Anita nodded. “Do you know where she went?”
“No, I don’t. Honestly, at that time I didn’t care. For a while I thought she had gone to stay with that guy she was hanging around with, but . . .” She shrugged.
Liam and Anita waited. After several seconds, Liam said, “But what?”
“Well, the thing is, Elise came home with a black eye one night. I asked her who did it and all she said was that it was some jerk at a bar. She didn’t give a lot of details.”
Liam wondered if that might have been Dale. He’d said he hadn’t hurt Elise when he found out she was hustling the johns that stopped to pick up his girls, but was it true? Or had this happened sooner? Maybe he did it when she refused to work for him and that was why she had started hustling the johns in the first place. “Do you know if the man she was talking about was named Dale?”
“That slime ball? I doubt it. This was long after she stopped going to Brewskis. I never found out why those two fell out, but I was glad he was out of her life.”
Karen pulled a slip of paper out from under the register, wrote $9.99 on it, and stuck it to the jar. “She told me a couple nights after it happened it was this other guy,” she continued. “We were watching the news and this financial dude came on and she just kinda muttered, ‘That’s him.’ I believed her at the time. But after she left, I started thinking about it. Why would someone like that go punching Elise for no good reason? Hell, you look at the way he was dressed and you frankly have to wonder what they would have even been doing at the same bar. Nah, if you want to know the truth, I think it was probably that guy she was hanging around with when I kicked her out. God bless her if she really did go live with him.”
“Do you remember who that was? The man she was hanging around with?”
Karen shook her head. “Sorry.”
“What about the guy on the TV?” Anita asked.
“Now that I do know. I see him on the news pretty regularly. His name’s Christopher Bell. But like I said, I don’t think he had anything to do with it anymore. She just told me it was him because I was pestering her for more information about what happened. Guess you shouldn’t always listen to your first instinct, right?”
Liam and Anita sat in the car outside Barking Good, the engine running. Liam briefly wondered if Karen and Elise had built their friendship on their shared love of animals. He held his hands up to the vents to warm them up. “We need to figure out who she was hanging around with,” he said. “Who else can we talk to?”
“I think we should go see Christopher Bell,” Anita replied.
“Why? You heard Karen. There’s no way he had anything to do with this.”
Anita was holding onto the bottom of the steering wheel, perhaps just because it was somewhere to put her hands, and tapped her thumbs against the worn plastic. “I’m not so sure. When we were growing up, Elise would sometimes say these quiet little things that, if you weren’t listening, you’d miss. They were always the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
“I remember once when we were children Dad brought all us kids into the living room and demanded to know who took ten dollars out of his wallet. Elise swore up and down it wasn’t her and Dad believed her. He ended up blaming one of our brothers instead. Dad grounded him, sent him to his room, and a little while later I saw Elise . . .”
Anita stopped talking for a few seconds. She was looking straight at Liam, but he could tell that the only thing she actually saw was in her memory. “She was standing in the hall right outside our brother’s bedroom. She didn’t know I was there. She gently placed one hand on his door. I wasn’t sure why at first. Then she whispered, ‘I shouldn’t have done that,’ and I understood. It was like she just needed to say it, whether anyone heard her or not.”
“So you think that’s what happened here?”
“I don’t know. But it sounds a lot like it to me. If it was Christopher Bell who hit her, maybe if we find out what she did to piss him off we’ll know a little more about the kinds of things she was up to when Karen kicked her out.”
Anita didn’t go so far as to say that finding out what Elise was up to might lead them to their killer. But Liam was sure she was thinking it. And what the hell, since it sounded like it could have been the truth, why not talk to Christopher Bell?
Liam Parker
Liam and Anita entered a tall glass building. He nervously handed his fake ID over to the security guard in the lobby while at the same time, Anita handed over her real one. The moment of truth had come. Although the ID looked good to him, was it going to pass muster when it mattered? Nervous energy thrummed in his legs, ready to turn into momentum, to send him running, if it didn’t.
Standing behind the security desk in her gray and black uniform, the security guard typed his information into her computer, registering the visit, and handed it back. She then directed them to elevator six, which she had authorized to provide access to Ellison Trust.
When the elevator doors opened onto the Ellison Trust lobby, Liam and Anita found themselves standing less than twenty feet from the receptionist. She was a young woman with picture-perfect makeup, sitting behind a sleek oak desk with a glass top. The Ellison Trust name had been etched into black marble behind her. Moving almost as one, Liam and Anita crossed the porcelain tile.
The receptionist looked at them, appraising Liam’s oversized army jacket and Anita’s leather with disgust. Liam gathered they did not look like the firm’s usual visitors. She did her best to smile and said, “Welcome to Ellison Trust. How can I help you?”
“We’re here to see Christopher Bell,” Liam said.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, we don’t. But we only need a few minutes of his time.”
“We don’t usually see people without an appointment. Would you like to make one?”
“This is urgent,” Anita said. “Go get him.”
