Chapter 2
To Do:
- Take Jemarcus’s shirt to dry cleaner
- Re-stock sheet protectors
“I’m goingto need you to steal as many paintings as possible,” Claire said as she led a bespectacled, owlish-looking man between two rows of industrial shelving. She shook her mass of blonde curls over one shoulder and stifled a yawn. She should have stopped for coffee. Her midnight escapade had definitely compromised her beauty sleep.
“I’m sorry?” He cocked his head to the side and stepped over a disembodied mannequin arm.
“Watch your step, Aaron. I need you to start smuggling Jane’s paintings away. Ones she won’t notice are missing. I’ll store them here at the warehouse.”
“All right,” he said, clearly perplexed. “What are we going to do with her paintings?”
They emerged at the far end of Claire’s cavernous warehouse, where a projector stood next to a conference table. She pressed a button on the top, and an image of a studio flickered to life on a nearby screen. The glow from the projector illuminated the large bandage above her left collarbone, a constant, inescapable reminder in her peripheral vision. She shifted the hem of her shirt until it was covered. Her recent trauma was not invited to the discussion of Aaron’s happily ever after.
“My friend owns a photography studio downtown. We’re going to temporarily turn her space into an art gallery and give your soon-to-be fiancée her very first showing.”
His face lit up, and his chocolate-colored eyes crinkled behind horn-rimmed glasses. He stepped closer to the screen. “I never would have thought of that. She’ll love it.”
“That’s what I’m here for.” She clicked through several slides showing the studio. “Based on my estimation, we need about twenty-five pieces for the space. All different sizes. Can you get that many?”
He nodded, and his glasses slid down the brim of his nose. “Definitely. She has dozens of paintings in our storage shed.”
“Perfect.I trust your judgment, so bring me whatever you think she would be most proud of. Now, to make it look more legitimate.” She paused, flipping open the binder on the conference table. “We’ll need to secure a caterer and bar service. I don’t want Jane to be suspicious until the last second. If that works for you, I’ll get some quotes and check in with you.”
Aaron nodded and put his hands in his pockets, his gaze shifting to the studio once again. “It’s perfect. She won’t even know what to say. I mean, hopefully she says yes. You know. To the proposal.”
Claire laughed. “She would be crazy not to. I had one other thought.Are you an artist yourself, Aaron?”
The man shrugged and fiddled with the bottom point of his paisley tie. “Not like Jane. I used to draw cartoons when I was a kid, but that’s about the extent of it.”
Claire smiled, bouncing on her toes in excitement. She’d bet anything he was being modest. “Perfect. I want you to draw a sketch of the proposal before it happens, and then I want to blow it up as a huge print and hang it in a closed room at the back of the gallery.”
His face flushed. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.”
“You can. And you will. Now I don’t know about your creative process, but I would suggest?—”
“Claire?” Footsteps echoed from the back of the warehouse.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
She wasn’t expecting another appointment. Her shoulders hunched up as she flipped on a light switch. She reached underneath the conference table and tugged at a strap. Krrrrshhhh. A Taser fell into her hand. Her mother had sent her a half dozen after the abduction, and they all had unique homes.
Aaron jumped backward like she had suddenly transformed into an armed assassin. He bumped against a shelving unit, jostling a row of glass vases.
She pointed the weapon toward the door. “Who is it? If you’re a member of the press, I’m only going to tell you once that you are trespassing on private property, and unless you have a scheduled appointment, you will be strung up by your toes and dangled over a tank of piranhas.”
Jason Goldman, the last man she expected to see today, stepped into the pool of fluorescent lighting. A manila envelope was clutched under one arm. His gaze darted around the room as if he expected to be attacked by a mannequin or a length of ribbon. He was built like the football player he once was, but he must have gained thirty pounds since they broke up nearly a year ago—now more bowling ball shape than linebacker.
“What do you want?” Claire stared her ex-fiancé down even as her stomach lurched like she was aboard a broken carnival ride. “I’m in a meeting.”
