And as Laney softly caressed her, the tears that rolled down Sandrine’s face spoke of a new kind of release. She had taken the keys she had held all along and unlocked the door to her prison of distrust. And in that moment, she allowed herself to become lost in the exact place where their hearts had found each other.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Laney awoke alone in Sandrine’s bed and checked her watch. It was almost eleven o’clock in the morning. She had fallen asleep for an hour and a half. Though she was still dead tired, the nap made her feel better.
Walking through the house to look for Sandrine, she took in the warm-colored walls and deep brown hardwood floors that made this Sandrine’s place. Beautiful paintings adorned all the rooms and a fresh bouquet of flowers sat on the dining-room table. She wandered into the kitchen, which was designed in a French provincial country theme with rustic white wood cabinets and earthy granite countertops that housed terra-cotta pottery.
Wondering where Sandrine was, she finally spotted her outside sitting at a teak patio set.
“Hey.” Laney stepped outside and sat next to her.
Sandrine took Laney’s hand. “Hi. I didn’t want to wake you so I came out here.”
“I really crashed. I’m sorry.”
“You were tired.” Sandrine’s eyes squinted as an affectionate smile emerged. But soon Sandrine’s expression began to cloud over.
“Are you okay?”
“I am.” Sandrine touched her arm. “We are.” As she drew her hand away, she said, “I called my lieutenant a little while ago and told him to reassign the fraud case. He asked why and I told him that I knew you and didn’t want to compromise the investigation.”
“So, is that a good thing?”
“It is now.” She kissed Laney. “Especially after this morning.”
Laney smiled. “But you look troubled.”
“I am troubled about what I am going to say next.”
Laney braced for bad news. “What is it, Sandrine?”
“I’m going to help you get out of this mess.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want to help you collect evidence that exonerates you. Then you can turn it over to the police so Theresa can’t use the tape against you.”
“The tape,” Laney said. She hadn’t thought about the damning piece of video all morning.
“Since the tape needs encryption software to copy it, I’m fairly sure there’s only the one master. Nevertheless, she still has power while she holds it. The only way to refute the tape is to get something on her that renders it useless.”
“Are you sure you want to do that, Sandrine?”
“I sat here a long time asking myself the same question. Part of me is screaming to not get involved, but I am involved. With you. And you’re involved with this. I believe you’ve been blackmailed. This was a premeditated move on Theresa’s part and she absolutely won’t hesitate to use it to get what she wants. And if she feels that she’s going down, she’ll try to bring you down with her.”
“I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
“And I don’t want you to get into trouble, either.”
They regarded each other silently. The sun penetrated through the palm trees in Sandrine’s backyard and the rays fell across the teak table and Sandrine’s arms. She was beautiful and she was doing this for her. The gratitude and affection that suddenly began to flow in every part of Laney’s being was growing into love.
Laney took her hand. “It all sounds risky.”
“It is. But without solid evidence that contradicts the tape, I’m not sure you’d ever be able to prove your innocence.”
“And what kind of evidence would that be?”
Sandrine stood and wrapped her arms around Laney. She nuzzled her neck and kissed her ear. “Let’s take a shower and then I’ll show you.”
*
“We’re going to visit a friend,” Sandrine said when they were out the door and in Sandrine’s car.
Laney wasn’t sure what that meant, but she fully trusted her. “Sounds clandestine.”
“It is, in a way. Her name is Gadget Girl. I’ve used her in the past when the department’s equipment wasn’t what I needed for investigations.”
“A real-life Q.”
“Pardon?”
“The guy who supplies James Bond with all his gadgets.”
“Well, Gadget Girl probably doesn’t have shoes equipped with daggers, but she does have a lot of toys that are just as useful.”
They pulled up to an apartment in West Hollywood, an older Spanish-style building covered with ivy. They walked to number thirteen and rang the buzzer.
Promptly, the door opened and standing there was a short, plump woman about thirty years old. Clothed in designer jeans, she wore a black T-shirt that read THERE’S TOO MUCH BLOOD IN MY ALCOHOL SYSTEM.
“Laney, this is Gadget Girl. Gadget Girl, this is Laney.”
“Nice to meetcha. Come on in, Detective.”
Laney had imagined a dark place with windows drawn tight and a messy interior full of stacks of old magazines and take-out food containers, but the apartment was sunny and immaculate. Expensive furniture and a couple of bookcases, full of exceedingly well-organized contents, shared the main room with an elegant glass table upon which sat an impressive computer system.
Gadget Girl motioned them to the forest green leather couch while she took a seat in a mission-style armchair.
“What can I do for you?” she said.
“We need to capture some conversations,” Sandrine replied.
“Stealth recorder or listening device?”
Sandrine thought a moment. “Our target might be too sly and check for a body bug, but we have a challenge with the location.”
“Which is?”
“A house.”
“Bag job?”
“No, there won’t be any break-ins.”
“Command of target?”
Laney was scarcely able to follow the secret spy conversation.
