Authors: Leslie Dana Kirby
(Friday, August 26)
Eva escorted Lauren to the press box, where they watched the players provide post-game interviews. Jake conveyed exactly the right combination of enthusiasm and humility. The questions continued for over an hour as the room crackled with the collective excitement of the perfect game along with the Diamondbacks' obvious trajectory toward the playoffs.
Players began drifting in from the locker room in twos and threes, collecting their wives or girlfriends as they headed home. Because he had to ice down his arm, Jake was the last player to emerge. Still more excited than a kid on Christmas, he grabbed Lauren and swung her around in a circle before they headed toward the parking lot.
The team lot was now empty except for the limousine. Jake explained he had caught a ride to the game with another player, so the two of them could ride together afterwards. He waved the chauffeur back, holding the door for Lauren before bounding in behind her. He grabbed a bottle of Dom Pérignon from the refrigerator, opened the moon roof, and popped the cork into the steamy night air. He poured two flutes and held his up in toast. Lauren clinked her glass to his. “To your perfect game.”
“To the perfect evening,” he smiled. The bubbles tickled Lauren's nose as she took a long indulgent drink.
They enjoyed a pleasant mixture of warm night breeze and pressurized air conditioning as they rehashed the game. Jake was impressed by Lauren's ability to discern between a knuckleball and a slider. They had been talking nonstop for about ten minutes before Lauren realized they were heading in the wrong direction.
She began pushing buttons to try to get the driver's attention. “I need him to take me back to my place.”
“I use this car service quite a bit. They probably assumed I was headed home. You can stay over. I can give you a ride in the morning.”
“Or the driver can just take me home after dropping you off.”
“What? You can't stomach another night at my house?” he mock-pouted. “Are you afraid I'll try to force-feed you chocolate ice cream?”
Feeling the effects of the alcohol, Lauren giggled more loudly than the joke deserved. “I don't want to put you out. Why can't the driver just drop me off first?”
“Why can't you just crash at my place?”
“Because I have to work at six tomorrow morning.”
Disappointment flashed across Jake's face before he made a valiant effort to disguise it with a smile. He pressed the intercom button, “George, we need to drop my friend at her place first.”
“Of course, sir. The address?”
Lauren gave her apartment address and the limousine slowly rounded in a graceful U-turn.
(Saturday, August 27)
The following morning, Lauren sprinted into the ER just as the current cases were being briefed by the outgoing interns. Stone stood nearby observing and asking pointed questions. Lauren attempted to apologize for her tardy arrival, but Stone simply stuck up his hand in a stop motion. Lauren redirected her attention to Emily, who was describing a severely obese patient who had presented to the ER with shortness of breath.
“Dr. Rose, why don't you have a listen to Ms. Dewell's lungs and tell us what you think?”
Putting Lauren on the spot was Stone's method of chastising her for being late. Using her stethoscope, Lauren listened to breath sounds in the enormous woman's chest.
“I hear a strange crinkling sound,” she said tentatively.
“Crinkling?” Stone stepped forward with his own stethoscope to take a listen. He looked perplexed. “Wait a minute.” He reached into the folds of the woman's abdominal fat, pulling out a Twinkie still wrapped in cellophane. “Here's the source of your crinkling sound.”
“Hey, I've been wondering where that went,” the patient said. The interns watched in disbelief as she tore open the wrapper and devoured the Twinkie.
Work occupied Lauren's full attention. At around three-fifteen her cell phone vibrated in her pocket, alerting her to an incoming text message. It was from Jake:
Important game tonight. Please come. You are my good luck charm.
She was not on-call that evening but she was well aware that she should spend the evening at home to catch up on her sleep. She texted back:
I'll be there.
He replied:
Terrific news. I will leave a suite ticket for you at Will Call.
At Chase Field that evening, Lauren watched the game with single-minded enthusiasm. Having pitched the entire game the night before, Jake was not playing this evening, but there was still plenty of excited chatter about his momentous achievement the previous night.
The Diamondbacks beat the Dodgers three to two. Observing the postgame interviews with some of the other women, Lauren imagined the life of a baseball wife: traveling to all the games, staying in fancy hotels, and helping the hubby celebrate the wins.
