Disturbed

by Jennifer Jaynes

  As she tossed the trash back inside the garbage can, she noticed several pieces of crumpled paper. She picked one up and smoothed it. It was one of her sketches.

  Why would she have thrown one of her sketches away? She gathered the other crumpled-up balls of paper, went to the bar, and unfolded them all. As she suspected, they were all her sketches.

  Why would she destroy her own sketches?

  And why wouldn’t she remember doing it?

  Was she starting to black out again? A ripple of fear shot through her at the possibility. She hadn’t blacked out for such a long time.

  She smoothed out her sketches as much as she could and went to her closet, opened her safe, and slid them inside. Then she stood up and tried to figure out what she should do next. For a quick moment, she thought about checking Lisa’s Facebook page to see if she’d written anything about the other night. Maybe she’d found out that Chelsea had been there and had written about her peeking through her window.

  No, absolutely not. You are so done with her, him . . . them.

  Feeling empowered by not giving in to temptation, she marched back to the kitchen and heated up more of her comfort foods: a Hungry-Man dinner with turkey and dressing and two turkey potpies. Elizabeth had said she should be kind to herself while she healed. That she should take it easy. So she was going to do just that.

  While the food warmed, she took a long bubble bath and washed her hair with her favorite coconut-apple shampoo. She sat in front of the television and watched Friends reruns and binged on the enormous amount of food she’d fixed for herself.

  Two hours later, her hair washed, dressed in clean pajamas, and so stuffed with comfort food she couldn’t feel anything else, she crawled into bed and switched off the light.

  CHAPTER 24

  LANG CAUGHT HIMSELF smiling as he drove to Marblehead to talk again with Boyd Lawson.

  He was thinking about Janie. He replayed the way she had kissed him last night. How great their conversation had been. It was always so easy to talk with her. He loved being around her, and her visit had reinvigorated him. He had hated to leave her this morning, but he had work to do.

  Earlier that morning, he’d gotten ahold of a copy of Chelsea’s visitor log from the psychiatric hospital and found out that Katherine hadn’t been telling the truth during their meeting. Why would she have lied about visiting Chelsea? And if they hadn’t been close, like Katherine had said, why visit her? He would need to make another trip to the farm to find out.

  He thought about Chelsea and wondered again if she knew that Boyd was married. Delores Jones’s journal had painted a picture of a frightened little girl who had endured unimaginable pain. So did Chelsea’s DCF file. And then to have gone through the horrific ordeal of the attacks on her and her roommates. All of that was more than most people could handle. The last thing she needed was to be taken advantage of by a married man.

  Just a mile or two out of Marblehead, Lang turned off Route 1A on to Route 129 and was immediately swept away by the beauty of Nahant Bay in the distance. Driving along the seawall, he lowered his windows and enjoyed the salty scent of the ocean. It was a sunny day, and the dark-blue waters stretched out to the horizon. Manicured parks and well-kept Victorian homes popped into view, lining the two-lane road. It was clear he had entered a more affluent area. The type of area he’d never be able to afford. But that was okay. He’d much rather live on farmland with a setup like Katherine’s. He caught himself wondering if Janie would be happy with that. Maybe he should mention it. See what she thought.

  He turned onto Ocean Avenue and checked his notes for the Lawsons’ address. Once he reached the house, he pulled to the side of the street and peered into Boyd’s circular driveway, noting the Audi SUV. He hadn’t called before coming. He didn’t like announcing himself. Never had. Surprise visits made people think on their feet, and he liked to see if they could keep their balance.

  He knocked on the door, and a blonde he suspected was Lisa Lawson answered. She was wearing a pink bathrobe, and her eyes and the tip of her nose were red.

  Lang introduced himself and showed her his badge. “Does Boyd Lawson still live here?” he asked.

  She looked at him curiously. “Of course.”

  “Is he home?”

  “No, but I expect him back any minute,” she said. “Come in.”

  “That’s kind of you, Miss . . . ?”

  “Mrs. Lawson. Lisa Lawson.”

  Inside, he took in the home’s extravagant high ceilings and dark-wood molding. The solid furniture. The place was as beautiful and elegant on the inside as it was on the outside. Lisa led him to the living room and motioned to the sectional. He took a seat, noting the buttery texture of the leather.

  “Sorry about my appearance,” she said. “I haven’t been feeling so well today.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She sneezed.

  “Bless you.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, and turned her back to blow her nose. She faced him again. “May I ask what this is about?”

  “Just tying up some loose ends on a case. I’m hoping your husband can help me.”

  “What kind of case?”

  “A multiple homicide.”

  Lang told her he was from Springfield and was reinvestigating the coed killings. He offered the smallest amount of information possible, hoping Lisa would fill in the blanks with something he didn’t know.

  A grandfather clock behind her ticked loudly.

  “Is he in trouble?” she asked finally.

  Lang smiled. “Do you know something I don’t know?”

  She narrowed her eyes, obviously not finding any humor in his question. “No.”

