She's Not There (17 page)

An hour later when Lisa came downstairs to make tea, Eric was sitting on the couch, staring into a crackling fire.

“You’re back.”

He acknowledged her presence with a weak smile.

She put water on to boil then sat next to him. “Eric, we’re all so sorry about Danielle. We feel like we’re the ones who put her in harm’s way.”

“If I’d been honest with her from the start, she’d still be alive.”

“Eric, no one could have foreseen this. No one is to blame but the person who did this to her. We can’t forget that.”

He turned to her. “You know he meant it to be you. I can’t keep you safe anymore.”

“Keeping us safe isn’t your responsibility. You brought us here to your home to protect us. There’s no certainty that Danielle’s murder had anything to do with us. Someone could have been after her—a stalker, maybe.”

He rubbed his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe the cops will get some answers for us.”

“You should try to get some sleep.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

The next morning, unhappy with how TJ and Jeff had handled the situation with the child, Lisa grudgingly acquiesced to let TJ take the problem to Conlin. She wasn’t sure he could smooth it over for them, but it made sense to ask for Conlin’s help since they’d found the girl in Milwaukee.

Lisa worried that Jeff was feeling too responsible for the child. She knew he was hoping that the Milwaukee Department of Health and Human Services would let him stay abreast of their progress in finding a good home for the girl even though she’d warned him that would be unlikely.

Eric announced, “I’m going to the Waukesha police department to be interviewed, then I’ll go to an office supply place today to pick up a couple whiteboards. We’ll be ready to categorize the women’s habits.”

Lisa poured pancake batter onto a large griddle. “Don’t you think that should wait until they find out more about Eddie Wysecki?”

“He ain’t our guy!” yelled TJ from across the room where she sat reading the Sunday paper. “If he was, there’d have been a lot more than three bodies in that cellar. He’s just a dumbass West Allis barkeep. Where’s he gonna stash all those bodies?”

Jeff pointed quietly to the girl, motioning for TJ to watch her language.

“Sure she’s heard worse,” TJ grumbled.

“I agree with TJ,” said Lisa. “I don’t think he’s our killer either. From what we’ve heard about him, I’m not sure he would have the wherewithal to ferret out abused women, especially such attractive ones.”

“You’re right. The women on our short list are all hot. Wouldn’t have had nothin’ to do with a loser like him,” TJ added.

The child turned out to be a needed distraction. And it seemed like Danielle’s murder was having the opposite effect Lisa thought it would; everyone was even more determined to finish what they’d started. She’d have to try again to find someone who knew the woman who had led them to Raoul’s apartment. That someone may know where the child belonged.

After they’d eaten, Eric said, “I know all of you were hoping to be back home for Thanksgiving, but I think we need to stay here.

The room went silent. “I’ll pick up a big turkey today. Lisa, you can give me a grocery list and I’ll bring home anything you need. And TJ, please invite your sister and her kids. They can stay the night if they want. I’m going to put on a second guard for the weekend. But you’d still have to warn you sister about the risks—even with the beefed up security, they’d have to stay inside.”

Lisa wasn’t sure about the wisdom of bringing anyone into their midst. With Tyler out of her life, and Paige not coming home, celebrating the holiday at Eric’s would be better than being alone.
To hell with the fear.

TJ drove to Richard’s apartment early Sunday morning, hoping the visit would pacify him. As long as their names were kept out of the story of the Ventura woman’s murder, there would be no need to tell him anything—yet. She wanted her moment, the big moment when she could drop the evidence in his lap–evidence of a crime that both Richard and that prick Wilson refused to acknowledge.

When she arrived, she found him sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper. When he saw her he stood up, taking her in his arms. His kiss, warm and tentative, was almost questioning.

It had been too long since they’d been together. Feeling horny, TJ wanted to go to the bedroom—have hot sex immediately with the ulterior motive of delaying any unwanted discussion. Breaking from the kiss, he picked her up and carried her from the room.

Their lovemaking had an intensity brought on by weeks of abstinence. TJ gasped as he entered her, all the fervor they’d enjoyed in the past adding to the pleasure of the moment. His thrusts were slow, then urgent with built up passion. TJ felt her tension dissipate, wondering why it had been so long since they’d enjoyed each other like this—but her bliss was interrupted by the return of reality when she remembered her purpose in maintaining distance.

