Chapter 23

Ten minutes at The Empty Bottle, a small dive bar in the Ukrainian Village, and Meredith already regretted her decision to be there. She didn’t feel like drinking, and the band playing made her head hurt. It was her birthday and her roommate Tess had convinced her that they should go out for a few drinks. Meredith disliked celebrating it—her mother had passed away on her ninth birthday—and, whenever possible, she avoided sharing her birthday date.

Meredith glanced at the crowd. While she stood, hands in her pockets, everyone around her danced. And Tess was late, which didn’t surprise her. Tess never arrived anywhere on time.

A woman in a leather jacket and heavy makeup leaned in closer to her. “They’re good, right?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Meredith felt her mobile phone vibrate in her pocket. She checked the display—an unlisted number. She hesitated then decided to answer. It was too loud in the bar for a phone call and, since she stood too far from the exit, she turned toward the bathroom. The bar had three single unisex stalls. With its door ajar, one was clearly unoccupied. Meredith answered the phone as she opened the door further.

“Hello—”

She didn’t have time to react.

A hand covered her mouth as she was pushed inside the stall from behind. She tried to scream, but then she was shoved against the wall and all her breath left her lungs.

“Shut up.” A threatening man’s voice rung out as she heard the door slam shut behind them.

As Meredith continued to scream and struggle, the man slammed her once more against the wall. Her calls for help morphed into a cry of pain.

“Listen to me, Meredith.”

Hearing her own name made her go still. He knew who she was.

“Good, don’t move and listen. Stop investigating. Do not publish your article.”

Her breathing came out in loud pants. The panic flooding her body urged her to flee but she forced herself to focus on the low voice by her ear. She didn’t recognize it.

“You’re going to tell Croswell that you’re done. Do you understand?”

The man closed his other hand on her hair, close to her scalp. He pulled hard and Meredith whimpered.

“If you continue, the people you care about will suffer. Your father, Reeve, Tatiana—they will be the ones who face the consequences of your actions. Remember that.”

All of a sudden, the man was gone, and Meredith slumped to the floor. Shaking, she used the wall for support as she got back to her feet and quickly locked the bathroom door.

The shivers rocking her body made it impossible for her to remain upright. Only a few seconds ago she believed she was about become the sixth dead woman in Pam’s folder.

Meredith’s cell phone screen had shattered after being knocked from her hand. Still, she was able to call her roommate.

“Where are you?” she asked as soon as Tess picked up.

“Sorry I’m late, M. I’m on my way. I should—”

“Don’t bother. I’m leaving. Can you stay with me on the phone for a bit?”

“What’s the matter?”

It took everything in her to calm herself. She didn’t want Tess to know what had happened. “I just want to have someone on the line as I walk to my car.”

“OK, cool. I’m here. But why are you leaving?”

Meredith rushed to the exit, pushing through people until she finally made it outside and into the muggy night. Concerned that the man might still be watching her, she quickly scanned her surroundings.

“Are you there?” she asked Tess.

“Yeah, I’m here. You didn’t answer my question. Why are you leaving? Are you sure everything is OK?”

Meredith reached her car, which was parked on the street. She checked the back seat before getting in.

“Uh-huh.” Even at night, the intense heat inside the car made it hard for her to breathe, but she didn’t turn on the AC. She locked the doors. “I’m in my car. Are you home?”

“No. I told you, I’m on my way to The Empty Bottle.”

“I gotta go.”

She hung up and, before she drove away, dialed Julian’s number.

“Can you meet me at my place in ten minutes?” she asked when she heard his voice on the other end. “We need to talk.”

She drove to her apartment, both hands on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the road.

When she parked in front of her building, Julian stood by the front steps with a small box in his hand.

As she approached him, she tried to curb her nervousness.

He kissed her. She couldn’t remember the last time they had kissed. It made the conversation they were about to have much more difficult.

“Let’s go in.” She wanted to remain in his arms but if she did she wouldn’t find the courage to speak.

When they were inside the apartment, Julian watched her with concern as she turned on all the lights. She sat on the couch and lit a cigarette. When he joined her, he passed her the small box he had been holding.

“Happy Birthday, Meredith.”

She stared at the beautifully wrapped box. “I was at this bar and”—she took a puff of her cigarette—“this guy assaulted me.”

“What?” Julian moved closer to her. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

“Were you raped?”