  “I’m just following up on a conversation we had last week.”

  “Last week?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  That piqued her curiosity. “So, you’ve spoken before?”

  “Yes. In Boston. I take it he didn’t mention it.”

  She stared pointedly at him. “We’ve both been so busy, we barely get a chance to catch up these days. I’m sure he meant to.”

  Lang nodded and decided to bait her a little more. “He said he had business in the city. That the car-detailing business was expanding.”

  Lisa blinked. Her eyes narrowed again. He could tell she was confused. She seemed to be waiting for more information, but Lang wanted to play his cards close to the vest. He looked around the living room.

  “You have a beautiful home,” he said.

  “Thanks. When did you say you met him in Boston?”

  “Last week.”

  She bristled. “Will you excuse me for a moment?”

  “Of course.”

  Lang watched as she walked from the living room into the kitchen. With her back to him, she retied her bathrobe, pulling it tighter around her. Then she stood still as stone. Probably thinking.

  Her robe looked expensive. Everything about Lisa looked expensive. She was an attractive woman, but he could see that she carried an air of entitlement about her.

  “Would you like some tea or coffee?” she asked, not turning around.

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Water?”

  “No, thank you.”

  A few moments later, she returned with a glass of water for herself. She sat on the recliner and offered him a tight smile.

  “When you first got here, why did you ask me if he still lived at this address?”

  “Just wanted to make sure.”

  They sat, silence growing between them again. He heard two birds fighting on the deck in back, then a car engine outside.

  It sounded like Boyd was pulling in to the driveway.

  CHAPTER 25

  BOYD HAD MADE it a point to leave before dawn that morning while Lisa was still sleeping. He had left a note saying he had a sales call in Salem.

  But it was just one more of his lies. He’d needed to get out of the house before she woke up. He knew she wanted to
talk to him about something, and the thought of facing another of her suffocating interrogations was too much to stomach.

  So he drove to Salem and ate a very early breakfast at one of his favorite diners. Afterward, he found a Home Depot and had a new house key made. His had mysteriously disappeared off his key ring. He had no clue how, but the last thing he needed was for Lisa to find out about it. She’d make a huge deal of it and find some way to blame it on his alcohol use. Before leaving the house, he’d slipped Lisa’s copy off her key ring so he could get the copy made. She wasn’t supposed to be going anywhere today, so hopefully she wouldn’t notice it was gone before he could return it.

  Over the course of the day, she’d called and texted at least six times, reiterating the fact that there was something important they needed to talk about, but she refused to tell him what it was until she saw him in person.

  After he was done at Home Depot, he spent the rest of his day in the car, napping off and on. Sleeping was almost as good as the drugs and alcohol when he needed an escape. When he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer, he drove back to Marblehead, rehearsing his story about his day. Whom he’d met. Where. What they’d talked about. He’d become an old pro at making up cover stories and had become way too good at it.

  He had been on autopilot until he turned on his street, but was quickly jolted back to reality when he saw a strange Crown Victoria parked on the curb outside his house. His gut told him it was Detective Lang’s car. After all, he had said he would be stopping by.

  Shit!

  Are you kidding me?

  For a moment, he considered just passing the house, going somewhere else until the detective left. But the curtains in the front window were open. If they were in the living room, there was a good chance they’d seen him.

  Christ!

  He punched the steering wheel.

  If it was Lang, what did he want? Why couldn’t he have just called? Lisa was home.

  What had he said to her?

  He killed the engine and gathered his composure. Acting as casually as possible in case he was being watched, he climbed out of his car and walked up the sidewalk. As soon as he opened the front door, Lisa called to him from the living room.

  He could tell by her tone that she wasn’t happy.

  He walked into the room, and there he was. Sitting on his damn couch. Lisa’s glare cut right through him.

  Christ. What have they been talking about?

  “Hello, Boyd,” Lang said, standing with a slight grunt.

  Boyd was silent.

  Lang extended his hand. “Sorry to drop in unexpectedly. I was just in the neighborhood and had a few more questions.”

  Just in the neighborhood, my ass.

  Boyd reluctantly shook the man’s hand.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Lang continued. “Just a few follow-up items. All very routine.”

  Boyd flicked his eyes sideways at Lisa again and saw she was still staring daggers at him. He looked back at Lang. “Let’s go to my office.”

  Boyd led Lang into his study. He shut the door as Lisa watched from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

  “You seem nervous,” Lang said.

  Boyd glowered at him. “You could have called.”

  Lang shook his head. “I hate phones. They’re so impersonal.” He looked at the couch. “Mind if I sit? My back is acting up something fierce today.”

  Boyd ran his fingers through his hair. “Sure. Whatever.”

  Lang took a seat on the couch and smiled up at him. “You’ve got quite a place here. Looks like you’ve done well for yourself.”

  “What do you need?” Boyd asked.

  Lang pulled out his notebook. When he spoke, his voice seemed loud. “Your wife seems to be a lovely woman.”

