"You're saying that Emily is deliberately getting rid of the members of the club? But you're the one who brought her into the group."
"She seemed like a good fit at the time. And she had the skill set we needed. I think she saw it as a game at first. But maybe now she sees the opportunity of a lifetime-a chance to make a fortune off the Keyworth deal."
"Are you sure about any of this?"
"No," Madison admitted. "But in my world, the first rule is to follow the money."
"Emily is as nervous as the rest of us. You saw her."
"Maybe it's an act."
"If Emily really did murder Louise, it means she had access to some exotic street drugs and knew how to use them to kill someone."
"It's not rocket science," Madison said. "Emily volunteers at the shelter. A lot of the people who come and go from that place are dealing with drug issues. It wouldn't have been difficult to hook up with a dealer. All Emily would have needed was a date rape drug to render Louise unconscious. After she was out, Emily could have injected her with the lethal stuff."
"You've got this all figured out, don't you?"
"I've had time to think about it."
"So, are you going to run, too?"
"It's not that easy," Madison said. "I've got to stay on top of the Keyworth deal. I can't afford to disappear while it's brewing. Too many things can derail the buyout at the last minute."
"Can't you keep an eye on it online? You don't have to be here in Seattle, do you?"
Madison tightened her grip on the phone. Her stomach clenched. So much money at stake.
"I can't just vanish like Jocelyn did," she said.
"Suit yourself. I could really use my share of the profits, but I'm not going to risk my life for them."
"You can't stay lost forever," Madison said.
"No, but I can stay gone until we find out what is going on. If you're right, then this thing will end after the buyout takes place. I'm leaving tonight."
"Vicky, wait, where will you go?"
"My aunt's place on the coast, at least for now." Victoria paused. "By the way, since you're weaving conspiracy theories, I've got one for you."
"What?"
"Maybe Emily isn't the one we should be worrying about."
Madison almost stopped breathing. "You think maybe Jocelyn is the problem?"
"She's the one who disappeared first," Victoria said. "And she's almost as good with computers as Emily. Good-bye, Madison."
The connection went dead.
CHAPTER 17
Charlotte sliced the very expensive cheese that she had picked up in the Pike Place Market on the way home and reminded herself again that the appointment with Max was not a date.
He was coming to her apartment to tell her about his conversation with the retired Loring police detective.
It was definitely not a date.
But the knowledge that he would soon be at her front door sent another little rush of anticipation through her. It was a weird sensation. She hadn't invited any man up to her apartment since the disaster with Brian Conroy.
Jocelyn had begun to lose patience with her and had accused her of hiding from the world. But it hadn't felt like she was hiding out, she thought. Instead it was as if she had simply lost interest in that aspect of life.
She wondered what Max expected from their meeting. He probably saw it as a business appointment, too. After all, he was a professional.
She studied the neatly arranged slices of cheese on the plate. Max looked very fit and quite healthy. He probably had a good appetite.
She added the remainder of the cheese and a few more crackers to the plate. She wouldn't produce the wine and the cheese unless the situation felt comfortable. If it didn't feel right, she would let Max deliver his report and then see him out the door. She would drink the wine and eat the cheese all by herself.
The muffled ring of her phone sent a jolt of alarm through her.
Max. He was calling to cancel the appointment.
She could almost hear Jocelyn mocking her. That's it, think positive.
It dawned on her that the reason her phone sounded muffled was because she had forgotten to take it out of her shoulder bag. She hurried into the living room and retrieved the device.
She glanced at the screen. And froze. She had removed Brian Conroy from her list of contacts just hours after he had told her that he could not bring himself to go through with the marriage, but she recognized his number.
She really, really did not want to talk to him. On the other hand, she had once been convinced that she was in love with him and she wanted to believe that his feelings for her had been real, too, at least for a while. He was not a bad person, she thought. In hindsight she realized that she had reason to be grateful to him. After all, he had changed his mind before the wedding rather than afterward.