“I just wanted to talk to you about something.It won’t take long.”
Aaron checked his watch. “We’re just two minutes short of an hour anyway, Claire. Email me the updated quote when you talk to the caterers?”
“Of course. Sorry about this.” Her cheeks were hot. Jason had already single-handedly ruined her ability to trust, and now he was storming into a client meeting. Would he ever leave her alone?
“I’ll send you the breakdown of my other ideas, and we’ll schedule the next meeting.” She flashed a bright smile at Aaron.
Aaron waved as he disappeared into the maze of matrimonial paraphernalia.
Jason shuffled closer and cleared his throat. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. It wasn’t that hot outside. What had her ex so hot and bothered? She wrinkled her nose. His musky cologne hadn’t changed a bit since college.
“How have you been?” The envelope crinkled in his meaty fists. He seemed to be addressing an organizer full of drywall screws over Claire’s shoulder. Apparently, he could leave her thirty singing voicemails begging to take him back, but he couldn’t maintain eye contact for a fifteen second conversation.
The side door closed, signaling Aaron’s exit, and the customer service smile slipped from her face like a mask. “You mean since you cheated on me with my nemesis? Or since I was abducted and stabbed? You’ll have to be more specific—it’s been a busy year.”
She didn’t have time for whatever this was. Jason had stalked her for eight months after their breakup. Constant phone calls, flowers, even visits to her apartment. She had finally succeeded in getting him to leave her alone after she had given the police his name as a suspect for a break-in that had occurred in her apartment the previous month. But now here he was, with shifty eyes and holding a curious envelope.
He took a deep breath and reached for her hand.Oh hell no. She snatched her hand back as if his was dripping with fire ants.
“Claire, we were close once. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I heard that the hearing is coming up and today was supposed to be?—”
“Don’t,” she said sharply. “We are not going to talk about what today was supposed to be. Why are you really here? And what’s that?” She gestured to the envelope. “Are you going to ask me if I have a minute to hear the word of our Lord and Savior Wendy Flutter?”
Wendy and Claire had a long history. Almost four years ago, they had been pitted against each other for Event Planner of the Year at the West Haven Chamber of Commerce Small Business Awards. Claire won. From that night on, Wendy had made it her personal mission to ruin Claire both personally and professionally. She had slandered her on public television, slept with her fiancé, and tampered with the biggest proposal Claire had ever orchestrated. Nevertheless, Claire kept winning.
Jason handed her the envelope. “Not exactly. But these are some legal documents. They’re for you. I have to go.” He turned and scurried back through the warehouse.
Legal documents? The envelope was heavy in her hands. She turned it over and ripped it open. A pile of papers slid out. She skimmed the first few lines. Her mouth dropped open.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” She slammed the pile of papers down on the conference table and picked up her phone. For an instant, her vision blurred and the numbers swam in front of her eyes. Every breath burned in her chest, and her heart beat so hard and fast she swore she could hear it.
“Mindy? You’re never going to guess what just happened. Jason just came to the warehouse and served me papers.Wendy is suing me over the fight at Nicole’s engagement party. Suing me. For five million dollars.”
“What do you mean?On what grounds? Get off for a second, Gavin, it’s Claire,” Mindy said, slightly muffled. There was a shuffling sound as her assistant and best friend presumably disentangled herself from her British boyfriend.
Claire glanced over the first few lines of the summons. “For ‘aggravated battery.’ There are doctor bills and pictures of her bruises in this file. Mindy, what do I do? I don’t have five million dollars.”
She collapsed onto a chair and hunched forward, massaging her temples. Apparently, getting abducted and stabbed was just the beginning of her bad luck this summer.
There was more shuffling and the jingling of keys on Mindy’s end of the line. “This is ridiculous. I am so slashing that bitch’s tires. I’ll call Kyle. Do you want me to come over? I’ll bring ice cream and a lock pick. We could pay Wendy a visit. I know a guy who can get us some termites.”
