She's Not There (4 page)

Lisa’s office in downtown Pewaukee occupied the back half of an old storefront building, and was owned by a real estate attorney whose offices took up the front half of the first floor. The upper floor was rented out for storage.

The view of the marshy, south end of Pewaukee Lake, adorned by ancient oak trees, had sold her on the space. Taking advantage of it, Lisa added a large bay window across the back of her office.

The attorney, Earl Albright, was seldom around unless he had a meeting in his conference room, leaving the office in the hands of his assistant, Shannon Cavanaugh.

Shortly after Lisa’s last client left, Shannon tapped on the door and hurried through, closing the door behind her. In her late twenties, she was a tall, heavy-set woman with gleaming, long, black hair. Her face wore a mischievous look that complemented her engaging grin. “Sorry to barge in, but I saw your client leave a few minutes ago. I thought you were done for the night, but there’s a woman here to see you.” 

“I’m not expecting anyone. Did she give you her name?”

“Nope.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m just surprised to have someone come in so late, unscheduled. If you want I’ll send her in and hang around until you’re finished talking to her. It’ll take me another thirty minutes to finish up anyway, and I thought maybe we could grab some Thai food.”

“All right, send her in.”

A moment later, the woman made an entrance into Lisa’s office. Wearing leather boots with stiletto heels, she was nearly as tall as Shannon. The woman was built like a runway model and wore slim black jeans that fit taut across her hipbones, topped by a leopard print camisole. A short, chestnut-brown leather jacket completed the outfit.

Lisa asked, “Can I help you?”

She stepped closer to the desk. Her gold filigree earrings dangled nearly to her shoulders and shone brightly in the soft light from the green-shaded, antique desk lamp. Her face was graced with high cheekbones, a perfectly shaped nose, wide mouth, and incredible blue eyes, visible in spite of the tinted lenses of her gold-rimmed eyeglasses.

Her voice when she replied was vaguely musical. Maybe a touch of Jamaica? “If we talk, will it be confidential?  I mean, you being a psychologist and all.”

It would have been difficult to determine her ethnicity, although her complexion was a shade of soft caramel and her hair a closely cropped Afro, the short curls defined and lustrous.

Perplexed, Lisa responded, “It would be if you were a client.”

She reached into a hidden pocket in the small leather jacket, pulled out the tiniest wallet Lisa had ever seen and offered her a hundred dollar bill.

“How ‘bout I put you on a retainer? This be enough to cover that?”

“That’s not how it usually works. Do you plan on coming in for therapy?”

“Can’t say I don’t need it. May take you up on that sometime, but right now I need to have a talk with you that has to be jus’ between us.”

She accepted the bill. “I’ll take this as a ‘retainer’ with the understanding that you come to see me for therapy at some point in time. And, to make it official, I’ll give you a receipt, so I’ll need your name.”

The woman reached into her wallet, this time pulling out a business card, which she offered to Lisa. Printed on it was, Teal J. Peacock, Security Consultant, and a phone number. A tiny peacock decorated the lower corner of the card.

Apparently expecting a comment on her name, she quickly offered, “Mostly, I go by TJ.”

“TJ, is there someone in particular you don’t want me to discuss our conversation with?”

She grinned, nodding her head. “You figured that out! Guess that’s why you’re the shrink.”

Lisa fumbled under the desk for the pumps she’d kicked off, then gave up and came out from behind her desk in stocking feet. She led TJ to a matched set of  green leather chairs, fronted with matching footstools. The chairs were positioned on either side of a round, beveled-glass topped coffee table in front of the bay window, the seating arrangement softly lit by a Tiffany-style floor lamp in shades of blue and green. TJ took a seat, slipping off her jacket to reveal a pair of well-toned arms, one of which boasted a hammered-gold snake bracelet wound around her bicep.

Lisa began, “Can you tell me who you want this conversation kept from?”

Her gaze met Lisa’s, her chin up, defiant. “Detective Richard Conlin.”

“Conlin? Are you with the police department?”

