by Jaime Maddox
Fuck! He’d been so hasty in fleeing the lake he’d forgotten about the bloody sweatshirt he’d been wearing. Lying beside him on the seat, it not only held Steph’s blood, but all of her jewelry as well. What was he going to do with it?
The light turned, and his panic pushed bile up in his throat, until he could taste it. He barely had time to pull to the curb before the vomit rushed from his mouth, covering the street beside his car. He pulled away just as quickly, hoping no one had noticed. If someone thought he was drunk, they might call the police. A traffic stop now would be a disaster.
Mindful of his speed, he drove slowly, and though he wasn’t sure where he was going, he wasn’t surprised to see where he was when he finally turned off his car. He exited and looked around, happy to see Nay Aug Park so quiet on a Friday night. Grabbing the evidence from his floor, he walked quickly toward the park. He’d spent enough mornings there to know the park maintenance staff would be there first thing to empty the trash. The garment’s red color hardly showed the blood, and hopefully, no one would pay any attention to it if they happened to see it in the garbage. If they did notice the stains, hopefully no one would suspect it came from the body of a young woman felled twenty miles away.
He walked a hundred yards into the park and removed the gold from the shirt, placing it in his pocket. The maintenance guys might not care about an old sweatshirt, but gold in the trash would definitely draw attention. Looking around for witnesses and finding none, he rolled the shirt into a ball and shoved it deep into the garbage can, then turned and walked back to his car.
Just as he reached the driver’s door, the sound of a voice startled him.
He looked up, surprised to see Cassidy Ryan a few feet away. What the fuck was she doing out at this hour? Cass was the younger sister of one of his classmates, but because she had Down syndrome and often hung out with her sister, he’d gotten to know her pretty well. She lived with her family in the house directly across Arthur Avenue from his car.
“Hey, Cass. What are you doing out so late?” He looked around, wondering who else was out and about, wishing he had a statue he could use to hit her.
“I saw your car from my window. I thought you were coming to visit Reese. She’s sleeping.”
He edged around the car, back toward the park, and as he hoped, she followed. “Oh. Then I won’t come in.”
“You can still come and talk to me.”
Cass’s sister Reese had warned him that Cass had a crush on him. He’d always liked Cass and went out of his way to engage her. It was all very innocent, but he could understand that Cass might take his kindness the wrong way.
“I always like to talk to you. Do you want to sit in my car with me?” If he could get her into the car, he could buy a little time. Formulate a plan.
“My mom says I can’t go in a car with strange men.”
“Do you think I’m strange?”
She giggled. “I guess not.”
The sound of her laughter pierced his heart. What the fuck was he thinking? He’d just murdered one innocent girl; he couldn’t kill another one. Especially not one as pure and sweet as Cass. Unlike Steph, she’d never hurt him.
He asked her a question, kept her talking while he tried to come up with a plan. An idea occurred to him. “So, what’s up with Reese?” he asked.
“She’s sleeping. She has a headache.”
“I was going to ask her if I could borrow some money. For gas.”
Cass shook her hand excitedly, a habit he adored. He hoped she’d put it in her pocket and bring out some money. Cass never went anywhere without a few dollars.
He watched as she reached in and pulled out a roll of money and offered it to him. “I can lend you some.”
“Can it be our secret, Cass? I don’t want anyone to know. It’s sort of embarrassing.”
She shook her head. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Not even Reese?” he asked.
Her expression was serious. “No.”
“Okay. Do you think you could just pretend I never came over tonight? Because if you tell anyone I came over, you’ll have to tell them why I came over, and then they’ll know that I had to borrow money from a girl.”
“It’s okay to borrow money from a girl. Girls have lots of money.”
“It’s not okay if you’re a boy. Boys are supposed to pay for girls, not borrow money from them.”
“You can have all my money. Here,” she said, thrusting her hand toward him again.
He took the cash and counted it. Eight dollars.
“I’m just going to take two. For gas. I’ll pay you back soon, okay?”
“When?”
He almost laughed at the change in her attitude but held his tongue. “At graduation.”
“Okay, that’s good.”
“You won’t tell anyone I was here, will you?”
She shook her head.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Thanks, Cass. You’re the best.” He pulled her into a hug, and this time, instead of laughing, he wanted to cry.
Pulling away, he kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you at graduation,” he said.
He watched as she crossed the street, but before she could climb the stairs, he was behind the wheel of his car. A second later, he turned onto the cross street and away from the park and the bloody sweatshirt in the trash can. He hoped he could trust Cass to keep their secret. His life depended on it.
Chapter 1: The Interview
Present Day
“What makes you think you’d like living in the Poconos, Elizabeth? It’s not quite what you’re used to.”
Ella looked over Mary Ann Bingham’s shoulder to the impressive vista of the mountains behind her. The presidency of a large university had its perks, she thought, and a corner office with a view was one of them.
Swallowing her nerves, she thought of an appropriate response. This job would be a promotion for her. It would mean more money, more responsibilities, more rewards. It would mean she’d made it, climbed and battled her way to the top of her field. Really, though, the job in the Poconos was more than that to her. It was a homecoming of sorts.
