Authors: Marla Madison
The next morning, TJ staggered out of bed, woozy from the powerful sedative Eric had given her. She pulled on a robe and walked out to the kitchen.
Lisa looked up and rose from her chair. “TJ, how are you? Let me get you something to eat.”
“Nah, just coffee. Still a little foggy. Anything from Maggie yet?”
“Just that the forensic unit did go over Jeff’s house. We won’t know anything for a few days.”
TJ looked around to make sure Teresa and Tina weren’t anywhere nearby and took a chair at the island. “I’m gonna kill Wilson, that son-of-a-bitch!”
Lisa poured her a cup of coffee.
Listlessly, TJ clicked on the TV, wondering if Jeff’s death would be on the news. It opened on a local station where the weather girl, wearing a fur-trimmed parka, stood in front of a giant drift of snow, describing what they were in for during the week—more snow, alternating with sub-zero temperatures.
TJ couldn’t stop thinking about Jeff: his smile, his affectionate nature, and his warm embrace. Tears welled up in her eyes, remembering their night together. In the middle of a moronic commercial portraying diapered toddlers discussing the stock market, the station broke in with a special announcement.
A second newswoman stood in a setting of new-fallen snow, stiff tendrils of her auburn hair fluttering in the frigid breeze, an upended black snowmobile in the background. She gripped a microphone in her mittened hands.
“Early this morning, on a snowmobile trail in Calumet County, the body of a man identified as James Wilson was discovered shot, his body lying near this overturned snowmobile believed to belong to the victim. Mr. Wilson was employed as a computer crimes consultant for the Milwaukee Police Department.”
Dazed, TJ turned up the volume and shuffled from the island into the living room where she stood, mouth agape, in front of the giant screen.
The reporter continued. “An early snowmobiler discovered the scene and dialed 911. Calumet County Sherriff’s Department is examining the area and has not made a statement. The Milwaukee Police Department will be reporting later this morning and that press release will be covered by this station.” They broke to an interview with the man who’d found the body, a young man with a nervous facial tic and two days’ growth of stubble.
TJ turned around to see if Lisa had seen the announcement. She was standing at the stove facing TJ, a wooden spatula gripped in her hand.
Outraged, TJ asked, “Did you fucking hear that? The fucker couldn’t even wait for me to destroy his ugly freakin’ ass!” She puzzled over an odd look on Lisa’s face, one she couldn’t read. If TJ hadn’t known the rest of them had been gathered here at Eric’s the night before, she would have suspected they’d gotten rid of the bastard themselves. She mumbled, “At least the son-of-a-bitch is dead—can’t hurt anybody no more.” TJ stepped in front of Lisa, who hadn’t spoken. “Leaves us off the hook—that what you’re thinking?”
“It may not be as satisfying, but I’m relieved that we didn’t have to go through with it. Aren’t you?”
“Maybe.” But TJ felt like she’d been robbed. Brimming with hate, she wasn’t ready to share Lisa’s relief.
The doorbell rang just as Shannon entered the room dressed in a navy-blue sweat suit over bunny slippers, her eyes squinty from sleep. She looked from TJ to Lisa. “What’s going on? Feels kind of intense in here.” When neither of them answered, she said, “I’ll get the door.”
When Shannon returned with Richard Conlin, Lisa was making more coffee, while TJ sat at the island, scowling.
Richard looked at TJ. “Are you okay?”
TJ snarled, “What do you think?”
Lisa broke the silence that ensued. “Do you want some breakfast? Teresa always makes enough for a crowd.”
Richard asked for coffee and sat across from TJ. “I’m glad the three of you are here. I have a question for you.”
TJ looked over at him with an eyebrow raised, her dark look replaced with curiosity. What was he doing here?
“Have you heard the news about James Wilson being shot?”
TJ snorted. “Was just on the TV. Who’da thought?”
Shannon dropped a dish. “What?”
Richard brought her up to speed on James Wilson’s death. “I’ve been assigned to investigate his murder. I’m a skeptic when it comes to coincidence. His murder, added to your suspicions about Jeff’s suicide and what happened out here to Danielle Ventura, seems like too many deaths not to be related. We’re even reopening Marian Bergman’s suicide.”
“Well, maybe if you and the rest of the MPD would have gotten off your lazy ass, some of these folks would still be kickin’.”