Jake bounded out of the locker room, freshly showered and smelling of bubble gum. He greeted Lauren with a big smile. Lauren maintained an appropriate distance though she longed to throw her arms around him. The Diamondbacks were heading to the playoffs.
As they walked toward the parking lot, Jake said, “Look, I've been thinking about this a lot and wondering if it's wrong for us to spend time together. I miss Liz like crazy and there's nothing I wouldn't do to bring her back, but she's gone and⦔ he paused, “â¦I know she would want us to move on with our lives. As much as I loved her and you loved her, it makes sense for us to tackle this thing together, don't you think?”
Tears streamed down Lauren's cheeks as Jake said all of the same things she had been saying to herself. She nodded.
He continued, “I really care about you, but who knows how the media might spin this. The last thing we need is to give people more reasons to whisper about us. So, we should keep our friendship on the down-low for a little while.”
Lauren nodded, relieved that he agreed with her.
He walked her to her car and gave her a long hug before holding the door open for her. “Drive carefully.”
(September 1â28)
The weather finally began to turn, offering relief from the unrelenting heat that had tortured Phoenix since May.
Outside of her long shifts at the hospital, frequent calls to the detectives for updates, and her regular visits to Rose-ma, Lauren spent time with Jake. She attended as many of his games as she could fit in around her crazy work schedule. He began purchasing general admission tickets for her, concerned about attracting unwanted media attention if she repeatedly showed up in the VIP suite. The seats were always top-dollar and Lauren felt more comfortable when she didn't have to make idle chitchat with the players' wives. Afterwards, they often met up at his house where they would rehash the game highlights. Jake gave Lauren a key to his house so she could come and visit discreetly.
On September twenty-eighth, Lauren's phone vibrated all day with birthday texts from friends and Rose-ma called to remind her of their plans for a birthday celebration lunch on her next day off. But Lauren did not hear from Jake. Liz had always commemorated Lauren's birthday with carefully selected gifts signed from both Liz and Jake. She was reminded now that Jake probably had little to nothing to do with those. He might not even remember Lauren's birth date. She decided to let it slide, not wanting to put undue pressure on him.
She did receive a brief text message from him toward the end of her shift that read,
Are you still coming over for dinner tonight?
Although there was no mention of her birthday, time spent with Jake was gift enough.
When she arrived at Jake's house, dinner was already on the table. Halfway through dinner, Jake reached over and pulled a piece of glittery confetti from Lauren's hair. He raised one eyebrow.
“The other interns trashed my locker today. I'm going to be finding that stuff for weeks.”
Jake smiled and pulled a small black velvet box from his pocket. “Did you think I forgot your birthday?”
“Jake, you didn't have to⦔
“That's what everybody says and nobody really means it. Now open it.”
Lauren did as she was told. Nestled inside was a spectacular ring. The large diamond was set in a vintage platinum setting flanked by several smaller diamonds on both sides. A diamond ring? Lauren was speechless.
“Liz saw it in an antique store and had to have it. The problem was she thought it was too special to actually wear. So you have to promise me that you'll wear it more often than she did.”
“It's gorgeous. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “Thank you.”
“I know she would have wanted you to have it, so that's a gift from both Liz and me.”
Lauren took a deep breath and silently wished the investigators would soon solve her sister's murder. She wanted justice for Liz, but she also couldn't help wondering how her relationship with Jake would evolve when they were no longer living under the oppressive spotlight of suspicion. Then she blew out all twenty-six candles.
(Thursday, September 29)
On the evening after Lauren's birthday, LaRhonda relieved Lauren shortly before midnight.
“There you are. I've been worrying 'bout you. You okay?”
“I'm okay. It's been busy. There's a drug overdose in Bay One, a dog bite in Bay Two, and a guy with third-degree burns in Bay Four. He was trying to impress the ladies with his pain tolerance skills using a lit cigarette. The ladies didn't come in with him, so I'm guessing they weren't that impressed.”
“I ain't asking 'bout work. I'm asking 'bout you. Are
you
okay?”
“Me? I'm fine. Running on fumes as usual. Why? Are my eyes bloodshot again? Maybe I could moonlight as a vampire.”
“You haven't heard yet, have you?”
