Hit List Page 6

  Down the street a car door slammed. An engine rumbled to life. He frowned, stepped away, let the screen door swing shut.

  Back in his car, he sat watching the house. The windows remained dark and lifeless. Finally he shoved his key in the ignition. He pulled into the street, drove away slowly, his thoughts scattering in a dozen different directions.

  Chapter 12

  Lucianna pulled into the driveway behind a bright yellow Volkswagen. Her thoughts were still on Karen Hadley. Just minutes ago she’d left the woman in a booth at a local cafe, holding the stack of photos in one hand and a mocha blast coffee in the other. She’d looked as if she couldn’t decide whether to cry, celebrate, or both.

  When Karen Hadley had first looked at the photos, she’d seemed oddly pleased to see her husband in the arms of another woman. A beautiful, younger woman at that. By way of explanation, Karen had said, “I thought he was gay.”

  Go figure.

  Lucianna forced her attention back to the present. She switched off the engine and studied Monica Wright’s home. A well-maintained tan split-level, the yard a carpet of multicolored leaves. A woman appeared at the front entrance and waved from behind the screen door. Lucianna waved back as she stepped out of her car.

  Monica Wright was tall and slender, with chocolate brown hair and wide brown eyes. She wore tight faded jeans and an oversized sweatshirt advertising the Patriots football team. She held the door open, greeting Lucianna with a bright smile and friendly hello.

  They sat in the living room on soft leather furniture that looked as expensive as it felt. Monica offered coffee, which Lucianna declined, and they exchanged the expectant small talk. Finally Lucianna asked, “Have you been in touch with Corinne at all these past few months?”

  Monica flushed. “No. You have to understand that I did try. It’s just so hard, you know, seeing her that way. And she remembers so little now…”

  Lucianna thought it appropriate that Monica squirm with guilt. Abandoning a friend because her condition made you uncomfortable was a pathetic excuse. But Lucianna had to keep the mood light, get Monica to talk about the Corinne she remembered. She said, “No need to explain. The situation is very difficult for everyone involved.”

  Monica breathed a sigh of relief. She was off the hook. Her eyes misted as she said, “What caused this to happen? I don’t understand.”

  “I’m trying to find that out,” Lucianna said. “And I was hoping that you could help by answering some questions for me.”

  “Of course. If I can.”

  Lucianna forced a smile, at the same time wondering why she felt such a dislike toward this woman. Probably because she was one of those fair-weather friends who was right there with you when times were good, then vanished the minute things took a turn for the worse. She’d had her fill of those types, which was why she preferred her cat.

  Lucianna asked about their activities, what Corinne’s hobbies were. She asked whether Corinne had made any new friends in the weeks before the incident. Had she been unusually stressed? Scared? Had she been acting differently in any way?

  None of Monica’s answers were helpful. All had appeared normal. But they had not seen each other for almost three weeks prior to that weekend, so things may have changed.

  Lucianna asked, “Had Corinne been dating anyone special?”

  “Well, she was seeing a guy,” Monica replied. “I don’t think it was anything special. They’d go out dancing once in awhile. Or ride his motorcycle up to the mountains.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Sam. I don’t know his last name.”

  “What did you think of Sam?”

  Monica examined her fingernails. “I never met him. I’d been rather preoccupied this past year… Personal issues. Corinne had invited me out with them on a few occasions but the timing was always bad.”

  Lucianna would have loved to press for more information. But that was her own curiosity and had nothing to do with finding the answers she needed. So she simply nodded. A few more questions got her no further. Finally she thanked Monica for her time and left.

  As she slid back into her car, she reflected on what she’d learned. Monica was one uptight lady, though she doubted that had anything to do with Corinne. All she had really learned was that Corinne had a casual boyfriend by the name of Sam. Hopefully Donna Benson would be able to offer something more helpful.

  ***

  “We gotta settle this,” Nico said. “They’re fucking up our business.”

