CHAPTER 2
Mom and I stepped back into the house to find Kennedy and Parker waiting at the kitchen table. Stacks of paperwork were spread out before them and they both seemed to be working with renewed determination. We made it half way across the living room before they realized we were in the house.
“Lauren, you startled me,” Kennedy said after looking up and jumping.
“I’m sorry. You two looked deep in thought. What’s going on?”
“Sit down,” Parker instructed, kicking out the seat across from her.
“I think we found some leads. We found something, that’s for sure,” Kennedy told me as Mom and I settled on the other side of the table.
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense. Spill,” I insisted.
“Okay. We already had a ton of files on William. But until the escape, there didn’t really seem to be much reason to study them. Parker and I started combing through the files and verifying their contents Sunday. We’re not sure what all of this means yet, but we’ve found some inconsistencies in William’s records.”
“What kind of inconsistencies?”
“Well, his birth certificate, for starters,” Parker explained. She pushed a Xeroxed page across the table and continued as I studied William Murphy’s birth certificate. To my untrained eye, nothing looked out of the ordinary.
“It’s a forgery,” Kennedy piped up. “You wouldn’t be able to tell, even if you were looking at the original. But this birth certificate is from USC Medical Center. And when I called the hospital to verify its authenticity, they had no records for William Murphy or his parents, Juanita and Marshall.”
Mom raised an eyebrow and studied Kennedy across the table. “Shouldn’t someone have caught that when he was being prosecuted?”
“It’s not surprising that it slipped past them,” Kennedy explained. “His social checks out and it matches the birthday listed on the USC certificate. There was no reason for anyone to question it, especially since William pled guilty.”
“So we know this birth certificate is fake. But we have no idea where or when William was born, or even if that’s his original name,” I summed up.
“At the moment, yes,” Kennedy agreed. “We’re running searches on Juanita and Marshall. I’m hoping we’ll at least get a hit for Juanita. There has to be a record of her giving birth somewhere. If we find William’s original birth certificate, we may find out what he’s trying to hide.”
“I’m not sure that will be much help. What are the chances that a forged birth certificate from fifty years ago is related to the mess we’re in now?”
“I have no idea,” Kennedy admitted. “But I have a hunch this is worth looking into further.”
Parker’s laptop chimed from the kitchen island. She retrieved it and stared down at the screen.
“Which search came back?” Kennedy asked, craning her head to see the screen.
“The vital records search on Marshall Murphy. Look at this.” Parker turned the screen to Kennedy. She squinted and studied the information for a minute and then turned her lips down in a frown.
“What is it?” I pressed, tension choking my words.
“Asher’s grandfather, Marshall Murphy, passed away thirty-eight years ago due to complications of polycystic kidney disease.”
“Why does that matter?”
Kennedy stared at me across the table with raised eyebrows. “Has Asher ever mentioned having issues with his kidneys?”
“No… why?”
“There’s no mention of it in any of William’s files either. One of Jackson’s cousins by marriage suffers from the disease. So do four of her six children,” she explained.
“So it’s genetic,” I realized out loud.
Kennedy nodded. “If one parent has the disease, each of their children have a fifty-fifty shot of having it as well.”
“So you’re thinking Marshall might not be William’s dad?” Mom asked. She rubbed her temples, trying to get the details straight in her head.
“There’s a chance,” Kennedy agreed. “Look at this. Marshall’s blood type is listed as A positive. William’s is B positive. We’ll have a better idea whether or not my hunch is right once we track down Juanita’s records.”
“I’m still not convinced this has anything to do with what’s happening now,” I insisted. “What other angles are you looking into?”
“We’ve reviewed William’s court records,” Parker answered. “According to the statement he gave the prosecutor’s office, he was transporting a shipment of heroin for the Chavez family when he was jumped on this side of the border by members of a rival family. He shot three of them, killed two. His story was supported by the responding officers. When they arrived, William was alone with the victims. Half of the heroin had been blown open during the gun fight. The prosecutor offered William life with a chance of parole in exchange for William’s guilty plea. He took the deal and he’s been at Atwater ever since.”
“That’s the official story. But Asher said that’s not what actually happened. But then again, when I saw him Saturday, he said he’d learned that half of what he believed about his childhood was a lie. So who the hell knows what happened?” My voice was brimming with frustration. I wanted answers and digging into the past was only uncovering more questions.
“Actually, we have a pretty good idea of what happened,” Kennedy told me.
Parker nodded. “I was able to get in touch with some of the department’s old undercover officers who were embedded in the organization when William was busted. William and Luis were both mid-ranking thugs back then. The story the undercovers heard was that Luis was actually the one running the heroin that night. He’d gone behind his father’s back and bought from a new supplier in an attempt to show he was capable of more responsibility. Luis’s father, Carlos, was the head of the family and he was reluctant to groom his son for the position. When the buy went south, William stepped in and took the blame.”