Hours later, wearing bathrobes and reading the paper, they decided to stay in for the night.

TJ felt Richard watching her. “What?”

“Nothing, just looking. How’s your sister doing?”

Here it comes.
“She’s fine.”

“Are you going back there tomorrow night?”

TJ remembered that her cover story had been staying at Janeen’s. “Not sure yet.”
Where is he going with this?

“I thought since you usually spend Thanksgiving with her, you might stay there this week.”

He’s fishing.
She’d play it cool. “Yeah, probably. But we got invited to one of her friends for Thanksgiving. We won’t hafta cook. How about you, goin’ to your folks’ place?”

“No,I don’t think so. Thought I might go with you this year but since you’re going somewhere else, Justin and his wife invited me over—you too by the way—so I may do that.“

His parents lived in Chicago and Thanksgiving was one of the few times Richard went home to visit. TJ hadn’t met them. By an unspoken mutual agreement, meeting relatives was something they didn’t do, although Richard had met Janeen a few times.

Is he fishing again?
She wasn’t sure, but his hint to go along with her was something new. “Too bad. Janeen always asks me to bring you, and I always tell her you’re going to Chicago.” She didn’t extend the invite for him to accompany them to the ‘friends’ house, hoping he’d drop the subject.

She said, “Let’s do something special next weekend. Let’s drive up to the Dells and go gambling in Black River Falls like we did last year.”

Aware that Richard knew a diversion when he heard one, TJ reminisced about how much she’d enjoyed that weekend in the Dells. Before long, he agreed to make the plans. It had been a long time since they’d gone anywhere together, and she was already picturing them in one of those great suites with a hot tub and a king-sized bed. Maybe things would get back to normal for them—she just needed to decide if that’s what she wanted.

TJ left Richard’s apartment the next morning knowing she had to move fast. If she didn’t report in to Lisa and Jeff about Richard’s advice concerning the child, her phone would be ringing.

She hadn’t said a word about it to Richard. She’d bought the kid some time by convincing the others she’d have Richard handle it. The more she’d thought about group homes and foster parents, she knew it was up to her to act. Richard would have had no choice; he’d have to turn the kid over to DHHS and they would find her somewhere to stay. Not that there weren’t places that actually improved a child’s circumstances, but the kind that could fit a kid in the week of Thanksgiving wasn’t likely to be one of them.

Playing within the lines wasn’t TJ’s style and she’d been living by the group’s rules far too long.

Red lights were the only traffic signs she honored—and some of them just barely—as she pushed the Mini to the south side of Milwaukee. Luckily, she had a good memory for directions and easily found the old duplex they’d rescued the child from Saturday night. The place looked even crappier in daylight, the siding splitting off in places and the windows badly in need of repair.

She drove past and parked in a lot behind a run-down apartment building at the end of the street. At the duplex, she crept up the steps to the upper flat, finding the door still unlocked. Didn’t these idiots ever learn?

She entered the apartment where she heard faint snoring from the direction of the bedroom. Peering into the room she saw a form in the bed, a dark-haired man, sleeping with his back to her. Had to be Raoul. She cased the room for a weapon. The snoring remained steady.

TJ walked to the foot of the bed and gave the bed frame a sharp kick. A second passed before he rolled over, face scrunched from sleep, eyes narrow slits. He did a violent double take when he saw TJ standing at the foot of the bed. He reached over, his hand fumbling on the nightstand.

“It ain’t there, asshole.” Baring her teeth in a wicked grin, TJ held up his gun—in her other hand she held her own, pointed toward the bed.

He growled, “You gotta’ death wish, bitch?”

“I just might.”  She held her gun higher, directed at his face. “What were you doing with that kid Friday night?”

“The kid?” His face darkened with anger. “You took her? You almost got me killed, you cunt!”

“Listen, asswipe, you really don’t want to piss me off. Answer my questions and I’m outta here.” She felt him plotting his options, certain that grinding her into dust was one of them.

He started to get up from the bed. His naked butt was not a sight she wanted to see. “Whoa! Keep your bony ass right where it is.”

