Chapter 18
CHAPTER
Jordyn
Present
AFTER WAKING UP before dawn to catch a train from Albany into Manhattan, Jordyn stepped off the platform into Moynihan Train Hall at Penn Station.
Right into total sensory overload. The commuter hour Empire Service was touted as the fastest rail route of the day, which meant it had taken less than two and a half hours to make the trip to New York City.
But it dumped her off into Midtown during the morning rush.
Being a New Yorker born and bred, Jordyn wasn’t fazed by the sudden crush of coffee-carrying Bluetooth users walking at breakneck speed.
Even though the crowds around Madison Square Garden weren’t the kind of thing she encountered in the Crown Heights neighborhood in Brooklyn where she’d grown up.
It would have been faster for her to take the subway straight from the train station to the Plaza Hotel where she was supposed to meet Lauren Hughes, but she figured the walk would do her good.
She needed to shake off the queasy feeling caused by finding that note on her car the night before.
Had it been from Tara’s killer?
The idea that someone knew who Jordyn was and why she was in town had made her triple-check the locks on the carriage house before going to bed. She’d also texted a photo of the note to Natalie, so maybe the PI could help her figure out who’d placed it on her windshield.
So with a new sense of danger looming around Saratoga, the walk in Manhattan among a million strangers helped Jordyn to relax a little.
Plus, when she phoned Lauren half an hour ago to set up a time to meet today, Tara’s mother had been insistent that she couldn’t meet until after nine AM.
The walk up Seventh Avenue would fill the minutes until then.
Maybe Jordyn could savor some happier memories while she was at it.
She’d been here with Tara once. By the time Tara reached her second summer at the foster home, Jordyn had become an expert at working the system.
Not for herself but for Tara, she’d made the extra effort.
She’d been worried during the school year what the summer would be like for her friend since the lack of activities and structure left the kids in the home with too much time on their hands.
Which might translate to harassment. Fights.
Unfit parents showing up at the home trying to take back their kids.
So Jordyn had applied for two free spots at a YMCA summer camp, writing an essay with hand-drawn illustrations.
She’d nabbed the slots for herself and Tara, which kept them out of the house every day that summer, taking swimming lessons, making crafts, playing games.
Their age difference put them in separate groups, but at the end of the season, all the campers went to Central Park Zoo together. An outing Jordyn would never forget.
That day came back to her in vivid detail as she dodged stalled tourists taking photos in Times Square.
She and Tara had petted baby goats and watched the sea lions sunning themselves.
There’d been a grizzly bear and a polar bear, peacocks and parrots.
Afterward, they ate lunch near a playground in the park where there were enough swings for everyone who wanted one.
No squabbles over one ratty swing. The whole day had felt weirdly normal.
Like if she closed her eyes, they could have been any two real, full-blooded sisters on a summer trip.
Later in life, she’d had a sunflower-covered swing tattooed on her shoulder.
That one had been done by a professional with a machine, whereas the labyrinth on her forearm was something she’d created herself as a teen using the stick and poke technique with pen ink.
The maze had been a promise to herself that she could navigate the foster system and be free of it one day.
While the swing had been a reminder that there had been good moments in her childhood.
By the time she reached the southern edge of Central Park at Fifty-Ninth Street, Jordyn felt energized and ready to talk to Lauren Hughes.
The memories had grounded her, reminding her why finding Tara’s killer was so important.
Jordyn might not have been able to protect her friend from whatever suburban danger had come for her on Halloween night. But she could still vindicate her.
She sidestepped the horse-drawn carriages lined up to give tours of the park and bypassed the side doors of the hotel so she could go through the famous front entrance by the fountain.
Inside, the black, gold and white décor was every bit as swanky as she’d imagined with a champagne bar tucked in one corner.
Lauren had told her to go to the front desk to pick up an envelope with a keycard to access the guest floors.
That accomplished, Jordyn strode directly to the elevators and hit the call button to head to the twentieth floor.
Even the elevators were extra fancy, with ornate gold in front of narrow columns of mirror.
A moment later, she texted Lauren that she’d arrived, and by the time she reached the end of the corridor, Tara’s stunning, intimidating mother was already standing in the open doorway.
