Fight Dirty

by CJ Lyons

  Nick’s voice came. “If the parents weren’t home, that explains why they’re so desperate to assuage their guilt by blaming ReNew—because they weren’t there to stop her.”

  “Right.” Jenna hedged, not sure if she should reveal Greene’s admission about where he and his wife had been the night BreeAnna died. Instead she sidestepped the issue. “There’s nothing here for the police, not yet. We need more answers.”

  “Okay,” Andre said. “We’ll talk to the mom, ask her where she and Greene really were the night BreeAnna died.”

  “No.” She thought fast. She needed to control this, make sure Caren didn’t reveal anything that might destroy her newly forged relationship with Greene’s company. “Finish going through her things, talking to the staff. Then we’ll talk to Caren together.”

  Jenna gulped down the rest of her soda, enjoying the fizzle of the bubbles against her throat. She tossed the empty can into the garbage. “Upload the audio file for me—and any files from the week of that party before she went into ReNew. If BreeAnna was in the habit of recording her thoughts, there might be something useful there as well. I can listen in the car on my way there.”

  “Will do. Is Morgan coming as well?”

  “No idea where she is, she was gone when I got back to the office.”

  “Maybe now we won’t have to send her undercover.”

  “Too early to say. This phantom visitor of yours could still be linked to ReNew. It’s only the kids locked up; the staff is free to come and go.”

  “Why would they go to the Greenes’ house in the middle of the night after they’d just released her?”

  “Exactly. If someone from ReNew was there, it wasn’t for anything legit.” She stood. “I’ll be there soon.”

  CHAPTER 25

  When Morgan arrived for their meeting, Greene was already there, waiting. The gas station was abandoned but in sight of the highway, and it was midafternoon, bright sunlight, nothing to be worried about. At least that’s how most people might feel.

  There was no good reason for Greene to do her harm—she’d already exposed his secrets and shared them with Jenna. Silencing her would accomplish nothing. But still, Morgan kept her blade close to hand beneath the sleeve of her jacket. She also had a stun gun and a .38 in her purse. “Be prepared,” that was her motto.

  He opened her car door for her and held her elbow as he helped her into his Lexus SUV. “It’s quieter,” he explained, nodding to the busy highway.

  She said nothing, waiting for him to take the lead.

  “How old are you, anyway?” he asked once he’d settled into the driver’s seat, sliding a glance in her direction. “Twenty-one, twenty-two, right?”

  “Why?” Morgan asked.

  “I just can’t get over how different you look. It’s more than the clothes—”

  Duh. That’s why they called it undercover. But then his hand fell off the steering wheel and brushed her thigh as he reached for his travel mug in the center console. Hell no. She wasn’t getting paid enough for that. Her fingers tightened on her knife, ready to slip it free. His jugular was in easy reach. Ten seconds, maybe less, and it’d all be over.

  “I’m sorry if my looking like this reminds you of your daughter,” she said in a mournful tone, reminding him he was a grieving father.

  He covered a flash of annoyance with a sip of his coffee. “You’re nothing like BreeAnna.” He paused. “I need you to help me out with something.”

  Uh-huh. She had a feeling there’d be a “something.” The way he’d pushed to be the one to take her to ReNew, it had to be about more than not wanting to wait for them to hire an actor. She sat up straight, turning to face him, which also put distance between them. “What can I do for you, Mr. Greene?”

  “Well . . .” He took his time replacing the mug as if the simple act required all his concentration. “Part of the ReNew program is counseling sessions with a therapist.”

  Right. They’d been over all this. Caren had raved about the ReNew program—how she didn’t know what had gone wrong, it was so comprehensive. An on-site therapist. Excellent security. Even a state-of-the-art computer lab and classrooms. All according to the brochure—since after the night when she’d called the ReNew goons to kidnap her daughter, she’d never actually set foot back into the place. No visits for the first thirty days, she’d said. Part of their acclimation policy.

  No one bothered with an excuse as to why Bree’s second month had also passed without a visit from her parents.

  “You’re worried about something Bree told this doctor?” Morgan guessed. “Maybe something about the judge’s son and that party?”

  Greene’s face tightened slightly. Most honest emotion she’d seen from him. “Apparently this therapist tapes the sessions. Keeps the recordings on a computer.”

  “You want me to try to retrieve them?” She frowned. This job was going to be hard enough, going in naked—literally—without adding on extras.

  “Destroying them would be fine. I’ve access to a DOD program guaranteed to scrub files beyond retrieval. I can load it to the USB drive in your glasses. You get access to the computer, and it won’t take but two minutes tops to finish the job.”

  Morgan stared at him. He either thought she was some kind of superspy or he thought her an idiot. Didn’t he realize that if she was caught, it would ruin everything he and his wife had hired them for?

  Obviously protecting his company was more important to Robert Greene than discovering the truth behind his daughter’s death. Not to Morgan. But he didn’t have to know that.

  “You know there will be hard copies,” she told him. “A paper trail. Not to mention the counselor.”

  “Leave them to me.” He jerked his chin as if making an affirmation. “You need to understand one thing about me, Ms. Ames. There is nothing I won’t do to protect my family and their interests. Are you going to help me or not?”

