by Blake Pierce
The door opened and she stepped out into a sterile blue-and-gray-walled office with a vaulted ceiling and a view of the city. A receptionist smiled at her as she walked over.
“My name’s Keri Locke. I have an appointment with Dr. Burlingame at two p.m.”
“Okay, Ms. Locke,” she said pleasantly, “if you could just fill out these forms and let me make a copy of your insurance card and driver’s license, we’ll be right with you.”
“Oh, it’s not that kind of appointment. I’m Detective Keri Locke, here about his wife. We spoke earlier and he said he’d fit me in.”
“So sorry about that, Ms. Locke. I do see the note in the computer here. That’s my fault,” she said, sounding far more mortified than Keri thought was necessary. “Give me one moment and we’ll get you right back there.”
Keri walked around the reception area while she waited, looking at the framed images on the wall. Most of them were of smiling children, apparently happy success stories. A few others were of women in what looked like actor head shot pictures. Those all had the word “Butterfly” printed in the lower right corner of the photo. Keri had no idea what that meant.
A nurse opened the door and beckoned for Keri to follow her. They went down a long hall and around a bend to a large office in the northwest corner. The nurse knocked on the open door to get the attention of Burlingame, who was hunched over a file.
He looked up, slightly startled, then recovered and waved her in.
“Thanks for coming here, Detective. I wanted to see you as soon you called and I figured this was more convenient for both of us, logistically. Truth be told, I have appointments lined up until seven tonight so this works much better for me.”
“Not a problem, Dr. Burlingame. Thanks for making the time. I just wanted to touch base with you about the case.”
“Yes, thank you. I keep checking in with Lieutenant Hillman, but he never has anything to share. He mentioned that the investigation so far suggests she just left. I’ve told him repeatedly that that’s not possible. I’m starting to worry that he’s made up his mind and that Kendra’s case isn’t the priority for him that it is for me.”
“Definitely not so, Doctor. We’re still pursuing every available lead aggressively. In fact, I was interviewing someone of interest just before I came over here. Let me ask you, does the name Alex Crane mean anything to you?”
She watched him closely but Burlingame just looked mildly perplexed.
“I don’t think so. If he was a patient I’d remember. Is he a witness or a suspect or something?”
“At this point, neither. What he was, at least for a time, was your wife’s lover. Were you aware that Kendra was having an affair, Dr. Burlingame?”
The doctor’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
“What?” he stammered. “What are you saying?”
“Your wife had an affair with a man named Alex Crane. Did you know that?” she asked more harshly this time.
“No, I mean, no, that’s not true. It can’t possibly be. This man, he must be lying—you know, fifteen minutes of fame. Please, you can’t believe this. Kendra would never do that.”
Keri didn’t respond at first. All her attention was focused on Burlingame’s face, looking for any hint of deception. She didn’t know him well at all so she didn’t have much to compare his reaction to. But he seemed genuinely distressed.
The cool reserve with which he normally carried himself was gone. He looked like a little boy who’d been separated from his mom in a big crowd and was now desperately searching for her.
“She never mentioned anything about this to you?”
“No, never. Are you saying she ran off with this man? Is that why Hillman won’t be straight with me? I can’t believe any of this.”
“The affair occurred five years ago. It’s been over for a long time, Doctor. She hasn’t seen Crane since it ended.”
“Wait, what? Then why are you telling me this? What good will it do?”
Keri watched the wheels turn in his head. He looked down at the desk, then back up at her, trying to control his rapid breathing. She could tell he’d figured it out.
“You thought I might have known about this man,” he finally said, “that I might have done something to Kendra as payback. You wanted to see how I’d react when you told me.”
“Yes,” Keri said.
“And do you think I did something?”
“I honestly don’t know, Doctor.”
That wasn’t exactly true. Nothing Jeremy Burlingame had said or done had given her reason to suspect him. The only mark against him was that he was her husband. And husbands are always suspects.
“Well, what can I do to prove to you that I didn’t?” he pleaded. “Can I take a lie detector test? Do you want to take my phone to check my location the last few days? Do you want to interrogate the doctors I worked with in San Diego on Monday some more? What can I do to assure you of my innocence and keep you looking for her?”
There was a hint of desperation in his voice, as if he might lose it at any moment. But Keri had to keep pushing. It was her job.
“I’m not sure there’s anything you can do, Dr. Burlingame. After all, it’s almost always the husband. So you’ve got to expect that you’d be under suspicion.”
“Yes, but I figured a good detective would follow the facts and not just make lazy assumptions based on clichés. I didn’t expect you to walk in here and use allegations of an affair to test me. An affair, by the way, I think you may have just made up.”
There was a knock on the door. A nurse stood meekly at the threshold.
“What is it, Brenda?” Burlingame demanded harshly.
“I’m sorry, Doctor. But Mrs. Rossetti has been waiting for twenty minutes and she’s getting upset.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said brusquely.
“Yes sir,” Brenda said, backing away meekly.
He looked back at Keri, clearly frustrated.
“Are we done here, Detective? Or are you going to arrest me?”