“I didn’t think you’d really come here,” Lauren said by way of greeting, her long dark hair and model good looks giving her a Demi Moore vibe. She wore wide-legged ivory trousers and a long menswear blazer in the same shade.
Jordyn bristled at the toneless greeting.
“I didn’t think you’d ever invite me.”
They sized one another up for a moment, the silence stretching. At last, Lauren pulled the door open wider.
“Come on in.”
Stepping across the threshold into the suite, Jordyn could see the view of Central Park through a window.
A couch and two chairs were grouped nearby, a low table bearing sparkling waters and fruit in the center of the seating arrangement.
The bedroom door was slightly open to one side, the visible king-sized bed already made.
“Have a seat.” Lauren gestured to the chairs, but Jordyn took the corner of the couch, leaving her hostess with her choice of the less comfortable seats.
Petty. But Mrs. Hughes had been far from cooperative so far.
“Thanks. I was surprised to receive your call after all the times you refused to talk to me.”
“That was Randall’s doing, not mine.” Lauren leaned forward to open one of the sparkling water bottles and filled the two glasses on the silver tray that held a basket of grapes and apples. “He worries about negative publicity hurting his businesses.”
Jordyn had to swallow a bitter retort, knowing she needed this woman’s cooperation if she wanted to wrest any meaningful information out of this visit.
“Do you see your daughter as a media liability as well?” That came out sharper than intended, but these entitled people looking out for their own interests to Tara’s detriment made Jordyn every bit as feisty as when she’d punched Ronnie McRory in the face for secretly pouring grain alcohol into Tara’s soda on her thirteenth birthday.
Jordyn couldn’t figure out why her friend had been sick all night long until she heard Ronnie laughing about it with his friends at school the next day.
“I respect that my husband’s ability to make sound business decisions has afforded me a very comfortable life. It gave Tara a good life too.”
“Not anymore.”
Lauren looked down at her hands in her lap. Her voice was softer when she spoke again. “No. Not anymore.”
It was the first hint of emotion she’d witnessed from either of the Hughes since Tara’s death. There certainly hadn’t been any sense of remorse in the legalese-laden missives she’d received from their lawyers. Glimpsing the woman’s grief now made Jordyn’s defensiveness thaw a bit.
“I’m … um … sorry to be so blunt.” She fumbled for words, uncomfortable in million-dollar suites with people who moved through worlds far different than her own.
“I’m just eager for answers to Tara’s death and I’m here because I really need to know if you have any insights into what might have happened.
Or what her life was like in the weeks before she died. ”
Lauren met her gaze directly, any hint of softer emotions gone. “And I invited you here because I want answers too.”
Well. All right then.
Jordyn straightened in her seat, sensing a potential ally in the very last place she’d expected to find one.
“Tara spent that last evening with her book club. Are you familiar with any of the people in that group?” Jordyn asked.
“Only in a peripheral sense. My daughter didn’t confide a lot of the personal details of her life to me.” She paused, a wistful expression briefly crossing her face. “Saratoga is small enough that the residents who live there year-round tend to run into one another.”
“So you don’t necessarily suspect anyone in particular from the book club?”
“Absolutely not.” The woman practically vibrated with indignation. “If I had any concrete suspicions, I assure you, I would have voiced them to the police.”
Jordyn tried to parse out the meaning behind the careful phrasing.
“Do you have suspicions that are less than concrete?”
Lauren scoffed. “When you’re desperate to blame someone, everyone looks guilty. But I can tell you that Tara seemed nervous about her partnership with Sophie Durand in the weeks before her death.”
“What do you mean ‘nervous’?”
“She asked Randall to recommend an attorney to put together a partnership agreement for her work with Sophie.” Lauren withdrew a business card from the pocket of her ivory-colored blazer and passed it to Jordyn.
“I’m not sure if Arnie will tell you anything, but this is the lawyer Randall recommended. ”
Jordyn’s thoughts fired fast, having learned that Tara had been trying to shore up her business agreement with Sophie so close to her death. Had Sophie bought out Tara rather than agree to the partnership terms?