by Darby Kane
“Nothing. He last took cash out two days ago.”
“How much?”
“Sixty dollars.” Lila shifted the screen toward Ginny. “He’s not a big spender.”
“Your house suggests otherwise.”
Lila closed the laptop and sat it back on the table in front of her. “He bought this as a fixer-upper. We updated it a little at a time.”
With the computer gone, the closeness of their positions became tough to ignore. Lila protected her personal space. She didn’t like to be crowded or hugged. Hated shopping and anywhere bunches of people gathered, walked and stumbled around.
She forced her body to still. Mentally counted down from ten then did it again to fend off the inevitable punch of anxiety she sensed lingering but coming fast.
“Are you handy?” Ginny asked the question in a calm voice, ignoring that they practically sat on top of each other.
Lila rested her hands on her lap and concentrated on not shifting around or rubbing her hands together. “I learned how to put down tile. Hang crown molding. Paint with a finish that looks professional.”
“And Aaron?”
Lila barely heard the words over the whooshing sound in her head. She diverted all of her energy into keeping her voice even. “He preferred to knock things down.”
“Excuse me?”
It took Lila a second to remember what she’d said. Right . . . “Demolition. He excelled at that and then got pretty good at drywall.”
“There’s no one here with you. I met a neighbor on my way in, but she didn’t follow me inside.” Ginny stood up and took off her glasses. They disappeared back into her pocket as she continued her walk around the living room.
Lila’s chest ached. The force of keeping her relieved exhale trapped inside had her shoulders slumping. “I didn’t think you’d want an audience for our meeting.”
“Do you have family in the area?”
The thumping anxiety subsided. That question proved how little homework the investigator had done. “Other than Aaron’s brother, no.”
Ginny froze and stared down at Lila again. “Does that mean they live in another state or . . . ?”
“What does my family have to do with Aaron?”
“This could get difficult, Lila.” Ginny let out a sigh. “Press. Questions. Search parties. Unless your husband walks in that door soon or calls, that sort of intrusion lies ahead of you, and you might need some support.”
Lila hadn’t associated family with support or peace in a very long time. “I can call my friend.”
“Singular.”
“Nothing on his credit cards either.” The comment came out as a blurt, but if Ginny could leap from topic to topic, so could she.
Ginny hummed. “He could have some you don’t know about.”
“Possible, but since I pay all the bills from a joint account it would be a surprise. I’m not sure he even knows where I keep the checkbook.” She leaned back into the couch cushions, more comfortable and back in control as she crossed one leg over another. “I have a question for you.”
“Go ahead.”
“There’s a woman missing. Disappeared about thirty minutes from here.” It was time to start poisoning the well. Not that it would be hard since the details were all over the news and the headline on that damn podcast. “Brunette. Young and pretty. What we all need to be if we ever go missing because those seem to be the only victims the public cares about.”
Ginny didn’t even blink. “Karen Blue. What about her?”
Lila dropped her foot back to the floor and leaned forward with her elbows balanced on her knees. “If you’re the lead investigator, why aren’t you working on that case?”
Ginny made a face, almost a wince, but quickly schooled her features again. “Maybe I am.”
“You think the same person who took Karen, a female college student, also took Aaron, a thirtysomething male teacher?”
“Despite what television suggests, we work on more than one case at a time.”
“You’re not on the task force?”
“There are also jurisdictional issues. Her case is outside of mine. It’s a different county.” Ginny crossed her arms in front of her. “How were things between you and Aaron last night?”
Look at that topic pivot. Blow landed. Now Lila knew where to hit next time. “The usual.”
“Be more specific.”
“He talked about work. We watched television. He went to bed early.”
More humming from the investigator. “Does he always?”
“Earlier than I do, yes.”
“Why did you leave law?” Ginny’s eyebrow lifted. “Or maybe you never practiced.”
The response wouldn’t lead to answers about Aaron, but let her dig. “I never practiced in New York. I’m not licensed here. I was a partner in a small firm in Greensboro, North Carolina.”
“And?”
“And a few years ago I grew tired of the work and the lying, and Aaron wanted to move back to New York, where he grew up, so we did.”
She’d repeated the lines so many times that she almost believed them. The truth was much more complicated than the glossy version she tried to sell. The criminal practice annoyed her, yes, and she’d craved a break, but she expected any leave of absence to be temporary. The relocation and need to take another bar exam, plus Aaron’s pleas that she switch to a less time intensive area of law, convinced her to abandon her path on a test basis . . . and that test had sputtered along for more than three years.
She left out the part about how unhappy Aaron had been in Greensboro. Not at first. When she’d met him, he loved his job and helped out after school with the debate team. He spoke with pride about his students and their achievements, which she found appealing.
She also appreciated his close bond with Jared. They visited each other often. Aaron would spend a chunk of the summer in New York with Jared and come back talking about how he wished they lived closer together. By the time the fall semester started, Aaron usually would move on and be back in the North Carolina groove . . . until that final year.
