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

by Marla Madison

  Lisa’s phone rang twenty minutes later. “This is Emma’s sister. I’m at Emma’s house, but there’s no sign that she’s been there recently. Her car isn’t in the garage, and I tried to get in but I remembered she changed the locks to keep her husband out. There hasn’t been time for her to give me a new key and she didn’t leave one under the sill like she usually does, so I couldn’t get inside. Everything looks normal, but she’s not picking up on her cell phone. Do you think I should call the police?”

  “I’ll call them,” Lisa offered, thinking Conlin could run a quick check on the whereabouts of Emma’s car. “I’ll wait a few more minutes and call a detective I know. I’ll give him your number, okay?”

  When Joan agreed, Lisa called Richard and explained her concern.

  “Give me her name and I’ll put out an alert,” he said. “Do you think it’s possible she just took off to go to a spa or something?”

  “She’s estranged from her husband at the moment. I can tell you this much because it’s public record, they’ve had some domestic calls. The husband isn’t the violent one although I know he’s done some fighting back. And no, I don’t think she would just take off, because she loves her job.”

  “That should be enough to get something started,” he said. “But just between us, what do you think?”

  Lisa couldn’t tell him about the new man in Emma’s life since that had been revealed in therapy, so she also couldn’t tell him or the sister that Emma could just be off somewhere spending time with the boyfriend.

  She sighed. “I think I’m worried for her.”

  54

  When everyone had taken turns praising his culinary skills, Bart was feeling like part of the group. His well being quickly soured when Jen announced she was going out for the evening.

  When Eric expressed concern for her safety, she said, “It’s all right. I won’t be alone. I have a date.”

  “I hope this is someone you knew before all this started,” Lisa said.

  Jen smiled. “He is.”

  Foolishly, Bart felt like Jen was cheating on him. She’d never mentioned dating anyone. He busied himself clearing the table and dishing out generous servings of cinnamon ice cream for dessert. He’d just sat back down at the table when Jen came back into the room dressed in a pale-pink knit dress that draped beautifully on her tall, model-thin form. She trailed the scent of a heady perfume that Bart didn’t recognize.

  She said, “I hope you don’t mind that I’m going out.”

  Her comment was meant for everyone, but Bart answered, “Of course not. You’ve been cooped up for almost a week.”

  “So have you.”

  “I’m good. You go and have a good time. You deserve it.”

  She gave him a long, doubting look, then turned to leave. Crushed, Bart put on his best I-don’t-give-a-damn face and tried not to watch her walk out. When everyone had left the table, Bart put the dishes in the dishwasher and polished the granite topping the kitchen island. He had just hung up the towel when Shannon came over and said, “Eric has Netflix. Want to watch a movie?”

  “Sure.” He figured her invitation had to be a pity offer, but Bart liked movies and Shannon seemed like a fun person. They moved to the living room and sat at opposite ends of a long black leather sofa. He hoped the movie was a good one because he knew he wouldn’t feel right until Jen got back. They picked a movie that had been popular a year before, one neither of them had seen. While she was setting it up, Bart got a fire going in the large stone fireplace which took up nearly the entire opposite wall, and when he went to sit back down, Shannon had moved over to his side of the sofa and held up a fur throw to share with him.

  He sat next to her and let her arrange the throw. She smiled, and he couldn’t help but compare her to Jen. He knew some men might prefer Shannon with her long, black hair and voluptuous body. But he couldn’t deny his huge crush on Jen.

  The whole Headliner thing was another distraction. He had forwarded Conlin a copy of the latest email he’d received but hadn’t heard anything back from the detective. Bart had to stay in the here and now, focus on the movie. It was a good one, which within minutes took his mind off everything else. When Shannon snuggled closer, he figured, why not? and put an arm around her, thinking how strange it was that a common enemy drew people closer.

  About two hours later, his cell phone rang. He and Shannon sat up quickly. The movie had ended and they’d been half asleep, slumped back, watching the evening news. His heart leapt when he heard Jen’s voice.

  “Bart, something terrible happened.”

  “Jen, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She sounded near tears. “It’s . . . it’s not me. It’s Drew.”

  So the other guy was Drew. Of course his name would sound like it belonged to a hot male model. He better not have hurt her. “What about him?”

  “He left to get the car and he didn’t come back. I went out to look for him and I found him next to the car, facedown in the parking lot. Someone beat him up.” She was definitely crying now.

  Shannon had been following the conversation and got up and left the room. She must have gone to get Eric.

  “We’ll come and get you,” Bart said.

  “Ask her where she is,” Eric said as he entered the room.

  Jen told Bart the name of the restaurant. It was on Pewaukee Lake, a short drive away. Eric gestured to him to end the call.

  “Jen, we’ll be right there.”

  Bart agreed to drive Jen’s car back to Eric’s. Jen quickly hopped into the car with Eric when he opened the door for her, whether to avoid Bart or just get away as quickly as possible from what had happened, he had no idea. Bart stayed at the restaurant and waited for Conlin while the local police did their thing.