Claire gave a weak laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not going to stoop to her level. I’m going to beat her fair and square at the award ceremony in a few weeks, and then I guess I’ll beat her in court. I’m headed to Luke’s after this anyway. Could you take my last appointment for the day and pick up the giant custom box from The Box Store? It won’t fit in my car, and I need to figure this out.”
“Of course. I’ll let you know what I find. And Claire—maybe don’t check our general email tonight.”
Her insides shriveled. “Are there more?”
“Dozens, just in the past hour alone. Somebody from Dubai is offering 500k plus travel expenses, it’s absolutely?—”
“Okay.I don’t need to hear any more.” Claire’s heart was pounding again. There was no way she was capable of making a decision about expanding the business right now. She needed a glass of wine and some vitamin D. Whether that would come from sunshine or Luke remained to be seen.
“We’re going to have to start making some decisions about expanding or?—”
“Mindy, I’m getting sued. And I got stabbed a hot minute ago. I can’t do this right now.Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
Mindy paused. “Are you sure tomorrow is going to be better? Don’t you have a super important dinner?”
Dammit. She had foolishly insisted on making dinner for Luke and his mother. It was an integral part of her wooing routine for meeting parents for the first time—thoughtful gift, homecooked dinner, intelligent conversation. She and Rachel hadn’t met, but she was an attorney and had a reputation for being equally unpleasant in and out of court.
“Thanks for reminding me. At least this will be fodder for dinner conversation. Maybe Rachel will have some advice. I have to go.”
“Okay. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be fine.Call Luke. He’ll want to know.”
Claire hung up and slumped in her chair, staring at the stack of papers. All she wanted was some Chinese takeout and a blanket to hide under. Now she was being sued by her ex-fiancé’s new girlfriend, who also happened to be her biggest nemesis, and the wretched hag was going after Claire for five million dollars. Were the scales of justice broken this summer?
She flipped open her day planner and scanned the month of June. Thanks to Barney Windsor, the former client who abducted and stabbed her last week, her calendar was filling up with unplanned events. Lawyer meetings and a sure-to-be-hellish preliminary hearing all before Father’s Day. Ugh. Father’s Day.
She secured her Taser (Taser #2, to be exact) to the underside of the table. She whistled, and nails skittered excitedly somewhere in the warehouse. An extremely dusty corgi rounded the corner and arrived at Claire’s side with a violent sneeze.
“Bless you. How would you feel about running away and starting a new life in Cancun, RoRo? We could change our names. I’ll be Catalina and you be Rosalita.”
Rosie whined softly.
Claire sighed. “You’re right. I’d miss Nicole and Mindy.”
Rosie yipped.
“Luke, too, I guess. They could come along, though. We could start a destination proposal business! Proposals in Paradise. I can see it now.”
Rosie put her paw on Claire’s shoe and looked at her skeptically.
“Fine.” Claire stood and rummaged through her purse. “Where did I put your leash?” While Rosie was a loveable dog, she was poorly trained. One sighting of an errant squirrel and she would bolt down the streets of West Haven, never to be seen again.
The new HDTV that Luke had installed in the corner of the warehouse (because apparently the existing projector didn’t meet bougie Luke’s screening standards) changed from an erectile dysfunction commercial to a local newscaster.
“Thank you for joining us for a special afternoon edition of Marnie in the Morning,” said a light, clear voice Claire had last heard during her TV debut. “You are watching history being made, ladies and gentlemen.”
The camera panned out, revealing another chair.
Claire swallowed hard. Rosie whined and put her front paws on her knee.
“Here with us today is Victoria Wolfgang, the former fiancée of the alleged serial killer the West Haven Widowmaker, otherwise known as Barney Windsor, CEO of the Heirloom Hotel chain.”
Barney’s mugshot appeared behind the two women. His normally slicked-back brown hair was unkempt. A sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and his steel-gray eyes burned with malice.