“Asher said he was forced to,” I reminded her.
“He probably was,” Parker agreed. “But Carlos wasn’t the one who forced him. According to Larry, one of the officers, Carlos was furious when he learned what Luis had done. That’s why the family lawyer didn’t try harder to keep Luis out of jail when he was arrested for the crimes Asher documented.”
“So who bullied William into taking the fall?” Mom asked.
“That remains one of our many unanswered questions,” Kennedy replied with a sigh. She shut the file in front of her and rubbed her eyes with a yawn.
“You’re exhausting yourself. I think you’ve earned a break,” I insisted. “And speaking of breaks, where’s Claire?”
“She’s in the office. She said she had some business to take care of. Between you and me, I think being under lock down again is harder for her than she’s letting on. She just launched her catering company and now she’s having to cancel bookings. I think she really needs this to work.”
“I know,” I agreed with a sigh of my own. “And I realize keeping you all here is probably overkill. But I have no idea who Asher’s mixed up with or how long they could have been watching us.”
“I understand,” she assured me. “I think it’s smart to take the precaution. But I think if any of us are safe, it’s Claire. And this is so important to her. I don’t like the idea of her leaving the estate on her own. But I’d be willing to split the cost of a few extra guards to go to the jobs with her. I bet if we pay them enough, they’ll even double as waiters. Claire would be protected and no one at the events would be any the wiser.”
I should have thought of that on my own. I’ve got to get my head out of my ass and remember that this is affecting everyone I love.
“That’s a fantastic idea,” I agreed. “But we’re not splitting the cost of anything. I got us all into this mess. The least I can do is keep everyone safe. I’ll tell Claire over dinner. I don’t want to interrupt her right now.”
Mom pushed her chair away from the table and rose to her feet. “If Claire’s busy, I’d better go check on your father.”
“I need to get going too,” Parker announced. She gathered her things and stuffed them into her oversized leather purse. “My oldest grandson is graduating from kindergarten tonight,” she explained with a proud smile.
“Well, tell him we said congratulations. And enjoy yourself. You’ve certainly earned it.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lauren.” Parker stepped of the house and Kennedy turned to me, her voice lowered.
“Do you think we should put a few guards on her as well?”
I nodded. “I actually thought of that already. She’s already spent so much time away from her family. I didn’t want to ask her to stay here again, so I offered to put a team at her house. She agreed that protection was a good idea, but told me there was no need to hire anyone. The woman made one phone call and within the hour, she had a team of retired LAPD officers scheduled for the next two weeks straight.”
Kennedy let out a soft laugh. “That sounds like Parker. Everyone loves her. I bet she was a pistol back in her court reporter days. I’m glad she’s got friends watching her back.”
“I’m glad I have you watching my back. I’m so sorry I got bitchy earlier. I’m just… I’m a wreck, Kennedy. I want to have hope. I want to believe that this will eventually work out for the best like the situation with Rachel did. But I’m not sure I’m capable of hope anymore. I’m not sure I’m capable of anything.”
“I can’t imagine what this must be like for you. Honestly, Lauren, I love Asher. But once again, I’d also really like to strangle him to near death with my bare hands. After he took you to Luis’s cabin, he promised me he’d never put you in danger again. He promised he’d consider what was best for both of you instead of acting out of impulse.”
“I don’t think this was an impulse,” I said slowly.
Kennedy leaned forward, her interest piqued. “What haven’t you told me, Lauren?”
I leaned forward too. “When I visited Atwater on Saturday, Asher made me promise that no matter what happened, I’d have faith in him and remember the promises he made me on our wedding day.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I see. And did he make you any promises in return?” she countered with a slight air of resentment.
I nodded. “He promised to never stop fighting to get back to me. At the time, I thought he was talking about getting out of jail. But now…”
“So when you saw him, he knew he had less than twenty-four hours left behind bars?” I could tell she was trying her best to remain patient, but frustration was rising in her voice.
“I think so, yeah.”
“Lauren, is there anything else you haven’t told me? Did Asher warn you that he and William were planning an escape?”
“Of course not. Don’t you think I’d have stopped them if I could? I was working on a plan of my own at the time, remember? And it worked. Rachel’s behind bars and if Asher had just stayed put one more day, he’d be free right now. There’s no way I’d have let him run.”
She folded her arms over her chest and stared at me, her eyes firm. “Lauren, I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me. Has Asher made contact with you since he escaped Atwater?”
“No, he hasn’t,” I answered just as firmly.