“Miss . . . ?” The receptionist hesitated, waiting for Anita to provide her name. Anita shifted her weight onto one hip and crossed her arms over her chest. The receptionist continued, “He’s not in right now. So I couldn’t go get him even if I wanted to.”
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Liam asked.
“I do not.”
Anita nodded at Liam in a way that suggested they step back from the receptionist so they could talk privately. “What do you want to do?” she whispered.
“If you’re sure he’s our best lead—”
“I am.”
“I guess we need to wait.”
The receptionist watched them have a seat in a pair of leather chairs in an otherwise empty lobby. She rolled her eyes, then her phone rang, diverting her attention.
Liam and Anita sat in silence for nearly twenty minutes. Liam knew what Christopher Bell looked like from TV and none of the men who came in or out could be mistaken for him.
In that forced moment of calm, where Liam had a chance to think not about where the next clue led, but about the puzzle of Elise’s life as a whole, he wondered if there might be a more efficient way to fill in the blanks. Until now, he’d believed the only way to find the killer was to start with Elise’s past and move forward. Her name was a lie. Her job was a lie. Liam had believed there was nothing from the present to go on. But was that true? Since he’d started asking questions, he’d learned one thing about the last year of Elise’s life that was not in dispute: she’d spent part of it in jail.
That meant she had a cellmate. It wasn’t hard for Liam to imagine that if he’d never gotten bail, he might have said all kinds of things to his while he awaited trial. But how were they going to find her? Even if they did, there was no way Liam was going to walk into a prison to visit her. That seemed like it would be tempting fate.
He didn’t have to, though, did he? Anita could do that. Since she was a free woman, she could go anywhere she wanted. Even—and that was when it occurred to him how they could find Elise’s cellmate—to see Ryan Reyes.
&nb
sp; No doubt, as a PI, he knew how to get that information.
Liam couldn’t risk going into Ryan’s office any more than he could risk visiting a prison, so if Anita was game, he’d have to send her off to do both.
That might be for the best. Divide and conquer. Liam could stay here to follow up on the lead Anita thought was important while she went to chase down the one he thought was.
Whispering, Liam explained his idea to Anita.
“That makes sense,” she whispered back.
He gave her the number to his burner, and she asked him to escort her to the elevator, where she reached for her gun.
“What are you doing?” Liam said.
She pressed the Beretta into his hand. “Put it in your pocket. I can’t take it with me into the prison and I’d feel better if you have it. Just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“I don’t know. Just take it, all right? It’s not going to hurt.”
Liam didn’t care for guns. He wasn’t comfortable handling them. But the receptionist was watching. Even though Anita’s body shielded the weapon from her view, he could see growing concern on her face. Perhaps simply that they were standing on the far side of the room whispering was enough to alarm her.
He took the gun to end the conversation, discreetly sliding it into a pocket inside his jacket. Anita looked pleased. She pushed the elevator button. The doors opened immediately. “I’ll call you when I’m done,” she said, and stepped on board.
Anita Watson
Ryan worked out of his home. He welcomed Anita into a large living room with mahogany floors. The only furniture was a pair of white leather sofas, facing each other and separated by a glass coffee table. He was wearing a pair of loose cotton pants, sling sandals, and a black sports tee. His yoga mat was laid out on the floor, facing the windows and the view of the lake beyond.
“Don’t mind my appearance,” Ryan said. “I was in the middle of an afternoon stretch.” He went to the kitchen. “Would you like a glass of cucumber water?”
“I’m fine,” Anita said. She’d been surprised when Ryan gave her an address in The Gold Coast, one of the city’s most expensive neighborhoods, but was even more so now that she was inside Ryan’s apartment. This man and his home were not what she was expecting from a PI.
Ryan returned to one of the two sofas and gestured for her to have a seat on the other. “So what can I help you with?”
All Anita had told him on the phone was that the matter was urgent, figuring the details would be better delivered in person. “You were hired by Flores and Washington to work on Liam Parker’s defense.”
Ryan’s whole energy changed. His spine straightened. He lowered his head, leaned forward. He had transformed from an easygoing yoga enthusiast to a man on edge, ready to react to the slightest threat. Anita wasn’t surprised. She was a stranger, showing up out of nowhere and discussing a murder suspect who’d gone on the run. But Anita hardly cared whether she’d put him on edge. Now that she was here, she wanted to get straight to the point.
“I’m Elise’s sister. I’m helping Liam figure out what happened to her. We need your help.”
“You know Liam is on the run from the police.”
“I know.”
Ryan looked Anita over in a different way than he had when she arrived. She could tell he was trying to decide whether to believe her. He sipped from his glass of cucumber water and leaned back. “What do you need my help with?”
And with that, Anita, too, was able to relax a little. Ever since she’d left Liam waiting alone for Chris in the lobby of Ellison Trust, part of her had been afraid she’d have to go back to him with the news that she’d failed to find out who Elise’s cellmate was. That was something she just couldn’t do. They both needed this. But if Ryan had sent her on her way, she might not have had any choice. Ryan was more likely to believe in Liam’s innocence than anyone else she could hire, and it wasn’t a good idea to go around announcing to strangers that she was helping a wanted felon evade the police.
