to-have category, but she considered them a necessity. She loved the way they filled the rooms with warm light, the glow softening every flaw.
She liked having frivolous things, new things that had never been used, in her home, and on her body. She’d put too much emphasis on being discreet. If she would start scoping out more expensive stores, she’d get double the reward, with pricier products and more intense satisfaction. It was a balancing act, enjoying the thrill but not risking too much, not putting herself in danger of being caught. It was time to take more risks.
She grabbed a basket, tore off three plastic bags, and filled them quickly with tangerines, an avocado, and loose baby spinach. She proceeded quickly to the bulk foods where she filled two more bags—jasmine rice and raw peanuts for Matt’s favorite Szechwan stir fry.
The victory over Laura felt good, but she wanted the feeling to continue. The need had grown in the minutes after Laura left, until Vanessa had known she had to indulge herself with some freebies.
In the whole body section, she lingered in front of the lotions. She was aware of two employees in the area. One remained inside the confines of the circular counter, answering questions. The other was more trouble. He snuck up on shoppers from behind, asking whether they needed help.
She walked slowly to a rack of handmade bracelets in front of the bookshelves. She slipped several cards off the rack and held them up, comparing styles and colors. The one with tiny chocolate brown wood cylinders interspersed with turquoise beads was most appealing, but why not take them both? The other had yellow and white beads strung along a strip of leather, perfect with jeans and a white tank top.
She took a few steps to the side, reached for a book, and let the two cards fall into her waiting purse. She thumbed through the book on gluten-free cooking and put it back on the shelf. She turned and saw the man looking at her. She walked toward him.
“Hi, I have a quick question.” She lowered her chin slightly, as if afraid to look him directly in the eye.
“I’m happy to help.”
“Are the yellow and white beeswax candles both completely natural, or is there dye in the white ones?”
“Let’s go look,” he said.
She could read the labels herself, but she allowed him to assist her. He picked up a white candle and studied the paper wrapper. He picked up a yellow one in his other hand and studied that label. He proclaimed the products identical and equally beneficial to her health. “Which do you prefer?”
“I’ll take two of the white.”
He placed them in her basket. “Anything else I can help with?”
She glanced to the left. A woman with two toddler girls standing by the oversized basket was waiting, eager to break in the moment she had a chance.
“Just one more thing.” If Vanessa could stall him long enough to get a line going of people waiting to ask questions, it would provide an excellent window. “Are all your gluten-free books on display?”
“Yes. Is there something you can’t find that you’re looking for?”
“I wanted a book with information, not just recipes.”
“I’m sure we have a few of those.”
“Oh, you do. I just wanted to be sure they were all out. I want to compare everything you have.”
“Okay then. Anything else?” He looked anxiously at the toddlers, gripping the edges of the cart, bouncing in their eagerness for action.
“No. Thanks.” She smiled. He grinned back, then turned to the mother.
Vanessa strolled toward the bookshelves. While she flipped through another gluten-free cookbook, she put the candles into her purse, one after the other. She moved the food around in the basket, returned to the candle display, and dropped a third into the basket in case he saw her at the checkout.
She walked quickly to the vitamin section. She chose a glass bottle that was less likely to rattle loudly enough to be detected by the clerk at the checkout. She bent over as if to consider the supplements on a lower shelf and slid the bottle into her purse. When she straightened, she rearranged the items in her basket and moved her purse to the other shoulder. She pulled out her wallet and zipped the purse closed.
Checkout went smoothly, and in a few minutes she was walking to her car, smiling. She lifted her face toward the sky. The winter sun brushed her skin and the breeze tickled her hairline. She put the shopping bag in the trunk and settled herself in the car.
Sometimes, this was as good as sex. Her whole body pulsed with pleasure. The feeling would remain throughout the afternoon. If she was lucky, it would linger into the evening.
16
Laura
LAURA HAD TO get her hands on a copy of the local weekly paper to find out what was being said about the death of a man at the high school track.
Checking the scaled-down online version of the local news had yielded nothing. It might have been too soon. Maybe the police weren’t ready to speak publicly. Since that morning, she’d searched for every possible term she could think of and nothing had come up. Was the guy deemed not worthy of news coverage because he was homeless? Was it possible his body hadn’t been discovered?