“Heard what?”
“Come with me.” LaRhonda led Lauren to the doctor's lounge. Kevin and Emily were there, rummaging through their lockers. They eyeballed Lauren uncomfortably, indicating they also knew something Lauren did not yet know.
A thirty-inch television was mounted on the wall. Lauren had never seen anybody watching it, but LaRhonda turned it on now. A late-night talk show host was interviewing Madonna. LaRhonda changed the channel to CNN.
“What is it?” Lauren asked anxiously.
LaRhonda shook her head and muttered, “Wait for it.”
They watched several news clips together, nobody saying a word. A picture of Liz appeared on the screen. The news anchor launched into the story in tones far too perky for the issue at hand. “Now an update about the homicide of Elizabeth Wakefield, the wife of Diamondbacks pitcher Jake Wakefield. Elizabeth was killed in her home on July twenty-third in what was initially a suspected burglary. Elizabeth's younger sister, Lauren Rose, has now been identified as a prime suspect.” Lauren's yearbook photograph from her college days now materialized on the screen. “Sources tell us that money was the probable motive for the killing as Rose was recently named as the sole beneficiary of Elizabeth Wakefield's million-dollar life insurance policy. Rose has hired high-priced attorney, Dennis Hopkins, best known for defending death penalty cases. These recent developments lead many to speculate that Lauren Rose will soon be charged with the crime. And now, a more lighthearted story, a Japanese woman has eaten a record-breaking number of chicken wings⦔
The others in the room looked at Lauren uncomfortably, clearly not knowing what to say. After a few beats, Kevin took an awkward stab at it. “You can't believe everything you hear on the news. I'm sure the police know what they're doing. Everything is going to be oâ”
“Screw that!” LaRhonda interrupted. “You better call that high-priced lawyer of yours and make sure he is earning all that money you is payin' him.”
It was now well after normal business operating hours. Lauren was wondering if this was ample justification to call Dennis on his personal cell, when her own phone vibrated in her scrubs pocket.
“Have you seen the news this evening?” Dennis asked her without any preliminary pleasantries.
“Yes. Just now. What does it mean?”
“It means⦔ he drawled, “â¦that our airtight case just sprang a major leak.”
(Friday, September 30)
For the first time since moving to Phoenix, Lauren detected a slight chill in the air during her morning run. She was not scheduled to work that day and had plans to go to Jake's first playoff game against the Braves later that afternoon.
Several reporters were camped outside of her apartment, bombarding her with questions when she emerged from her apartment. She offered a courtesy “No comment” and lost them as she sprinted toward the running path. She returned from a different direction, eluding detection until she was ascending her outdoor staircase. The reporters could not legally enter her stairwell without her permission.
Hoping to glean more information about the investigation, Lauren Googled her own name. She had many more hits than she had just a few weeks previously, the newest stories all identifying her as a suspect in Liz's murder. Lauren was reading through them when she was interrupted by a knock at her door.
She opened the door to Detective Wallace along with several other men she did not recognize.
“Lauren Rose,” Wallace said without preamble. “We have a warrant to search these premises. Here's a copy of the warrant for your records.”
Lauren quickly perused the document. It was written in legalese. “I'd like an opportunity to have my attorney review this.”
Detective Wallace nodded. “You may contact your attorney, but the search will commence immediately. You may observe, but any interference with the searching officers will result in an arrest for violation of court order, is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“I need my cell phone from my bedroom so I can call my lawyer,” Lauren directed to Wallace, who was already issuing instructions to the officers queued up on her front stoop.
“Boyd will accompany you to make that one call. Then we'll be taking your cell phone into evidence.”
As if on cue, Boyd stepped forward from the crowd of officers. He smiled warmly as if they were meeting at a cocktail party.
Lauren telephoned Dennis, who advised her to say nothing until he arrived. Lauren handed her phone to Boyd. They stood awkwardly together in the kitchen while the other officers donned latex gloves and began systematically uprooting her home.
Finally, Boyd said, “You know, we could clear up a lot of things if you'd just talk to us, but your lawyer keeps shutting us down.”
Lauren knew she was not supposed to respond, but she snapped. “Really? I tried cooperating with you guys and you didn't believe me.”
