Would his father ever understand that his personality wasn’t a persona, like a coat that he could take on and off at will? His mind flashed back to a visit from his father at Phillips Exeter, before Andrew was “asked to leave” for a “less demanding” boarding school. His father had spent the entire evening fawning about Hunter’s “exquisite command of the stage” during the student body’s auction to raise money for scholarships for low-income students. What everyone neglected to mention was Andrew’s role in rounding up so many student volunteers to support the event. Hunter may have been the Raleigh student that everyone admired, but Andrew was the one they enjoyed spending time with.
“So basically what you’re saying is that I seem dumb enough to agree to do this show. But meanwhile, you’re the one who wants us on it. What does that say about you?”
“Andrew, don’t try higher-level thinking. We both know it’s not your forte. When are you going to learn that you can only wield power from the inside? If we had no role in the show, we’d be giving away any hope of control. Imagine the lies Casey could tell about your brother. About me. About you, for God’s sake. If we signed away all interest in participating, these immoral television people would rush to air without giving us any chance of rebuttal. We absolutely must be involved. Why do you think she asked about Mark Templeton?”
“Because he was at the gala that night. That show interviews anyone who may have noticed the smallest detail. She even wanted to speak to Mary Jane for whatever reason.”
“We don’t all have time to watch television,” James snapped. “Mary Jane will say whatever I tell her. She’s always been a loyal soldier. But you’re naive to think that Laurie Moran’s questions about Templeton were a coincidence. When I have Mary Jane send in my conditions, she’ll make it clear that I’m begrudgingly going along with your suggestion. My role will be limited to speaking kindly of your brother.”
“And mine?”
“More of the same. If I spilled the beans about that nasty piece of trash on some reality TV program, it would be unseemly. But when you told those stories about Casey’s petulance, you seemed perfectly natural. By the time that show goes to air, Casey Carter will wish she had stayed inside that prison. Good job, son. Good job.”
Andrew could count on one hand the number of times his father had praised him for anything.
23
Laurie couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to walk into a bar in the city without having to turn sideways to navigate her way through a crowd. Bar Boulud, a high-demand hotspot, was gloriously empty this late afternoon. Laurie could hear the sound of her own heels echo up to the vault-shaped ceiling as she made her way to the back of the bar, where she spotted Charlotte and Angela at the farthest table. They had already ordered three glasses of wine and a beautiful charcuterie board filled with prosciutto, salami, pâté, and a couple of things Laurie was afraid to eat.
Angela reached over and gave Laurie’s free hand a quick squeeze. “You are such a doll for seeing Casey and me without an appointment today. Casey called me last night going absolutely nuts about those online comments.” She quickly pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh dear, bad word choice. I meant that she was very concerned.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Laurie said. “It does seem odd that fifteen years later, someone would immediately resume talking about her on the Internet using the same nickname. It suggests a person who’s not only obsessed with the case, but who wants Casey to know about it. Why use the same name unless you want to send a message that someone out there hates you?”
“Hello?” Charlotte said with a little wave. “No idea what you two are talking about. I’m the one who introduced you, remember? Fill me in, please.”
“Sorry,” Angela said, “I didn’t want to mention it while Casey was at the office with me. She’s so upset.” It didn’t take long for Angela to fill Charlotte in on the comments from RIP_Hunter.
“It could be one person who’s obsessed with Casey,” Charlotte observed. “Or it could be a bunch of different people all using the same online name.”
“I don’t understand,” Laurie said. “Why would a group come together to post negative comments about Casey as if they’re one person?”
“No, not anything like a conspiracy. I remember back in college, when I’d go on message boards to talk about the latest celebrity breakup—don’t judge me—people would sign their comments along the lines of Team Jennifer or Team Angie. It’s a way of taking sides in an Internet feud. Same thing with political candidates. These days, it would be on Twitter. A million people typing hashtag-whoever are signaling who they’re supporting, but it’s not written by one person. For all we know, RIP_Hunter could have been a label that caught on among people who were all on Hunter’s ‘side’ so to speak, meaning they thought Casey was guilty.”
“How could we find out what it really was?” Laurie asked.
“You’d have to check to see whether it was the kind of site where users had to create a verified account with a unique username, or whether anyone could just type RIP_Hunter as a signature.”
Laurie made a mental note to follow up on the technological aspect of these posts. She had her fingers crossed that the defense lawyer had done the same back then, which would save her from wading into a morass of computer information she sometimes struggled to understand.
“I don’t know about all that,” Angela said, “but I’ve been wracking my brain trying to think of people who might have wanted to hurt Hunter. I realize that Casey may not have mentioned a couple of possibilities. One was her ex-boyfriend, Jason Gardner. He was terribly jealous. It always seemed like he was still in love with Casey and trying to get her back, even though she was engaged to Hunter. But after she was convicted, he really threw her under the bus. He even published a trashy tell-all book. And you should also look into Gabrielle Lawson. She’s this pathetic aging socialite who was determined to snag a man like Hunter. Both of them were at the gala that night. Both of them stopped by our table. My worry is that if Casey goes through with this, it will kill her mother just the way her going to trial killed her father.”