The weekly wasn’t delivered consistently, but she couldn’t believe they’d missed two weeks in a row. Seeing the news coverage would reassure her the case was already slipping to unsolved-murder-with-no-leads status. She was confident she hadn’t left any evidence. No one had seen her or there would have been a visit from a detective by now. She could relax
and breathe easily. Except she couldn’t.
It was still dark outside. The only light inside her loft came from the fish tank, giving off a glow that shimmered as the lionfish moved languidly around their rectangular box. The pump gurgled and rumbled like white noise. She peered out the narrow window at the side of the front door, trying to see if there was a thin folded paper on the path leading to the stairs. Maybe one of her neighbors had taken it in for her, but it was too early to ring the Graysons’ bell, even though their lights were on.
She moved away from the window. Every morning, since that day, an irrational fear seized her, whispering that returning to the track would draw attention to herself. She’d briefly considered choosing another high school, driving a few miles for her run. But a different, softer voice, murmured—They’ll think of that, they’ll notice a new runner.
She had no idea who they were, but it was enough to keep her inside, listening to the fish tank, cowering in its glow, waiting for something to happen, hoping nothing would happen.
How could she have been so stupid? She’d let emotion consume her. The one thing she’d spent fifteen years eradicating from her life. She was known for being calm, in control, measured in her words. Maybe the start of her downfall had been fabricating the rumor.
She’d deluded herself that her peers had the same suspicions and she was simply voicing their thoughts, bringing shameful behavior into the open. But as she talked to others, she’d realized no one else was fixated on the tension between those two.
Could Vanessa’s wild accusation be the truth—that Laura was projecting her own desires? Was there a latent attraction to Hank burning so deep inside, she hadn’t recognized it? There was certainly something alluring about him. Something that made her enjoy being in his presence, made her want to impress him, not just with her business skills, but her appearance, her wit.
What was wrong with her? Was she everything she despised after all? A woman attracted to a powerful man, always measuring herself in relationship to men? What a cliché. Her face burned just thinking about it.
She’d hoped to break Vanessa’s control over Hank, and instead, she’d ripped her own life to shreds. She’d exposed an attraction she hadn’t even known was there to the woman who was in a position to stall her career. She’d been reckless, coming across like an unstable neurotic to Vanessa, and worse, to Hank.
She could track everything back to that day she’d mentioned, and exaggerated, her suspicions to Janelle. But despite everything, the conviction that Hank and Vanessa had something going continued to hover at the edge of her mind. She needed to make good on her suggestion of having lunch with Vanessa. Then, she’d let drop about that minor criminal activity at the deli a few weeks back.
The thing that happened with the monster, and the delay in her promotion, had knocked her off balance. She’d allowed Vanessa the upper hand. Vanessa did not have the upper hand. Not at all. Laura was nothing like that monster, running to nowhere. She would never be caught up in a workforce reduction. She was too valuable, too talented. Why hadn’t she laughed it off?
There had to be a way out of this pit.
Not peering out the window looking for a free newspaper was a good start. She turned and went upstairs. She opened her Avalon email and sent a message to Brent, asking him to meet for lunch off campus. A real lunch. Not a salad in the cafeteria. Time to start shoring up her network. The offsite was only a few weeks away. She needed to be a star at that event. Fixating on the interview process was messing with her head.
The next thing she had to do was get back to working out. She would look into joining a gym. Running on a treadmill was tedious, but at least she’d stay in shape. Even running in place would restore her to her previous state of lean and mean. She smiled. Lean and mean. Ready to fight for what was hers.
She brewed coffee, showered, and dried her hair. By the time she’d finished her coffee and a container of yogurt with sliced chunks of apple, it was growing light. She rinsed her mug and went outside. The smell of bacon was thick in the damp air. She walked to the Graysons’ door and knocked.
Jenny opened the door immediately. “Laura! What’s up with you so early?”
“Sorry if I disturbed you.”
“Not at all.” Jenny stepped away from the doorway. “Come in. I’ll make more coffee.”
Jenny’s blond hair was shaved slightly on the back of her neck, longer in front. The style made her look younger than her seventy-one years. She and Charlie were slim and fit, although Laura never saw them doing anything active so she wasn’t sure how they maintained their youthful appearances. Maybe they were just lucky.
“No, that’s okay. I need to get to work. I just was wondering if you saw any copies of the weekly lying around.”