Turning her attention to the president and her question, she realized the view out her window really was the answer.
Her office windows in a similar university in the suburbs of Philadelphia also showed her a shaded courtyard, filled with ancient trees and a circus of squirrels, but beyond that, the differences were more evident than the similarities. There, nature was an illusion, growing dimmer with each year that developers built another shopping mall or housing development. The cost of the homes they built in Philadelphia was two or three times the cost of comparable dwellings here. She knew; she’d done her homework before applying for the job as vice president of development at Pocono Mountains University.
It would be more difficult to find great Thai food in the Poconos, she was sure, and there were probably not as many single lesbians as in the Delaware Valley. They certainly didn’t have the Phillies, and not even their AAA minor-league team, either, since traitorous parties had moved them to Allentown. But the Poconos had other benefits, and over the past few years, Ella had realized the other things mattered most to her.
Meeting Mary Ann’s piercing gaze, she nodded. It wasn’t what she was used to. Ella was accustomed to the great food, and culture, and sports, and occasionally women, too. Yet in spite of all that, she still found herself in this interview, hoping to find a way of soothing the discontent she couldn’t quite explain. That was why she’d responded to the ad she’d read in one of her professional journals. It was why she’d awakened at four o’clock and driven two hours to the mountains. She needed a change, and she couldn’t help feeling the corners of her malaise cracking as she thought of her childhood spent not so far from the PMU campus. This was the next leg of her journey, she was sure of it.
“Please, call me Ella,” she said as she adjusted in her seat, facing the president head-
on. “You’re right. It would be a different experience for me, but not one I’m unfamiliar with. I spent the first twelve summers of my life at Lake Winola. Do you know where that is?”
The stern façade softened, and a smile appeared in Mary Ann’s eyes as she nodded briefly. “I certainly do. I grew up not far from the lake. You say you lived there as a child?”
“My dad grew up on the lake and graduated from Pocono Mountains Prep before going off to explore the world. He sent my sister and me here every summer so we could spend time with our grandparents and have some fun. We swam and rode bikes and climbed trees, caught fireflies and toasted marshmallows at night. My parents would drop us off in June, and we wouldn’t hear from them until Labor Day. I think those were the best times of my life.”
“How come you stopped coming?”
“My grandparents died. They went within months of each other, and my dad’s family sold the lake house. After that we went to camp in the summer. It was definitely not as much fun as here.”
“I’m sorry about your grandparents.”
Ella acknowledged the condolence with a nod. “They lived a great life, and I have fond memories.”
“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t mind trading all the excitement of the big city for a chance to revisit your perfect childhood?”
Mary Ann’s smile reached all the way to her mouth this time, and Ella replied with one of her own. “Not at all.”
Sitting taller in her chair, Mary Ann glanced down at the notepad on her desk. “As you probably know, we conducted a national search for candidates for this position. The former VP had health issues and had to leave rather suddenly, but the office is functioning without him. The other development officers are doing some of his promotional work. We’ve already mailed out Save the Date postcards for next year’s scholarship luncheon, for example. We haven’t been out on the road, though, staying in touch with our alums and donors. We need to get back to that.”
“I can understand why.”
“I don’t want to hire someone who looks good on paper but doesn’t really have an idea what this place is about. We’re a good school, and we draw students from all over the country, but we focus on educating local students. That’s our mission. And I don’t care if you’ve been a VP at Harvard. Cambridge is not the same as the Pocono Mountains, our alumni are not the same, and our students are not the same. If you spent your childhood here, I believe you understand that difference.”
Ella was encouraged by Mary Ann’s soliloquy yet felt her nerves firing, felt every beat of her heart, and she fought the urge to bite her lip. Instead, she adjusted her posture once again. While she contemplated an appropriate reply, Mary Ann spoke again.
“If you’d like the position, it’s yours.”
“Wow,” she said, and began to laugh. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Why? You’re qualified, and you know the place. What more could I want?”
“I guess I’m just shocked.”
“Get over it,” she said as she pushed a red-and-white folder bearing the PMU logo across her desk. “Obviously, I need to hire someone soon. I’d like it to be you. This is the entire package. Review it and get back to me with any rebuttals in the next forty-eight hours.”
After placing the folder in her bag, Ella stood and thanked Mary Ann for the opportunity.
“Two days, okay? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume you don’t want the position.”
“I’ll talk to you then,” Ella said as she followed Mary Ann through her office and toward the elevator.
After the door closed behind her, Ella pumped her fist before pressing the button for the lobby. She had the job, if she wanted it. If? There was no if. She wanted it. She fought the desire to do a little dance, just in case security cameras were watching. Five floors down, she exited into a glass and tile foyer boasting three stories of student art. Beyond, the July sun beckoned her, and she found a bench in the courtyard and sat, pondering her next move.