  Skeets swallowed the dry lump in his throat. “I know, boss,” he said. “What do you want me to do?”

  Nico slammed his fist into the metal filing cabinet. “I want you to fucking think.”

  Skeets nodded, tried to look as if he was doing just that. He was itching for a hit of coke but Nico would kill him if he attempted that now. So he stood still and waited.

  “Did you and Drake move the girls?”

  “Yeah, it’s all taken care of.”

  Nico shook his head, paced some more. After a few moments, he muttered, “Shit.”

  Skeets wasn’t sure whether that required a response. He said nothing.

  “This is taking way too long to fix,” Nico said. “What the hell? My crew suddenly losing their cool?”

  “No way, Nico.” Skeets glanced at Viper, Nico’s bodyguard, for reassurance. Viper stared straight ahead, past him, as if he wasn’t there. He wished he wasn’t.

  “Then fix this,” Nico demanded. “I can’t work like this.”

  Skeets didn’t know how to respond to that so he only nodded. Nico waved a hand at him and said, “Get the hell out. And do something useful, will you?”

  ***

  Lucianna spent a half-hour with Donna Benson. In contrast to Monica Wright, Donna was open, relaxed, and cheerful. Short, with a little extra padding and a wide toothy grin, Donna had an animated way of speaking that drew you right into her world. She lived in one of those old Victorian homes and had it filled with antiques. She had given Lucianna a tour, then they had settled into the little sitting room at the rear of the house.

  Lucianna had enjoyed Donna’s company, finding her smile contagious. Unfortunately, Donna had been able to offer very little relevant information as to the cause of Corinne’s breakdown. Corinne had not seemed preoccupied, upset, scared, or any other negative emotion. They’d had brunch together the Wednesday before Ian had found Corinne hiding in her closet. At that time, all had appeared fine in her life.

  Without prompting, Donna told Lucianna about Sam. She’d met him and liked him fine. He and Corinne had been dating casually, an arrangement that Corinne enjoyed. Corinne had confided to her that Sam was not “marriage material”, although he was fun to be with.

  When Lucianna had asked his last name, Donna had become upset. She vaguely remembered Corinne once mentioning it but it hadn’t been important and she hadn’t committed it to memory. She did say that Ian knew Sam and should, therefore, know his last name.

  That was all the information Lucianna had come away with. At least Donna Benson had been a pleasant distraction in the course of her day.

  She’d stopped at a convenience store for a bottled water and was now parked in the lot beside Mirror Image. She sipped her water and rubbed her eyes in a futile attempt to wipe away the fatigue. Then she slipped out of her car and headed toward Corinne’s former workplace. She had made arrangements with an overly cheerful receptionist to meet with the stylists, Corinne’s former coworkers, at closing time, which was in approximately 15 minutes.

  The salon had that modern feel to it, lots of glass and shiny black lacquer. And mirrors, of course. Lots of mirrors. The reception area was larger than the waiting room at her doctor’s office. Much larger than the reception area in her own office. But who’s comparing?

  Behind the shiny black desk sat the too-happy receptionist. Lucianna could have picked her out of a crowded room. She had one of those goofy smiles that made you wonder if she was too stupid to know that life
sucks most of the time.

  “Can I help you?” asked Miss Sunshine.

  Lucianna moved closer to the desk. She said, “I’m Lucianna Martel. I spoke to you earlier about Corinne McCormick.”

  “Oh sure. I’m Kim. Is Corinne doing any better?”

  The smile was as overly energetic as the voice. Kim’s golden blonde hair bounced around her petite shoulders, seeming to respond to the kinetic energy radiating from her. Lucianna found the whole package irritating. She said, “I’m afraid there’s been no change in her condition.”

  Kim nodded. Her hair bounced. Lucianna watched, thinking the girl’s eyes might also start rattling around. They didn’t.

  “Did you know her well?” Lucianna asked.

  “We weren’t like, close friends or anything. You know, like, she was out there most of the day.” Kim waved a manicured hand in the direction of the room where the stylists were working. “We’d talk now and then during breaks or whatever.”