“Was once, but that’s a long story for another time.”

“Then what is your connection to him and why can‘t he know about your being here?”

“He and I kinda have a relationship.” She paused, and put her feet up on the footstool. “He told me about your visit to the department. That’s why I’m here. And he can’t know about it, cause I been telling him for years somethin’s goin’ on. You got to see firsthand how helpful it was to tell him about it. Better if he doesn‘t know I‘m still lookin’ for answers.”

Lisa’s heart rate picked up. “Wouldn’t my conversation with him have been in confidence?”

“Nothing confidential ‘bout it, if there’s no case.”

“I suppose that’s true. You’re aware then of the statistics I brought to the police, and you probably also know they ran their own a while back. So why do you want to discuss this with me? ”

TJ lifted her legs off the ottoman and leaned forward. “Have to go back in time a little to explain. Left the force ‘bout six years ago and tried working as a PI. Got a license and hung out my shingle, so to speak. Didn’t do real well, but things picked up when I finally got a few referrals from contacts in the department.

“Few years back, a doctor from Waukesha was arrested and convicted of killing his wife. Attorney who took up his appeal recommended me as an investigator. Thought my ties with the force would give me an edge in finding somethin’ new to use for his appeal. The Doc got off on the appeal because I found out the search that turned up his wife’s blood in his car was illegal. Great thing for him but pissed off the department and about put an end to my PI career.

“The Doc was real grateful and got me a part-time job doing security for a big bank near Brookfield Square shopping mall.”

“How long were you part of the police force?”

“’Bout eight years. Like I said, why I quit is the long story part.”

Lisa said nothing, opting to let the other woman continue her story.

“Since then I’ve done real well doing the bank gig and free-lancing in security. Got to know the Doc well enough to know he was no killer or abuser. Loved his wife, but the woman was a drinker. One night he came home from the hospital late. She was drunk and started accusing him of cheating. She lost it, started throwin’ things around, smashing good china and glass, that kinda thing. When he tried to stop her she started screaming and dialed 911. So he ended up with an incident on record.”

Lisa absorbed it all for a minute. “I’m still wondering why you’re coming to me with this?”

TJ chuckled. “Forgot to mention I also hang with Patty Barkley from time to time. She told me all about you.”

“Seems like quite a small world around that police department.”

“Also need to let you know the good detective pawned you off on the department’s biggest tight ass. I gave him hell about it.”

“You mean James Wilson. He was actually rather informative, but I agree he isn’t what you’d describe as warm and fuzzy.” Lisa smiled, remembering the man’s brusque demeanor. She neglected to add that Conlin hadn’t treated her much better.

“Yeah, nothin’ warm about that guy. If he wasn’t engaged to the chief’s daughter, he’d a’ been out on his ass a long time ago.”

Lisa’s eyebrows shot up. “That explains a lot. I wondered how he managed to be such a maverick and get away with it.”

TJ stood, pacing. “Anyway, like I said, I been tellin’ Richard—he hates bein’ called Dick—that something’s going on. Didn’t need any fancy statistics to tell me that. The Doc didn’t kill his wife. An’ that woman never woulda left him; she was way too crazy about all the goodies that came with bein’ married to a rich doctor. She loved him in her own weird way—an’ there wasn’t any boyfriend. I never told him this, but after all my diggin‘, I’d have to say she wasn’t the sharpest knife in the block. That woman never woulda figured out how to disappear without leaving tracks.”

Drawn into TJ’s tale, Lisa still had no idea why she was its recipient.

TJ sat back down, her small butt balanced on the edge of the chair. “I know there’s another wife missing an’ there’s rumors she was seeing you. That true?”

“You know I can’t reveal that.”

“An’ you know with a little pokin’ around I can find that out for myself.”

“TJ, although we do have the same concern, I don’t understand what you want from me. James Wilson did make some good points. No bodies have turned up, and the police believe there is an organization in Milwaukee helping abused women to relocate.” Lisa didn’t add that she too was desperate to find answers to why women were disappearing.

