“Because it may all be bullshit, but there’s a kid involved who might be in trouble, and I happen to have received three calls about this Rena person in the past two days.”
“Calls?”
“I shouldn’t necessarily be sharing this information, but now that you’re somewhat involved, I can tell you. One call was from the kid’s doctor here, and another was from Rena’s ex-husband.”
“They both had the same concerns?”
“Not exactly. The ex-husband wanted to see his kid, and his ex-wife has not responded to him or shared with him her address since she moved to Phoenix over two months ago.”
“And the doctor?”
“Said she did every test she could think of and even one she didn’t think was at all necessary, but the mom demanded it. Said she couldn’t find anything wrong with the child and that she refused to administer another test the mom wanted her to do. Doc said she had concerns about the mom—nothing she could pinpoint, but said something just didn’t feel right. She told me the last thing she suggested to Rena was that she see the hospital psychologist.”
“How’d she take that?” I ask, checking my watch. Rena should have been here six minutes ago.
“Not good. Apparently, she ran out of there, dragging the kid with her. That’s when the doctor called us.”
“You said there was a third call. Who was that from?”
“A social worker or advocate or someone like that from the hospital in New Jersey where Rena last had Stephanie seen. Apparently, he’s been trying to track her down. Turns out a doctor there is also worried about the kid.” He takes another bite of whatever he had in his mouth before but this time his speech is garbled around it. “When’s she supposed to get there?”
I look at my watch again. “Seven minutes ago.”
“I’m betting she won’t show.”
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
More chewing and then a swallow.
“Okay, here’s what I think. Why don’t you text her again and tell her nobody else showed for the group reading, but if she gives you her address, you’ll be happy to go to her house for a private session. You guys do that kind of stuff, right?”
“Sure, I guess. I mean, I don’t personally, but I know some psychics who make house calls.”
“Good. Text her and then give her five minutes to respond.”
“Then what?”
“I’m heading over to her place now. Her husband gave me the address. He called me again this morning and said he was supposed to pick Stephanie up, but there was nobody there, so he’s upset. If she knows you’re coming, and if she’s interested in what you’re selling, maybe she’ll let you in, and we’ll be right there too.”
“So I text her and if she responds?”
“Tell her you’ll be right over.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Go to her place anyway. Like I said, I don’t believe any of this psychic crap, but since she seems to be a real escape artist, I guess I can use all the help I can get to trap her, even the crazy kind.”
He gives me the address, and I send the text. Rena doesn’t respond, even after ten minutes, so Cal and I get in the car.
52
Rena
“Stephanie, listen. Lock the door behind me and do not open it for anyone, got it?”
“Yes, Mommy,” she squeaks from under a blanket on the couch. Since the TV is on the cartoons channel, I’m sure she’ll be right there when I get back. “I mean it. You don’t move, not even a little. Understand?”
“Yes, Mommy.”
“And if you get tired, just go to sleep.”
She hugs Jeffrey closer to her and whispers, “Okay.” I walk out the door.
After I finally got Gary to leave, I rushed around like a crazy woman, getting dressed and pulling together some dinner for Stephanie. Louis and I decided to meet at the same restaurant as before, which was great because I could walk there from my place.
After we sit down, he says, “You look terrific.” I’m glad I took time to put some curl in my hair.
“Did you find a sitter for Stephanie?” he asks.
“Yeah, it worked out fine. Her dad came into town today, so he’s watching her.”
“Oh, that’s great. I bet they’re really happy to see each other,” he says. He reaches for one of those yummy corn muffins.
“Yeah, they are.”
“So, did you get a chance to call your lawyer about that settlement money?”
“Huh?”
“The money you’re supposed to get from the hospital that I could invest for you?”
“Oh, that. No, with Gary stopping by and everything, I didn’t have any time. But I promise I’ll call real soon.”
“Sounds good. Hey, how was the doctor’s appointment?” he asks. “Did you get the results of the PET scan from last week?”
“She said the PET scan didn’t show anything, but she wants to do one more test, a bone marrow aspiration. Just to be sure she’s not missing anything.”
“Wow, isn’t that painful? I don’t know anything about it, other than what I’ve seen on TV on the doctors’ shows, but it always looks like it hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.”
“No, it’s not too bad. I think they use a local anesthetic or something. Anyway, the doctor and I are committed to finding out what’s going on, once and for all. I’m really glad she suggested it.”
“I bet. Sounds like a great doctor.”
“Nothing but the best for my kid.”
He orders a bottle of wine and clams casino for an appetizer. I always wanted to try them.
For dessert we have the delicious apple cobbler Louis told me about last time but happily did not have.
“Well, looks like I have to leave for California sooner than I thought,” he says.
I put down my fork.
“Really? When?” I feel like I could scream.
“Right away. Tonight, in fact.”
“Tonight? Why? Why does your company need you to go right now?”
I gulp back tears and make myself concentrate real hard on the ice cream melting on the hot cobbler. I couldn’t eat another bite if I tried.
“It’s a business problem, like I told you before. I need to generate some capital really fast.”
“But why can’t you do that here? I mean, maybe I can help with my settlement and all?”
