Terrified (21 page)

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Authors: Kevin O'Brien

Tags: #Mystery, #Thriller

BOOK: Terrified
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He was ready to give that bitch Lisa everything she deserved.
C
HAPTER
F
OURTEEN
“
S
o—were you ever planning to tell me?”
Megan glanced up from a pile of work forms on her desk.
With a hand on her hip, Teresa stood in her office doorway. The disapproving frown on her face was intimidating. That withering look from Teresa could make even the most difficult customers docile.
“Was I ever going to tell you what?” Megan asked.
Teresa stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “The transfer you requested,” she said. “What’s so great about Sacramento that you’d accept a pay cut and a demotion to assistant manager so you can move there?”
Megan sat back in her chair. “How did you find out about that?”
“I was in here using your computer and I saw an email with ‘Transfer Request’ as the subject head. So, like any self-respecting busybody, I opened it up and read it. What’s going on? Why are you moving to Sacramento?”
Megan glanced toward her office window—at the front of the store, where Teresa’s coworker, John, was with a customer. “Would you keep it down? I don’t want everyone to know. You haven’t told anybody, have you?”
Teresa plopped down in the chair in front of Megan’s desk. “No. But they might figure something’s up when they see you move all your junk out of this office and then you disappear for like—
forever
. What’s in Sacramento?”
She shrugged. “Nothing’s in Sacramento. And it isn’t set in concrete. I was just checking around this morning. I thought maybe I could use a change of locale, that’s all. Please, don’t tell anyone about this.”
Teresa stared at her. “You thought you ‘could use a change of locale’? That’s a crock. You love it here. You worked hard to become manager. Something’s wrong, I can tell. You’ve been on edge all week. You’ve been snapping at people, and that’s not like you. You even got snippy-snappy with me yesterday. It was all I could do to keep from punching your lights out. So what’s going on? Is Josh okay?”
Megan picked up a Destination Rent-a-Car pen and nervously tapped it on her desktop. “Josh is fine. Nothing’s going on. I’m in a rut, that’s all. I was just checking out other possibilities. I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anybody.”
“All right already, I get the message.” Teresa rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to ask me a third time. I’m not supposed to blab to anybody. My lips are sealed. But if you want to shake things up, instead of shopping for a crummier job in another city, why don’t you go back to Matefinder and see if there’s a guy to help get you out of your rut? Whatever happened to the blond guy you liked—the one who took you to dinner at The Tin Table, the teacher, Dan Something?”
“Dan Lahart. I emailed him, and he never got back to me,” Megan lied.
“Well, try again. Ask some other guy out. Get back on that bicycle, girl. Don’t just give up and move to a different city. What makes you think the pickings are any better in Sacramento?”
Once more, Megan looked out the window at John, who now had two customers. She kept tapping the pen on her desk. “You know, maybe we shouldn’t be discussing my dismal love life on company time. John could probably use your help up front, Teresa. And I shouldn’t have to ask you this. But in the future, if you need to use my computer, could you please not read my personal emails?”
Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Teresa stood and sauntered to the door. “Snippy-snappy,” she muttered to herself, retreating to the front of the store.
Megan threw the pen down on her desk. She rubbed her forehead and sighed. She couldn’t tell Teresa what was really bothering her—or why she needed to relocate. She hadn’t said anything to Josh yet, and Sacramento was merely a possibility right now. There weren’t any other openings with the company close to her current salary. But she didn’t have much of a choice as long as Candy was living in Seattle.
Last night, after Josh had gone upstairs to bed, she’d checked online, entering several combinations on
Google .com
—
Candice Blanco, Seattle
;
Dr. Glenn Swann, Seattle
; and
Lisa Swann, Seattle.
The KOMO-TV News broadcast she’d seen kept coming up. There was another result, a mention in yesterday’s
Chicago Tribune
that Dr. Glenn Swann had volunteered his services for a homeless facility in South Chicago, the Lakeside Women’s Shelter. Megan didn’t see any other related articles or videos listed—at least, none she hadn’t already viewed. On the plus side, it looked like no other local station had picked up the story. That brief glimpse of Lisa Swann was all Seattleites saw of her tonight. And since she hadn’t any calls, emails, or unexpected visits last night, maybe she was in the clear.
