Legacy, page 36
“I was heading into the shop to finish updating the website. I love the shop. I love working with the craftsmen, the artists, working the counter, talking with people every day. But you sure can get in a routine that dips toward a rut so you forget who you are outside of work, wife, and mom.”
She held up her glass. “Here’s to remembering to be a girlfriend.”
“You’re both the best I ever had.” Adrian tapped her glass. “Both of you, right there, are two big turning points in my life. That first summer here, you making room in your group for me, Maya. I really needed a friend.”
“I’m going to tell you what I never did. When my mom found out what happened, and that you were staying here for the summer, she sat me down. She explained, and she said a lot of kids might push questions on you. Some might even make fun of you or just say something mean. And she asked how I’d feel if kids did that to me. I said it would make me feel bad, and embarrassed. She just said I was right, and knew I wouldn’t do that. How she bet you could use a friend.”
“I love your mom,” Teesha murmured.
“Best there is. Of course, I said what if she’s mean or stupid or I just don’t like her? She said I should find out. So I did. And here we are.”
“You asked if I wanted to come over to your house and see your Barbies, and changed what I thought would be a summer of sad and alone. And here we are. And you.”
She shifted to Teesha. “I was so angry with my mother, sticking me in that school where I didn’t know anyone, didn’t want to be. Time to show her what I could do, time to grab my own. I walked over to that table in the cafeteria looking for a video crew. I got a whole lot more.”
“You shocked the crap out of us. The new girl, the one who should’ve marched over to the popular kids—the jocks or the snobs for sure—walks right over to us and sits down. It was brave. You’ve always been brave.”
“Pissed and determined. And here we are.”
Because it seemed right, she set down her glass, took her friends’ hands. “Next time I’ll have cookies.”
Rachael walked into the Ardaro Consultants offices in Northwest DC with a plan in mind, one she could adjust in several ways if necessary.
A couple days before, she’d called the office with the claim she was on the alumni reunion committee of Nikki Bennett’s high school. She’d put on the chatty and perky, and though Nikki’s assistant had been too professional to give her exact whereabouts, she had suggested Rachael call again in two days when Nikki would be back in the office.
Today, she intended to corner Nikki in her office as a frazzled owner of an independent bookstore in Bethesda, Maryland, who needed help restructuring her business.
At least until she got into the office, got that face-to-face.
She’d dressed for it—gray pants with her best black heels, a matching scoop-neck top, and a pale blue blazer. She’d borrowed her sister’s diamond studs, draped on a few sparkly chains, replaced her own simple wedding ring with a flashy cubic zirconia she believed would pass.
A woman of means. A woman who could afford to hire a good expert and experienced consultant from a good firm to turn her sweet business around.
She stepped into the tastefully appointed lobby, fixed on a pleasant but slightly arrogant look, and walked to the receptionist.
“Good morning. Can I help you?”
“I certainly hope so. I’d like to speak with …” She held up a finger, took her phone out of her—also borrowed—Max Mara handbag. “Yes, it’s Nikki Bennett.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
Rachael peered over. “She came highly recommended. I was in the building on another appointment. I’d like five minutes of her time. Please tell her Mrs. Salina Mathias is waiting. You’ve perhaps heard of my brother. Senator Charles Mathias.”
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Mathias.”
“Mrs.”
“Mrs. Mathias, Ms. Bennett is currently out of the office consulting with another client. I’d be more than happy to direct you to one of our other consultants, or have Ms. Bennett’s assistant schedule an appointment.”
“Well, when is she due back in the office?”
“Tomorrow. After her consult, she’s scheduled to work from home.”
“Working from home?” Rachael let out a short, derisive laugh. “I can see I’ve wasted my time.”
She sailed out.
And wondered what it said about her that she’d enjoyed putting on the entitled snob the receptionist would bitch about to a coworker on her break.
Back in her car, she changed the heels for sneakers, then drove out of the parking garage to head to Georgetown.
She stopped for snacks, to empty her bladder, then parked a half block up and across the street from the Bennetts’ dignified home.
She’d sit on the house—not nearly as much fun as pretending to be an asshole—until Nikki got back.
Pretty neighborhood, she thought, quiet, settled. Wealthy.
If somebody decided to report a strange car, she’d chat it up with the cops who came to have a look. She’d been one of them, after all.
She typed up her movements of the morning, the time involved, then put on earbuds, cued up her current audiobook.
She spent the next hour in the Scottish Highlands and nibbling on Fritos—a big weakness.
When the rugged chieftain and the fiery woman he loved finished their adventure, she checked in with her husband, with her office, then started to scroll through more audio choices.
The sedate black Mercedes pulled up to the dignified house.
Nikki Bennett, her short brown hair fluttering a bit in the breeze, got out. She wore a summer suit of pale gray, darker gray pumps with short, stubby heels. She swung a black briefcase on her shoulder before reaching in the back for a cloth market tote.
Rachael waited until she reached the door before she left her car, hit the locks, then crossed the street.
She rang the bell.