Angela was speaking with such an intensity that she didn’t seem to notice that Charlotte and Laurie were sharing an anxious look. “Angela,” Charlotte said gently, “maybe we should let Laurie enjoy her happy hour. How would you feel if she grilled us about the fall fashion show that has us so exhausted?”
Laurie hadn’t known Charlotte long, but it wasn’t the first time she’d seemed to know what Laurie was thinking. The truth was, Laurie loved talking about work, no matter what the hour, but it felt inappropriate to discuss the current investigation with Casey’s family member in such an off-the-record way. Always the consummate professional, Charlotte had found a polite way to shift the subject matter.
“Oh my gosh, of course,” Angela said sheepishly. “We’re all officially off the clock. No work talk.”
Laurie was grateful for Charlotte’s save. “No problem at all,” she said. “If it makes you feel any better, we already have both Jason and Gabrielle on our list of people to contact based on our review of the case.”
“So,” Angela said, searching for a new topic, “are you married, Laurie, or are you part of the single ladies club with us? I don’t see a ring.”
Charlotte wrapped a friendly arm around her friend’s shoulder. “I should have warned you that my buddy Angela can be very blunt.”
Laurie could tell that Charlotte was embarrassed, but, if anything, Laurie found comfort in the fact that Charlotte hadn’t told Angela her background already. Sometimes Laurie thought that Greg’s murder was the first fact anyone learned about her. “I’m not married either,” she said. That seemed a sufficient explanation for the moment.
“Charlotte says I shouldn’t care so much about finding a man. Be happy on my own, et cetera. But I admit, it gets lonely not to have found the right guy yet.”<
br />
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “You make forty sound like ninety. Besides, you’re more gorgeous now than most women could hope to be at any age.”
“Oh sure, I go out a lot, but it doesn’t amount to a hill of beans.” She laughed. “I was engaged twice, but as we got near the wedding date, I asked myself if I’d want to see this guy’s face every morning.”
“Isn’t this uplifting?” Charlotte said. “Besides, Laurie has more going on in that arena than she can handle.”
Angela took the bait. “What’s this? Sounds juicy.”
“He’s someone I worked with. It’s complicated.”
“You really don’t think he’ll change his mind about coming back to the show?” Charlotte asked. “It won’t be the same without that perfect voice.” She did her best, deep-voiced Alex impersonation. “Good evening. This is Alex Buckley.”
“No,” Angela said, her mouth agape. “Alex Buckley? Really? The lawyer?”
Now Laurie wished they were talking about the case instead. She nodded. “The host of our show. Or at least, he was.”
“Okay, now I have to admit I haven’t seen the show yet.”
Charlotte pretended to give her friend a little smack. “Laurie’s taking your cousin’s case and you didn’t even watch her show?”
“I was planning on streaming it this weekend. Of course I was dying to watch it last month when your sister’s case was featured, but you told me you didn’t want everyone at work to watch, because it was so personal about your family.”
“Well, obviously I didn’t mean that about you,” Charlotte said. “You’re one of my best friends.”
“Really,” Laurie said, “you don’t need to explain.”
When the table fell into a silence, Angela shook her head. “Man, Alex Buckley. Now, that is a small world.”
“You know him?” Laurie asked.
“Not anymore. But I went out with him once a million years ago.”
Charlotte shook her head. “Why in the world would you tell her that?”
“Because it’s a funny coincidence. And it was more than fifteen years ago. Ancient history.” She waved off the thought.
Charlotte was still giving her friend a disapproving look.
“What? Laurie’s not upset, are you? Trust me, this is a non-issue, just like with Hunter.”
“Wait: You dated him, too?” Charlotte mused. “Who haven’t you gone out with?”
“It’s not like that, Charlotte,” Angela said. “You didn’t know me then. I went out every night of the week. I met baseball players, actors, a New York Times reporter. And don’t go thinking what you’re thinking. It was all very innocent. We were so young, thrown into these high-profile social situations where you’re expected to have a plus-one. It’s like Casey said earlier, Laurie: she felt like she knew everyone in New York City. I was the same way in my twenties. One moment, you’d be on a red carpet. Then when it was just a group of us alone, we’d giggle and act like kids. It was as if there were an unofficial club of a hundred popular New Yorkers, all keeping each other company. Nothing heavy.”
She smiled at the memory. “But, my goodness, what a small world indeed. Come to think of it, I met Alex when I tagged along to a picnic in Westchester with Casey and the Raleighs. I was unattached at the time. Alex was smart and so nice looking. Someone told me he was a lawyer at the host’s law firm. We talked through most of the party so I took a chance and called him at the office to invite him out to lunch. When we met, I realized he wasn’t even a lawyer yet. He was a summer associate, still in law school. I was several years older—not a big deal these days, but at the time, I felt like Mrs. Robinson. Of course, what a mistake in retrospect. Look how he turned out!”