Richard sipped his coffee, ignoring TJ’s insult. “I’m thinking maybe after we met here last month, James might have started some inquiries of his own into the disappearances. He could have stirred something up and someone decided to stop him.
“So what I’d like to know is if he contacted any of you to discuss the case after we met with the profiler.”
TJ sniped, “You gotta be kidding me. Like that asshole would discuss anything with us.”
Lisa broke in. “No, we never heard from him.”
“Well, thanks, ladies. I’m going up to Fond du Lac from here. I’ll be back if I need to talk to you again.” He stopped to kiss TJ on the cheek, and turned to leave.
After Shannon left the room, TJ said, “Shee-it. He thinks the ‘killer’ did Wilson? How off-base is that?” She snickered and looked at Lisa, watching as Lisa tidied up the kitchen. What was different about her this morning? Something. Maybe she was just relieved that it was over. “So what do you think? Who beat us to him?”
Lisa kept stacking the dishwasher. “Didn’t you say he also did private consulting? He might have had some shady business dealings that caught up with him.”
TJ wasn’t sure what to make of it. Lisa still wasn’t looking her in the eye. But then things were so seriously fucked up it was hard to tell what anyone was thinking. “Never heard any of his business dealings were on the dark side. But with him, anything’s possible.”
Lisa sat down. “Think about it. Any one of his victim’s relatives could have found out about him—decided to take the law into their own hands.”
“I s’pose. Still wish we coulda’ offed the bastard.”
Lisa winced.
TJ didn’t miss Lisa’s expression. What she avoiding—and why?
TJ put her head in her hands. If the pain of losing Jeff weren’t bad enough, now she’d have to worry about the cops coming after them. Richard had an agenda—and it wasn’t just Wilson.
Lisa sat at her desk doodling, feeling at loose ends. Maybe she shouldn’t have cancelled her appointments. Her group was meeting tonight; that would take her mind off things for a couple hours. Catching up on paperwork did little to squelch the distractions in her head, and she was about to go across the street for a sandwich when the door from the parking lot flew open.
TJ burst into the room wearing faded jeans under a stressed, gray hoodie, her dark curls matted. Despite the cold, a navy pea coat hung unbuttoned from her thin shoulders. Dark circles shadowed her blue eyes, which were streaked with tiny red threads of pain. She snarled, “You did it.”
Lisa’s pulse stopped. “Did what?”
TJ chuckled as she moved closer to Lisa’s desk. “You’re good. Anyone but me might fall for that.”
“What’s this about? I thought you were spending the day with Janeen.”
“Cut the crap. I’m not in the mood for screwing around. You didn’t show up at Eric’s until ten last night—it wasn’t too hard to put together.”
TJ had talked to someone. Shannon? Eric? There was no avoiding it, it didn’t matter how she’d heard it. “I was going to tell you.”
“When? When it fucking snows in hell? I thought we had a deal.”
Lisa walked out from behind the desk. “We did. But things changed with Jeff. You know that. I didn’t want to tell you yet—you were so upset. I wanted you to have an alibi and I believed it would be simpler if you didn’t have anything to hide.”
“An alibi? No one knows we had a reason to take out the creep.”
Lisa rested her hands on TJ’s arms. “They will—it’s only a matter of time.”
TJ walked over to a chair and flopped into it. “Yeah. Seems like it has to come out, but I dunno, the bastard covers his tracks pretty good. They won’t believe he was our killer unless the bodies turn up.” She shifted in her seat. “Now what? Do we need to be worried about anything?”
“You mean did anyone see me? I don’t think so. But there was someone chopping wood—it looked like a kid. He might have seen me driving away from the trail.”
She relayed everything about that afternoon, including what Bernstein had told her, that in his opinion, Jeff hadn’t been suicidal. After what she’d done to Wilson, a breach of confidentiality involving a person already deceased, didn’t seem important.
When she finished, TJ agreed there was nothing the kid could have seen, nothing linking them to the shooting. She looked at Lisa. “I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had the cajones.”
“I was just lucky nothing went wrong. It had been so long since I shot a rifle, I wasn’t even sure my aim was still on.”
“You know this is gonna catch up with you, right? Now you’re all full of yourself for gettin’ it done. You’ll feel like crap when the high wears off.”