“Miz Rayburn, the police ain’t gonna do nothin’ about this unless they get some solid info. I figure together, we do some snoopin’ around, get them something to go on, then they’ll have to open an investigation.”

Lisa nearly slid off the leather chair. “Together? I’m a clinical psychologist, not a detective. And even if I was willing to help, I really don‘t see how I could. And you can call me Lisa.” Her feet getting cold in more ways than one, Lisa got up to retrieve her discarded shoes. She wanted to find out what was happening to the women, but this was way out of her league.

TJ followed, still talking. “What if I told you that I know something the police don’t? This secret group Wilson’s so proud of finding out about is only one person, and I’m pretty sure there’s only been about two women in the past two years who went that route.”

Lisa stopped where she stood. “Have you told Detective Conlin about this?”

“Can’t. Technically, it’s illegal cause most of the women take their kids with them against child custody mandates. He’d feel obligated to report it. Wouldn’t put Richard on the spot like that or risk giving these ladies one less chance to get out.”

“I still don’t see what you or I could possibly find that would change the minds of the police.”

TJ grinned. “I have a plan. Can’t do it alone though, I’m gonna need your help.”

Lisa paused, intrigued but unsure of the wisdom in getting involved. “Let’s say I would be willing to help. What do you think I could do?”

“Most important part of the plan is to get a list of names from the Women’s Center. Names of abused women who’ve gone missing in the last few years. Then we start crossin’ off names. Exclude any helped by this ‘source,’ any who’ve shown up, any who’ve contacted someone, and most important–any who we’re pretty sure were not offed by their abuser. Once that list gets narrowed, we look at what the rest have in common.”

Lisa frowned, thinking of all the time it would require to get all that information.

“Can also throw into the mix the Doc’s wife and your gal that’s gone missin.’ Maybe this gets us something, maybe it doesn’t. It’s a place to start. Be a lot of people to interview, that’s where you come in. Not trying to suck up here, but you must have damn good skills at siphoning through B.S.”

As concerned as she was—and Lisa had been even more so since talking to Jeff Denison—part of her felt like she’d done what she could with her less-than-fulfilling trip to the MPD and agreeing to take Denison on as a patient. And Amanda was meeting with the heads of the area Centers this week to go over the statistics in question.

“Wouldn’t the police object to outside interference?”

TJ started pacing again, gesturing wildly with her hands. “Interference with what? They ain’t investigating anything! If we piss someone off with our questions, the police can’t do a freakin’ thing about it. We aren’t police. And don’t forget, lots of folks will be real glad to see some interest in their missin’ women.” TJ took a deep breath, appearing to rein in her emotions.

Lisa realized TJ’s initial coolness had been a cover-up. She couldn‘t help but wonder if the woman had told her everything. Maybe she had more personal reasons for wanting to get an investigation started.

For years Lisa’s entire focus had been on raising Paige and building her practice. The textbook she’d begun writing had been her first outside interest in a long time other than fixing up her house. Her fleeting affairs didn’t take up much of her time. Her head was shouting at her not to do this, but her heart remembered her own troubled marriage, begging her to do everything she possibly could for these women. Pandora’s Box creaked open. “All right. What do we do first?”

TJ looked triumphant, her smile radiant. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“And that person is . . .?”

“The guy who helps women disappear.”

Finally slipping into her shoes, Lisa stopped, dumbfounded. Balanced on one heel, she asked, “You really know this person?”

“Yep. What are you doin’ Saturday?”

Lisa managed to get both shoes on her feet. “I‘m . . . not sure yet.”

TJ moved toward the door. “I’ll meet you in town on Sixty-Second and North Avenue at the Coffee Cup Café. Four o’clock, Saturday. An’ don’t wear what you’re wearin’ now. Turn it down a notch; don’t look so shrinkish, you know?”

Saturday afternoon Lisa drove into Milwaukee to meet TJ Peacock. It was a crisp autumn day, the trees proudly displaying their bright warm hues. Giant white and steel blue clouds moved lazily across the sky. The kind of day that made a person glad to be alive.

