Marcus asked, “What’s Fig gonna do when he gets home tomorrow night and finds out his wife is in county lockup?”
“I can handle Fig.”
“Bull. Shit.” Marcus spat out the two words. “Ain’t nobody can handle him. Dude’s a freak when he’s pissed off. Something like this, Jo pulling jail time? He won’t put her in the hospital. He’ll put her in the grave.”
Kip said, “He’ll be in a knee brace. Doc says he can’t bend his leg for another week.”
Angie watched Marcus trying to concoct a fairy tale where Jo was safe. He asked, “What else did the doc say about Fig?”
Kip said, “A month in the brace, another month of physical therapy. He’s got at least five more years in him. But the point is, there’s nothing to worry about this weekend. Once Fig gets back from Texas, if Jo wants to get away from him, all she has to do is walk fast.”
Angie didn’t know if Jo had it in her to walk away from anything unless Anthony was at her side. She grabbed at straws. “Send her to rehab. It’ll look good for the judge. It’ll buy her thirty days away from Fig. That’ll get us past the ground breaking, and it will help Jo.”
Marcus asked, “How does that help Jo?”
Angie wasn’t going to make this too easy for him. “Nobody’s going to beat the shit out of her in rehab. That’ll happen when she gets out.”
Dale said, “Rehab means therapy. What if one of them shrinks talks her into turning on Fig?”
“We can’t deal with what-ifs,” Kip said, though that was exactly what they were doing. He told Marcus, “Look, I like Jo, too, but we can seriously undercut her credibility with the arrest, right? Nobody listens to a junkie. Just ask Keisha Miscavage. Plus, you know Jo’s not going to leave Fig. She’s tried at least five times before, and that’s only the times we know about.”
“I dunno.” Marcus was obviously convinced, but he had to make like his arm had to be twisted just a little more.
Dale said, “I don’t know if I’ve got enough juice to keep her in past Sunday. Saturday is a stretch.”
“La D is throwing a team party Sunday night,” Marcus said. “Even if Fig could move around, he wouldn’t mess her up before the party. People would ask too many questions.”
Dale said, “So, we keep her in jail two days, we get her through the party Sunday, we whisk her off to rehab the next morning.”
Marcus scratched his chin. He still wasn’t going to make this easy.
Kip said, “The tabloids will be all over this. You know Fig hates the press. He’ll be on his best behavior. He’s fucking nuts, but he’s not stupid. This isn’t five years ago. You can’t get filmed beating the shit out of a woman and expect to keep playing.”
Marcus didn’t disagree. “I don’t know about jail, man. Jo’s sensitive. She ain’t that kind of girl.”
“It’s no big deal. It’s like going to a spa.” Kip’s eyes lit up with an idea. “Actually, this could work in Jo’s favor. We’ll get publicity on it. They can turn it into a story about Jo’s recovery, getting clean for her kid, whatever. She’ll get a photo shoot, have her hair and makeup done. She’ll love it.”
“No, she won’t,” Marcus said. “Jo hates being photographed. She never wants to be the center of attention.”
“Even better,” Kip said. “She’ll do it because she won’t have a choice. Good press for Reuben. Good press for the team.”
Marcus looked genuinely worried. “I can buy Fig waiting it out for a couple of days because of his knee, but then what? Dude packs some serious heat. He keeps an A-K by his front door.”
“He’s had guns for years. He hasn’t used them yet.” Kip seemed to think there was some safety in his logic. “Jo will be fine.”
Dale said, “I’ll make sure they take care of her in jail. She’ll get her own cell. She’ll be in solitary. None of the other inmates will talk to her. I’ve got a gal who’s been working there since dirt. She knows how to keep girls safe.”
Marcus stared at him. “Who the fuck are you, man?”
“He’s a fixer,” Kip said. “He gets shit done.”
“He looks like a fucking corpse.” Marcus sniffed. “Damn, man, clean your shorts. You smell like piss.”
Angie said, “He was a cop for twenty-five years. He knows how the system works. If he says he can make sure Jo is protected inside, then she will be.”