“You’re free to resume your schedule, Doctor.”
“Let me ask you this, Detective Locke. Is there any legal reason why I can’t hire my own private investigator to pursue this? I mean clearly, the police aren’t interested. And despite what you may believe, I love my wife. Hell, I’ve been sleeping on the couch because I can’t bear to lie in our bed without her beside me. I feel completely helpless.”
“You’re free to do as you wish, Doctor,” Keri said, trying to keep her voice cool and professional. “But I can assure you, I’m still very much interested in this case.” With that, she got up and left.
It wasn’t until she got into the elevator that Keri allowed herself to breathe normally. She had just taken a huge risk. She’d conducted an aggressive interview with the missing woman’s spouse, without the permission or even awareness of her superior.
And what did she have to show for it? Nothing. She was no more convinced of his guilt now than when she walked into his office. In fact, the sense of panic and powerlessness he projected made her feel like he was as much a victim as Kendra.
As the elevator plummeted to the ground floor, she couldn’t help but wonder if her career was headed in the same direction.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
With a pit of apprehension in her gut, Keri drove from Burlingame’s office to visit Ashley Penn in Venice. She was almost there when she got the call she’d been dreading. She hit the speakerphone button and braced for what she knew was coming.
“What the hell were you thinking?” bellowed the furious voice of Lieutenant Cole Hillman.
“Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” she said as pleasantly as she could, “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“I’m referring to you invading Burlingame’s office and treating him like he’s suspect number one when we all know there is no suspect.”
“With all due respect, sir, you yourself said the case wasn’t officially closed. I was jus
t following up.”
There was a long pause. Keri braced herself for another explosion.
“Locke, I thought I told you to go home and rest. Why can’t you just follow orders for once, especially when they’re for your own good?” He sounded less angry than pleading now.
“I just want to do the job right, Lieutenant.”
“I get that. And I know you’re itching to get back in the game. But part of your job is listening to your superior officer.”
“Yes sir.”
“So hear me now. You are to stop investigating this case. Go home. Sleep. Watch TV. Eat food that’s bad for you. I don’t care what you do, as long as it doesn’t involve pursuing this nearly closed case. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir. I just—”
“Good,” he said, cutting her off and hanging up before she could get in another word.
Keri pulled the car over. She was parked on the street near Ashley Penn’s house in the Venice canals. She had been ordered to drop the case, to go home.
Actually, he said he didn’t care what I did as long as it wasn’t pursuing the case. Checking up on a girl I rescued from certain death isn’t pursuing the case.
Satisfied that she was following the letter of Hillman’s orders, Keri got out of the car and walked to the Penn house.
The home of Senator Stafford Penn, his wife, Mia, and their daughter, Ashley, was a massive, three-story mansion surrounded by high walls and situated next to a canal modeled after those in the Italian city. Keri buzzed the outer door and waved at the camera looking down at her.
After a few seconds, the gate buzzed and she walked toward the front door, which opened suddenly to reveal Ashley Penn. The fifteen-year-old girl stood in the doorway, supported by crutches, with an enormous cast on her right leg from ankle to hip. Her left wrist was wrapped in a soft cast.
Despite that, she wore a huge grin. Her blonde hair fell loosely over her shoulders. She had on a white tank top and navy shorts, both of which contrasted with her deeply tanned skin. Before Keri could stop her, the girl hobbled toward her, dropped the crutches, and wrapped her arms around her, giving her a powerful hug. Keri didn’t mind the ripple of pain that shot through her.
“It’s so good to see you,” Ashley whispered in her ear. When she finally stepped back, there were tears in her eyes. Keri’s were wet too.
“You look pretty good, considering,” Keri said and meant it. From the waist up, the teenage girl looked like she was ready for a modeling shoot. She picked up the crutches and returned them.
“Thanks,” Ashley said as she led Keri into the house. “So do you. The last time I saw you, you were in a wheelchair with your arm in a sling. Now you’re dressed all professional woman–like. I’d never know you were in a hospital like, a week ago.”
“I look better than I feel, trust me.”
They sat down in the front sitting room. It was a little formal but Ashley obviously couldn’t go long distances and this room had the closest couch. A maid came in and asked if they needed anything. Ashley asked for lemonade and Keri followed suit. A tall, solid-looking man in a crisp suit stood just outside the room, silent but alert. Keri recognized him as part of Senator Penn’s security staff.
“Is this just a social visit or is it related to the case?” Ashley asked, a hint of apprehension in her voice.
I just wanted to check in, see how you were doing,” Keri assured her. “I felt bad that I hadn’t had a chance to stop by yet.”
“Don’t feel bad. It’s probably better that you waited anyway. Things have been a little crazy around here.”
“What do you mean?”
“My folks are separating. Dad moved out over the weekend. He’s issuing a statement tomorrow to try to beat the tabloids to it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Ashley.”
“It’s okay. It’s been coming. My mom hasn’t been happy for a while. Me getting kidnapped by a guy who was hired by my father’s brother didn’t help. And my dad trying to keep it all quiet because it would hurt his reelection chances was just sort of the cherry on top.”