She also knew what Jocelyn would have said if she were standing there: Dump the bastard's call.
She took the call, telling herself it was pure curiosity that made her do it.
"Hello," she said, going for casual.
"Charlotte, sweetie, it's so good to hear your voice. I've been worrying about you. I wanted to check in and make sure you were okay."
He sounded sincere. It was the sweetie that rankled. She tried to analyze her reaction and was vaguely surprised to discover that she was mostly impatient and annoyed. She glanced at the clock. She had a guest due any minute now.
"I'm fine, Brian, but I'm a little busy at the moment," she said. "Thanks for checking up on me. Got to go now-"
"Wait, don't hang up. I really need to talk to you."
"I can't imagine why. Look, I've got someone coming by soon and-"
"Taylor is no longer in the picture."
He sounded as if he were announcing the end of the world. Film at eleven.
She went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to see if the bottle of white wine she had stuck inside earlier was getting properly chilled.
"Who in the world is Taylor?" she said. "Oh, right. Taylor. The woman you said was in a bad relationship. You were going to rescue her, as I recall."
"She used me."
"No shit. Sorry, got to run."
Now she sounded downright vengeful. So what? I'm entitled.
"Sweetie, I know you've probably got some issues because of what happened, but deep down you and I are friends."
"Got news for you. Friends don't leave friends with the bills for a canceled wedding. I just finished paying off the damn dress and the flowers."
"That's not right. You should have gotten refunds on everything."
The outrage in his words would have been laughable under other circumstances.
"There are these little paragraphs called cancellation clauses in all the contracts," she said. "If you had given me a couple of months' notice instead of a few days, I could have gotten most of the money back, but that's not what happened, is it? Good-bye, Brian."
"Sweetie, please, I really need to talk to you."
"You want my advice?"
"Of course. You always see things so clearly."
"Here are my words of wisdom. Do not call me sweetie."
"You sound bitter and angry. That's not like you, Charlotte."
"Turns out I can hold a grudge. Who knew?"
She zapped the call and dropped the phone on the counter. For a moment she stood very still, aware that she was buzzed on a shot of pure adrenaline. Okay, refusing to let Brian cry on her shoulder was probably a very mean and petty sort of revenge, but damn, it was exhilarating.
Jocelyn would have cheered, she thought.
The rush faded, but her mood did not. She hurried down the short hall to check her hair and makeup. She had a feeling Max would be right on time.
It was not a date, she reminded herself one last time. They were going to discuss some very serious matters. But, as Jocelyn would say, a little lipstick never hurt. It gave a woman confidence.
CHAPTER 18
Victoria threw the last two items-a nightgown and a robe-into the overstuffed suitcase and closed the lid.
It had been a righteous game back at the start, an opportunity to play the role of an avenging goddess. Sure, there had been some risk involved, but none of them could have foreseen the disaster that was unfolding. They had convinced themselves that they were safe behind the seemingly impenetrable wall of anonymity provided by the online world.
It was a struggle to get the bag zipped. Under other circumstances she would have packed a second suitcase, but there wasn't much point in taking a lot of stuff. She was not going on vacation. She was going into hiding. She certainly didn't require an extensive wardrobe. She wouldn't need any of her professional suits and there would be no call for her prized collection of high-heeled shoes.
She hauled the suitcase off the bed, set it on the floor, gripped the handle and rolled it out of the bedroom. She went down the hall, turning off lights along the way. Tears burned in her eyes. She loved her precious little condo. Leaving it was one of the most painful things she had ever done.
At the front door she paused to take one last look around the home she had worked so hard to create. Until now it had embodied all the things she had longed for as a young girl trapped in a nightmare-a safe and serene refuge.
It was the home she had fantasized about when she had hidden in the closet in a desperate effort to shut out the terrible sound of her drunken stepfather beating her mother. It was the place she had dreamed of when her mother had awakened her in the middle of the night and told her they were leaving. She had stuffed her most valuable treasures into her school backpack.