Still, Glenn’s story was the kind of feature subject the network prime-time newsmagazines relished. She wondered if last night’s broadcast was just the start. She could see magazines like
People
and
Vanity Fair
picking up the story, too. Within the next two weeks, photos of Lisa Swann could be everywhere. The only thing to keep it from happening was Glenn. It would be a cold day in hell before Dr. Glenn Swann would let them portray him as a wifebeater. And there was no other way to tell his story. His brutal behavior toward his wife had come out in the trial, and been a major reason for his conviction. If anything, Glenn’s lawyers would probably do their damnedest to prohibit any stories about his past. Most likely, they would just keep pushing updates about his good works now that he was out of prison—stories like him volunteering at the homeless women’s shelter. Megan had a feeling that hadn’t been Glenn’s idea.
If she could just get through the next few weeks—and the new investigation into the disappearance of Lisa Swann—she might be in the clear. But there was another major problem she hadn’t known about until last night.
Candy was here in Seattle. Megan had tried to find an address for her through the phone book, directory assistance, and online, but she couldn’t find any Seattle listing for
Candice Blanco
or
Candice Kruger
. For all she knew, Candy could live down the block from her. Every day she stayed in Seattle, Megan was pushing her luck. The chances of running into Candy were probably one in a thousand, but she still didn’t like those odds.
So the first thing she’d done at work this morning was make inquiries about a possible transfer—maybe a branch in Spokane, Portland, or San Francisco. She wouldn’t have to change her identity or go on the run. All she’d have to do was relocate. She had some money put away for Josh’s college, but her savings were skimpy. They couldn’t afford a big move. And Josh would be miserable, leaving his school and his friends. But with Candy here in the same city, Megan didn’t have any choice.
She was living in Seattle on borrowed time.
She remembered how Mrs. Glenn Swann had felt exactly the same way during her last few weeks in the Chicago area. If she didn’t do something or run away, she’d be doomed. Her husband had become so volatile. She was never sure when he’d go into a rage. She was never sure if the next punch or blow to her head would be fatal.
She had gone to the police and felt stupid telling the cop at the counter that she had a
friend
whose spouse was abusing her—as if she was pulling the wool over his eyes. She remembered during one of her visits to Cliff, she’d overheard a woman tell the receptionist at the hospital’s front desk, “I understand you have a VD clinic here. I have a friend who needs to know where that is… .” Lisa felt the same sense of shame that woman must have had, the same certainty she wasn’t fooling anyone with her
I-have-a-friend
routine.
The cop even looked at her as if she had a social disease. She could tell he was probably wondering exactly what she’d done to land in this predicament. He told her that
her friend
needed some recent photographic evidence she’d been the victim of domestic abuse. She also needed to call the police during or immediately after an incident. Then they could arrest the husband or boyfriend.
“And if he has a lot of money and a good lawyer, he’ll be out on bail before any of her cuts even heal,” she said. “Am I right?” Glenn’s attorney, Jerome Purcell, was very sharp—and she guessed, pretty unscrupulous.
The cop nodded. “Yes, probably within forty-eight hours. Then your friend would have to get a restraining order against her spouse.”
Lisa realized on the off-off-chance Glenn might be restrained by a piece of paper signed by some judge—who was probably pals with his parents—there was still no restraining JJ.
She thanked the cop, and left the police station.
Beyond his sermonizing about families sticking together, she wasn’t quite sure why Glenn wanted to stay married. The only times he ever seemed happy with her were in public, at functions and fund-raisers where she played her part as the doctor’s graceful, pretty wife to the hilt. Sometimes, JJ showed up uninvited at these parties, dressed in a flashy, cheap-looking tux. It embarrassed Glenn to no end. JJ was so devoted to him, but Glenn only used JJ for his dirty work. JJ would unexpectedly show up at the house, too. He’d hit Glenn up for money. She often wondered what JJ would do if he ever found out that Glenn held him in such low regard. She also wondered how Glenn would react if he saw the way JJ came on to her whenever they were alone. JJ was always sizing her up, smiling, and licking his lips. But it didn’t seem like he wanted to make love to her. It was more like he wanted to violate her. She had the feeling that if Glenn ever did sic JJ on her, he’d go absolutely berserk.