  Boyd clenched his teeth.

  “Does Chelsea know about her?”

  Jesus. Could he have said Chelsea’s name any louder?

  Is Lisa still in the hallway?

  Did she hear?

  “Does she?” Lang asked again.

  Adrenaline swooshed through Boyd’s veins. “Yes,” he replied through gritted teeth. Now she does.

  Lang seemed to hesitate. “But I’m guessing Lisa doesn’t know anything about Chelsea?”

  Christ. “No.”

  “You told Chelsea you were in town looking to expand your business.”

  Boyd’s face burned. “I was. Am.”

  “Your wife seemed surprised by it.”

  Shit.

  “I haven’t told her.”

  “There is no expansion, is there?”

  Boyd’s stomach sank. There was no way he was going to get out of this. He shook his head and reached for his bottle of Scotch. “Want a drink?” he asked Lang.

  “No, thanks.”

  Boyd poured his drink and decided to tell Lang the truth. About everything.

  CHAPTER 26

  BOYD STARED OUT the window, his mind spinning as he watched Lang leave. Everything was falling apart, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to put all the pieces back together. But he was desperate to buy some time.

  “Boyd!”

  His muscles tensed. Lisa’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard. Living with her this way was like dying a slow, painful death. He knew she had questions. Questions he didn’t want to answer. He gulped down the last bit of his Scotch and hid the glass in a desk drawer.

  He leaned over a document and pretended to be working as she flung open the door.

  He swung his eyes to her. She stood in the doorway, still in her robe. Even though she was sick, she still managed to look great. He wished he didn’t always notice these things about her. It would be so much easier if she wasn’t so attractive.

  She studied him, her glare slicing through his skin.

  “You want to tell me what that was all about?”

  “He was just following up on some information about those murders in college.”

  “What do you have to do with that?”

  Boyd shrugged. “I was there, remember? I guess they have new information and are just double-checking things. Reinterviewing everyone. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d met with him before?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

  “And why were you in the city?”

  He didn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one he could share with her.

  “And what’s this about the business expanding there?”

  Sweat began to form on his upper lip. “I’m working up a proposal for your father.”

  She crossed her arms.

  “You always talk about how you wished I took initiative. So that’s what I’ve been doing.”

  “Let’s see what Dad has to say about all of this,” she said.

  He knew she was testing him.

  “He doesn’t know. I’ve been doing it on my own. I was going to present it to him once I worked out all the details.”

  He met her eyes, wondering if she was buying it. If he could sell her for just a couple more days, he might be able to figure out a plan. A way to get out without getting totally gouged. Maybe liquidate a few things.

  Her eyes were steady on his. “And why would the detective not think you were married?”

  He tried to look baffled. “What?”

  “I got the sense the detective was surprised we were married.”

  “Well, that’s odd. But that’s on him. Not me.”

  “But why would he think that?”

  He lifted his hands in the air. “How am I supposed to know?”

  Her frown deepened.

  He was going to drown in his lies. He just knew it. His lies owned him now, and he wasn’t sure how to disentangle himself. If he could disentangle himself.

  “I met someone yesterday,” Lisa said.

  His mouth went dry. “Oh, really? Who?”

  “A woman. She said you were in Boston last week fucking a friend of h
ers.”

  What the . . . ?

  His skin flashed hot, then cold. “Who says things like that? That’s crazy!”

  “Is it?” she asked.

  Lisa studied him, and he could tell she didn’t buy his story. Hell, he wouldn’t, either. But he couldn’t cave. He knew how to lie as well as she knew how to read him. Still, it was taking all his self-discipline not to squirm in his seat.

  “Who was it?”

  “I’m not sure. She acted like she was interested in my listing on Chestnut. But she wasn’t.”

  “Well, she’s a liar. I can tell you that much.”

  “Is she?”

  “Yes. She is. I’m not having an affair, babe. I would never do that to you. You know that.”

  Lisa’s glare was unflinching.

  “Who are you going to believe? Some lady you don’t know or your husband?”

  He regretted the question as soon as he asked it. He knew she’d never believed him. Not really. She’d also never believed in him. He was always guilty until proven innocent with her.

  His head was pounding, and his thoughts were spinning. But he had to appear in control. He couldn’t seem worried. If he messed this up, she could and would take everything. He hated how she had complete control. How he was completely dependent on her. Working for her father had been a terrible idea. He couldn’t storm out. He couldn’t tell her off. He was her bitch, and he hated her for it. He hated himself for it.

  “Look, this is insane. All I do is work my ass off, Lisa. I work my ass off for us, and this is what I get?”

  “There are too many—”

  “Too many what?”

  She raised her hands in front of her face. “Too many weird things happening at once. That detective. That woman telling me those things about you. And you’re just trying to explain them away.”

  The room was silent, and Boyd wondered if she could hear his heart hammering in his chest.

  “I’m going to get to the bottom of this, Boyd. Trust me. And you’d better be telling the truth.”

  She spun around and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.