His calm tone sounded forced to her.

“No, he didn’t touch me like that.”

“Did he rob you? Take anything from you?”

She shook her head in response.

“Did he harm you?”

“He shoved me against the wall.”

“What did he want? Did he speak to you?”

Meredith covered her eyes with her hands.

“What did he say?” Julian insisted.

“He threatened me.”

“About what, Meredith?”

He moved her hands away from her face. He held them in his.

She wanted to tell him—stop, don’t kiss me, don’t hold me, don’t touch me; I can’t hurt you when you’re trying to comfort me—but she couldn’t bring herself to say any of that, nor could she pull her hands away.

“I’ve been hiding something from you.” The expression on Julian’s face made her pause. He looked stricken. She forced herself to continue. “When I found out you were a member of The Raven Room I got the idea of writing an article about it.” She waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she carried on, “An article about you taking me to the club and my experiences there. To me, it was a perfect way to launch my career—a peek inside of a members-only sex club, which caters to the wealthiest in Chicago. A club that most don’t know exists. But after Sofia’s death, I decided not to go ahead with it. It felt wrong to betray you like that.”

Julian leaned back on the couch, his face tilted toward the ceiling. Instead of spending time trying to decipher his thoughts, Meredith knew she needed to finish. “Lena and Sofia’s deaths made me see that, while I didn’t want to write the article anymore, I needed to find out why they were killed and who had done it. With access to the club and with more information on Lena and Sofia than the police, I could actually make a difference. I figured I’d gather the information and then hand it over to Pam. But then I found out that there were three other women…and the police had covered up their deaths, which meant I couldn’t take what I’d find to them. So that led me back to writing an article. I’ll share everything I know with the public and hope, once the club and the murders are exposed, it’ll make a big enough stir that people will demand justice. The Tribune already said it wants to publish it.”

“You’re investigating the deaths of those women? Sofia’s?”

“Investigating is a heavy word, but yeah, I’m trying to find out as much as I can.”

Julian stared at her. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Please, Meredith, you and I have reached the point that only honesty will do.”

She didn’t hold back—she told him everything she had learned regarding Lena and Sofia’s deaths: the similarities and differences between the two murders, how she had seen Thompson and her stepmom together at the Art Institute, Owen Glendon’s journals and how she believed his daughter might have also been a victim.

Meredith showed Julian the pictures of the four dead women. He picked up the photographs one by one. He studied them for a while. “Where did you get these photos from?”

“My stepmother.” Meredith wouldn’t involve Colton. “I need to ask you”—she pulled the gold necklace with the cross from inside her wallet—“who does this belong to?”

Julian’s eyes widened. Tatiana had advised her not to ask Julian about the necklace, but Meredith couldn’t continue to keep that from him.

“Where did you find that?” His tone was cautious but she also heard indignation.

“In one of your bathroom drawers. I found it when I was looking for a brush the morning Pam and Colton showed up at your place.”

“And you took it?”

“I was worried that if the police searched your home they would come across it…I thought it was safer with me.”

“Why would the police care about a necklace they found in one of my drawers?”

“Lena’s friend told me she always wore a gold necklace with a cross on it. She had seen Lena the day before she was murdered and she had it on her. But when they found her body, the necklace was missing. I was worried the police would think this necklace belonged to Lena.”

Julian flexed his hands into fists, and had he been any other man she would have put as much distance between them as possible.

“Give me back the necklace,” he demanded. “Now.”

“First, tell me who it belongs to.”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” He extended his hand toward her. “Give it back.”

“Tell me the truth, Julian.”

He gestured to the photos. “You think I did this, don’t you?”

“If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You had no right to take that necklace from me.” Resentment distorted his features. “And you have no right to demand I answer your question before you give it back.”

“I want us to be honest with each other.”

Julian punched the coffee table and Meredith gasped. The gift box on her lap fell to the floor. She had never seen him so irate. “Don’t you fucking give me that bullshit excuse. You don’t trust me.” Julian rose to his feet. “The necklace, Meredith.”

She pulled back and clasped the necklace to her chest. “Why won’t you tell me?”

All of a sudden, Julian closed the distance between the two of them and ripped the necklace from Meredith’s hands.

Startled, she didn’t try to stop him when he stormed out of her apartment. The unwrapped gift box stood, forgotten, on the floor.