Answering the first question was easy. She really wanted this job. The next question was a little more difficult to answer. Could she handle it? Her qualifications spoke for themselves, obviously loudly enough for Mary Ann Bingham to hear. Starting with her alma mater, Villanova, she’d been in development since earning her bachelor’s degree. Working at ’Nova had allowed her to pursue her master’s, and she’d used that accomplishment to propel her to the next level. Twenty years and three schools later, was she ready to take the next big step? She had no VP experience, and she’d seen enough incompetent people hold the position to know that her qualifications didn’t mean she’d do a good job. She thought she would, though. She loved what she did, and as a single lesbian, she really was married to her work.
The rest of her family had no hold over her, either. Her parents were retired in Florida, and her sister was married with children in Chicago. Although they gathered somewhere for their annual Christmas celebration, and again every summer for a vacation, the ties that bound her were not in Philly. When she thought about it, she realized she was all by herself.
Yes, she had plenty of friends, but not much time to enjoy them. Hers really was a demanding field, with many evenings spent wooing donors and at university functions. It had occurred to her on more than one occasion that she could simply rent a hotel room and give up her town house, because she spent so many nights on the road. Good universities spawned successful alums, who spread like seeds in the wind. One week she was in San Diego, the next in Boston, the next in St. Louis. Wherever the money was, she followed, asking the successful businessmen and accountants and physicians to remember the school that gave them the opportunity to fulfill their potential, to live their dreams. Her donors had given everything from $5,000 scholarships to $5,000,000 buildings. In return, she gave her time, and that didn’t leave much opportunity for socializing.
Would her friends even know if she moved? Chuckling, she realized they might not. That didn’t bother her, though. She was doing exactly what she wanted to. Somehow, though, it had lost some of its charm. It wasn’t as exciting to board a plane as it had once been. It wasn’t as thrilling to hook a big fish. She’d never tire of slipping on a little black dress and a pair of heels, though. And maybe when she took them off, pulling on a pair of hiking shoes and going for a walk in the woods might feel right. Or swinging a golf club in her backyard. Or cooking a steak on her grill. Rather than coming home to her town house in Philly, returning to a place she actually wanted to be might be just what she needed.
Thinking of the possibilities filled her with an excitement she hadn’t felt in ages. Yes, she really did want this job.
Ella glanced around the deserted patch of green and smiled. The shouts and laughter of students would soon shatter the quiet of this early July morning. They’d read in the shade of the trees, toss Frisbees in the open spaces, gather on stairs to discuss classes and gossip. Imagining such scenes nearly brought them to life, and she could feel herself absorbing the energy of the students’ collective youth. It would be a wonderful place to work.
During the first interview at PMU, a month earlier, Mary Ann Bingham had given her the campus tour, and it included the spacious corner office the VP would claim. That, too, was appealing. Her current office was small, and too close for comfort to the men’s restroom across the hall. This one afforded more privacy and a small anteroom for intimate meetings with donors. Although she would travel a great deal for the university, when she was home, she’d have lovely surroundings to inspire her.
The salary and benefits package had been outlined before the interview, to make sure it met her expectations before anyone’s time was wasted. It had. PMU would give her a raise, more PTO, and a car. Since her current model—a BMW convertible—wouldn’t do well in the snow, that was a definite plus.
Her personal research into PMU had been promising, as well. The school was small, and private, and didn’t offer a ton of majors, but instead it focused doing a few things rather well. Their a
lums included a host of doctors, Wall Street wizards, computer analysts, and even a United States senator.
As she did the mental math, Ella found the plusses far outweighed the minuses. Standing, she glanced around one last time before heading to her car. It was time to check out the local housing market.
Chapter 2: The Delicate Balance
Holding a syringe in one hand and a bottle of lidocaine in the other, Reese Ryan turned at the sound of her name.
“Medic on the line wants to talk to you,” the nurse said.
Reese followed her from the supply room and a few feet to the phone and allowed her to hold it against her ear as she coaxed the clear, colorless liquid from the vial. “Dr. Ryan,” she said.
“Hey, Doc, it’s Engle here. I thought you’d want to know I’m bringing Mrs. Nathan in. Shortness of breath.”
At the sound of Millie Nathan’s name—for it could only be Millie Nathan who warranted such a warning—Reese stood a little taller. “CHF?” she asked.
“I think so. I gave her a squirt of Lasix, have her on 100 percent oxygen by face mask, and we’ll be there in five.”
“How’s her pressure?”
“That’s the funny thing. It’s a little low. And her heart rate’s fast, too.”
“Has she had any chest pain?”
“No.”
“Hmm,” Reese said, quickly running through the possibilities in her mind. If Millie Nathan’s heart was failing, it was in real trouble, because her vital signs weren’t so good. But she had a bad heart, and Reese supposed it was only a matter of time with her. “See you in five.”
Pulling away, she looked at the nurse holding the phone in her hand. “The senator’s mom is coming in. Put her in the penthouse suite and page me immediately. I’d like to get these stitches in before she arrives. Otherwise, this guy may be waiting another hour.”
“You bet,” the nurse said, heading toward the resuscitation room.