“Probably not. I’ll be close by but not within visual range.”
Gadget Girl looked at Laney. “Is she the acorn?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm,” Gadget Girl said. “A parabolic microphone, then?”
“Through a window, possibly.”
“An open window is best.What will the take be?”
“A recorded conversation. No video needed.”
Gadget Girl got up and went into another room. She returned shortly with a box the size of a large toaster oven.
“This is a long-range parabolic microphone. Newest toy I have. Not even on the consumer market yet. It’s equipped with a three-band equalizer to adjust for specific sound frequencies. All you do is snap together the six-panel dish.”
She handed the box to Sandrine.
“It’s got a twelve-hundred-foot line-of-sight pickup range, so just focus it straight in the direction of the sound. It won’t go through walls that well, though. Oh, and there’s an output jack for taping the conversation. Think that’ll do ya?”
Sandrine looked down at the box, nodding silently.
Gadget Girl tilted her chin toward Laney. “Wanna try a button mic instead?”
“No. The transmitter would be too bulky for this job. It’s more a close-range target.” Sandrine looked at Laney with apprehension.
While the conversation sounded Greek to Laney, she did understand that the reference to “close-range” meant Theresa’s proximity to her.
Back at Sandrine’s place, Laney sat with her while she put together the parabolic microphone. It looked more like a contraption for a low-budget horror movie, but Laney was enthralled when it was assembled.
“This baby should do the trick,” Sandrine said.
“How does it work?”
“This is a super-sensitive microphone that can pick up sounds. As long as I’m close by, I’ll be able to record your conversation with Theresa. The key will be to try to find direct access. Hop
efully an open window.”
Laney wondered how that would come about.
“Now, I need you to start going into different rooms and talking quietly so I can test this.”
*
The plan was in place. Laney walked out of her bedroom dressed in a black pantsuit with a green top. It was understated but she felt comfortable wearing it, and she truly needed all the comfort she could muster. Her hands shook and she was tempted to throw back a couple shots of whiskey, but she needed her thinking to be clear.
Her cell phone rang and the sound rattled her.
“Laney, it’s Sandrine.”
“Hi.”
“You’re nervous.”
“A little. Well, a lot.”
“We should call this off.”
“No, I want to do it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Still, I’m not sure I should be putting you in possible jeopardy.”
“Sandrine, I need to do this.”
After a long silence, Sandrine said, “Do you have the windows open?”
“Both the living room and bedroom windows, yes.”
“Good. I’m on my way and will be parked down the street until Theresa arrives. Just stay as calm as possible or Theresa will know something’s up.”
“Okay.” All Laney had to do was engage Theresa in conversation about the tape and get her to admit that she’d framed her. If Sandrine was successful, she’d have it all on tape. All she had to do. It sounded simple but her apprehension was justified. Theresa was a cunning, deceitful con artist and, Laney reasoned, a seasoned villain that she wasn’t well equipped to lock horns with.
“Just follow our plan. I’ve done this a lot of times. If at any time you feel like things are getting out of control, just say ‘stop right now.’ I’ll hear you and come get you. It’s not worth risking your well-being for this, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there soon. And Laney?” Sandrine’s voice wavered a little. “Please be careful.”
“I will.”
Laney hung up, walked into her living room, and sat on the couch. Shakily, she checked her watch. Theresa was due to arrive in less than twenty minutes. She held her hands out and examined the tremors.
Laney was numb. She had gotten into so much trouble, all because she thought her glamorous new friends were strong, capable women. She had been pulled, like a stupid, powerless pile of iron shavings, toward the magnetic strength of the Pleasure Set. It had seduced her to make foolish decisions and neglect her friends. The loss of sleep made her work suffer and, now, she was facing the obliteration of her lifelong career.
Her throat closed and hot tears of shame began to well up in her eyes. She pictured the horrible embarrassment and shame she would face if she had to resign, empty her office, and bear all the shocked and disappointed looks of her employees. Exasperated, she swiped at her tears.
She looked around the house at all the things she’d worked so hard for. She thought about Sandrine, out on the street, risking departmental punishment for her.
Suddenly anger burst inside her. Stop this! Theresa fucked you over. You trusted her friendship and look what she did to you. Goddamn her! Do what you have to catch her and send her away.
An acerbic taste rose in her throat. As her anger escalated, her hands stopped shaking and a more constructive type of energy took over and empowered her. This is good. Use this to mask your nervousness.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sandrine, parked on Laney’s street, sat with her hand on the parabolic microphone. Her nerves were on edge, the tingling of anticipation more about Laney’s well-being than about catching Theresa.
Maybe she shouldn’t have allowed Laney to participate in this sting, but it seemed the only way to vindicate her. They would simply have a conversation, she kept telling herself. It shouldn’t get out of hand. She would record the incriminating evidence and then hand it over to Laney to take to the new agent assigned to the fraud case.