Moments later, Nikki opened it, studied Rachael with tired, suspicious eyes. “Yes?”
“Ms. Bennett, I’m Rachael McNee.” She held up her identification. “I’d like to speak with you for a few minutes. May I come in?”
“No. What’s this about? I’ve been out of town. I haven’t heard anything about any trouble in the neighborhood.”
“None that I know of. Your name’s come up in a matter I’m investigating.”
“What matter?”
“Poetry.”
Nikki stared straight through her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have work.”
Before she could shut the door, Rachael moved in enough to block it. “Ms. Bennett,” she began, and recited several names from the list, ending with the five murdered women.
“I don’t know any of those people. If they’re clients of mine or my firm, make an appointment with my office. This is my home.”
“Adrian Rizzo.”
That got a reaction, just a quick flicker in the tired eyes. “If you’re a reporter looking to dredge all that up, I’m not—”
“I’m not a reporter.” Again, Rachael held up her identification. “I’m investigating a series of threats, and a series of deaths, all of which connect to your father.”
“My father’s been dead for over twenty years. Now, if you don’t leave, I’m calling the police.”
“That’s fine. If you don’t speak with me, that’s where I’m going. To the authorities. I can come in, you can answer some questions. We’ll clear this up. Or you’ll talk to the cops.”
“You’re not coming into my house.” But Nikki stepped out, crossed her arms in front of the open door. “I was a child when my father died. My brother and I were children.”
“So was Adrian Rizzo. Younger, in fact, than either of you.”
“None of that had or has anything to do with me. But we paid for it anyway. We lost our father. We lived with the scandal, the press, the questions. We paid. My mother finally broke and killed herself over it. We paid, and it’s done.”
“Someone doesn’t think so. Five of the names I gave you, five of those women, are dead, through violence. Murdered. All of the names I listed, and more, had affairs with your father.”
Nikki’s eyes shifted now, right, left, back. Nerves lived in them.
“It has nothing to do with me.”
“You don’t find that curious?”
“People die. My father did. My mother did.”
“Murdered, Nikki, those names on a list your mother compiled.”
“You’re a liar.” Heat rose now. “My mother knew nothing about it. She didn’t know about the other women. She didn’t have any list.”
“She took that list to the reporter who broke the story the day before your father attacked Lina and Adrian Rizzo and Mimi Krentz.”
“That’s a lie.” But the flicker came back.
“I have no reason to lie. You travel a great deal.”
“So what? It’s none of your business.” Her voice pitched up. “It’s my job. I’ve built a career, I’ve built a life. I’m not going to have you come around here and try to ruin it over something my father did when I was a child.”
“Do you write poetry, Nikki?”
“I’ve had enough of this, and you.”
“For the past thirteen years, right after your mother died, Adrian Rizzo has received an anonymous, threatening poem. The postmarks vary, as they would with someone who travels. Your father taught poetry, among other things.”
“I don’t write poetry. I don’t send anonymous threats.” But her breathing began to quicken, thicken. “My father’s dead because he thought he could cheat on my mother with impunity. He’s dead because he got drunk and violent. He’s dead because he got one of his whores pregnant and fathered a bastard and wouldn’t own up to it like a man.”
“And that hurt you. It hurt you, and when your mother killed herself, it hurt all over again. More. All those women caused your mother pain, so much pain. And that child he fathered, a living reminder of the pain. You paid, you said. Do you think they need to pay?”
“They can all rot in hell as far as I’m concerned. I don’t give them a thought. They’re nothing to me.”
“The last poem came from Omaha. Did you swing through Omaha on your recent trip, Nikki?”
“No. But it’s none of your business. Get off my property or I’ll have you charged with trespassing and harassment.”
“Where’s your brother, Nikki?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. Go to hell!”
She stepped back inside, slammed the door.
Rachael took one of the cards out of her case, slid it under the door. You just never knew.
One thing she did know, she corrected as she walked back to her car.
Nikki Bennett was a liar, and not a very good one.
On the other side of the door, Nikki began to shake. Primarily from anger. She wouldn’t, she would not let any part of her life upend again because of people she didn’t care about, because of what her drunken cheat of a father had done when she’d been a teenager, for God’s sake.
And she didn’t believe for one minute her mother had known about all those sluts her father screwed around with.
Except she did. Except she did, she admitted, and covered her face with her hands.
All those years, just more lies.
Lies and betrayals and booze and pills. Her whole life, built on lies.
No, no, no, not her life. She’d built her own damn life. The hell with the rest of them.
When she dropped her hands, her eyes widened with shock as her brother strolled down the elegant curve of the steps.
“Hi, Sis. You got a sad?”
“JJ.” She barely recognized him with the unkempt beard, the hair halfway to his shoulders. In the scarred cowboy boots and gun belt he looked like a blur of redneck and apostle with the shadow of their father underneath. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” he said. And plowed a fist into her face.
Rachael stopped at a Sheetz to top off her tank, grab a cold drink, and once again empty her bladder. She sat in her car to contact Adrian.