  Lucianna couldn’t imagine spending her lunch break with this girl. Less than two minutes together and already she wanted to grab the girl by the hair and slap that silly smile off her face. But Lucianna smiled politely in return and asked, “Did Corinne have any regular clients, maybe someone fairly new to the salon, that she had problems with? Anyone give her a hard time or seem overly interested in her personal life?”

  Kim raised a finger to her cheek, tilted her head, and stared up at the ceiling. Striking a pose or looking to God for answers. Who knew? After a moment, Kim said, “Not that I can think of.”

  They spoke for a few more minutes. But the girl knew little about Corinne and even less about life. Lucianna was saved when a client approached the desk to pay for the new hairdo she now couldn’t keep her fingers out of.

  A moment later a tall woman of about 40, with burgundy hair and lipstick to match, popped her head into the reception area. “Lucianna?” she asked.

  Lucianna stepped forward. “That would be me.”

  “I’m Stephanie. Come on through here. We can talk in the break room.”

  Lucianna followed Stephanie through the room where the other stylists were busy pleasing their clients. An opening to their right led out to a room full of hairdryers. They passed straight ahead through a door that led out to a small kitchen area, complete with a table, four chairs, a mini refrigerator, and microwave.

  The two women made with the pleasantries. Then Lucianna gave a brief explanation of why she’d been hired. Stephanie spoke for a few minutes about Corinne’s clients and regular routine. She knew little about Corinne’s personal life and everything at work had been normal. Nothing earth shattering. Not even a little spark of a lead.

  Stephanie said, “Corinne was always lots of fun. She was outgoing, didn’t seem to be bothered by much of anything.”

  Lucianna wondered if people realized that they spoke of Corinne in the past tense. As if she was dead. She chose not to bring that up and instead thanked Stephanie for her time.

  Two women came in a few minutes later. Donna and Julie. One in her thirties, the other in her forties. Both very nice. Neither told Lucianna anything helpful.

  Finally the last and youngest of the stylists popped in. Her bleached blonde hair had two violet streaks in front. She wore a neon purple shirt and an expression that said it had been a long day. She nodded a hello and plopped into the chair opposite Lucianna. “I hear you’re trying to help Corinne,” she said. “My name’s Tara.”

  Lucianna introduced herself and decided she could dispose of the initial small talk. “Did you work with Corinne long?”

  “Two years,” Tara replied. “She taught me a lot.”

  They spoke about that for a few minutes, about their relationship. Strangely enough, it seemed that Corinne had been closest to Tara, despite their age difference. Tara said, “I don’t get it. That last Saturday she worked, she was fine. We talked about our weekend plans. She didn’t seem upset or stressed or anything. I just don’t get it.”

  “Do you remember what she said about the weekend?” Lucianna asked. “Was she spending Saturday night with anyone? A date?”

  “Sure. But didn’t Ian already tell you about that?”

  “No. He wasn’t sure what her plans had been.”

  “I guess I assumed she’d told him,” Tara replied. “They’re really close, her raising him alone and all. Anyway, Corinne had a date with some new guy she’d met. I think his name was Ben.”

  Lucianna sat up straighter. “Do you remember his last name?”

  “No, she didn’t mention it.”

  “Did she say anything else about him? Where he worked? Where they met?”

  Tara chuckled. “They met at the grocery store, if you can believe that. She ran into him there like three times in a row, in the meat department or something. Finally that Friday he introduced himself and asked her out. That Saturday was their first date.”

  Lucianna mulled this fact over. Some guy goes out of his way to get close to Corinne. On that same weekend as their first date, she goes nuts. Coincidence?

  Did Ian know about this guy and forget to mention him? Had the guy ever called again? And, if he hadn’t, was it because the date hadn’t worked out or because he was somehow involved in whatever happened to Corinne?

  Tara asked, “Do you think that guy has something to do with this?”