Marcus looked at Angie like he had just noticed she was in the room. His eyes traveled up her legs, followed the curve of her waist to her breasts. She knew that she was his type, even with a few years on her.
Angie tried to work the advantage. She could feel at least part of a plan coming into focus, even if it was just to buy Jo some time. “Jo goes to the grocery store on Thursdays. That’s tomorrow. We can plant the pills then, make sure that her kid isn’t with her. That keeps her safe for two days while she’s in jail. Marcus, you’ll make sure Jo is all right during the party. Then Monday morning, she’s off to rehab, and we’ve bought ourselves thirty days. Meanwhile, the All-Star complex breaks ground. The press stays good. Everybody wins.”
Marcus chewed the side of his lip. He was finally letting himself come around. “What about her kid?”
Angie said, “They’ll give Jo one phone call. She can ask her mother to pick up Anthony from school and watch him until Fig gets home.” Her mouth was so dry she could barely make enough saliva to speak. The plan looked good on paper, but it was risky as hell, mostly because it depended on a guy with an uncontrollable temper keeping himself in check. She told Kip and Marcus, “You guys have to be clear with Fig that Jo needs to look good for the cameras. All it will take is one bruise, or her walking funny, and some idiot with a blog is going to break the story. If Fig hates the press as much as you say he does, then make it clear that they’re going to be watching Jo like a hawk, especially once she’s out of jail.”
“This works,” Kip said. “Two days in jail. Thirty days in rehab. Jo sees how easily we can turn her life upside down. Fig will be fine by the time she gets out. You know his temper burns off if you give him some time.”
Marcus was nodding already. “Might wake the dude up, make him think she’s taking pills ’cause maybe she can’t take what he’s giving anymore.”
Angie bit her lip so she wouldn’t call him on his bullshit.
“Okay, good.” Kip turned to Dale. “The video on the phone can be wiped when Jo is in jail, right? Some kind of government mistake, blah blah blah.”
Dale said, “My guy can do that remotely.”
“Good,” Kip repeated. “So, Dale plants the Oxy. I’ll get one of Ditmar’s people to shuttle Jo through the arraignment, tell them not to make a stink when she’s held over to Saturday.”
“Naw, man. Get her to plant the Oxy.” Marcus nodded toward Angie. “This guy looks like he’ll be dead before I leave the room.”
Dale’s lips went into a tight, white line. He was dying, but he still had his pride.
“Fine. Done. We’re out of here.” Kip told Marcus, “Let’s head back upstairs. I’ve got some last-minute details to go over with you about the ground-breaking.”
Marcus took another look at Angie before he let Kip lead him back toward the elevator.
Dale waited until they were gone before he spoke. “Fucking piece of shit fucker.” He kicked over a ladder. “Who does he think made his rape charges go away? And the two that didn’t even get filed?” He kicked the ladder again. “I put blood on my hands so that dickwad could keep dribbling a fucking basketball.”
Angie guessed she had figured out how Dale had finagled the money for the trust fund.
He said, “Do I look like a fucking corpse?”
“You look like you’ve got the flu,” she lied. “You could always go back on dialysis.”
Dale leaned against the wall. He was winded from kicking the ladder. “Sitting in that fucking hospital room for four hours a day, three days a week, everybody talking about how they’re gonna get a kidney soon.”
&nb
sp; Angie couldn’t listen to his sob story. She had to figure out how she was going to take care of Jo. “I need to get going.”
“Hold on. Where’s that iPad? The clone thing? I don’t trust this bullshit about no copy on the laptop.”
“I didn’t see any movies. Just a bunch of pictures, e-mails with her mother.”
Dale stared at her, trying to suss out the truth.
Angie rolled her eyes. “I’ll smash it with a hammer. Problem solved.”
“Fine. But bring me the pieces.”
Shit, now she had to buy another iPad and pound it into parts. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”
“You know this jail and rehab thing is only temporary.” Dale raised his eyebrows. “Kip’s paranoid, Marcus is terrified of LaDonna. You think they’re gonna be cured of that when Jo gets out of Hotel Junkie in thirty days?”