He stirs cream into his coffee and then says, “Yeah, I wish I could stay, but they think it’s better if I work out of the California area for a while. But maybe . . . ?”
“What?” I ask, my heart flip-flopping.
“We could keep in touch, and when you get your money, like I said, I’ll be glad to help you with investments and everything.”
I can’t stand this. I can’t fucking stand the idea of Louis leaving, moving away. He’s the first good thing to happen to me in years.
“How about if I go with you?” I say real quick, before I can lose my nerve.
He doesn’t answer right away, and I hold my breath.
Finally, he says, “Yeah, you know, I think that’s a great idea. It could be a blast, you and me together out there. And I could really use help finding a place and everything.”
I am so, so relieved. “Oh my God, are you kidding me? I would love to.” I jump out of my seat and hug him. “I can be ready to go right away. Just say the word.”
Louis looks at me for a long time, so long I’m sure I blew it, that he thinks I’m being way too ballsy. But then he says, “Really? That would be awesome. But don’t you have a ton of medical things to do with Stephanie?”
We walk out into the hot night.
“Let me check. I bet Gary can help. I might even be able to arrange things so I can go with you tonight.”
It’s time, I think, to go. I definitely need a break, away from the doctors, the social workers, the police, the nosy neighbors.
“Hey, if you can, that would be fantastic,” he says, hugging me. “But do me
a favor, will you?”
“Sure, anything.”
“Maybe, when you get home, send an email to the attorney and ask him about the timing on that settlement? I could really use a quick win when we get to California.”
“Absolutely.”
I practically run back to my place. I’m so happy I can hardly keep it all inside. That perfect little bungalow, right on the ocean. I can almost feel the heat from the fireplace Louis and me are sitting in front of. Just the two of us, cuddling under the softest blanket in the world.
53
Claire
We find the address, get out of the car, and are greeted by a tall guy with a mustache who flashes a badge and introduces himself as Detective Larson. He’s holding a package of red licorice in one hand and a spiral notepad and pencil in the other.
Next to him is a smaller guy, slightly balding, with a paunch.
“This is Rena’s ex-husband, Gary.” We shake hands. “This is the psychic I told you about,” says Larson.
Surprisingly, Gary doesn’t react to this information in either a positive or negative way. He seems numb.
“I already knocked on Rena’s door, but no answer. I was about to try the landlady. I should warn you, she’s pretty feisty,” says the detective.
We follow him up the walk, where he pounds on the door of the place next to Rena’s and finally, a woman answers. She’s wearing a threadbare pink housecoat that’s ripped at the pockets and has her hair in rollers, covered by a faded blue kerchief.
“What, you again?”
“Yes, Mrs. Lupito,” replies Detective Larson, stuffing a piece of red licorice into his mouth. If I had to guess, I think he may be a smoker trying to quit. “Sorry to bother you, but I really need to speak with your neighbor, Rena. I tried her door, but there’s still no answer. Do you know if she’s in?”
“How do I know what that crazy girl does? Maybe she has men in all day, different ones, how do I know? You was one of them yesterday,” she cries, pointing at Gary.
“I’m her ex-husband. I was visiting my daughter.”
“Oh, you Stephanie’s papa? She’s a sweet thing. So well-behaved, but I got to tell you, your wife, your ex-wife, she’s a loony bird. Always saying Stephanie can’t eat this, can’t eat that, and you know what, I give her real food when her mama’s at work and she’s fine. Nothing wrong at all. Somebody sick, but not the girl,” she says, giving us a knowing look.
“Do you happen to know where Rena and Stephanie are, Mrs. Lupito?” the detective asks.
“Not a clue. Been cooking all day. I got to get up early tomorrow. My grandkids are coming by.” She almost smiles.
The detective takes this in and offers her a piece of licorice. She shakes her head and says, “I don’t like that stuff.” Staring at him and then looking at the rest of us, she asks, “You know what else was strange?”
“What’s that?” Larson asks, flipping open his notepad.
“Stephanie, she was real sick a week or so ago. I could hear her screaming, even before her mother knocked on my door in the middle of the night and said I had to drive them to the emergency room right away.”
“And did you?” Larson takes a bite of licorice and makes a note.
“I did, but here’s what was weird. First off, Rena just sort of throws Stephanie into the back seat, like she don’t care how she lands. Then she gets herself in the front seat. She don’t check on her kid the whole way there. I never see her look in the back seat at all. And guess what? When we get to the hospital, she says to me, ‘Drive around.’ So I say, ‘What? You don’t want to go straight to the ER?’ And you know what she does then? She gets out her compact and powders her nose, fixes her hair, puts on lipstick, and then she tells me to pull up to the ER. Like I said, she’s muy loco.”
The detective looks at Gary and us, nods, and says to Mrs. Lupito, “Yes, you’re right, that does sound strange. Here’s the problem, Mrs. Lupito: we’re also concerned about Rena and Stephanie. I think we need to check her place to see if they’re okay. Can you help us with that, please? You have a key, right?”
For a second, she hesitates, but then she tells us to wait a second, goes back inside, and returns with a ring of keys.