Lisa, feeling good, but with reservations about the meeting, arrived on North Avenue and found a parking spot a few doors down from the coffee shop. The neighborhood, caught between the inner city and Wauwatosa, was filled with a diverse blend of people, interesting shops and every kind of ethnic restaurant.

TJ was nowhere to be seen when Lisa walked into the coffee shop, so she slid into a booth near the back to watch for her. Two Asian women, who looked like mother and daughter, were the only patrons, sitting by the window sipping coffee and having a serious conversation in their native tongue. The lone waitress, decked out in a black smock embroidered with brightly colored coffee cups, wore multiple earrings, including one through her right nostril.

An adolescent boy entered the store wearing a blue, logo cap sideways, making most of his face invisible. Pants with legs wider than his shoulders and a sweatshirt that hung down nearly to his knees completed his look. He crossed the room and sat down in the booth across from her.

Startled, Lisa asked, “Are you looking for someone?”

His face crinkled up with laughter. “Yeah, you!”

“TJ? Is it really you in there?”

“Great disguise, huh? Still do some security work for an outfit downtown on weekends. Thought I’d try to fit in with the crowd. See you dressed down too, but I still recognize you.”

Lisa had worn her Saturday uniform of jeans, sweatshirt, and walking shoes, her hair tied back in a hasty ponytail. “Do you wear a disguise often?”

“Sometimes, when I wanna blend in. Like when I went to Pewaukee to see you the other night.”

“You think that outfit made you blend in?”

“Yeah, guess it was a little overkill. All them rich soccer moms out there wear that snooty casual stuff from L. L. Bean and Eddie Bauer.”

“They do. People don’t dress up much anymore.”

“Bring your wallet?” TJ asked.

“My wallet?”

“You’re gettin’ your hair done. Made an appointment for you next door.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Person you need to talk to works there. If he’s gonna give us what we need, he’ll need to trust you, too. Get to know you.”

So the mysterious person who could help women disappear was a hairdresser. Lisa did her own hair, even the highlights, because she hated to spend her precious off time sitting in a salon. “Well, I suppose my hair could use some attention.”

A young receptionist with hair gelled to defy gravity and colored to challenge a rainbow, told them to have a seat, Roland would be ready for Lisa, “In a wink.”

Roland had a face graced with perfect features and was one of the handsomest men Lisa had ever seen. He looked a little under six feet tall and wore slim pants with a silk T-shirt that exposed every bit of his buff body. His hair looked like a natural dark blond, the top frozen into hundreds of tiny, light blond, one-inch spikes. Golden brown eyes lit up when he talked, and his bright, wide smile belonged in toothpaste commercial.

As he hot-ironed the long, nut-brown tresses of a teenager, she beamed as he appeared to be complimenting her on her look.

When the she left, he invited Lisa to sit in his chair with a “Hello, lovely lady,” that somehow didn’t sound like empty flattery.

He ran his fingers through her hair. “Looks like you aren’t ready for color yet, but come back to see me in a few weeks. I think the new multitones would soften your look. For today, I’d suggest a shaping and texture cut. This length flatters you so I won’t take much off. And a ten-minute honey and aloe conditioner would make your hair very happy.”

His good humor and smile were contagious. “Sounds like a plan.”

She followed him to the back room where he began to shampoo her hair, his fingers gently massaging her scalp in little circles, slowly draining all her tension. Just as she was about to start purring, TJ zeroed in on them.

“Rollie, I know you ain’t gonna like this, but I have to tell you I brought Lisa here for more than a ‘do’.”

Roland said nothing as TJ whispered their real purpose in visiting the salon. He rinsed Lisa’s hair, wrapped her head in a towel and had her sit up. She felt his fingers tighten as he spoke softly to TJ. “TJ. I told you no one other than the people involved could ever know about it. I understand why you told Lisa, but you should have discussed it with me first.”