“Would you tell me if he did?”
There’s no point in lying. She’ll see right through me.
“Mom and I just had this same discussion. I’ll give you the same promise I gave her. If and when Asher contacts me, I’ll tell you as much as it’s safe for you to know.”
Her eyebrow went up again. “Safe for who?”
I was taken aback by her question. I hadn’t considered that what kept one of us safe could put another of us in danger. Kennedy immediately knew she’d tripped me up.
“You haven’t thought this through, have you? Lauren, staying silent may keep Asher safe. But it could put the rest of us in danger. You more than anyone if you get the wild idea to join your husband without telling anyone where you’re going.”
“If you knew where Asher was, wouldn’t you be legally obligated to inform the court?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Lawyer client privilege doesn’t apply when the client is in the process of perpetrating or committing a crime.”
“So if you knew I was planning to join him, you’d be obligated to report me for aiding and abetting.”
“Yes,” she agreed with a sigh.
“Then I guess you have your answer. I love you, Kennedy. And I hope one day you can forgive me for this. But there are some things I just won’t be able to tell you.”
***
Two more days passed with no word from Asher. We hadn’t had a chance to make his house our home, and I felt strangely out of place living there without him. I woke up Friday morning alone in his king sized bed and asked myself why I should even bother getting up for the day. A few minutes later, my phone rang and a stranger on the other line gave me a reason.
“Hello, Mrs. Reynolds?” a perky female voice asked after I mumbled a sleepy hello.
“Yes, this is Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Good morning. This is Lindsey at Omni Spa. I’m calling to confirm your nine o’clock massage appointment.”
“There must be some mistake,” I insisted, pushing myself up on the headboard. “I didn’t book a massage appointment.”
“I know, Mrs. Reynolds. A Mr. John Rogers made the appointment for you yesterday. He explained you were recently in an accident. I can avoid your ribs and I think the massage will help with the whiplash and residual soreness. Will you be able to get her within the hour, or would you like me to reschedule you for this afternoon?”
I pushed off the comforter and stumbled to the closet, searching for something to wear. It was eight-thirty. If I hurried, I could make it to the spa on time for the surprise appointment.
“No, there’s no need to reschedule. I’ll be there by nine,” I promised.
“Fantastic. I’ll be waiting.”
The line went dead and I tossed the phone on the bed. I pulled on a baggy pair of jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. I reconsidered and changed into one of Asher’s custom tailored white button-ups. I knew there was a good chance I’d encounter a news crew or two. If Asher was able to see their footage, I wanted him to know I was thinking of him.
I surveyed myself in the mirror; the yellowish grey circles beneath my eyes made me look ten years older than I actually was.
I guess if Asher sees the footage, he’ll know I’m thinking of him and I’m exhausted.
I transferred my wallet to a large canvas messenger bag and shoved my phone into the front pocket. I had no idea what was waiting at the spa, but I wanted to be prepared to sneak out anything the mysterious John Rogers may have left for me.
I slipped my feet into ballet flats and silently crept toward the living room. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized no one was up to see me leave. I scribbled a quick note and left it on the kitchen island before slipping through the door.
Gabe was standing guard with a member of the security team and they were more than happy to escort me down to the valley. I’d have rather gone by myself, but I knew Mom, Kennedy, and Claire would all pitch a fit if I left without a guard.
“We’ll be right here when you’re ready to go home, Lauren,” Gabe promised as they let me out at the spa entrance.
“Thanks, guys,” I replied with an easy smile.
I slid out of the car, my heart beating wildly in my chest. I pushed my hair over my shoulders, said a prayer that I’d finally learn something about my husband’s whereabouts, and stepped through the spa door. I was greeted by a bubbly brunette with wide eyes and a friendly smile.
“Lauren?” she asked.
“Yes, are you Lindsey?” I replied, scanning the room for cameras. I felt fairly confident that the massage rooms were private, but I wasn’t sure it was safe to speak freely in the lobby.
“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you. I’ll be working on you today. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you settled in your room and then give you some time to undress.”
I guess I’m actually getting a massage. Maybe there’s nothing secretive happening here at all. Maybe this is my consolation prize. “Sorry I can’t tell you where I am, sweetheart, but try to relax and forget about all that while this strange woman rubs you.”
I followed Lindsey into a small, warm room that smelled like lavender and honeysuckle. The massage table took up three fourths of the floor space, and a small table near the wall held a single bottle of oil and a small MP3 speaker dock. Lindsey attached her phone to the speaker and hit a few buttons, filling the room with the sounds of a thunderstorm.
“Complete these forms, then undress to your comfort level and then lie face down under the sheet,” she instructed. “I’ll knock before I let myself back in.”