  “I don’t know,” Lucianna said. “This is the first I’ve heard of him. Do you know anything else that might help me find him?”

  Tara shook her head. “Not that I can think of.”

  “How about a guy by the name of Sam? Did Corinne talk about him at all?”

  “Now and then. They were friends with benefits. No emotional ties, at least not on her end.”

  Lucianna asked, “Do you know Sam’s last name?”

  “No,” Tara replied. “I don’t think Corinne ever told me. Really no reason to.”

  They talked for a few more minutes. Then Lucianna handed Tara one of her business cards and told her to call if she thought of anything else.

  Now she just needed to find these mystery men.

  Chapter 13

  Corinne rocked back and forth in her favorite chair. The clock ticked in time to her movement. She tried to focus on the sound, the quiet tick-tock.

  Fear crept up on her. She experienced it as a terror on the periphery of her being. Menacing. She rocked faster. The clock kept up its rhythmic tick-tock. She strained to listen while the noise in her head grew louder.

  The tight grip on her throat cut off her air. She gagged, coughed, batted nonexistent hands away. Tear streamed down her face. The fear crept closer, mocking her, daring her to remember.

  “No!” she screamed.

  The room stood silent in response. Not even the clock could be heard now. Corinne sank deeper into herself. She shivered, shook her head back and forth. Her eyes remained open, her sight fixed on something only she could see.

  ****

  Lucianna sipped her herbal tea. Chamomile with a drop of honey. Sometimes in the morning, when sitting in her office trying to engage her mind in the thought process, she wished she’d developed a taste for coffee. That quick jolt of caffeine might help jumpstart her dormant brain cells.

  Sex would be her first choice. Nothing like a bit of rough and sweaty play to get her charged for the day. Only that was not happening these days.

  She pulled Ian’s cell phone number from his file, found herself smiling, and decided that was not a good sign. No denying the attraction there. That didn’t mean she had to act upon it. It also didn’t mean that she didn’t want to.

  “Focus,” she muttered.

  She listened to the distant ringing through the phone wires and tried not to conjure mental images of Ian. Or, rather, Ian’s various body parts. Like his muscular arms. Or his deep blue eyes.

  So much for control. Exactly when did she slip into this time warp, falling back to those hormonally driven teenage years?

  Five rings. Lucianna expected
his voice mail to click in. Instead Ian’s voice broke in with a simple, “Hello?”

  The sound reminded her of fine gravel. Probably an odd comparison for some. But her mind worked that way.

  She grasped her professional persona. Not an easy feat, considering the way her body tingled. “Hi Ian. It’s Lucianna. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  “No, you didn’t. I just …” Ian’s words were drowned out by what sounded like a jackhammer coming through the phone. Then, a moment later, “Sorry. I had to find a spot away from all the racket.”

  “No problem. I just needed to ask you a few questions. Do you have a minute?”

  “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Lucianna reached for a pen and notepad as she spoke. “Do you know anything about a man your mother was supposed to be seeing over that weekend when this all took place? Maybe someone she met at a grocery store?”

  “A grocery store? No, I don’t think so.”

  “His name was probably Ben.”

  “No, that doesn’t sound familiar,” Ian said. “Do you think this guy had something to do with her… With whatever happened to her?”

  “I don’t know. Right now I’m just trying to put the pieces together.”

  “Okay. I don’t remember her mentioning any guy from a grocery store.” Someone yelled Ian’s name. He covered the phone and yelled a muffled reply. “Sorry,” he said back into the phone. “About this guy. I don’t know. It’s possible. My mom, well, she dated a lot. Different guys. After my father left, she was never the same. I don’t think she could trust men anymore. Not with her heart, anyway.”

  “I understand,” Lucianna said. “Was there anyone else you can think of that she was dating during that time period?”

  “Just one. A guy by the name of Sam Evans. He’s a plumber, works for a small company in town.”

  Lucianna jotted the last name onto her notepad. “Have you seen or heard from him since that weekend?”