“What are you saying?”
“I got you this job. You wanna keep it, you’re gonna have to take over for me.”
“You mean I gotta get blood on my hands?”
“Don’t put on an act with me, Lady Macbeth.” Dale’s yellow teeth flashed. “Mark my words, even if Jo keeps her mouth shut, these guys are gonna get paranoid. They’re gonna start losing sleep. They’re gonna start worrying about what Jo will say. Eventually, they’ll come to you to solve the problem on a more permanent basis.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You know what it means.”
Angie did. He thought that Kip would hire her to murder Jo, which confirmed in her mind that Kip had hired Dale to kill for him before. She hoped to God that he’d gotten more money than the measly quarter of a million that he was leaving Delilah.
“Listen to your uncle Dale,” he advised. “Make it look like a suicide. She’s got a drug problem. Jail and rehab would depress the hell out of anybody. Some pills, some booze, a bathtub with the water left running, and she slips down and drowns peacefully in her sleep.”
Angie started to shake her head, but then she remembered that Dale wouldn’t ever find out what happened. “Thanks for the advice, Uncle Dale.”
“Wait.” He stopped her from leaving. “Seems strange you know Jo goes to the grocery store on Thursdays. Especially since you only started following her this week.”
“I asked around. You’re not the only person who knows how to be a detective.”
“Right.”
“Is that all?” Angie tried to walk away, but he grabbed her arm.
“You’ll need these for tomorrow.” Dale reached into his pocket. He pulled out a Ziploc bag that contained around a dozen green pills. OxyContin. 80 milligrams. Enough to land Jo in jail, but not enough so that she could get hit with distribution.
He said, “I know you prefer Vicodin.” His yellow teeth showed under his wet lips. “Maybe a little too much.”
“What shot out your kidneys? Rainbows and sunshine?” Angie wasn’t going to let him use her habit against her. Dale had blown through enough coke over the years to powder the Alps. “At least I know when to pull back.”
“Doctors ever get that hole in your stomach to close up?” Dale had a smug look on his face. “It’s the coating on the pills, right? Eats through the stomach lining?”
Angie snatched away the bag of Oxy. “Take a shower, Dale. Marcus was right. You reek of piss.”
“Why don’t you lick it off me?”
Angie could hear him laughing as she walked away.
THURSDAY—10:22 AM
Angie pushed an empty cart through the Kroger, looking for Jo. The store was too clean. Her eyes hurt from the fluorescent lights. Everything was aggressively tidy. The last time Angie had been in an actual grocery store, she was with Will. Domesticity was his only fetish. He bought things in bulk, always the same brands with the same logos because he was too stupid to read about anything that might be new or better. Angie loathed domesticity. She had gotten bored with the whole process, sneaking crap into his cart: some root beer, then peach sorbet, then a different kind of butter, and five minutes later, he was freaking out like the robot from Lost in Space.
Sara probably did all of his shopping now. Ironed his shirts. Made his dinner. Tucked him into bed at night. Changed his diaper.
Angie pushed her way through the deli and spotted her daughter in the produce section. Jo held a peach in her hand, testing it for softness. There was a distant look in her eyes. Maybe she was thinking about her plan to escape from her husband. That was why Jo had shown Marcus the video. She thought he would take care of her, make all the bad things go away. What she didn’t understand was that Marcus Rippy wasn’t going to jeopardize any part of his life to help Jo.
Even if he wanted to, Kip wouldn’t let him.
The video was their only leverage. Angie had to copy the file off of Jo’s phone before the police scooped her up. She didn’t trust the backup iPad, even turned off and locked in a motel safe. Sam Vera was too good at his job, and Angie wasn’t willing to roll the dice with Jo’s life.
Dale wasn’t a fortune-teller, but he understood how these things worked. Jo was an uncertainty. People hated uncertainty, especially when money was involved. It would only be a matter of time before Marcus got paranoid and Kip got desperate. Laslo had stabbed a man to death in Boston. There was other dirty work she knew about in Atlanta. His job was to keep the trains running on time. Angie didn’t see him having any qualms about neutralizing Jo. Which meant there wasn’t much time left for her daughter to get away.
