Girl Undone (TJ Peacock & Lisa Rayburn Mysteries Book 3)

by Marla Madison

  TJ had noticed the lock on the front door was the kind an intruder would find a piece of cake. She wanted to look around for herself, and judging by Caruthers’ beard growth, he was due to go back on duty soon.

  She left, not bothering to give him her usual plea to call her if he thought of anything. An asshole like him wouldn’t, anyway. She made a quick call to Wattnem and relayed that Caruthers hadn’t been helpful, and verified that he’d told her his wife left her purse behind. The she left a message for Richard, saying she might have to spend the night in Iowa. She would have to explain why later, when she admitted what she knew about Whitney.

  One of the girlfriends on her list had already left to visit her relatives for the holidays—early because her mother was ill—and wouldn’t be back until January. The other, the firefighter’s cousin, lived with her husband in a small town just south of Cedar Rapids.

  Fairfax, practically a suburb of Cedar Rapids, was surrounded by condo complexes and new houses. The only division between the cities had long since been gobbled up by new construction. The Mitchell’s light-blue ranch-style house was on a street sporting blow-up Santas, reindeer, and snowmen.

  Cindy Mitchell opened the door the minute TJ rang the bell. Like Wattnem, her face was bright with hope. “Please, tell me about Lindsey. Do you know if she’s all right?”

  TJ followed her into a small but pleasant living room done in warm shades of brown and teal. The walls held at least a dozen watercolor landscapes, framed to match the décor.

  “You an artist?” TJ asked.

  “Oh, I just dabble a little.”

  TJ thought the pictures awfully nice to have been dabbled but could see that Mitchell was anxious to talk about her friend. “I’m lookin’ for Lindsey because she’s involved in a case I’m workin’ on. I already know when she left, she didn’t take her car, and she supposedly wasn’t fightin’ with her husband. I need to know if you can tell me anything that’ll help me find her.”

  “I do know something, but I don’t think it will help you find her. Lindsey was pregnant. Tom was furious about it because they hadn’t planned on having kids for a long time. He wanted them to build their dream house first. Personally, I think that was a ruse to keep her from having kids. Tom’s possessive and he wanted her all to himself.”

  “You think that’s why she left him?”

  “Sure I do. She wanted a baby since they first got married, and when Tom found out she was pregnant, he told her to have an abortion. She would never have done such a thing, and I think that must be why she left.” She paused and then said, “I hope that’s the explanation.”

  “You’re afraid he did something to her.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him. Not for a minute. The police don’t seem to be at all interested. They called me and asked a few questions but didn’t even come here or have me go to the station to answer questions.”

  “She ever confide that he hit her?”

  “Not in so many words. But I saw her bruises. And she had a broken arm once that she blamed on an icy sidewalk. I didn’t believe her. I think she was ashamed that she stayed with him.”

  “Were you surprised she didn’t tell you about the abuse?

  “No, I wasn’t. She would have protected her friends that way, made sure we didn’t know anything so he wouldn’t harass us. As it was, he was over here raising hell when she took off, demanding that I tell him where she was. Aaron had to throw him out, actually force him out the door. Since then, I’ve thought that was all a performance to make him look innocent.”

  “How about her car? Didn’t you think it was funny that she didn’t take it?”

  “Not really. The car was old and not very reliable. She didn’t want to buy a newer one because they were saving for a house. She wanted to hurry it up cause that was Tom’s condition for having kids.”

  “Tom said she handled all their finances. You know if she had a secret account somewhere that would have covered her runnin’-off expenses?”

  Cindy looked away, her eyes answering the question. “She did. She told me it was for things like baby furniture when they had kids, but I always suspected she saved the money for a way out if she ever needed one.”

  “If that’s what she did, any ideas where she might have gone?”

  “I don’t know. She always wanted to go to Europe, but she couldn’t have done that without a passport, right? I know she always wanted to go back to school, get a degree.”

  “Any school stand out, one she might have mentioned?”