  After an initial examination by the paramedics, Drew had insisted he was good enough to drive himself to the ER to have a nasty cut above his eye stitched up. His assailant fled when a young couple walked into the parking lot behind the restaurant. None of the witnesses, including Drew, could describe him beyond the fact that he was white, young, and about the same height as Drew

  Bart hadn’t talked to Drew, but what he’d heard of the interchange between him and Conlin, he sounded like a decent enough person. Of course, just as Bart had imagined, he stood over six feet tall and had even features and tousled blonde hair.

  When Bart got back to Eric’s, Jen was already upstairs. He lingered in the kitchen with Eric and Shannon and fixed himself a cup of coffee. He wanted to give Jen time by herself, thinking she might want alone time to call Drew and see how he was doing.

  Bart trudged up the steps twenty minutes later, for the first time wishing they weren’t sharing quarters. He was surprised to see her sitting on the sofa, apparently waiting for him.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with no preamble. “I should have told you about Drew.”

  He hadn’t expected that opening. “Like you keep telling me, there’s nothing to apologize for.”

  “Well, you and I did talk about our relationships.” She smiled. “Or lack of them, I should say. I guess I thought if I didn’t talk about him, it would make him less important in my life.”

  Trying not to sound jealous, he asked, “If he’s so important, why did you call me? And why join Matchmakers?”

  She took a sip of wine from a small, round tumbler. “Have you ever met someone that things didn’t work out with, but after it was over you just couldn’t forget about them? That’s how it was for me. Drew and I met at a wedding I was working on. He asked me out and we dated for about three months. I had fallen for him pretty hard and I guess it was obvious to him. He told me he had only been divorced for about six months and wasn’t ready for anything serious. We stopped dating, but every now and then—I suppose it was whenever he had to make that same speech to someone else—he called me. I could never say no. I thought the reason he kept coming back was because I was the one he really wanted. I believed he would commit to me when he was
ready to settle down.” She glanced over at Bart who was sitting across from her on a rocker. “Magic thinking. Pretty stupid, right?”

  He snorted. “At least you had someone you got to that point with. I can’t say I ever have.” No way would he admit that the way she felt about Drew was exactly how he felt about her and he would wait as long as it took if it meant having her to himself someday. But then he asked himself if there was really anything to lose by being honest. Bart felt his face burning as he said, “I’m really enjoying spending all this time with you, Jen. I guess that makes me pretty stupid, too.”

  She rose from the sofa and poured him a glass of wine. “I’m enjoying you, too, Bart, but I like you as a friend, and I wouldn’t be your friend if I weren’t honest with you. I’m not over Drew yet. I’ve been sitting here wrestling with wanting to call him.”

  “Then you should. Why wait?”

  “I told him all about what’s been happening. Not about where we’re staying, of course—I wouldn’t do that—but how you and I were hiding out together. Silly, I know, to have expected him be the tiniest bit jealous. He wasn’t. I know I have to forget about him, but I’ve never figured out how to do it.”

  “Well, you’re living with a therapist now,” Bart said. “Maybe you should talk to her about that.” Bart regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. He felt like an idiot for recommending that she needed a shrink.

  “That’s really a good idea. I like Lisa; I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

  55

  Bart remained on the couch, stewing, long after Jen kissed him on the cheek and declared she needed to get some sleep. He did, too, but even after three glasses of wine, he didn’t think sleep was happening for him any time soon. He went over to the desk in the corner, intending to work on his blog.

  It hit him then that if Headliner had followed Jen to that restaurant, he had to know where they were staying. He opened his computer and found,

  Hey dooshbag,

  You must be proud of me, right? I didn’t hurt a hair on your girlie’s head. Guess she’s not your girlie, if she’s sniffing around other guys. This one was a real pussy, never even got in a punch. What is he, a hairdresser? Pretty bad when yur girl leaves you for a fruit.

  You need to tell our readers all about it. Soon. Like NOW.

  Headliner

  The jerk was still telling him what to do. Bart decided he would write what he wanted to write and forget about retaliation. Headliner’s strikes against them couldn’t get any worse. It was time for him to write what he really thought about Headliner and not only the things that Conlin approved.

  Bart didn’t care if his words made him Headliner’s next target; he was sick of living in fear, afraid to go anywhere without protection. Christmas was only a week away. Then there was the New Year’s Eve party and wedding. He didn’t want to spend the holidays like this, even if he usually didn’t do all that much except visit his parents.

  He started writing.

  Dear readers,

  In fairness to your loyalty, it is time that I told you the truth. My recent blogs have been written using spins suggested by the police. I’ve gone along with them, hoping that if I didn’t make this Headliner person angry, he would stop persecuting my friends and me. That has not happened. Just tonight, he attacked and injured someone a friend was having dinner with.

  I’m weary of living my life in hiding, writing only what the police believe I should write.

  So please bear with me, readers—I am about to tell this murderer what I think of him.

  Headliner,

  The party is over. The candy store is closed. I will not continue to let my words feed your sick ego.

  You’ve murdered an innocent woman and placed her body in my yard. You blew up my car and killed a man. You terrorized a close friend, injured a security guard, and beat up another friend. While all these things were taking place, I kept catering to what I believed you wanted to hear, hoping if I did so, you would leave me alone. That never happened, did it? You continued your nasty deeds no matter what I wrote.