She leads us to Rena’s, where the detective knocks and, when there’s still no response, motions to Mrs. Lupito to open the door.
The harsh overhead light exposes a dingy front room. There are dirty dishes and a pan with some kind of burnt-on goop stacked on the counter and in the sink. We walk to the bedroom and discover the one closet there is empty.
“They’re gone,” I say, returning to the living room. It’s then I notice something poking out from under the ripped fabric at the bottom of the couch. Kneeling, I reach for it, but I know what it is even before my fingers make contact. It’s Jeffrey, Stephanie’s beloved stuffed panda. A shiver starts at the soles of my feet and races up my spine and through my skull until my ears feel like they’re vibrating.
“They’re gone,” I say again. “We need to find them, and soon.”
54
Rena
It’s really late when Louis picks me up, but it doesn’t matter because part of the adventure is that we’ll be driving all night. He tells me it’s almost a six-hour trip.
At first he doesn’t understand why he has to get me at the hotel. I tell Louis that Gary is staying at the hotel around the block from my place while he’s in town and that he thought it would be fun for Stephanie to swim in the pool there. I tell him Gary and I had a long talk and that he said he would watch Stephanie. That he would take her to all her medical appointments so Louis and I could get set up in California before sending for her.
“She was so excited about using her new floatie,” I say.
“I bet,” Louis says, adjusting the rearview mirror.
“And I did send that email to the attorney, but he didn’t write back yet.”
“Okay, great. Hopefully, you’ll hear soon.”
“Yeah, I hope so.”
The sky is beautiful. The air smells sweet, like a million blossoms are open all around us. We speed down the highway. I feel like I’m in a warm cocoon, just Louis and me, in the black night.
55
Claire
Cal talks first.
“Claire, you look funny. Maybe you should sit down.” He leads me to the couch and gently settles me onto the ripped cushion.
“Something’s very wrong,” I say.
“What’s wrong? What do you mean?” asks Detective Larson.
“Is it Stephanie? Is she okay?” Gary sits next to me and grabs my arm in a painful grip.
I can hardly talk. My throat feels constricted, but I choke out, “No, she’s not okay. She’s in serious trouble.”
My head pounds, and, strangely, the word vacation keeps flashing behind my aching eyes, on and off, like a neon sign.
“Vacation,” I say in a voice I hardly recognize. It’s scratchy and at least an octave lower than my normal range. “Vacation. That’s all I’m getting. That word, again and again.”
Cal sits on the other side of me and tries to get me to unclench my fists, but it’s like attempting to unset a mousetrap spring. I feel like I’m about to snap. It’s like an electrical charge is zipping throughout my whole body, and now my eyes are burning.
“Vacation, vacation, vacation,” I scream.
“Ozzie, look at me,” Cal pleads, holding my face in his hands and staring into my eyes. It takes a massive effort, but I finally manage to focus on him. He says, “Good, that’s very good. Now, tell me what’s going on. This . . . vacation. Do you think Stephanie and Rena went on some kind of vacation?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. It’s all messed up. Nothing is clear,” I cry, but then the vacation neon sign stops all of a sudden and is replaced by a picture of the lobby of the hotel where Cal and I had our brief stay.
Gary says, “Listen, we’re wasting time here. Don’t we need to search for them? If my daughter is in danger, you need
to call some cops or something,” he yells at Detective Larson.
“Wait,” I shout. “It’s a hotel. She’s in a hotel, but it’s like they’re on vacation. No, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“A vacation? Now? But why would she do that? Why would she move out of here? And in such an obvious hurry?” asks Cal.
Jumping up, I shout, “Because it’s not a vacation. It’s a hotel that sounds like a vacation. Is there a Holiday Inn nearby?”
Larson leads the way into the lobby of the Holiday Inn, which is only about a mile from Rena’s place. There’s a clerk on duty watching an episode of CSI. He barely turns toward us as we run to the counter.
But when Detective Larson shows him his badge, the kid is ready for action. Yes, he remembers a woman checking in with a small child. Yes, she matches the description Gary provides, and, of course, he’s happy to tell us the room number and give us the key.
We take the elevator and make our way down the carpeted hallway, which muffles our footsteps. Outside of room 508, we stop and Larson holds up his hand, gesturing that he’ll go in first.
He turns the key, yells, “Phoenix PD,” and rushes through the open door. I’m next in, with Cal and then Gary right behind.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” I hear Larson say. “Oh Christ.”
I run past him to where Stephanie is lying on the floor next to the bed. Above her head, piled on the mattress, are four pillows, on top of which a bag of fluid is perched. A tube from the bag snakes down the side of the bed and over her blond hair until it enters her nostril. She’s very still and very white.
Larson’s on his phone calling for an ambulance. I can hear but don’t quite register that Gary is wailing, like it’s coming from far away. I know Cal is trying to hold me back, but it’s as if his hands are reaching out to me from another dimension.
All I can feel is Stephanie’s skin. How cold it is. All I can see is her tiny body, twisted in an unnatural curve, like a rag doll thrown to the floor, a discarded plaything.
The Perfect Fraud Page 25