  “No, I don’t think so.” She hesitated. “Well, she did say something once, about Madison. You know, UW. She said she heard it was a big party town and how much fun that would be. I thought it was kind of strange when she said that because she’s not really a party girl, but she met Tom before she had a chance to spend enough time single.”

  That could explain how Lindsey ended up in Madison and became Whitney, but she hadn’t gone to school. She’d been preparing for single motherhood.

  “That’s helpful,” TJ said. She had what she wanted and had to finesse her way out.

  Cindy followed her to the door. “Will you let me know if you find her?” she asked when TJ handed her one of her cards.

  TJ agreed and went to the Mini, wishing she’d taken a more inconspicuous car. Sometimes she took her sister Janeen’s when she wanted to be inconspicuous. She drove back to Tom’s neighborhood and scoped out his place from the street behind it. The house had no lights on, and it had gotten dark enough that they should have been on if Caruthers was home. TJ left her car parked on the next street, pulled on a dark winter cap, and walked past his house. A row of cedar bushes separated it from the one next door. After making sure no one was watching, she used them as a cover and crept toward the house.

  51

  Conlin wanted Bart to stay off the grid. But by nine that morning, Bart was bored. When he expressed his boredom, Eric offered to take him along to the classic car dealership. After they got there, he found Bart a car to drive to the gym. Bart planned to use his pass to get into a sister facility in Brookfield, a suburb west of Milwaukee and east of Waukesha where Eric’s dealership was located.

  He left for the gym driving one of the salesmen’s cars, a two-year-old Chevy Malibu, and spent his workout time worrying about Jen. She’d left for her meetings since Headliner couldn’t possibly know her schedule. But the man had done a lot of things Bart wouldn’t have thought possible.

  He was still stressing about her when he got back to Kristy’s Classics and, deciding to put his mind at ease, he called her.

  “Hi. It’s me. Everything okay?”

  He heard her sigh into the phone. “I guess.”

  “Jen, I’m so sorry about all this.”

  “Bart, I told you to quit apologizing. Sorry I snapped at you, but things aren’t going well with my client. Their wedding is scheduled for New Year’s Eve and at least three things have gone wrong for them. The worst is that the hall they rented for the reception has a roofing problem and had to cancel them.”

  “Yikes,” he said. “It’s hard to find another spot on New Year’s Eve, right?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do for them, but at least it’s a small wedding. It’ll be a second marriage for both of them and they’re limiting the guest list to only close relatives and friends. Not much more than fifty people.”

  “Anything I can do to help out?”

  “Well, sure, I guess you can. If I send you a list of places that might work, would you call them and see if by any remote chance, one of them has a cancellation?”

  Equipped with the list, a sandwich, and his laptop, Bart headed to the dealership’s empty conference room. He was going at it with no success and was about halfway through the list when Eric walked in carrying a mug of coffee and joined him.

  “Are you working on your blog?”

  “No, not right now. I haven’t heard from Headliner, so there’s nothing new to report to the crime fans.
” He explained what he was doing. “I’m not making any progress, but she knows it’s a long shot.”

  Eric hmphed. “I love New Year’s Eve. I used to have New Year’s Eve parties here. They were a blast.”

  “You don’t have them anymore?”

  “Last year, it just didn’t seem the same after what happened the year before, Jeff getting killed.”

  Bart knew all about that. “Yeah, that had to be awful for all of you.”

  “It was,” Eric said. “But, you know, you gave me a wild idea. I was thinking about having one this year but never got around to planning it, so now it’s kind of late. But a lot of my regulars have been calling and asking about it. We moved cars around so there was really quite a bit of room. If the wedding party is flexible and doesn’t mind the setting and a few extra wedding crashers, it could be fun to combine the wedding and the party. For sure, it would be unique.”

  Bart laughed. “We know the groom would love that idea. But really, it’s too much to ask.”