He generally got along well with coworkers. He turned on the charm and then came home and blasted them to her. The friction with another teacher who shifted to administration arose out of nowhere, and Aaron became obsessed with everything the guy did and said.
Looking back, seeing Aaron through a different lens, she wondered what that North Carolina school administrator knew that she didn’t know. What secrets he’d stumbled over.
“I didn’t love dealing with clients.” Lila didn’t like to give anything away, to let people have a peek inside her and steal it for themselves, to think they knew her when they didn’t, so she would bob and weave during conversations. Give away some, shade it a bit, but not all.
“Divorce work?” Ginny asked.
“Criminal defense.” Lila held up her hand. “And before you ask, felonies. Murder. Kidnapping. I was a trial attorney.”
“So you know how the system works.”
“Depends on what system you’re talking about.”
She could almost hear Ginny’s mind race. To a novice, it might sound like she spun around in circles, but Lila could see the bigger plan. Dodge in and out of topics, pepper personal questions with general ones. Jump from here to there. While that might be interesting to toy with on one level, Lila had no intention of having her life become the step someone with the smarts and drive might use to further their own career.
“Thanks for letting me look around.” The younger partner . . . or whatever he was . . . reentered the room.
He’d taken a long time in the bathroom, which Lila hoped meant he’d been experienced enough to search the place when she gave him the opening. She tried to remember his name. Paul . . . no, not that.
She made nonsense conversation while she mentally scrambled to recall the name on the card on the kitchen counter. “Nothing to see.”
He threw her a half smile. “Right.”
Pete Ryker. That was it.
She rushed to categorize him. Once she did that, she wouldn’t forget anything about him again. It was a memory trick and one she’d depended on forever. They’d spent only minutes in the same room, but she had a few thoughts. Thirtysomething and a mass of muscles that suggested he spent all of his off time in a gym. Expensive shoes. For some reason, that struck her as odd for a guy who likely walked through crime scenes.
“Unless we hear from Aaron, I’ll need you to come to my office tomorrow.” Ginny scanned the floor and the furniture as she stepped out of the living area and walked over to Pete. “Answer some questions. Look at some photos.”
“Of what?”
“People.” Ginny nodded. “Maybe seeing a face will help you remember something that doesn’t seem important right now.”
Spoken like someone who didn’t know her at all. “That’s hard to imagine.”
“Where are your husband’s wallet and keys?” Pete asked.
“Gone.” Lila shrugged. “With him, I’d guess.”
They both stared at her after that answer. Lila reran the sentences in her head but didn’t find a problem.
Ginny nodded in the direction of the coffee table. “Do you and Aaron share that laptop?”
“We each have one, plus we share a desktop.” She had their attention now. “I need them for work.”
“All three?” Pete asked.
“Yes.”
Ginny cleared her throat before talking again. “We’ll discuss that later. For now, does your husband’s car have GPS?”
“He said it was a waste of money. He uses the one on his phone, but even that is unusual. He’s one of those people who goes to a place one time and remembers the directions forever, unlike me.”
“And his cell phone is gone as well, I take it.” Pete glanced at Ginny after he delivered that statement. “That’s inconvenient.”
Lila gave them a push in another direction. “While you’re checking, you should talk with Aaron’s brother, Jared. He has access to the one bank account that I don’t.”
Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Jared and Aaron inherited money, though I don’t think that’s the right word for what happened. Either way, it’s in trust.”
“How much money are we talking about?” Pete asked.
“A few million each.”
Ginny didn’t show any outward reaction to the amount. Pete wasn’t quite as careful. His eyes widened. “If anything happens to Aaron, then that money goes to . . . ?”
“Jared. It’s not mine.” Lila almost smiled as she watched the excitement on Pete’s face vanish.
He looked doubtful. “Your husband has millions of dollars and yet he works as a high school teacher?”
“He likes the students.” And she left it at that.
Ginny took over. “Who did he inherit the money from?”
“Freak accident. A group of hunters shot his mother. She was outside, they didn’t see her when they fired, and they killed her.” Lila recited the version she’d heard almost verbatim from both brothers. “The hunters were drunk and rich, and Aaron was only eleven, so Jared would have been not quite thirteen. Part of the settlement—the one their father signed to buy the entire Payne family’s silence and the court signed off on—included sizable accounts for Jared and Aaron.”
“What about their father?”
“The money he received? I have no idea. I never met him.” From what she’d heard about him, that was not a loss. According to family lore, he’d grown up in a minimalist environment with a father who didn’t believe in government or electricity or any comforts.
Even as Aaron’s father grew up and moved out of the charged environment, the drumbeat of disillusionment and violence didn’t leave him. He preached his antisociety beliefs to Aaron and Jared. On those rare occasions when Aaron talked about his father at all, he credited Jared with getting them out of childhood intact and surviving a father he described as practical but brutally mean. The man ruled the house and his wife as a despot and used his hand and belt to drive home lessons.
Lila rarely spared a thought for her father-in-law, except to curse him now and then for being poison and passing a portion of his I’m in charge way of thinking on to his son.
When it came to paternity, neither she nor Aaron had won the jackpot.