“Let me call my mother.”
Angie felt her stomach flip. Jo was talking to her. She was standing ten feet away. She held a peach in her hand. Her voice was raised just loud enough to carry.
Jo said, “My son is at school. Let me call my mother before you take me.”
Angie looked around, making sure no one could hear them. “What are—”
“I know Reuben has you following me.” Jo put down the peach. “I saw you at the Starbucks. You were at my son’s school last month.”
“It’s not what you think.”
Jo was trying to sound like she wasn’t afraid, but the muscles in her neck stood out with tension. “I won’t come willingly unless you let me take care of my son.” Her composure started to break. She was clearly terrified. “Please. He’s Reuben’s boy, too.”
Angie felt a sharp pain in her chest, a physical response to the helplessness that her daughter was obviously experiencing. “Your husband didn’t send me. I’m here to help you get away.”
Jo laughed.
“I’m serious.”
“Fuck off, woman. Don’t waste my time.” She pushed her shopping cart to the next aisle. She tore off a produce bag and started loading it with oranges.
Angie said, “You’re in danger.”
“No shit.”
“Marcus went to Kip about the video.”
Jo laughed again. “You think I didn’t figure something like that happened? The laptop crashed this morning. Won’t even boot up. Everything on my phone got erased.” She opened her purse. She took out her phone. She offered it to Angie. “You want it? Take it. I don’t even have pictures of my boy anymore.”
Angie slapped her hand away. “Listen to me. I’m trying to help you.”
“You can’t help me.” Jo turned around. She pushed her cart over to the juice section.
Angie followed her. “You’re going to be arrested.”
Jo looked confused, then angry. “For what?”
“They planted Oxy in your car.” Angie left out the part where she’d been the one to do it. “The cops are going to be waiting outside when you leave. They’re going to keep you in jail for two days.”
“But—” Jo had the look that Angie had seen before when rich, entitled people found out that they were going to have to bend to the law. “I didn’t do anything.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Angie told her. “They have it all planned out. They want to teach you a lesson.” Angie gave her a moment to let reality sink in. “You’l
l get out of jail Saturday night, you’ll go to LaDonna’s party with Fig on Sunday night, then Monday morning, you’ll go to rehab.”
“I won’t be able to walk Monday morning.”
“Reuben’s knee will be in a brace.” Angie felt the words rush into her mouth like water. She had to make Jo believe that she could keep her safe. “He’ll be effectively crippled.”
“You think that matters?” She shook her head again. “You can’t outrun a bullet to the back.”
“The press will be everywhere. If he hits you, they’ll see it.”
“If he leaves a mark.”
Angie struggled to convince her. “You tell him if he touches you, you’ll go out into the yard and take off your clothes and let the photographers record exactly what he’s done.”
“What photographers?” She looked even more panicked. “Reuben doesn’t like the press.”
“They’ll be following you the minute you get out of jail.”
“Oh, God.” Jo put her hand to her neck. Her breathing was shallow. “Marcus told Reuben I met with him. Alone.”
“No. Reuben doesn’t know about the motel, the video, any of that.” Angie watched the relief pass through Jo’s body like a muscle relaxer. “Marcus took the problem to Kip. This is how Kip’s handling it.”
Tears filled her eyes. She was clearly terrified. “Do you know what my husband’s going to do to me for bringing attention down on him?”
Angie couldn’t stand her distress anymore. “I’m going to help you get away.”
“What?” Jo sounded disgusted. “Are you crazy?”
“I’m going to help you,” Angie repeated, and she realized that she had never spoken truer words in her life. She had abandoned Jo once before, but she was going to do everything she could today, right now, to guide her daughter to safety.
She said, “Let me help you.”
“Fuck off, lady.” Jo turned furious, the same as you would expect from any trapped animal. “You ambush me at the grocery store and tell me you’re my savior, and I’m supposed to believe you, risk my life for you, risk my son’s life for you? Where do you get off, bitch? Who the hell do you think you are?”
The Kept Woman Page 31