“Rachael here. I wanted to let you know I’ve just spoken with Nikki Bennett.”
“What did she say?”
“She claims she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, doesn’t know any of the women from the list I mentioned. Lots of denial, lots of outrage. And some lies sprinkled through. Whether or not she’s directly responsible for the threats to you, for the murders, she knows something.”
“What’s next?”
“What I’d like is to get my hands on her travel data over the past few years. See if I can put her anywhere near the murders. That adds a lot of weight to the pile.”
“Can you do that?”
“I’m private so I can’t tap-dance my way to a warrant there. I’m not confident I could get one if I was still on the job.” She checked the time. “I have to get home now. I’ve got a family thing in a couple of hours, but with your permission, I’d like to lay out what I have for my uncle. He is still on the job.”
“Whatever you think can help. Whatever.”
“Then I’ll pick his brain on it. I still have friends and contacts on the force. My uncle has plenty. I’ll tell you my instincts say she’s connected, and she’s shaken. I’ll write all this up for you, give you my observations and my impressions.”
“I looked her up on her company’s website. I wasn’t going to, but I just needed to see her. She looks so …”
“Ordinary?” Rachael supplied.
“Yes. Just a pleasant-looking professional woman. I couldn’t find any photos of her brother, except a few from rehashes of the Georgetown story, and those were when he was a kid. He just looked like a kid dressed up for picture day at school.”
“He’s not a kid anymore. Neither of them is. If either or both of them are behind this, I’m going to find out.”
Because something about her put me off, Rachael thought. Something about her pinged on the radar.
“I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“You can count on that. Let me brainstorm some with my uncle. I’ll get back to you.”
Something was going to break, Rachael told herself as she pulled out of the lot. She’d seen, and she felt, waves of anger, fear, guilt from Nikki.
And those waves were going to break.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Everything hurt. She couldn’t think through the pain, and her body shook from the shock.
Terrible dream, Nikki thought. Wake up. Wake up.
As she pushed through the ragged, tearing layers, she tasted blood in her mouth.
Could you taste anything in a dream?
But it was copper, and nasty, made her want to cough and spit. But her face, oh God, her face throbbed and banged. Her head pounded, inside and out, as she struggled to open her eyes and come awake.
She found herself on the floor, lying on the cold tile, and the light too bright. It made her eyes ache and tear.
She tried to sit up, to push herself up, but her right arm was stuck. With her vision still blurry, doubling, she stared at the cuff around her wrist.
Frightened, she saw the chain welded to the cuff, the chain welded to a thick bolt scarring the tile wall.
The powder room under the stairs, her pretty powder room where she kept pretty guest towels for guests who never came.
In a panic, she tried to yank her arm free, but the cuff only cut into her wrist and gave her more pain.
So she screamed, despite the explosion it caused in her head, she screamed.
She heard the footsteps, tried to cower back. Because she remembered now. Dear God, she remembered.
JJ walked to the door. He carried one of her file boxes, which he set on the floor.
He crouched, grinned at her. “Woo, might’ve broken that snooty nose of yours, Nik. You’re sure going to have a pair of shiners.”
“You hit me. You hit me.”
“Not as hard as I could’ve. You should thank me.”
“What are you doing? What are you doing?”
He smiled at her, just the way she remembered. Lips spread wide, eyes cold as winter.
“Not killing you. You can thank me later. If you’d let that nosy bitch in here, I would’ve done you both. But you stood up, Nik, so we’ll do it this way.”
“What have you done, JJ?”
He wagged a finger in the air. “You know. If you didn’t before, you know now. Just like you know you can scream till your lungs bleed and nobody’s going to hear you. Inside room, Sis. Nice thick plaster walls, no window. So.”
He rooted in the box, took out a bottle of Advil, a bottle of water. He shoved them both toward her. “I’d take four if I were you.”
“You killed those women. The ones the detective talked about.”
“They deserved it. They all do, and I’ll get to them all. I’ve been taking my time there, but I see I have to move things along. Damn lucky break I was here when that bitch came by to grill you. I was just going to hit you up for some more money, a nice hot shower, a couple good meals. Got a big bonus out of it.”
“Why? Why? Why?” Her swollen eyes began to leak again. “He cheated, he—”
“You shut the fuck up about him! They spread their legs for him, didn’t they?” He pounded a fist on the little vanity. “How many times do I have to tell you they’re to blame for it? A man takes what’s offered, it’s his nature. They’re the reason he’s dead, why we grew up shamed. They’ve got no place on this earth, and you should know that! Especially that whelp her whore of a mother didn’t kill in the womb. She murdered our father. She’s the reason.”
She’d heard it all before, countless times, and knew there would be no reasoning with him. Especially since a part of her, a terrible part that shamed her, agreed with him.
With trembling hands she opened the bottle of water, the bottle of pills. She had to ease the pain and think.
“You’ve been sending her poems? The Rizzo girl?”
“I always had a knack for them, didn’t I? Dad always said so. Mom, too, but Dad knew that shit. He was proud of me. More of me than you.”
