Play Dead (12 page)

Read Play Dead Online

Authors: Harlan Coben

Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #Mystery Fiction, #Thrillers, #Boston (Mass.), #Murder, #Missing Persons, #Widows, #Impostors and Imposture, #Basketball Players, #Models (Persons), #Boston Celtics (Basketball Team), #26NEWBIE

There were others. Earl was here a lot. So was Clip Arnstein and Timmy Daniels, the backcourt player who had always thought of David as an older brother.

Laura put on a fabulous act when these visitors came to the door. She pretended to be strong and told them all she was doing just fine, that she was taking walks outside every day, that there was no reason to worry. In other words, she lied. She was not sure it was working, but anything was better than allowing people to stare at you with eyes filled with pity. That was something Laura could not handle.

'Whoa, will miracles never cease?'

Laura turned toward Serita. 'Excuse me?'

'The fans are on their feet! Laura is finally out of bed! And oh my, would you look at that? She's actually putting on something besides a nightgown and bathrobe.'

'Funny.'

'Are you going back to work. Say yes.'

'No.'

'Then where are you going?'

'To the house.'

Serita paused. 'Nah, let's do something else. Let's drive down by the Combat Zone and whistle at guys.'

'I'm going to the house.'

'Honey, are you sure?'

'I'm sure.'

'But why?'

'I have to clean up a few things.'

'It can wait.'

'No,' Laura replied, 'I don't think it can.'

'Then I'll go with you. I can be very helpful.'

'With cleaning? Don't make me laugh.'

'I'm very good at supervising.'

'You have to go to work, Serita. You have that big spread for International Health Spas today.'

'It can wait.'

'With the money they're paying you for those TV ads?'

'I said it can wait.'

'Let me be somewhat less subtle,' Laura said. 'I want to go alone.'

'Well, fuck you too.'

Laura chuckled sadly. 'You're a good friend.'

'The best.'

'But I'm taking advantage. I should move out.'

'No way. I need you here. You're my excuse to Earl.'

'You love him, you know.'

Serita put her hands on her hips. 'How many times do I have to tell you -- '

'I know, I know. He's just a good lay.'

'You got it. But he loves the spa commercials. He says seeing me all sweaty on Nautilus machines makes him hot.'

'I'm happy for you both.'

'Fuck you, too.'

Laura kissed her friend's cheek and left. She got into her car. As she drove, she tried to keep her mind blank, tried to concentrate on the road in front of her. But her mind would not do as she commanded. It kept coming back to David, always back to David, to the way he walked, to the way he held her as they slept, to the feel of his unshaven face against her skin when he kissed her.

David had changed her in so many ways, and yet now that he was gone, she knew that many of those changes would soon dissolve away. She remembered how wonderful it had been to discover each other, to learn of love together. It had taken a while. Love and trust did not come easily to either one of them.

During the second month of their relationship, Laura felt herself finally begin to let down her defenses and open up to him. Before that, she had been afraid of exposing herself to the devastating weapon of love, of being hurt in a way in which she could never recover. But on this cold December night, Laura realized that she and David were destined to be together. True, they had made no commitment to each other, made no pledges. But Laura knew. And now that she did, she wanted to see David, couldn't wait to be with him so that she could at long last tell him how she felt. But would she have the courage? Would she finally be able to say and hear words she had always dreamed about but never allowed herself to hope for? Probably not. Probably she was not ready. But then again, if you don't try . . .

She had been sitting at her desk, her leg shaking as it usually did. A happy, goofy smile, the smile of a woman starting to fall heavily for a man, kept inadvertently leaping upon her face. Laura psyched herself up, working up the nerve to go through with it. Finally, she reached for the phone, called David at the Garden, and invited him over for dinner this Friday.

'Are you cooking?' David asked.

'Of course.'

'Let me see if my Blue Cross is paid up.'

'Stop being a creep.'

He paused. 'I'd love to but . . .'

'But?'

'I can't on Friday. Can I take a raincheck?'

Disappointment gushed through her. 'Sure,' she managed.

'I have to go to this fundraiser.'

Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She mentally chastised herself for her behavior, for hoping that he would invite her to go with him to the fundraiser. It was just that she wanted to see him so much.

'Listen,' he continued, 'I have to get back to practice. I'll speak to you later.'

Laura heard the phone click. She waited for the dial tone to return, and then the annoying noise that tells you that your phone is off the hook followed. After another minute or two passed, she put the receiver back into its cradle.

He had not asked her to go with him.

Sleep became an infrequent visitor for Laura that Friday night. Why hadn't David invited her to the fundraiser? Didn't he need to see her too? Or was she rushing this whole thing too fast? After all, they had only been seeing each other for two months. Maybe he was not ready to make any commitments. Maybe he did not feel the same way she did.

Laura showered and dressed early Saturday morning. Needing something to take her mind off David, she headed into the office and started to wade through last month's financial statements. Earnings were up almost ten percent from the previous year, which was a full four percent better than Laura had anticipated. Content with that, she sat back and grabbed the Boston Globe. When she hit the society page, she found a photograph of David at the fundraiser.

With another woman.

Laura felt a hand reach into her chest and grab her heart. The mystery woman was a stunning, older blonde whom the Globe identified as Jennifer Van Delft. Ms Van Delft had her arm locked around a tuxedo-clad David, who was smiling like a lottery winner and described by the paper as Jennifer's 'escort.'

Escort. That son of a bitch.