“Thank you,” I replied, taking the clipboard from her hand.
She left the room and I stood rooted to the floor for a moment, considering my next move.
This was a total waste of time. If this was a set up to give me information, she would have done it already, But I guess there’s no harm in having the massage while I’m here.
To be honest, the idea of relaxing for an hour was incredibly appealing. I made a mental note to thank Mr. Rogers if we ever spoke again and filled out the forms before stripping down to my underwear. I folded the discarded garments and stacked them on the room’s single chair before climbing beneath the sheet. A few moments later, a soft knock echoed through the room and the door creaked open.
“Are you ready?” Lindsey asked, her voice an octave lower than before.
“Yes,” I mumbled, my face pressed into the table’s opening.
She dimmed the lights and moved beside me.
“I’m using an all-natural, organic almond oil,” she explained, lowering the sheet. She tucked it beneath the waistband of my underwear and covered my back with oil. I felt the tension in my muscles start to melt away beneath her hands.
“Are there any particular areas you’d like me to focus on?” she asked, pressing her thumbs firmly into a knot beneath my right shoulder blade. “You feel awfully bound up.”
“In addition to the car accident, I’ve been under a lot of stress lately,” I explained. “It’s wrecking my back and shoulders.”
“That’s understandable. I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but I’ve been following your story on the news. Mr. Reynolds was my first client after I got my license. He used to pay me thirty dollars an hour to come to EnvisionTech and massage the executive assistants. I’ve always known him to be a kind, considerate man. I hate what they’re doing to him in the press. I called up the Nancy Baker show and offered to give them my opinion of Mr. Reynolds. They were thrilled by my offer until they heard what I had to say. Now, they’re not taking my calls.”
“Thank you for trying, and for your kind words. It has been very difficult. But I have faith in my husband. Asher’s innocent and we’ll find a way to prove it.”
“Well, when things get rough, just remember that anyone who really knows Mr. Reynolds knows better than to believe the garbage some of these reporters are spewing. Now, you just relax and let me work my magic on these knots.”
She walked her fingers up and down my back, taking note of all of my knotted muscles. Then, she started at my shoulders and worked her way down, releasing more tension with each stroke of her hand. I fell into an almost trance like state, letting my mind go completely blank. I was just about to drift off to sleep when Lindsey covered me with the sheet again and asked me to roll over.
I complied, and she wove her oiled hands through my long, blonde hair. The scalp massage felt so good I didn’t even care I’d be leaving the spa looking like I hadn’t showered in a week. Lindsey worked her way down my arms, then moved on to my hips. From there, she moved down my legs, ending the massage at my feet.
“Feel better?” she asked, pushing her palm into my left heel.
“I feel fantastic,” I mumbled. “I’m glad I brought a driver. You almost put me to sleep.”
“Lots of my clients nap during their sessions. I try to take it as a compliment,” she laughed.
“You definitely should. Can I go ahead and book another appointment with you for the same time next week?”
Her voice suddenly became hesitant. “I’m on vacation next week. But I have some great aromatherapy products to help deal with stress. I’ll go get them while you get dressed.”
“Okay… thank you,” I replied, puzzled by her odd behavior.
I waited for the door to click shut before climbing off the table. I dressed quickly and perched on the edge of the chair. Lindsey returned a few moments later with a thick manila envelope in her hands. Her eyes darted back and forth down the hallway before she finally shut the door and turned to me. She spoke so softly I had to ask her to repeat herself.
“This came from Mr. Rogers,” she hissed, thrusting the envelope into my hands. “He left very specific instructions. You’re to open this in Mr. Reynolds’ office, nowhere else. Make sure you’re alone and the door’s locked. And follow all of the instructions on the first page before reading through the rest of the information.”
I knew this was a lead. Thank God. With any luck, I’ll know where my husband is within the hour.
“I thought… I hoped… but then you went ahead with the massage,” I stammered.
“I wasn’t supposed to do that,” she confessed with a blush. “Mr. Rogers asked me to call about the phony appointment and then give you the envelope as soon as you arrived. But when you got here, you looked like you were in so much pain, I figured there was no harm in going through with the appointment.”
“Thank you, Lauren. For the massage and for this,” I whispered, clutching the envelope.
“You’re more than welcome.” She leaned in close and wrapped her arms around my neck.
“That comment about my vacation was a lie as well. If you’re still in town next week, by all means come in for an appointment. Or if you’d like, I can come to the house.”
Where else would I be next week?
Ordinarily, it would have bothered me that a stranger knew more about what was going on in my life than I did. But at the time, I was so relieved that someone had reached out to me that nothing else mattered. I thanked Lindsey again, slipped the envelope into my messenger bag, and returned to the car as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.