About eight months into the marriage, JJ showed a hell of a lot more carnal interest in her than her new husband. Lisa didn’t mind. And she didn’t press Glenn for any explanations about why he was coming home late or skipping nights at home completely. “I’m working at the hospital,” was good enough for her. While visiting her brother, she overheard enough from the hospital staff to know Glenn was screwing around. The woman’s name was Willow Dwyer, and she was an X-ray technician at the hospital. As far as Lisa was concerned, her husband and Willow could fool around to their hearts’ content. Willow in the Glenn, Glenn in the Willow—it was too perfect. With Willow in the picture, the beatings subsided. She prayed Glenn might dump her for this Willow character.
Cliff’s nurse, Melissa, pointed her out to Lisa once in the hospital cafeteria. It was strange to see Glenn had a specific type. Of course, Willow was younger than her, probably about twenty-one. But they had the same slender build, creamy complexion, and dark hair. According to Melissa, who didn’t mince words, Willow was an idiot. Glenn could never expect to show her off at parties as his graceful, charming wife.
But Willow showed up at a big fund-raiser anyway. Lisa wasn’t sure if Glenn had asked her to come, or if it was something someone on the hosting committee had dreamed up for their own amusement. Lisa figured everyone knew about Glenn’s infidelity. Willow was dressed in a flashy-sexy backless navy-blue sequined halter dress. Apparently, she had had too much to drink, because at one point in the party, she weaved over to the other side of the ballroom, where Lisa was talking to some acquaintances. Lisa wore a black, long-sleeve blouse with a silver satin skirt.
“I’ve been checking you out from over there,” Willow said, nodding at the far end of the room. “And now that we’re face-to-face, all I can say is that you look a lot older up close.”
Lisa just laughed. Looking uncomfortable, the other people backed away. Maybe they anticipated the beginnings of a catfight.
“Glenn loves me,” Willow said, swaying a bit. “And you better get used to the fact that he’s going to end up with me.”
“Honey, you can have him,” Lisa whispered. “You can have the house, the china and the silverware, too. Really, you’re welcome to it.”
Willow looked at her in disbelief. She pointed to her pearl earrings. “See these? Glenn gave them to me.”
With a sigh, Lisa rolled up the sleeve of her blouse, revealing a purplish bruise—a defense wound from a week before. “See that? Glenn gave it to me. And you’ll be in line for the same.”
Willow squinted at her. She didn’t seem to understand.
“Consider this my one and only warning to you,” Lisa said. “If you keep seeing my husband, I guarantee you’ll be sorry. You may even end up dead—like this other poor bitch someone told me about, only that was a cocker spaniel.”
Lisa heard a woman gasp nearby, and then there was murmuring from some other partygoers. She hadn’t meant for anyone else to hear her. She quickly turned away from Willow, and steered clear of her for the rest of the evening. But the damage was done.
By the time she and Glenn drove home that night, he’d accused her of confronting Willow and threatening to kill her.
“Are you kidding me?” Lisa asked, rolling down her window. His cigar smoke made her sick. It was strange to think there had been a time when she’d actually loved that smell. “Willow confronted me. And I basically told her if she wants to be Mrs. Glenn Swann, the job is hers—with all the perks. I’ll gladly turn over the house keys to the little dipshit… .”
She’d had only two glasses of wine at the party, but that was enough for her to be defiant.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to mute the pain. As soon as they stepped into the house, Glenn set his cigar on a tray in their front foyer, and he started beating her. He tore off her beautiful blouse—and the camisole beneath it. Then he knocked her on the floor. Before Lisa could get up, he grabbed his cigar, pinned her down and burned her on the rib cage—three times. Her agonized shrieks filled the house. She remembered writhing in pain after the second burn—while Glenn, with his knee on her stomach, puffed and puffed on the cigar to strengthen the flame for the third singeing.

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