  “Why should I?”

  “I’ll pay you cash,” he answered. “Just you. Your bosses don’t need to know about it.”

  “How much?” she asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

  “Twenty thousand.”

  Shit. Whatever Bree had told the shrink, it was incendiary. If it was worth twenty grand, no way in hell was she destroying the evidence.

  “That’s a lot of money,” she told Greene.

  “So you’ll do it?” He turned to her with a smile that would have made a crocodile proud.

  She mirrored it right back at him. “Of course. Anything to help.”

  While Greene uploaded the program to the small hard drive in her glasses, Morgan licked her lips, surprised they were dry, and asked the question that had been nagging at her since yesterday.

  “You could have gone to get her from ReNew yourself. Why send Caren alone?”

  Irritation flashed across his face, but it was chased by another emotion. Smugness. He turned to her, placing the fake eyeglasses on her face himself and adjusting their fit. “Perfect.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He regarded her for a long moment, one hand on her arm. Not restraining her. Not yet. “ReNew has a policy where only the custodial parent who signed the child into the program can remove them—forfeiting the full tuition, of course. Guess they don’t want to get caught in custodial disputes, give a kid back to the wrong parent.”

  Damn, she’d been worried there was another wrinkle in this plan . . . but now she understood his game.

  He smiled at her, slid his hand along her arm, reassuring her. “I’ll do the same for you—as soon as I’m certain those files are destroyed.”

  A white paneled van pulled off the highway and into the gas station. The knife was in her hand, although Greene didn’t notice it.

  “Good. They’re right on time,” he said, turning away from her to look out the window. �
��I hope you appreciate that I paid extra for this. But it was the fastest way to get you in—and I want you to record everything my daughter went through.”

  “That wasn’t part of the bargain.” But she’d already decided. He and the men in the van would live. She dropped the knife into her bag, knowing she wouldn’t be using it.

  Greene turned back to her and raised a hand to caress her cheek. “It is now.” He clicked the “Record” button on her glasses. “I know you think I’m awful, that I don’t care. But that bastard Benjamin is responsible for my daughter’s death, not me. I need to know what happened to her, what he did.” He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “Everything.”

  Morgan pretended to surrender, noting the men leaving the van and heading their way. Playing her role. But still . . . she hated that she might have to depend on this man, a stranger with motives she didn’t fully understand, to set her free after she entered ReNew. “Okay. But promise me, you’ll come when I call.”

  He flashed a smile at her. “Don’t worry, Morgan. You can trust me.”

  Finally his mask slipped, and Morgan realized Greene wasn’t a Norm, not at all. Another wolf. Lazy, relying on cunning rather than violence, but that didn’t make him any less dangerous.

  She nodded and looked away. Let him think he was in control—just like she’d learned to do with her father. Better he didn’t see past her own mask.

  Because Robert Greene had no idea that he’d just given her exactly what she wanted—a way to answer the question she’d been asking since she’d heard of this case.

  What happened inside ReNew that drove Bree to kill herself?

  The men rushed Morgan’s side of the car and yanked the door open, pulling her out by both arms.

  “Daddy!” she screamed, sending her voice into an ear-piercing screech. “Please, don’t!”

  Too late. The bag was over her head, arms zip-tied behind her back, and she was shoved onto the floor of the van. Two men climbed in with her, one kneeling on her back to keep her still, the other catching her flailing legs and restraining them.

  The door slammed shut, and the van rumbled over the broken pavement and back onto the highway. No one said a word. They didn’t need to. Morgan was helpless.

  A prisoner. Totally powerless for the first time in her life.

  CHAPTER 26

  Andre spoke with the housekeeper while Nick finished going through BreeAnna’s personal belongings. Jenna still hadn’t arrived, neither had Robert Greene.

  Then the housekeeper ushered them to Caren’s “sewing room” where they waited for BreeAnna’s mother to dredge up enough energy to join them and discuss her daughter’s life. The room sat below BreeAnna’s music room. Two walls had windows filled with midafternoon sunshine filtered through lace curtains framed by heavy drapes that looked like a child had drawn the same ugly pattern over and over again. Toile, Andre’s Grams had called that kind of material. There were two chairs and a love seat, all stiff-backed, with too little padding and skinny legs that made Andre afraid to sit down anywhere.

  Finally the door to Caren’s inner sanctum opened and the lady of the house made her appearance. Despite the fact that it was after two in the afternoon, she wore silk pajamas that reminded Andre of an old Doris Day movie his Grams loved and a brocade robe that probably cost more than his car. Rich white people, did they ever get tired of obsessing about impressions?

  Although she’d made an obvious effort to put on makeup, her color was pale and the skin around her mouth sagged, making her appear older than she was. She swirled into the room, settling herself on the love seat like a moth perching on the edge of a candle, not sure if it would remain, wary of having its wings singed.

  Maybe she wasn’t so oblivious after all. Because Andre had a feeling she wouldn’t be too happy with what they had to discuss.

  “Thank you for seeing us,” Nick said, leaning forward in one of the dainty chairs Andre had avoided and focusing on Caren. “I know how difficult this must be.”