He flopped back onto the bed. “She ain’t my kid. She belongs to a friend of mine, okay?”

“Not okay. Who’s this friend and why were you keeping the kid here?”

The guy looked pale and hung over. Probably coming off a big weekend high. He had narrow shoulders, greasy hair, and tats she recognized as designed by a prison ‘artist’. “He asked me to.”

TJ sneered. “You know what, you piece of shit? I haven’t shot anyone in a while, and I’m gettin’ the urge. And you know what else? I think the cops might be interested in this piece you’re using.” She waved his gun in the air.

His pallor turned an ugly mottled puce. “No cops! I’ll tell you—she’s Julio Mandela’s kid. His bitchin’ wife left him, and he took the kid to get her to take him back.”

“What’s the wife’s name and where can I find her? If you lie about it, I’ll be back and I won’t be smilin’. Get my drift?”

“Yeah, yeah. Her name is Teresa. I don’t know where she’s living, but she works at the Red Roof on twenty-seventh.”

With a last threat of returning if his information wasn’t accurate, TJ backed out of the room, checking to be sure no one else had arrived.

Raoul sat up, reaching for his pants. “Hey, bitch! Leave my gun!”

At the Red Roof Inn, TJ parked in the back just in case the lowlife called Mandela. Rather than waste time with a nosy manager, she walked the halls looking for the woman named Teresa. After questioning three maids in various stages of cleaning the stale-smelling rooms, she found her.

Teresa was shorter than TJ, Hispanic, with dainty, feminine features. Her long hair, held back by a red plastic headband, fell nearly to her plump waist. She practically hid behind her cart when TJ asked if she was Teresa. She whispered, “Yes, I’m Teresa.”

“Listen,” TJ said, keeping her voice low. “You have to come with me. My friends have your little girl and I want to bring you to her.”

“Tina! You have Tina! Mother-of-God, is she all right?” She dropped the feather duster she’d been holding, her cleaning forgotten.

“Keep your voice down. She’s fine now, but the creep that was keeping her from you knows I’m here. Let’s go.” TJ towed her out to the car and jumped behind the wheel. She’d just turned into the street when she said harshly to Teresa, “Quick, duck down.” A rusty old Camero moved slowly across the parking lot. Had the asshole called the girl’s father? TJ wasn’t taking any chances. The Mini took off like a rabbit.

When TJ’s little car turned into Eric’s driveway, she heard Teresa muttering in Spanish, her eyes wide with wonder at the magnificence of the grounds and the huge log home.

“Who lives here, a movie star?” she asked, in heavily accented English.

“Nah, a real nice guy.”

When they walked through the door, opened by a very curious Lisa, Teresa gaped at the house’s spacious, well-appointed interior.

In the living room, Jeff and the girl were on the floor playing cards. She looked up from the game when TJ and Teresa walked in and jumped off the floor, crying, “Mama!” She ran to Teresa, practically climbing the stunned woman.

Jeff looked on in amazement while mother and child embraced. He shook his head in wonder at the sight and got up off the floor. TJ, wanting to give Teresa some privacy, grabbed his arm and led him into the laundry room.

As soon as the door shut behind them, he asked, “How did you find her?”

TJ hadn’t planned to reveal what had actually gone down. “While all of you were stewing about DHHS, I was thinkin’ you were going about it wrong. Had to go back to the source—the dump where we found her and go from there.”

When she’d finished telling him what happened, he put his hands on her shoulders and said, “You took a big risk for her. But I’m so glad we have her mother here. You’re amazing.”

TJ found praise and criticism equally difficult to accept. “No thanks necessary.”

Lisa called Eric and told him the news about the girl.

“We’ll just have to add them to our little commune until we know it’s safe to send them home.” He didn’t ask her how TJ managed to pull it off. Or maybe he didn’t want to know.

“How about if I put them in the guest room where TJ’s been staying and have TJ move downstairs?”

“I’ll let you handle it. Is the mother willing to stay?”

“We haven’t asked her yet, but I’m sure she will be. She’s terrified of her husband and that he might try to take Tina again. Are you coming home right after you close?”         

“I’m planning on it, why?”