“I believed you. I still do.”
“You really believe me? Or have you just been cast in the role of good cop today?”
He looked her directly in the eyes. “I really believe you.”
Lauren caught herself and said nothing further, silently wondering if he were being truthful.
Dennis' offices were fifteen minutes away, but he arrived in less than ten. He quickly scanned Lauren's copy of the search warrant. Then he drawled casually to Boyd, “I'm afraid I'm gonna have to ask you boys to cease and desist this search.”
“Why's that?”
“Because you've executed the warrant on the wrong location. Says here this search warrant is valid for Unit D and this here is Unit C.”
“You're kidding.” A look of immediate worry developed on Boyd's face.
“Oh, I don't kid when I have an innocent client being intimidated and harassed. So pack up your little fishing expedition and take it on back to the judge.”
Boyd quickly peeked outside the front stoop to check Lauren's unit number and then hurried off to find Detective Wallace.
Dennis smiled broadly at Lauren. “Beautiful morning, isn't it?”
“What now?” Lauren asked.
“It won't take 'em long to get a new search warrant, but it will give us a little time to chat first.”
From the recesses of her apartment, Lauren heard Detective Wallace explode. “Are you fucking kidding me? I'm going to have somebody's head on a platter by lunchtime.” Wallace stormed around the corner into the small dining area where Lauren and Dennis were standing. The searching officers filed out the front door and stomped down the stairwell.
“Miss Rose.” Detective Wallace addressed her as if Dennis was not there. His face was red and splotchy. “We need to correct a minor clerical error before we can continue our search. May I please have your copy of the warrant back so we can get this rectified?”
“I'm afraid this copy has already been issued to the resident,” Dennis answered, deliberately folding the warrant and tucking it into his front suit pocket. “She's entitled to keep it for her records.”
“As you've already pointed out, it hasn't been served to the resident of the proper apartment unit.”
Dennis shook his head. “I can certainly understand why you'd want this here warrant back. It's quite an embarrassing error, isn't it? However, this copy was served in good faith to my client and I must advise her to exercise her legal right to keep it. You see, even though she is innocent of any involvement in her sister's murder, you appear intent upon implicating her. As the attorney who has pledged to defend her, I must begin collecting evidence for a vigorous defense.”
“Dennis,” Lauren said. “Can't we just let them finish it now so there won't be a need to go through this again later?”
Dennis chuckled heartily. “Isn't she sweet?” he said to Wallace. And to Lauren, he added, “I know you don't have anything to hide, but it would be unlawful for these officers to continue to search these premises without a valid warrant.”
“Then let somebody stay until they can get the new warrant. I don't want them to think I'm hiding anything.”
“Why don't you and I step into the other room for a mini-sidebar.”
In the kitchen, Dennis whispered urgently, “Are you sure you don't need some time to tidy up before they return with a new warrant?”
“I'm not worried about anything they might find. I'm more concerned about what it would imply if I make them leave while we're waiting for the new warrant.”
Dennis pulled a device from his pocket. “This here device will incapacitate your hard drive and I assure you it's perfectly legal. Your computer's listed on the warrant. Are you sure you don't want to scramble the hard drive before we turn it over?”
“There's no need to do that.”
“Okay. We'll allow them to stay if you're sure you don't need a little time to clean up?”
“Not at all.”
“You are a very unusual client.”
“So you've said.” She stepped back into the dining area. “Gentlemen, you're welcome to stay until you can correct the warrant. Can I offer either of you a Diet Coke? I'm afraid that's all I have.” Both detectives politely declined. Wallace excused himself to go see the judge.
Lauren's cell phone had been placed in full view on the kitchen table. Under Boyd's watchful eye, Lauren began copying down her most important phone contacts to a piece of paper.
Once she was done, Dennis asked Lauren to step out to his car where they could talk in private. He asked Boyd to vacate the premises, allowing him to sit on the front stoop in front of the locked apartment.
Reporters swarmed the parking lot, shoving microphones at them and shouting questions. Dennis offered smooth assurances that Lauren would be vindicated as they walked to his luxury Mercedes. Dennis turned on the air conditioning full-blast, both to cool the car and to mask their conversation from anybody who might try to eavesdrop from nearby.