“I wish I could say I was stunned. But I have to admit, your father didn’t seem to love it when things went…off-script.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it. Look, I love him. He’s my dad. But family is not his top priority. It sometimes felt like we were an obstacle to his perfect little life. He’s kind of a control freak, you know?”
“Don’t you think that’s a bit harsh?” Keri asked.
“No way. When things don’t go how he planned, he just kind of loses it. He’s learned to control it because he’s a politician and voters don’t like rage monsters. But when things don’t go his way, especially when he thinks he’s been wronged, he seethes to himself. And eventually, it comes out later.”
“Through violence? He hasn’t hurt you or your mother, has he?” Keri asked, alarmed.
“No. He’s not violent. But I remember that in his last election, some local councilman endorsed his primary opponent after privately promising my dad he’d support him. Within a year, the guy had lost his seat, his home had been foreclosed on, and he was being investigated by the city attorney.”
“Well, if the guy was corrupt—”
“He wasn’t. It was all bogus. But by the time the truth came out, his life had been destroyed. Then there was this rich Malibu socialite who reneged on hosting a campaign fundraiser at the last minute. My dad got her kicked out of her country club. He had her investigated for a zoning violation. That ended up being false too. But by then, she’d been shamed into moving. She lives in La Jolla now. I could tell you a dozen other stories like that. He’s not a great guy.”
“I’m sorry,” Keri said, unsure what else she could add.
“Me too. It’s just good my mom knows all this stuff too or he’d probably try to crush her in the divorce. But he can’t because she knows where all the bodies are buried.”
Their lemonade arrived and Keri used the distraction as a chance to change the subject.
“When do you go back to school?” she asked.
“Next week. I’m a little nervous. All that publicity—I’m not sure how people are going to react.”
“Your friends have come to visit you, right? Have they acted any differently toward you?”
“No, they’ve been awesome. Someone’s been by every day to bring me homework and just hang out.” Ashley smiled at the thought of it.
“See, the people who matter have already shown their true colors,” Keri said, then leaned in to whisper her next comment. “I say screw anyone who doesn’t get with the program.”
Ashley nodded but Keri could tell she wasn’t totally convinced. She decided not to push.
“Have the doctors given you a timetable for when you can start surfing or playing basketball again?”
Ashley’s face brightened at the question.
“If I stick to my physical therapy, they say I could be back on my board by spring. I won’t be doing aerials for a while. But I just want to get back out there, you know? Basketball’s a little rougher. This will be a lost season. And the doctors don’t want me doing any impact sports until next fall anyway. So we’ll just have to see on that one.”
“Well, I’d love to come to one of your games,” Keri said. “Or even before that, maybe you could give me a surfing lesson or two. I’ve always wanted to learn.”
Ashley giggled. Apparently the thought of Keri Locke on a surfboard was inherently funny. Just then, the maid poked her head in.
“Miss Ashley, your physical therapist is here for your afternoon session,” she said.
“Thanks, Maricela,” Ashley said, then turned to Keri. “My work is never done. I have morning, afternoon, and evening sessions. At least the evening guy is cute.”
“Ashley Penn, please steer clear of guys for a little while, especially the cute ones,” Keri said, surprised at how mom-ish she sounded.
Ashley laughed out loud. The sound gave Keri a hit of pur
e joy. After everything the girl had been through, the fact that she retained her sense of humor was something of a miracle.
Ashley must have been thinking the same thing because the laugh quickly gave way to tears. Keri slid over and wrapped her arms around the teenager, who squeezed her back tight.
“I still have nightmares about him,” Ashley whispered in her ear between sniffles. “I picture myself strapped into that machine, my arms and legs being pulled in different directions, him standing over me, getting pleasure from my agony.”
“I know,” Keri whispered back, holding the shaking teen close. “I have them too. But I promise, they’ll fade over time.”
“Are you sure?” Ashley asked quietly. Keri pulled back so the girl could look into her eyes.
“I am. I’ve seen a lot of terrible things, Ashley. And almost all of them fade with time. This will too. Just don’t shut down. Keep talking to your doctors, your therapists, your mom, to me. And remember. Alan Pachanga is in a hole in the ground. Next spring you’ll be doing air spirals in the ocean.”
“Aerials,” Ashley said, breaking into a little grin.
“Yeah, those. Listen, I’m going to go. You’ve got your physical therapy and I have to make Los Angeles safe for juvenile delinquents like you. But I’d like to visit again if that’s okay. Maybe next week?”
“I’d really like that,” Ashley said.
They hugged one last time. Then Keri headed out. As she left the room she exchanged glances with the security guard near the door. He nodded politely and Keri thought she might have seen a tear trickling down his cheek. She hoped it wasn’t her imagination.
As she headed back to the car, she couldn’t help but be impressed with the kid’s resilience. In the last three weeks, she’d been abducted and tortured, broken multiple bones in her body, discovered her uncle was a murderous sociopath, and learned her parents were getting divorced. And still, she saw Keri off with an authentic smile on her face.