“From my suite. Kate’s suite.”
“Miss Vega, let me be frank. I haven’t had time yet to go through a full process of collecting material on you. Maybe you think your reputation is beyond reproach. But any witness can be discredited. Making accusations against my client will draw a very robust response. A response that could damage your reputation at the least, and at the worst, could lead to your expulsion from Carlisle if we find evidence of drug use, say, or giving a false statement. If you were to be expelled, you’d find it difficult to gain admission to another college, and quite impossible to get a job in finance in the future, which I’ve been told is something that you want.”
Jenny’s nerve deserted her, and her throat went dry. She couldn’t believe this was happening, yet on the other hand, she wasn’t surprised at all. This was how Keniston Eastman rolled. Bring in a lawyer to make the threats. Leave the room. Keep his hands clean. She wouldn’t even be able to pin this shakedown on him.
“And if I tell the police the same thing Kate did?” she asked.
“If you tell the truth, you will remain a great friend of the Eastmans, with all the benefits that entails for you and your family.”
Adams looked meaningfully around the kitchen, his glance taking in the twenty-year-old appliances, the pictures of Jesus and John F. Kennedy hanging on the wall, the much-laundered checkered curtains. He was letting her know that the huge disparity in wealth and power between Jenny and the Eastmans had double consequences. Not only would he be happy to destroy little Jenny Vega if she dared to stand against his clients, but if she chose to do the opposite, things could be very sweet for her. Having Keniston Eastman owe you a whopping favor was kind of like winning the lottery.
Keniston walked into the kitchen. “Sorry for the delay. Have you two had a nice chat?” he asked, coming over to the table.
The condescension in his manner made her furious. He was so certain she would roll over that she wanted to throw his daughter’s sick, twisted actions in his face.
“Did Kate really look you in the eye and tell you Lucas Arsenault jumped?” Jenny asked.
“Wait a minute, didn’t you hear what I said?” Adams said, looking alarmed, as if he might get in trouble for not having everything wrapped up by now.
But Keniston met Jenny’s eyes, unperturbed. “Kate and I didn’t get a chance to speak before she left, Jenny. She’s gone to stay with her stepmother.”
“With Victoria?”
“No, her former stepmother. My ex-wife Simone lives in Geneva with my younger daughter. Kate was distraught, and we thought it would do her good to get away from this environment for a bit, and be with family. She may even enroll in school over there.”
“In Geneva?” Jenny asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“Switzerland?”
“Indeed.”
There was a glint of victory in his eye. Jenny had taken a course in European history and politics. Switzerland was a neutral country, she recalled, with bank secrecy, and a reluctance to extradite those accused of crimes. So Jenny could throw away her entire future in an attempt to make Kate pay for her sins, and it would come to naught in the end. This was what true wealth bought you. Kate Eastman was beyond the reach of the law. She could kill someone and get away with it. Let that be a warning to the likes of Jenny Vega.
“All right,” Jenny said. “Write the statement. I’ll sign it.”
part
two
19
Present Day
The dog ran off the side of the jogging trail, heading straight for the riverbank.
“Baxter! Get back here now!” the jogger yelled, as his dog disappeared into the fog. Baxter was a rescue mutt, part hound, and the scent of animals in the woods could prove irresistible to him. But he knew better than to leave the trail during a training run.
“Baxter!” the dog’s owner called again through rapid breaths, as he slowed his pace. He scanned the woods for any sign of his pet, and found none. “Damn dog.”
From somewhere to the left, Baxter started barking like mad. The jogger heard the note of alarm in the sound, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Bears? he thought, and picked up a stick. He’d never once seen a bear in ten years of running the river trail, but it wasn’t impossible.
“Baxter?” he said, his own voice shaky now, as he followed the sound of barking through the fog, making his way down the steep side of the bank.
Closer to the water’s edge, the mist lifted, and he saw his dog standing guard over the thing that had caught his attention. The body of a woman had washed up on the bank. Her skin was blue-tinged and her eyes were wide open. Her golden hair spread out around her like a mermaid’s. He took a step closer and saw the mess that had been the top of her head.
“Jesus,” the jogger whispered, as the dog looked up and began to whimper.
20
Owen Rizzo took a last, lingering look at the blond woman on the coroner’s slab before replacing the sheet tenderly over her. He’d met her once before. Six months before, to be exact, when he came up to Belle River from New York to interview for the chief of police job. He remembered that evening vividly. He remembered her. After he took the job and moved to town, he’d tried to find her. But it turned out the name she gave him was a fake, and once he figured that out, he stopped looking. Now, finally, here she was. It made him so sad that he needed a minute to compose himself before he could face talking to the ME.