Something about Laurie’s expression caused Angela to pause. “Maybe I should keep my younger days to myself, but I promise, it was just one lunch. I’m very sorry if I’ve upset you, Laurie.”
“Not at all. As you said, it’s a small world. So if you met Alex at a picnic the Raleighs took you to, does that mean Alex met the Raleighs, too?”
She shrugged. “I can’t say for sure.”
Charlotte was signaling to the waiter for another round, but Laurie said, “That’s all for me. I might actually have time to cook dinner for my son tonight.”
“You sure? You’re going to miss out on my grilling Angela about that long list of boyfriends from the nineties.”
Laurie was indeed intrigued about something Angela had said, but there was only one person’s past she was curious about.
She texted Alex. Do you have a second?
24
The tip of General James Raleigh’s Montblanc pen hovered above his legal pad, but he hadn’t been able to write a word this afternoon. He was working on his memoirs, already sold to a major publisher. His handwriting was as neat and orderly as the other attributes of his life, so Mary Jane had no difficulty reading his pages and typing them into manuscript format. Usually, the sentences flowed easily. He had been blessed with an exciting, challenging, and rewarding life. He had watched the world change and was filled with stories. He knew that others regarded him as an old man now, but he didn’t feel like one.
He knew why he was having an uncharacteristic bout of writer’s block. He was trying to write the chapter about losing his firstborn son, Hunter. He had experienced so much loss in his lifetime. His older brother, also his hero and best friend, had been killed in combat at such a young age. He watched the love of his life and the mother of his children waste away to cancer. And then three years later, Hunter—his brother’s namesake—was stolen from him. That death had been the worst of all. Wars and disease are horrific, but expected parts of life. To lose a child, to have a child murdered—sometimes James was surprised he had not dropped dead himself from grief.
He placed his pen on his desk, knowing there was no point in trying to work in this state.
His thoughts suddenly shifted to the memory of Andrew sulking in the library today. James knew he’d been hard on his son, but the boy was such a disappointment. Fifty years old, he thought, and I still think of him as a boy. That speaks volumes.
James could only imagine what the Senator, as he and his brother had called their father, would have done to them if they’d ever behaved in such an entitled manner. Andrew had no sense of civic responsibility. He saw money in the basest, most hedonistic terms, something to be thrown about on a whim, solely for enjoyment. The partying. The practical jokes. The jumps from boarding school to boarding school. The gambling. I am hard on you, Andrew, because I care about you. I won’t always be here to guide you. Before long, you will be the only Raleigh left.
So far James’s efforts to drag Andrew into maturity had failed, along with every job he’d helped him land. He’d worked at the foundation but almost never showed up. James finally told him not to bother. He had pushed Hunter to become involved in the foundation when Hunter began talking about a shift into politics. That did not end well, so now the foundation was run primarily by paid staff instead of his own family.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Hunter, if he had lived, eventually would have chosen a suitable spouse and would have carried on the family name. He might have proposed to Casey and put a ring on her finger, but he was never going to make it down the aisle with her. Of that much, James was certain.
As careless as Andrew was about his choices of companions, at least he had never brought them around in ways that embarrassed the family. He could not say the same for Hunter. Casey had been Hunter’s Achilles’ heel. James felt his blood pressure rise as he remembered the night that she began offering her strident political views at the dinner table, in front of a deputy attorney general and a newly elected congresswoman—as if she had done anything in her young, carefree life to have an informed opinion. He finally had to suggest that Hunter escort her home. The woman did not know how to behave, plain a
nd simple.
He realized that his pen was back in hand. He looked at his notepad. He had written, I am responsible.
It wasn’t the first time those words had come out when he least expected them. I was the one who told him that he could not let that woman into our family, he thought. I even went so far as to tell him that if he had children with her, he was forbidden to name them Hunter.
I saw forty-four years of military service. I have seen evil and confronted danger in many forms. But I never saw it sitting at my own dining table. I never thought I was putting my son in danger by expecting him to break things off with a woman who didn’t deserve him.
I am responsible.
Now that murderous girl was planning to cry in front of the cameras to gain sympathy. He would not let that happen. If he had to fight until his last breath, the world would come to see her for what she was—a cold-blooded killer.
He had told Andrew that his role would be limited to putting on a stern face for the show, but he had learned the five p’s in the military: prior planning prevents poor performance. Andrew would do his job of exposing Casey for the volatile sociopath that she was, but James’s efforts would remain behind the scenes.
At the very least, Mark Templeton would not be saying a word to anyone about Hunter or the foundation. James had made sure of that earlier today when he’d spoken to Templeton for the first time in nearly a decade.
25
Laurie was stepping out of a taxi in front of Alex’s office when her cell phone rang. According to the screen, it was Jerry. She wasn’t surprised that he was still working. She picked up immediately.
“I’ve got bad news,” he said. “Mark Templeton, the former CFO of the Raleigh Foundation, finally called you back. He wanted to know what this was about, so Grace connected him to me. I told him about the show. I hope you don’t mind.”
The Sleeping Beauty Killer Page 10