But in the back of her mind, she knew Theresa was very likely involved in the two murders and feared that she wouldn’t hesitate to hurt Laney. As soon as they collected the evidence, Laney would have to lay low and avoid being Theresa’s next target.
She also debated her own involvement in this scheme. It was highly unscrupulous and risky for her as well. She didn’t have a court order to gather this kind of evidence against Theresa, but as long as Laney didn’t reveal the source of her recordings, Sandrine wouldn’t appear to be involved.
For the first time in her life, she had put her career in jeopardy. But she couldn’t stand by and watch Laney go down with the felons of the Pleasure Set.
A black BMW glided up the street and parked on the curb by Laney’s house. Sandrine’s heart jumped into double time as she watched Theresa get out and head toward the house. When Laney opened the door and let her in, Sandrine grabbed the equipment and headed for the back of the house.
“Why the change of heart?” Theresa didn’t waste time confronting Laney about her sudden invitation.
Laney directed her to the couch in the living room, close to the open window. Sandrine shouldn’t have a problem sneaking up to it because the redwood deck right outside would soften her footsteps. “It’s not so much a change of heart, but an opportunity I thought up.”
“Meaning?”
“First of all, if you repeat any of this, I’ll deny it. I haven’t yet told the police anything they can use,” she said, the lie rolling easily off her tongue, “but I want to make sure we understand each other first.” Taking an offensive stance right off had been Sandrine’s idea, and it bolstered her confidence.
Theresa nodded, though her expression remained unreadable. “I’m listening.”
“I believe I can explain to the police about your bank accounts.”
“And how would you do that?”
“Account for the deposits and point them toward Morgan’s gallery to show them the receipts of the legitimate purchases.” Laney fought to not sarcastically spit out the word legitimate since it was complete bullshit.
“Would that call the police off?”
“It should. They’d listen to a bank president, especially if she knew the customer personally and if you have a clean record. Do you?”
Theresa’s laugh sounded chillingly sardonic. “Of course.”
“Then the police will probably drop the case.”
“Okay. So I know what you would do. More importantly, why would you do it?”
Laney wanted to glare at Theresa. She wanted to rip her eyes out. Instead, she simply answered, “I want the tape back.”
Theresa stood and pulled Laney by the hand, making her stand as well. “First of all, I’ve needed to apologize for everything.” To Laney’s surprise, she hugged her. Laney let it happen and the embrace was tight. Theresa’s full body was pressed up against her and Theresa rubbed her back. With sudden terror, Laney realized Theresa was in fact looking for a bug. That was exactly why Sandrine had declined the offer from Gadget Girl. The hug unnerved her and she fought her rising anxiety.
You don’t have a bug on you, she reassured herself, so calm down.
Full of contempt, she rubbed Theresa’s back, all the while cursing her for her deviousness. Theresa moved one hand to Laney’s chest and rubbed the spot between her breasts. She must have been satisfied that Laney wasn’t wearing a recording device because she pulled back smiling.
Fuck, Laney thought. That was a close call. I’m out of the woods for now.
Theresa took her hand and started for the kitchen.
“Where are we going?” Forewarning prickles scurried up the back of Laney’s neck.
Theresa didn’t respond but walked her through the kitchen and opened her garage door. They stepped in and Laney’s fear grew rapidly because they were quickly moving out of Sandrine’s range.
*
What the fuck is she doing? Sandrine thought as the voices moved awa
y from the living room. She had set up the parabolic microphone easily and, from her crouched position below the window, had recorded Laney and Theresa’s discussion. Her earphone had assured her that the conversation was clear and understandable. She had simply been sitting still, hoping Theresa gave them what they needed. But suddenly things had changed.
She must be moving her away in case she thinks there’s a bug in the room. Sandrine risked lifting her head and, as she peeked through the window, she saw Laney stepping through a door off the kitchen.
She quickly backed up until she was away from the window and moved around the house in the direction the women had gone. The contraption was a bit cumbersome, but she had to reposition herself if possible. Finding the kitchen window, she continued around the house and realized Theresa had taken Laney into the garage.
Damn! No windows. She scrambled to the front of the garage, looking around quickly to make sure no neighbors would see her and ask what she was doing. Any shout from a neighbor would tip Theresa off that something was going on. She checked the seal at the bottom of the garage door but couldn’t find an open gap to place the microphone up against.
Beads of sweat dripped from her temples. She had to think fast. She returned to the side of the house and considered crawling through the living-room window to get closer to the inside door to the garage, but that would put the plan in high risk of failure. Where would she be able to hide but still get close enough to the door to pick up the voices? If Theresa exited quickly she would catch Sandrine.
But what was her other choice?
Her sense of urgency was high, and she had to swallow the panic that rose in her throat. She had to go in.
As she made her way back around the side of the garage, a flash of white caught her eye. Next to a low-lying bush against the side of the house was a vent—the dryer vent. She had been so determined to get to the front of the garage, she had missed it entirely.
The Pleasure Set Page 20