Tears began to work their way into her eyes. She continued to stare at the picture. Why was she crying? What the hell was she getting so upset about? Had she really been stupid enough to think that there was something special between them, that David cared for her more than his other girlfriends?

There was a knock on the door. Laura moved quickly. She folded the newspaper, wiped away her tears, smoothed her Svengali business suit, and regained her composure. 'Come in.'

David came through the door with a smile, not unlike that in the photograph, smeared across his handsome face. 'Good morning, beautiful.'

'Hello,' she said coldly.

David crossed the room to kiss her but she turned away, leaving him only room to buss her cheek. 'Something wrong?' he asked.

'Nothing. I'm just busy that's all. You should have called first.'

'I thought maybe we could grab some lunch together.' Laura shook her head. 'Too much work.'

Puzzled, David watched her go back to work as though he weren't there. 'You sure nothing is wrong?'

'Positive.'

As he shrugged, David noticed the Boston Globe sitting on her desk. A knowing smile came to him. 'Does that upset you?' he asked, pointing at the newspaper.

She looked up at the headline. 'What? The fire in South Boston?'

'I'm talking about the picture of me inside.'

'Why on earth would that upset me?' she asked. 'I don't own you. You're free to do as you please.'

He chuckled lightly. 'I see.'

'But I do think we should mellow out for a while,' she continued.

'You do?'

'Yes.'

'Can I ask why?'

'This relationship is getting way out of hand.'

David sat down in the chair in front of her desk. 'So you want something a little more relaxed -- one of those flexible relationships.'

'Flexible relationships?'

'Right. We make no commitments. We see other people -- all that kind of stuff.'

Laura's leg would not stop shaking. 'Yes.'

'I see,' he continued. 'So you're not upset that I was at the fundraiser with another woman?'

'Me?' she replied. 'Not at all.'

'But, Laura, suppose I don't like your flexible relationship idea. Suppose I don't want to see other women. Suppose,' David went on, 'I told you that for the first time in my life I am in love.'

Her heart soared and fell at the same time. She swallowed and looked away from his piercing gaze. 'Then I would probably say that you're not ready for that type of relationship.'

'Witness last night?' he asked.

She nodded, her wet eyes still afraid to move toward his.

'Laura?'

She said nothing.

'Look at me, Laura.'

With a struggle, her head rose, her eyes meeting his.

'The woman in the picture was Jennifer Van Delft. Her husband is Mr Nelson Van Delft. Does that name ring a bell to you?'

It did, but Laura could not place it. She shook her head.

'He is the principal owner of the Celtics. Every year, his wife asks me to help her with the muscular dystrophy fundraiser. Her husband was out of town. He asked me to escort her. That was all.'

Laura said nothing.

'But let me go on so I can remove any doubt,' he continued. 'Let me say something I've never said to another woman. I love you. I love you more than anything in the world.'

Surges of emotion ricocheted through her, but she still could not get her mouth to open.

'No response, Laura? Don't you understand what I'm saying? I love you, Laura. I don't want to be away from you.'

Her leg was going like a jack-hammer. It can't be true. It has to be a trick. 'I . . . I'm really busy right now, David. Can't we discuss this later?'

David shook his head. 'I still can't get through to you, can I? I thought I had. I really thought I had. But you're still that fat little girl who can't handle being the awesome beauty. You're still that fat kid who's afraid to lose control of a situation, afraid to let someone else in because maybe you'll get hurt again. But what about now, Laura? Are you still in control?'

She tried to answer. She really wanted to answer . . . His face reddened, his tone getting louder. 'Nobody can truly love you, isn't that right, Laura? You think your beauty blinds me to the real you, that someone can only love the outside image of you, but that's bullshit. Are you really that insecure, Laura? Do you really think that I don't know what that's all about, that I haven't met a hundred beautiful women who just wanted me because I could stuff a ball through a hoop?'

He stopped. His breathing came in quick spurts. He shook his head, anger seething through him, and headed for the door.

'David?'

His hand moved away from the knob but he did not face her. 'What?'

Again, there was no answer. David turned toward her and saw that she was crying. 'Laura?'

The tears came faster now. 'I'm so scared.'

'Laura . . .'

'I'm scared about how I feel,' she said, her chest heaving from her sobs. 'About how much I love you.'

He quickly moved back toward her and took her in his arms. 'So am I, baby. So am I.'

'Please don't hurt me, David.'

'Never, my love. I promise.'

Never, my love. I promise. The words echoed from the past into the present.

'Please don't hurt me, David.'

'Never, my love. I promise.'

But David had lied. He had left her and that, after all, was what she had always feared most. Laura pushed his face from her mind and continued driving, concentrating as hard as she could on the road in front of her. Fifteen minutes later, she put on her blinker and turned.

The house.

Why had she come here? Why did she do this to herself? She felt tears start to come. Why? It was just a building. A building shouldn't make her cry. It was just a secluded three-bedroom house with two and a half baths. Nothing to cry about unless you thought about all the shattered dreams that lay crumbled on its floors.

She got out of the car and headed to the front door. It was another beautiful summer day, the humidity not as bad as it could sometimes get. She strolled up the path, took out her key . . .

The front door was unlocked.

She knew that David had locked it before they eloped. She turned the knob, walked in, turned off the alarm. Well if the alarm was still set, then how . . . ? She dismissed the worry with a weary shrug. If they had been robbed, she really did not care very much. She stepped into the living room. The house was still, the silence swallowing her. The room was bare, but of course that was how it had been before they left.

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