Lisa swallowed, her mouth dry. “I know. I have an appointment next week with Bernstein.”
“You can’t see a shrink! He’d have to turn you in.”
“No. Not unless I confessed I was going to kill someone—or was a danger to myself.” Lisa rubbed her face. “I feel bad that we can’t tell Eric and Shannon. I hate pretending we still have to worry about our safety.”
“We don’t have to pretend. Think about it. We could tell them—no, I’d tell them—that I suspected Wilson. Then after Geo Turner got me the report on him I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t have hard proof that it meant anything.”
“They might buy that. There’s so much to think about. And we haven’t even had to face Jeff’s funeral yet. Do you think they’ll ever have conclusive proof that he didn’t commit suicide?”
“He didn’t. We know that.”
“Is Janeen waiting for you?”
“Nah. She took me to get my car. Had to get away from her. You know how it goes—she’d smother me with good intentions and all that shit.”
Lisa smiled. TJ was sounding better.
The medical examiner’s report pronounced Jeff Denison’s cause of death asphyxia by hanging, manner undetermined.
Positive in her own mind that Jeff had been murdered, TJ had mixed feelings about its revelation. Except for the fact that the missing women’s bodies might never be found, it would be in her and Lisa’s best interest if Wilson’s career as a murderer never came to light. It wouldn’t be fair to the families of the women though, if their bodies were never found—or to Eric if he were never able to prove his innocence.
Since Wilson had worked for the MPD, Richard would be determined to find the person who killed him. TJ knew that if the asshole had left even the tiniest clue linking him to the missing women, Richard would find it.
The service was held in a tiny church just outside of West Bend, a small town northwest of Milwaukee where Jeff had grown up.
Jeff’s face remained etched in TJ’s thoughts. She was glad he wasn’t on display, a ritual she detested. She wouldn’t have wanted to see a funeral director’s attempt to make him appear asleep, postured in a coffin, his hands crossed on his chest. He would have been nothing like the real Jeff, who tossed about in his sleep, hogged the bed, and clung to her. TJ couldn’t hold back her tears when the organist played “Amazing Grace,” a song that never failed to tweak her emotions.
Jon Engels stood by her side along with the members of the group. Eric, their protector, was experiencing Jeff’s death as a personal failure. He stood on her left, devoid of emotion, but she knew he was grieving. TJ knew better than to try and convince him it wasn’t his fault.
After the service, the gargantuan selection of food on display at Jeff’s parents’ house was another custom TJ abhorred. There must be a lot of people who were comforted by food when they were sad, but TJ, who normally had a nonstop appetite, thought it barbaric. The sight of all that food made her queasy.
Jon appeared at her side. “Nothing appeal to you?”
She shrugged. “Just don’t get the food after the funeral thing.”
“I never have either, but I suppose bringing food is something people can do for the family other than just ask, ‘Is there anything we can do?’”
“I guess.”
“TJ, I have to tell you something. Let’s go out in the sunroom for a minute.”
Unlike its name, the sunroom’s atmosphere was chilly from its expanse of windows facing the frigid, January wind.
Jon turned to her. “I know this is going to be unexpected, so I’ll come right out and tell you. Jeff made you beneficiary of his life insurance.”
“What?”
“I advised him to change his will after Jamie disappeared. Jeff was too upset to think about practical matters. Since I drafted his will and handled his legal concerns, I reminded him to do it. Most people aren’t aware how complicated an estate can get if everything isn’t in order. So we changed his will and his life insurance. He left everything else to his parents on the off chance Jamie ever reappeared.”
Speechless, TJ stared at him, her eyes wide.
“Jeff had deep feelings for you, TJ. You saved him from himself when he was overcome with grief. He said if anything happened to him, he’d want you to be able to start that business you told him about.”
TJ didn’t know what to say. Jeff had thought enough of her to do this, arrange this gift for her even before the night they’d made love.
“This is so . . .”
Jon smiled. “Of course it is.”
“Can I turn it down?”
“He wanted you to have it, TJ. The insurance company will automatically send it to you. It’ll take a few weeks, so you’ll have time to decide what you want to do with it.”
When she started to sob, Jon reached out and took her in his arms, his large body dwarfing her. Lisa appeared at her side followed by Eric and Shannon. The group—ever protective. What would happen to their camaraderie if everyone knew what had really happened to James Wilson?