Ned shouted, “If you wanted to make me comfortable, you shouldn’t have chained my arms and legs to the floor, you son of a bitch!”
“I can’t fault you for being upset,” I said, “but I need to move things along. I have it on good authority that you’re selling drugs.”
Ned said, “I know your daughter, Kimberly. I’ve filled prescriptions for her. But I would never sell her any illicit drugs. You can ask her, if you don’t believe me.”
“I’m not talking about Kimberly,” I said. Then I thought of something completely off the subject.
“Is Kimberly on the pill?”
Ned thought for a minute. “Not that I’m aware,” he said.
I looked at him a long moment before saying, “It’s really none of my business, but that’s good to know.”
“Sir,” Ned said, “I do sell drugs, I’m a pharmacist. But I only sell prescription drugs.”
I kept my voice steady. “My daughter’s been dating a kid named Charlie Beck. Charlie’s twenty-one, his dad’s a local attorney, Jerry Beck. You know this kid Charlie?”
“No sir, I honestly don’t.” Ned said through gritted teeth as he tried to control his anger.
“Charlie’s a good-looking kid, really popular with the ladies. What I’m saying, Ned: he’s a player.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir, I truly am. But I’ve got a wife. She must be worried sick about me. Please let me go! I swear I never did anything to hurt your daughter. Please! I don’t know what you’re talking about with the drug thing, I swear to God.”
“You see, Ned, this is why I had to chain you up. It’s why I might have to kill you.”
“Wh-what?”
Even after all this you’re still not being honest with me.”
“How can you say that?” he wailed.
“Tell me about your cousin.”
“My cousin?”
“Bickham Wright.”
Ned’s face fell. “Oh, shit,” he said.
“Oh, shit indeed,” I said. “Look, I’m going to save you some trouble. I already know the facts. I’m just looking for details.”
I took a syringe from my pocket, removed the cap, and tapped the plunger to remove any trapped air.
Ned’s eyes went wide. “What’s in that?”
“It’s a lethal dose.”
“Okay, stop. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Thought you might.”
“I don’t personally know any of the women they drugged,” Ned said. “But I know some of the names. I’m positive they didn’t drug Kimberly.”
“Why’s that?”
“She’s underage.”
There was something in his eyes.
“What aren’t you telling me, Ned?”
He closed his eyes and winced. When he spoke his bottom lip quivered. “I know they killed one of the women. Erica Chastain.”
“Who killed her?”
“Bickham and Charlie.”
“What did they do with the body?”
“Buried it somewhere in the hills, where they like to hunt.”
They told you all this?
“When Erica went missing, there was an investigation. A lot of people remembered seeing her at the Grantline. I told Bickham it was over.”
“You cut him off ?”
“Yes sir.”
“But he threatened you.”
“Bickham said if they got caught they’d all rat me out. I was in it deep enough to do serious time. I’d lose everything.”
“They drugged a lot of girls, didn’t they?”
Ned nodded.
“And all those girls have something in common. You know what it is?”
“I’m not sure what you—”
“They’ve all got fathers, Ned.”
Ned paused before speaking. When he did, his voice was heavy with regret. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I could…” His voice trailed off . He started to cry, then swallowed the back the tears. “I’m…I’m truly sorry.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.
Then, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, Ned said, “So…what happens now?”
“Now you tell me exactly how it works. Leave nothing out. You can start with the names.”
“Names?”
“The names of the members.”
“The members of—”
“That’s right, Ned. The members of Fuck Club.”
Ned winced. “I never meant for this to happen,” he said. “They—”
“But it did happen, Ned. And you let it happen.”
“Okay,” Ned said. His voice was weary. He’d given up the fight. “I’ll tell you everything I know. And then?”
“And then I’ll end your suffering.” I paused a minute, then thought of something. “You have an insurance policy?”
Ned smiled ruefully. “Cashed it in. See, this whole thing was always about needing more money.”
“How much insurance?”
“The death benefi t would have been a hundred thousand.”
I nodded. “Tell me what I want to know, I’ll make sure your wife gets the hundred grand.”
“You mean—”
“Yeah. I’ll cover it.”
“Anita.”
“Excuse me?”
“My wife. Her name’s Anita.”
Chapter 10
When I look at her I am reminded of all that matters.
It was early afternoon and I was back in North Bergen, where Kathleen rents half a duplex that was so small, I could hear her shower running when I came in the front door. I crossed the living room to the single bedroom and noticed the pile of clothes on the bed that Kathleen had laid out for the trip. The bedroom was twice the size of a standard prison cell, which made it large enough to hold a queen bed, an end table, and a medium dresser. On the far wall was a door that led to the bathroom. I pushed it open a few inches and peeked inside. The shower door was made of ribbed glass. The steam from her shower had fogged it up pretty well, but I could make out enough of her form to get my heart pumping. I silently backed up and closed the door so I wouldn’t startle her.
When she shut off the shower I called her name. A moment later she opened the door, wrapped in a towel. She glided through the bedroom, into the hall, and adjusted the thermostat to a cooler setting. Then she jumped into the bed where I’d been waiting.
Afterward, she slipped out of bed and I propped my head on one arm as I always did, to enjoy the view of her backside. Kathleen lifted her arms high above her head and stretched, arching her back, totally unaware of her sensuality. It was so Kathleen, the way she could turn a simple activity into a defining moment. Still with her back to me, she stepped into her panties and wriggled her lower body just enough to get them over her hips.
She went back to the bathroom and started drying her hair and I tried to decide what the best thing about her was. And gave up. In a word, she was spectacular, and I was confident that everyone who met her at Sal’s party that night would instantly fall in love with her.
As I watched her working her hair, I thought about how completely comfortable I felt in her presence. And that’s when it hit me: in the full hour I’d been home, we hadn’t felt the need to exchange a single word.
By four o’clock we were wheels up in the Lear 45 I’d leased from Sensory Resources, the government agency headed by my facilitator, Darwin. I can usually wrangle free use of the agency jets, even when it’s not agency business, but this flight was taking us to the birthday party of a known criminal, and Darwin wasn’t taking any chances being linked to that.
At around six p.m. we checked into my favorite hotel in Cincinnati, the Cincinnatian. While I hit the mini bar, Kathleen began stripping.
“Again?” I said.
“Relax, Tiger. I’m just taking my real shower.”
“What’s wrong with the shower you took a few hours ago?”
“That was for you. This one’s for the party.”
Chapter 11