“Why haven’t you met you husband’s father?” Ginny asked.
“Seven or eight years after losing his wife, he was walking on the side of the road and got hit by a car. Died after spending days in a coma.”
Pete whistled. “That’s a lot of tragic accidents for one family.”
Exactly. “Yeah, you’re not the first one to think so.”
“Who else did?” Ginny asked.
Lila smiled. “Me.”
Chapter Eight
GINNY WAITED UNTIL THEY WERE OUTSIDE, STANDING AT THE bottom of the long driveway next to her car, before talking again. She wasn’t sure what to make of Lila’s last comment. Pointing the finger at Jared and Aaron . . . but about what?
Pete followed her lead on the silence but beat her to the first comment now that they were alone. That’s what he did. Raced to be the first. He lacked discipline and experience, but you’d never know that, because he wasn’t afraid to speak up. “She’s weird, right? It’s not just me.”
“It’s not.”
“Like, emotionless or something. But very attractive.”
Ginny fought back a groan. Pete didn’t possess an internal filter that signaled when he should just shut up. She used to give her son “the look” when he spouted off the wrong thing at the wrong time. It worked because he generally knew what was okay to say and when. Late into his twenties, Pete had yet to learn those skills.
He started yammering, like he often did. “Look, that face and those stylish clothes. She’s like Old Hollywood. All buttoned-up but yet not really. Reddish hair, sort of . . . it’s a hot look.”
Working with him was exhausting. “Her hair is brown. Circle around to your point, please.”
“She looks like she could break a man in two, if you know what I mean.” When Ginny didn’t show any reaction, Pete shrugged and kept going. “But there’s a bit of a Stepford wife, trophy thing happening. I bet Aaron enjoys showing her off.”
“Do you know how annoying any of what you just spouted off is?” She doubted it.
Ginny had her own assessment. Lila came off as capable and determined. Strong and fully in control. She’d been blessed with a striking face. Pale, perfect skin highlighted by the right shade of red lipstick. A body honed by exercise or surgery or something that worked for her.
She possessed the perfect mix of pretty with a whiff of mystery. Ginny could imagine men at the yacht club falling over themselves to flirt with her, and her not reacting at all. A hard-to-get-and-hard-to-please vibe pulsed around her.
“She doesn’t seem . . .”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “I dread however you’re going to finish that sentence.”
“Real.” He made a humming sound. “Not at all like the cuddle-in-bed type.”
“Are you done?”
“You told me I need to learn to assess people. What I got from her was pretty but really chilly.”
“Possibly.” If Aaron didn’t walk in the door soon, she’d need more time with Lila. Stockpile more questions. Engage in extended observation and try to gather insight from those who knew her. Right now the picture was blurry and confusing. Ginny sensed Lila made it look that way on purpose.
“She could be a hell of an actress,” Pete said.
That’s exactly what she was and why Ginny found her so intriguing and so damn dangerous. “She’s a former trial lawyer and a current real estate agent. She can play the game when she needs to. Don’t be fooled.”
Pete leaned against the side of her car and folded his arms across his stomach. “But what game is she playing? Certainly not grieving wife. She’s not weepy or worried.”<
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Pete earned his spot on the investigative team. He’d done some great work on a series of thefts that ended in a murder. He’d spied the bit of video footage that tied it all together. The move fast-tracked his career. Jumped him ahead of others, which didn’t exactly make him the office favorite.
She tolerated him. His know-it-all attitude grated, but she wanted to believe he meant well. He wanted to succeed, and she could understand that.
She took him on because her boss ordered her to. She’d gotten on the sheriff’s bad side, through no fault of her own, and now she stepped carefully. But she demanded respect, and lucky for Pete, he gave it to her . . . usually.
He had a pretty serious blind spot and no self-awareness about his weaknesses. He faltered when it came to some basic human interactions, as people who hadn’t experienced that much living tended to do. He saw people as one thing or another. He lacked nuance. He hadn’t seen the worst and didn’t appreciate the dense fog of gray he was about to wander into.
“She doesn’t give much away.” When Pete just stared at her after the comment, Ginny listed off a few of the things she noticed during her short meetings with Lila Ridgefield. “She’s skilled. Dodges questions. Half answers. Pivots away from difficult topics. Feeds me information I didn’t ask for.”
“Is she socially awkward or is this something else?”
“This feels practiced. Careful.” The question was whether the games came from a general survival instinct or were part of a ruse to keep them guessing about her missing husband. “Tell me about what you saw in the house.”
They got a rare glimpse inside. This early into an investigation—barely having started—they didn’t normally poke around in the potential victim’s possessions. When Lila offered, Ginny didn’t think she could say no. Now she wondered if the early look was meant to throw them off.
“I took some photos.” Pete took his cell out of his pocket and held it up.
“Any surprises?” Lila had invited them in and basically told Pete to go hunting, so Ginny doubted it.
“All of the husband’s clothes are in the extra bedroom. Looks like he’s been sleeping there.” Pete smiled. “That could mean something.”