  “You didn’t. I’m offering. Let me run it by Lisa first, then you can call Jen back and throw the idea out there.”

  The bride turned out to be a classic-car lover, and an hour later she and Jen walked into the dealership giggling, already with a list in hand of plans for the event. The wedding planning came to life.

  Bart stayed long enough for the negotiations of the big things, like the number of guests and the time of the ceremony, all the while hoping to himself that the cops would have Headliner in handcuffs before the big night, which wasn’t even two weeks off. That reminded him about Christmas. He’d have to think of an excuse to explain to his parents why he wouldn’t be visiting them in Arizona for the holiday.

  As soon as he could, Bart made his excuses and left for Eric’s in a dealership car. The house was quiet when he arrived. The security guard and that black gal who’d been hit on the head at his place were on the grounds. RayAnn came over when she saw him drive in.

  “How are you?” Bart asked.

  “All good.” She looked around a bit then walked him to the door.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “for what happened to you.”

  “Wasn’t your fault. I should have been watching better.” She handed him the bag of groceries she’d carried from the car. As the first one home, he thought it only fair that he make dinner and had bought ingredients for one of his favorites on a winter’s night, white chili. But first, after putting out all the ingredients, he checked his messages. His heart sank. Just when he’d been feeling safe again, he had another note from Headliner.

  Hey asshole,

  Why no blog today? Got your head so far up that prick-detective’s ass that you forgot all about me?

  Maybe you need a reminder.

  Watch yur back,

  Headliner

  Bart noticed that Headliner had once more selected a few words to misspell. Scary. The guy wanted them to think he was stupid yet didn’t cover up his intelligence subtly. Maybe Lisa the psychologist would be able to explain it.

  52

  TJ edged to the back patio and easily gained access to Caruthers’ condo through the sliding doors. People didn’t realize how easily those things could be broken into. You would think that being a firefighter, the man would know that, or maybe he just didn’t care. She started in the basement where he had a corner set up with exercise equipment, a small refrigerator, and your standard, Wisconsin-guy’s gun collection. All the guns it held appeared to be accounted for, with every slot filled, which didn’t necessarily mean he didn’t have a handgun or two elsewhere. An old desk against one wall didn’t give up any secrets, or did the washer and dryer in the other corner.

  She advanced to the first floor and kept looking, not even sure what she was looking for—not until she reached his bedroom. One entire wall was covered with photos of his wife. Some that were pleasantly framed had probably been there awhile: the usual wedding photo, the couple smiling on the steps in front of the new condo, the two of them on a pier holding the ends of a stringer of fish, and on a beach in what looked like Hawaii. The rest were an unorganized collage of pictures that must have come out of one of her albums, Lindsey from birth to high school graduation and assorted photos from their life together that hadn’t made the cut for framing. Tom Caruthers was obsessed, and TJ knew only too well what that led to—it didn’t bode well for finding Whitney alive.

  Back in her car, TJ drove north out of Cedar Rapids. The snow had begun again and was forming a light cover on the ground. She wondered if she should stay somewhere in town for the night, then decided to keep going, at least to Dubuque. There was a casino on the river in the downtown area, near a couple nice hotels. She would stop for a few hands of Black Jack and reevaluate whether to spend the night, hopefully in time to get a room.

  TJ parked under the overpass in the casino’s lot. The snow had diminished, and had left only about two inches of powdery accumulation. She parked the Mini as close as possible to the entrance and exchanged her running shoes for a pair of sheepskin-lined clogs.

  She left the car and passed about a dozen other cars when she got the feeling, that neck tingle that felt like a tiny caterpillar making its way across the back of her neck. Someone was watching her.

  A security guard stood less than fifty yards away at the main door. TJ didn’t turn around until she was inside the casino, then walked to the coat check area in order to get a look at whoever was following her. A couple in their sixties walked through the door. No one else was visible between her car and where she stood; if someone had been watching her, they weren’t there now. Maybe it was just some horny gambler who had been eying her, broke and wishing he’d stayed home with his wife instead of losing all his money.