“Can you find out where Elise did her time and who she shared a cell with?”
“You think they might know something?”
“We don’t know.”
Ryan rubbed his face, then ran his hands through his hair as he thought some more. “Patricia Harrison asked me to do a routine background check on Elise, see if anything popped up she could use. But if you guys are serious about finding the killer, you should let me help. I’m good at what I do.”
“It’s not my decision to make. Can you get the answers or not?” In truth, Anita didn’t want to hand the investigation over to a stranger, and she didn’t think Liam would want to either.
“Give me a minute.” Ryan got up and disappeared down the hall.
As soon as he was out of sight, Anita worried he was going to call the police. She was tempted to tiptoe down the hall so she could see what he was up to. But she wouldn’t be able to make it back to the sofa if he returned unexpectedly, and he likely wouldn’t take kindly to being spied on. It was better to stay where she was. Ryan seemed sincere when he’d offered to help, and she needed this information.
While she waited, she looked out at the cold waters of Lake Michigan. From here she could see the languid waves crashing onto a beach that was all but entirely deserted this time of year. Elise would have liked this view. Elise would have liked this whole apartment. It was the kind of place she’d talked about living in before she ran way.
I should have done more to help her, Anita thought for the umpteenth time.
Ryan returned, carrying a manila folder. He placed it on the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room and flipped through it until he found what he was looking for. “Elise was housed at the Redwood Penitentiary,” he said. “It’s a private prison just outside the city. Her cellmate was a woman named Julia Santora. She’s still there.”
It hadn’t occurred to Anita—or, she assumed, Liam—that Elise’s cellmate might also have been released.
Ryan removed a piece of paper and returned to the sofa. “Give Liam this.”
“What is it?” Anita asked, taking it from him. Ryan didn’t respond, and once she looked at it, she understood why. The answer was obvious. It was a photocopy of an Illinois ID with Elise’s first name and picture on it. The last name, however, was not Watson. It was Ross.
“I came across it after my last meeting with Liam and Patricia,” he said. “I assume you know Elise had been going under an alias when she was killed.”
Anita didn’t. Liam hadn’t mentioned that to her. But she thought it would be better to pretend she did, so she nodded.
“This was found on her when she was arrested last year. It didn’t seem to be linked to any criminal activity, so the prosecution agreed to drop the charge of possessing it in exchange for a guilty plea, which is why it didn’t show up on her record. While I don’t know if this has anything to do with who killed her, this makes for at least two aliases.”
“What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. But from my experience, if there were two, there were probably more.”
Anita looked at her sister staring back at her through time. She’d thought she had a pretty good picture of what Elise’s life had been like when Liam told her about the arrests. But after she’d met with Dale, she wasn’t so sure. Now she found herself wondering anew what Elise had gotten herself into.
Christopher Bell
Chris returned from lunch in a bad mood. Emma had been on the phone with him, squawking into his headset while he ate, asking him again how he’d let the thief get away after cornering him at his apartment, and when he was going to get her a new ring, and, since he’d bought the ring because he was going to ask her to marry him, when they were going to start making wedding plans.
Making matters worse, when the elevator doors opened onto the lobby of Ellison Trust, he was accosted by a man wearing a worn-out army jacket and tee shirt who had dyed his hair black and spike
d it up like he was a damn teenager. To Chris, he looked poor and dirty.
“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute? It’s not going to take a lot of time, I promise. I just need to ask you some questions.”
Chris held up a hand to keep the man at bay. He didn’t want Army Jacket getting too close. He could almost feel the grime and disease on the stranger transferring to him merely by their proximity. He looked at the receptionist, accusingly. “What’s this man doing here?”
The receptionist shrugged, her mannequin-like face inscrutable.
“Something bad has happened to someone I care about,” Army Jacket continued. “I think you might have met her once.”
“I’m quite sure I don’t know anybody you know.”
“Her name was Elise. You might have run into her in a bar a while back.”
“I never met anybody by that name. You need to get out of here.”
“Wait.” Army Jacket pulled a cheap TracFone out of his pocket, which surprised Chris only insomuch that this stranger had a phone at all. His thumbs tapped rapidly at the digital display.
Chris turned back to the receptionist. “Can you call—”
“Please. Just one second.” Army Jacket turned the phone around so Chris could see the screen.
The stranger had brought up a Facebook page and zoomed in close on the profile picture. Chris recognized the woman immediately. She’d tried to rob him several years ago. He remembered the incident well. He’d hit her hard, pushed her to the ground. He hadn’t cared that she was a woman. Why should he?
He didn’t let on, though. There was something off about this whole thing, and he didn’t like it. Why would this stranger be here, asking about a long-past and failed con job?
“Call security,” Chris said to the receptionist. “Get this man out of here.” He turned and headed toward his office.
“Do you know her?” the stranger shouted after him.
“I’ve never met her in my life,” Chris lied without looking back.
A Reagan Keeter Box Set: Three page-turning thrillers that will leave you wondering who you can trust Page 34