“I’m assuming your love of reading and writing also brought you and Victoria together? Emma tells me that she, too, was interested in writing.”
“She was. Much more than I ever was, in fact. We both talked about it in school. You know, writing a book someday. Danielle Steel style. But the realities of life got in the way and we both put those dreams on hold as we started our careers.”
“And look at you now. A legitimate powerhouse in publishing,” Avery said. “Life has a way of coming full circle, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose it does.”
Avery pulled out a yellow legal pad and scribbled some notes. “Were you in touch with Victoria after Cameron Young’s death?”
“Not much. That was obviously a tough time in Victoria’s life. I reached out to her, but she didn’t return my calls. I knew she was busy mounting a defense and, you know, everything that goes into that.”
“Did you speak with her at all about it?”
“Briefly. She had called once to ask if she could borrow money in case she needed it. The cost of her defense was going to be astronomical.”
“But that was it? Nothing about the case or . . . her involvement with Cameron Young? Or . . . if any of the accusations against her were true?”
“No. I never asked and she never offered. I had known for some time that her marriage was rocky, and there was a mention about meeting someone else. I never got into the details with her. When the news broke and the media aimed their sights on her, I told her I would always be her friend and that I knew she would never do what she was accused of. I knew it in my heart. I still know it today.”
“How about leading up to 9/11? Did you talk with her then?”
Natalie shook her head. “Not for the couple of weeks before. Then, it was a crazy time for me. I was an ER doctor in the city and on 9/11, and for most of that week, it was all hands on deck. It’s still just a big blur to me. I didn’t find out about Victoria for a couple of days. I was working around the clock and when I finally had a chance to catch my breath, I took inventory of everyone I knew in the city. When I couldn’t get in touch with Victoria, I finally reached out to Emma and she told me the news.”
“How did you hear about Victoria’s remains being identified?”
“In the paper. I called Emma right away, and she filled me in on the details.”
Avery checked her notes—a page of scribbled bullet points.
“Would it be too much to ask you to write a chronology of your relationship with Victoria? From meeting in college and beyond?”
“I could do that, sure.”
“Great. I’ll be in New York for at least another week, but maybe longer depending on what I need. Can I get in touch with you in a few days?”
“Of course. I’ll give you my cell. And I’ll start working on my history with Victoria right away. It’ll be a good exercise for me to remember all the great times we had together.”
Avery stood up. “Thanks so much, Natalie. I want to do this correctly. I know there will be some difficult parts to Victoria’s story, but I want to show America who this woman was before she was accused of murder. The information you provide will go a long way to making that happen.”
They said their good-byes and Avery stepped into the elevator.
“Let me know how you like the rest of Baggage,” Natalie said before the doors closed.
“I’ll be up all night finishing it.”
The doors shut and the elevator dropped Avery in the lobby. Her cell phone buzzed as she exited the building. It was Walt Jenkins calling. He wanted to meet tonight for dinner. They agreed on the time and place before Avery dropped her phone into her purse. Her goal was to rip the case against Victoria Ford to shreds. She had the lead detective’s ear and the weekend to do it. As she walked through New York City, she realized that she had started so many leads on the Victoria Ford story that she almost forgot the actual reason she was back in the city that held so many terrible memories.
It was nice to forget. For just a moment, she was free.
CHAPTER 30
Manhattan, NY Friday, July 2, 2021
DINNER WAS AT KEENS. IN TRADITIONAL MANHATTAN FASHION THE city had emptied earlier in the afternoon as residents flocked off the island for the long Fourth of July weekend in the country or at the beach. Consequently, the popular steakhouse was eerily empty when Walt walked in. He spotted Avery at a table tucked into the corner.
“Sorry I’m late,” Walt said as he sat down across from her.
“I was just about to call you to ask if I’d mixed up the time,” Avery said.
Walt shook his head. “No, my fault. I managed to get my hands on the Cameron Young file and got tied up reading through the case. Lost track of time.”
Avery had a glass of white wine in front of her. Walt ordered a rum from the waiter as he scanned the menu.
“Have you eaten here before?” he asked.
“Of course. I might be a SoCal girl today, but I grew up in New York,” Avery said.
“Where?” Walt asked, forgetting for a moment that he was late for dinner because he had lost track of time reading the inch-thick dossier he’d been given on Avery Mason, aka Claire Montgomery. He wondered how she kept her two lives straight—the one she was leading as one of the most popular journalists on television, and her past life as the daughter of the Thief of Manhattan.
“Oh,” Avery said. “Uptown. Upper East Side.”
She’d been raised in a penthouse on Billionaire’s Row, Walt knew. He’d seen the pictures of the building and stock photos of the penthouse that were splashed all over the Internet and linked to Garth Montgomery. He’d also seen the photos of her father being hauled out of the famous building in pajamas and handcuffs. The waiter delivered Walt’s rum and asked for their dinner orders, providing an easy segue off the topic of Avery’s past. They both ordered steaks—filets, medium, with horseradish crust.