  You are a true psychopath who has no conscience and no regard for anyone but yourself. Keeping my friends and me in a constant state of fear gives you pleasure. You are a sick man, incapable of normal human feelings, unable to have friends of your own. I pity you.

  The world needs to be protected from you. You should be behind bars where you belong.

  What happened to you to make you this way? Is your dick too small? Did your mother abuse you, have sex with you? Or, maybe, it was your father. Or both of your parents.

  Once you are incarcerated the shrinks can figure you out. I will have no further contact with you. Send all the emails you want. I won’t respond.

  Bart Kosik

  He read over what he’d written, not really satisfied with the words, but knowing they at least covered what he was feeling. Then he wondered if he should let Conlin know what he was doing. Possibly, in light of everything that had happened, the detective wouldn’t object. But Bart didn’t think he wanted to take that chance. If he waited until morning or discussed it with Conlin, he might weaken. At the moment Bart wasn’t feeling weak. He was furious that an unseen predator had him by the balls.

  Bart published the blog.

  The house was quiet when TJ finally arrived at Eric’s. She made herself coffee and noticed a light on in Eric’s study. She found Lisa there working on a laptop. “You the only one up?”

  Lisa said, “I am. I wanted to wait for you.”

  “So everything’s okay?”

  “Not really. Jen went out and met a date tonight. She left at seven-thirty and then she called Bart at about ten and told him that someone had attacked her friend in the parking lot of the restaurant where they had dinner.”

  “You know what that means, right?”

  “This Headliner knows where we are. That’s the only way he could have followed her. I suppose it’s possible the attack wasn’t him and was just a random mugging, but Bart said this Drew guy still had his wallet when they found him and nothing was missing from it.”

  “Shit, I feel like I gotta be doin’ something about it, but don’t know what I can do. I need to be workin’ the other case.”

  “Why can’t you do both? You said you found a connection between them.”

  “Hate to say it, but I’m thinkin’ it’s a coincidence.”

  Lisa hesitated. “There’s something else.”

  “More bad news?”

  “One of my clients is missing. I called Richard and he put out a watch for her car.”

  “Kinda early to panic, isn’t it?”

  “She and her husband have an abusive relationship.”

  “Crap. You’re thinkin’ she’s the next victim?”

  “God, I hope not. I don’t want anyone else hurt. I was hoping this would be over so we could all have a normal Christmas.”

  “Then we’re all holed up here for the holiday. Won’t be the first time, and the last one wasn’t all that bad.”

  Lisa agreed, but added quickly that she was surprised TJ remembered that year’s Thanksgiving in a positive light. At the time, all she’d done was gripe about it.

  “Wait a minute,” TJ said. “I just thoughta somethin’. Kosik’s drivin’ a rental now, right?” Lisa nodded. “But the girl isn’t. She has to be how he found them, that’s the only thing that makes sense. We gotta check her car for a tracker.”

  They found Eric and the three of them rushed out to the garage. A tracking device on Jen’s car was immediately located and disposed of. Before leaving the garage, Eric and the security guard inspected the other vehicles and declared them free of malicious devices.

  By then, Lisa and TJ had retreated to the whiteboards and reviewed both cases before deciding how to proceed. Satisfied, they left the room.

  TJ crawled into bed, wishing Richard was there so she could tell him about what had happened in Iowa. The time had come to tell him about Whitney and her obsessive ex-husband
. The ex could have found her in Madison and then killed her and moved her body to Bart’s. But she couldn’t understand why he would do that unless Caruthers was Headiner. That explanation just didn’t play—not unless there was a connection between a firefighter in Cedar Rapids, Iowa and a crime blogger from Milwaukee. A tie like that seemed pretty far-fetched, but Richard might have some ideas.

  The tie between the cases was thin, but TJ was still working on Rina’s tab. She decided to pass Turner another job; she rolled over and reached for her phone.

  He picked up right away. “What the fuck! It’s the middle of the night for chrissake.”

  “Hey, you wanted the business, remember?”

  He made noises as though fumbling for something. “Okay, I got a pen, what do you want?”

  “I want you to find out if there is a connection between this Thomas Caruthers, Whitney Chamberlain’s husband, and Bart Kosik.”

  “Kosik? That small-prick blogger?”

  TJ wasn’t about to comment on Kosik’s dick size, in spite of her opinion. “You gotta problem with him?”

  “The guy’s an asshole. And he’s not thought of too highly by the cops.”

  “Been readin’ his blog lately?”

  “Nah, been a while.”

  “Read the ones for the last couple weeks. That’ll bring you up to speed on what’s happenin’.”

  56

  Lisa spent the next morning in the office. She brought her dog Phanny along for company and protection. Fortunately, Shannon was working in the outer office that morning for the attorney, too, so they had driven there together. After her first appointment cancelled, Lisa wondered what to do about Emma. She wasn’t answering her landline or her cell phone. Just as she was about to call the woman’s place of employment, Shannon came into her office.