“Sorry, but I had to turn Boyd out of your apartment. Something stinks in this case and I don't trust those bastards not to plant evidence. There must be some reason they are so intent on pursuing you, but I sure as hell can't figure out what it is. They'll be back with a new warrant in two shakes of a lamb's tail and I want to review this search warrant with you, line by line before they return. The first thing on the list is all of your shoes.”
“All my shoes? As in all of them?”
“You'll get 'em back eventually. I'm guessing they want to examine your shoes for blood evidence.”
“Some of my tennis shoes might have some blood from the ER, but they shouldn't find Liz's blood.”
“Next, they're looking for anything that might be the murder weapon in this crime, which they are estimating to be a blunt object long enough to swing with momentum, approximately four inches wide at one end. Do you have any bloody two by fours lying around the house?”
“No, I don't have anything long enough to swing except my golf clubs.”
“I hope you don't have a lot of tee times lined up. They're probably going to confiscate your clubs. They also plan to seize your computer. That's standard. You'd be surprised how many people hang themselves with their Internet searches. A lot of folks don't realize deleted items can be recovered by forensic computer experts.” He eyed her intently. “So, think hard before you answer this question. Have you done anything weird on your computer lately, any Internet searches, emails, funds transfers, that might incriminate you?”
“No.”
“Have you ever done an Internet search on getting away with murder, the perfect crime, disposing of evidence, anything like that?”
Lauren laughed out loud before catching sight of Dennis' expression. “Oh, you're serious?”
He nodded soberly. “You'd be surprised what some people do.”
“Not me.”
“Okay. The next item, as you already know, calls for seizure of your cell phone. Cell phones are miniature computers these days so the same rules apply. Any incriminating web searches, phone calls, text messages, or the like, even if you deleted them?”
Lauren hesitated.
Dennis immediately picked up on it. “Look here, most people have some sort of secret. Unusual sexual practices, pornography habits, illicit drug use, adulterous affairs, and the like. You name it and I've had a client involved with it. I can assure you that I'm not here to judge you. But I am here to protect you from the people who will try to. Prosecutors have a field day with stuff like this. They'll try to convince a jury that if you have one secret, then you probably killed somebody. You and I both know that isn't true. Whatever it is that you're mulling over in your mind, it's in your best interest to share it with me.”
“It's about my sister's husband.”
“Uh huh. Do you have some sort of dirt on him?
“What? No. It's just that we've been spending a lot of time together since Liz died and⦔
“I see. And is there evidence of your relationship with Mr. Wakefield on your cell phone?”
“Nothing explicit. Just phone calls back and forth and occasional text messages.”
“Do the text messages imply the relationship has become more than friendly?”
“No. We've been spending some time together and he's gotten me tickets to several of his games, but we've been⦔ she struggled to find the right word, “â¦cautious.”
“Thank you for sharing that. I don't think you've done anything wrong, but the cops might interpret your relationship with Mr. Wakefield as a motive to kill your sister.”
“But there was nothing between us until after she died.”
“I believe that's true, but a jury might not. I'm going to advise you to cool things off with Mr. Wakefield for the time being.”
Tears welled in Lauren's eyes. Jake was her primary source of support.
Dennis patted her consolingly. “It's not forever. If he really cares about you, he'll be waiting for you on the other end of this. All righty now, the next thing on the list is your financial statements. Do you anticipate any surprises there?”
“I had to take out loans to pay for medical school.”
“No other big debts or big purchases?”
“My old car crapped out a few weeks ago so I bought a new car.”
Dennis nodded again.
“And I wrote another huge check recently.”
Dennis looked apprehensive. “What was that for?”
“Your retainer.”
“Ah, yes. And that's it?”
“That's it.”
“Okay, the final thing on the list says jewelry items. Anything to worry about there.”
“Not really.”
“Not really?”
“Jake did give me one of Liz's rings. He thought she would want me to have it.”
Dennis pursed his lips. “And where is that ring now?”
“In my jewelry box.”
“And Jake will confirm he gave the ring to you?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. That's everything.”
As if on cue, Detective Wallace drove back into the parking lot. Lauren and Dennis returned to watch as the police turned her apartment upside down.