  TJ scoped out the casino. The fifth Black Jack table had the stakes she wanted and had two hangers-on in the first and fourth chairs. She sat between them and placed her first bet.

  Thirty minutes later, TJ was a hundred and thirty dollars ahead and the other two players had moved on. She picked up her chips, tipped the dealer, and cashed in. The feeling of being watched hadn’t returned, but she cruised the casino, staying alert for anyone mimicking her pace. She stopped at a penny machine and played a quick ten dollars while she kept her eye on the crowd. Nothing.

  Once at the door, she decided to play it safe for a change and asked a security guard to walk her to her car, explaining that carrying that much cash—she told him she’d won a big pot—made her nervous. When they got to the car, she tipped the guy and left the lot, trying to decide if she should drive home. The snow was coming down again but it was what the weather people would call snow showers and didn’t appear to be worth worrying about.

  She drove north toward Madison and had just passed through Platteville when she became concerned about headlights behind her. She had noticed them before Platteville and the vehicle seemed to be maintaining a steady pace behind her. She didn’t think there would be a place to stop for a few miles, but this wasn’t exactly a deserted highway, even with the snow falling. She’d gone another five miles when she spotted it—a State Police building.

  She maneuvered quickly into the drive and watched as the vehicle behind her, which turned out to be a pickup truck, after first attempting to follow her, swerved quickly in the entrance of the drive and then kept going on the highway, picking up speed. Whoever had been following her wasn’t interested in calling attention to himself in front of a State Police building. TJ left the mini and went inside.

  53

  Emma Le Gesse scolded herself for letting Lisa Rayburn’s warnings spoil her anticipation for her date. What did Lisa know, anyway? She didn’t know how it felt to be tied to a loveless marriage, living with a man she didn’t respect and wasn’t turned on by anymore. Emma deserved to have a guy look at her “that way” again, as if she was the only woman in the world he wanted, as if she was the most fascinating thing since Marilyn Monroe. She’d found just the man. A few years younger than Emma—well, maybe ten�
�he wasn’t just a winner in the looks department, he also adored her.

  When they met in front of Michael’s, the first thing he did was admire how Emma looked in the royal-blue designer dress she’d bought for the occasion. Before tonight, they’d done the dance: flirting, whispering suggestive words in dark bars, kissing when he walked her to her car. He was a great kisser, too, and that meant a lot—that and his young, hard body—so much so that anything more than kissing would be icing on the cake. And she couldn’t wait to savor his icing.

  Their dinner went wonderfully, the food superb, his words soft, sexy, complimentary. Emma was wet with anticipation, eager to bring him home to her bedroom where the sheets were scented, the candles were strategically placed about the room, and her sheerest negligee waited on a padded-satin hanger in the bathroom.

  After the meal they skipped dessert, and he drove her home—she’d pick up her car at the restaurant the next morning—right then she couldn’t bear to leave his side. Emma was so turned on that she kept forgetting to give him directions to her house. They fell into each other’s arms the minute the door closed behind them. He pulled her against him and kissed her hungrily. She felt his hardness against her belly and ground her hips against him, eager to feel him inside of her, so eager that she pulled away from him and took his hand. She led him to the stairs, his fingers sliding under her skirt as he followed her.

  Weak-kneed when he tickled the sheer nylon covering her damp crotch, Emma barely realized what had happened when everything went black. She crashed to the floor, moaning, no longer with passion but pain. Her head throbbed, and before she could make an effort to stand, a heavy blow struck her from behind.

  Lisa hadn’t been able to contact Emma Le Gesse when she didn’t show up for her afternoon appointment. She had left Emma a message after the missed appointment the day before, telling her client she could fit her in at the same time the following day. Emma hadn’t returned the call, but Lisa had held the time for her. She was already ten minutes late. When Lisa called Emma’s sister who was her emergency contact, she offered to drive over to Emma’s apartment and check on her.