Claire’s hands shook like she had just gripped a live wire. Papers scattered to the floor as she swept them aside. Where the hell was the remote? She didn’t want to listen to this conversation. Couldn’t listen to it.
Rosie growled.
“Victoria, how are you coping?” Marnie asked onscreen.
Something drew Claire’s eyes back to the screen. Victoria looked shrunken almost, smaller and timider than Claire had last seen her. Her brown eyes were glassy, skin extra pale. On the night of her proposal, she had exuded warmth from every pore. Now she looked like a prisoner of war.
“As well as anyone who was engaged to a serial killer could be, I guess.”
Marnie reached out and patted her on the hand. Victoria flinched.
“I can’t imagine. Victoria, did you ever have any inclination that Barney was more sinister than he seemed? What did your friends and family think of him?”
Victoria sighed and tugged at the hem of her pencil skirt. She must have asked herself this question a million times.
“He was kind, honest, a perfect gentleman. I truly believed that he loved me. And maybe he did, in his own way. As much as a murderer is capable of love. My family adored him. He was so good with my niece and nephew. Everyone was overjoyed that we were getting married.”
The camera zoomed in on her left hand, focusing on her bare ring finger.
“That’s right. And the woman who planned your engagement was Barney’s last attempted victim.”
“Yes, Claire,” Victoria said softly. She wrung her hands, rubbing a thumb over the place where the four-carat diamond ring no longer rested.“She sent me a lovely sympathy basket.”
Claire’s stomach twisted. A basket could never make up for facilitating a marriage proposal to a killer. She really needed to call her. But what could she say?
“How kind. Now tell me, Victoria, did you ever notice him doing anything suspicious, like disappearing for long periods of time?”
Victoria brushed a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “He always attributed his absences to work. He owns hotels all over the state, so I believed him.”
Marnie leaned forward. “Was there anything else? Did you ever catch him doing something, or trying to cover something up?”
Damn, Marnie. Give the girl a break.
Victoria stared out into the crowd, but it was clear she wasn’t really looking at anything.She was so drawn that her features had retreated into her face like a corn husk doll.
“He came home with blood on his shirt once. Looking back now, I think it was right before Courtney Stevens’s disappearance was announced. He said he had gotten a nosebleed. I helped him wash the blood out.” Victoria gasped, starting to shake.
Claire shuddered, and the wounds all over her body pulsated and burned. She took a deep breath, which made it worse.
Marnie appeared to make eye contact with someone offstage, and she straightened up.“I understand that you haven’t visited him in prison.”
“No, I haven’t. And I won’t.”
Who could blame her?
“Is there anything that you want to say to him today?” Marnie asked, gesturing to the cameras.
Victoria took a deep breath and sat taller in the beige chair. “Barney, if any part of you ever truly loved me, I wish you would cooperate with the police. Tell them where the girls are. Give their families some closure. Let them be laid to rest.”
Marnie shifted her attention back to the camera. “The bodies of the five missing women attributed to the West Haven Widowmaker have never been recovered. Anyone with information is urged to contact the Pennsylvania State Police or the FBI tip line.”
Pictures of the five known victims filled the screen, all with bright eyes and wide smiles. None of them knew of the horror who had watched them, waited for them to have everything they ever dreamed. Claire had spent hours staring at pictures of those girls last month when she and Luke had tried to identify the killer. She shivered. Why the hell was the past sniffing around her doorstep so aggressively today?
She turned the TV off and snapped a leash on Rosie. “Let’s get out of here.”
Something about the interview was odd. The way Marnie glanced offstage. Victoria’s reluctance to answer questions. Something told Claire it wasn’t Victoria’s idea to appear on the show.
Claire pulled a floppy black hat from a hook by the warehouse door and slid on a pair of sunglasses. She pressed her ear to the crack of the door. Silence.
“Nice and quick to the car,” she muttered and thrust the door open. “Oh, shit.”