  Andre sidled to the far side of the room, staying out of Caren’s peripheral vision so he could watch without her noticing. She nodded graciously at Nick. “You said you had a few questions?”

  “I understand BreeAnna began acting out after her experiences at the party where she was given Ecstasy.” Nick made it a statement not a question. “You mentioned that she’d begun shoplifting and going out without permission, even using drugs and alcohol with her friends?”

  Caren released a sigh. Gave it time to circle the room before answering. “Yes. That’s right. She became volatile, unreasonable, out of control. Even violent.”

  Nick nodded as he adjusted his posture to mirror hers. It wasn’t often that Andre had the chance to observe him in full-on therapist mode; it was interesting to see the subtle techniques he employed. “That must have been terrifying. Your own daughter turning into a total stranger.”

  “Yes. Yes, it was.”

  “Tell me about her friends.”

  Caren stiffened. “Friends?”

  “Yes. This bad crowd she’d fallen in with. The ones she went to the mall with and drank and smoked marijuana with. Could you give us their names?”

  “I’m not sure I ever knew them. She was extremely uncommunicative. Whenever I asked, she’d fly into a rage.” Somehow Caren became the victim in all of this.

  Nick kept his posture open and waited. The silence grew. And then Caren began to fill it. “Of course, BreeAnna had many friends from good families—the ones who took her to that party, in fact. Son and daughter of a federal judge. I’m not sure why she couldn’t continue socializing with that crowd. Part of rebelling against her father, I suppose. He puts great stock in that sort of thing.”

  As if Caren didn’t care who her daughter socialized with? Or implying that Robert was fine with his daughter being friends with kids who gave her drugs and sexually assaulted her as long as their father was a judge?

  “Tell me about some of the trouble BreeAnna’s new friends got her into,” Nick suggested. “I’m sure that must have been a difficult time for you.”

  Caren grabbed on to that as if he’d thrown her a lifeline. She began telling Nick about middle-of-the-night trips from the house, finding expensive items in BreeAnna’s room, the pregnancy scare. The more Caren talked, the more she dug herself into a hole.

  And through it all, she never once called her daughter by name, Andre noticed. Worst thing was, he had the feeling she’d fed herself her own lies for so long that she actually believed them.

  Finally she wound down. “So you can see, I had to do something.”

  “Just a few more questions, Mrs. Greene,” Nick continued in the same friendly tone.

  “Of course, anything.”

  “How did BreeAnna get to the mall on all those occasions?”

  Caren blinked, looked down to adjust the belt of her robe. “I suppose her friends picked her up.”

  “Here at the house?”

  “Or from school.” She perked up. “Maybe she took a bus from school.”

  “Then how did she get home again?”

  She didn’t answer, but her shoulders hunched. Indignation flashed over her face, and she opened her mouth, but Nick interrupted her before she could make a sound.

  “BreeAnna never went to the mall, did she, Caren? She never left in the middle of the night, she never made new friends. In fact, she never had any friends after that party. All she did was go to school and come home. That was it, her entire life until you sent her away.”

  Caren stood up, halfway, then dropped back down again. “You spoke with Juanita.”

  “We spoke with Juanita,” Nick confirmed, his tone still gentle. “And we checked BreeAnna’s social media accounts—a great way to build a map of someone’s movements. So tell me, Caren. Why did you send BreeAnna to ReNew? What really happened?”

 
Caren blinked, opened her mouth, blinked again, and closed it. Then she began to sob. More than sob, blubber. Andre moved forward to comfort her, but Nick waved him back. Finally she choked down her tears long enough to say, “You think it’s all my fault. You think she’s dead because of me. You think I killed my baby.”

  Andre turned away. Caren’s act was becoming all too familiar, and he couldn’t stand any more lies. This was supposed to be about BreeAnna, not about assuaging Caren’s guilt or defending the Greene family’s honor.

  Nick joined Caren on the love seat. He didn’t offer any physical comfort, instead merely spoke to her in a soothing tone. “It’s okay, Caren. No one is judging you here. But your daughter deserves the truth, doesn’t she?”

  The truth? Did these people even know what that was? If this was what it was going to be like working with rich clients, Andre thought he might be better off finding another job. Something honest. Like digging ditches or hauling garbage.

  “That fancy lingerie you said BreeAnna stole,” Nick continued. “She didn’t shoplift it. You bought it, didn’t you?”

  Face buried in her hands, Caren nodded.

  “And that pregnancy test. That was yours as well?”

  Caren’s shoulders tightened as if she was trying to avoid Nick’s words, but finally she relaxed them and raised her head. “Yes. BreeAnna found it. Knew her father had had a vasectomy. She was so angry—so very disappointed. Judgmental. She just has no idea what it’s like being trapped in a marriage, no escape. She threatened to tell Robert.”

  She flung herself into Nick’s arms. Nick gently but firmly untangled himself from her embrace and moved back to the chair opposite her.

  “You have to understand. I signed a prenup. He can have all the affairs he wants—and believe me, he does—but I, one tiny mistake, a single moment of happiness, and I lose everything.”

  “What happened with BreeAnna?” Nick steered her back on track.