“I’m making a pot roast. I thought we could all use some comfort food.”

After dinner that night Eric drove Lisa home to pick up some things she wanted for the preparation of their Thanksgiving dinner.

Lisa had lost much of her enthusiasm for the event. Maggie had called earlier to let them know the police had no bead on Wysecki and that it would be at least a few days before the bodies would be identified. Maggie admitted she couldn’t see Wysecki as being able to carry out the complex plot hatched by the person the group sought. With TJ still insisting that Eddie Wysecki probably didn’t know how to do anything more complex than mix a dry martini or read a racing form, Lisa finally had to admit Wysecki wasn’t their killer.

Eddie was, however, being sought as Danielle’s murderer, and Maggie warned them it wouldn’t be long before the police would be around again to interview the group, especially TJ. She reminded them that they would have to be open with the police about their investigation into the missing women.

Eric interrupted Lisa’s thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet. Problems other than the obvious?”

“Other than the fact that someone wants to kill me?” Lisa was terrified that Danielle’s murderer would try to find her and finish the job. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. You’re right; there are other things I’m wrestling with.”

When they arrived at her house, Eric opened the car door for her. At Eric’s insistence, she’d added timers to her outdoor lights, and the place was lit up like a going-out-of-business sale. At the entrance to her house, a plastic bag containing a gift-wrapped package hung suspended from the doorknob. Its unexpected appearance stopped them where they stood.

“Maybe we should call Maggie,” said Eric, stepping protectively in front of Lisa.

“No. Let’s take it in first and see if I can tell where it’s from. Paige could have arranged to have something sent.”

Carefully, they carried the package into the house and set it on the kitchen table. As they edged the box from the plastic, the logo of a local florist became visible next to a large, red bow. Eric handed Lisa a card that had been attached to the bow.

Lisa, I’m feeling terrible about the way we left things. Please, let’s meet for a drink and talk. Love, Tyler

Lisa hadn’t heard from Tyler since the night he called to tell her his engagement was off. She’d told him it was over between them and knew she’d done the right thing. But at this moment, she’d have given anything to be with him, wrapped in the sanctuary of his embrace if only for one night.

“I assume we don’t have to call the bomb squad?”

Lisa shook her head, mortified to find that she couldn’t speak around the lump rising in her throat.

Eric placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” She reached into the box and lifted out a small crystal bowl filled with a bouquet of pink tea roses and babies’ breath.

Eric gave her a handkerchief to catch the tear that ran down her cheek at the sight of the flowers. He led her to the sofa, and after locating a bottle of wine, poured her a drink. Lisa cradled the glass in her hands, wishing she were alone to have a good cry.

He sat down across from her.  “All right, I’ll play the shrink, you can be the patient.”

Confiding in Eric was the last thing she wanted to do, but absent the opportunity to be alone for a good cry, he was all she had.

“It’s everything. All of this couldn’t have come at a worse time for me. My daughter’s not coming home for the holiday, and a relationship I enjoyed just ended, and even though the parting was inevitable, it’s left a void in my life. And this fear—it’s almost more than I can handle.”

“This is the first time I’ve seen you show any sign of weakness.  But I know you’re a strong woman.”

“I’m a strong person in a lot of ways, but there’s been too much all at once. Maybe it’s time for me to have some therapy of my own. I’ve been putting it off since my therapist cut me loose.”

Eric leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “A therapist would do that?”

“Therapy only works if the patient is willing to make the changes necessary to improve their life—I wasn’t.” She took a deep breath. “But I’m also feeling a little guilty talking about me when you’re feeling bad about Danielle.”

“Forget about me. I’m intrigued—tell me the rest.“

Pandora’s box was open; she might as well tell him everything. “I don’t do well with relationships—mature ones, anyway. I like the excitement of meeting someone new, the challenge of the hunt, the highs. If it starts resembling stability, I leave. I gravitate toward men that are unattainable. The latest, the one who sent the roses, is fifteen years younger than I am. We ended when he became engaged. Then, after his engagement didn’t work out he called and said he’d like to pick up where we left off. I turned him down. The flowers are an attempt to change my mind.”

He chuckled softly. “I think we actually have something in common.”