“Haven’t seen it. Who needs a throwaway paper with the Internet?”
“True. But the online version doesn’t get all the stories. Or at least they’re hard to find.”
“What’re you looking for?”
“I just like to know what’s going on.”
“And you have to know what’s happening in city politics at 6:30 in the morning?” Jenny laughed. “You’re too much. Isn’t this when you’re usually out running, burning off some of that ambition?”
“I haven’t been running.” The words came out too fast. Laura smiled carefully.
Jenny’s expression didn’t change, accepting the abrupt change in Laura’s routine without wanting to know the reason. But it was a mistake. If, when, the police came asking questions about people who used the track…Sometimes Jenny seemed to float outside any real awareness of what was happening around her, but she could surprise you too. Clearly she knew Laura ran early every morning.
“I thought you loved running as much as your job.”
“I do, it’s just…the weather.”
Jenny laughed. “When did that ever stop you? I hope you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. So I guess there’s no delivery again this week.”
“If one miraculously appears later today, I’ll drop it on your doormat.”
“Thanks.” Laura shoved her hands into her pockets.
“If you’re that interested, you could go by the publishing office.”
“I didn’t think of that. Maybe I will.”
“What’s got you so curious?”
“Nothing. I guess I like things to be dependable.”
Jenny giggled. “You’re going to have a disappointing life, if that’s what you expect.”
Charlie appeared behind his wife, his tanned, shaved scalp and navy blue sweatshirt and blue jeans stark against the white-on-white decorating scheme of their loft. “What’s so funny?” He took off his glasses and began to polish the lenses with the bottom edge of his sweatshirt.
“Life.” Jenny leaned into him without turning to check his exact position. Charlie wrapped one arm around her and pressed his face into her hair.
They looked genuinely happy. Seeing them gave her a twinge of uncertainty about her own life. Laura smiled. “It’s no big deal. Thanks anyway.”
“So nothing you’re expecting in the paper that we need to know about?”
“No.”
“I hope there’s not some development or issue we missed. It’s awfully early to be out hunting for local news,” Jenny said.
“Really, it’s nothing. I don’t know why I came by so early. I was just thinking about it.” The longer she stayed, the more she was going to cement the encounter in their memories. But she couldn’t seem to extract herself without being blunt and raising more tiny red flags that would flutter if a detective came asking about people who used the high school track for recreation, letting everyone know a man had been murdered before dawn. Jenny and Charlie would think immediately of Laura.
There had to be a way to undo this, but her mind was empty, and so she continued to stare at them, disgusted with herself for not using her supposedly sharp and clever mind. She couldn’t even lie effectively, or divert their atten
tion. “It’s not important. I just thought it would have the date for the next curbside pick-up day. I have a bunch of stuff I need to get rid of.”
“That rehabilitation group left flyers last week. Didn’t you get one?” Jenny said.
“This is junk, nothing they’d want.”
Jenny nodded. Charlie stared at Laura as if she’d asked him for his social security number. “Is something wrong?” he asked.
She gave him what she thought was a casual smile, but it felt weak, guilty-looking. “No. Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s never a bother,” Jenny said. “We love chatting with our neighbors.”
“Just not usually before the cock crows,” Charlie said.
She needed to make her exit, but it had reached the point where no matter what she did it was going to appear awkward. She had to find a way to make sure the correct details adhered to the surface of their memories if they were ever questioned about a murder just a few short blocks from home.
The chances of detectives canvassing the neighborhood were remote. There’d been other crimes in the area—even the occasional murder. No one had ever come to the door to ask Laura if she’d seen anything. Of course, the rare violent crime was most often gang-related. Could the creepy runner’s death be written off as a gang incident? Probably not.
“Well, I’m really sorry to interrupt your breakfast. I’ve been meaning to get rid of this clutter since the new year, and work has been so crazy. I woke up this morning and decided I absolutely had to stop putting it off.” She laughed. “I get up so early, I forget that it might seem strange to go knocking on someone’s door as if it’s midday. Sorry about that. Have a good one.” She turned away.
“If we see the paper, we’ll leave it by your door,” Jenny said. “And it’s never a problem to stop by. We’re up early.”
“Thanks.”
The Assistant: A gripping psychological thriller with a nerve-shredding ending Page 15