ask Lisa. Although I was here on a mission for Lil, I had also hoped to bring some comfort to Lisa. I decided I would test the waters and see if she was ready to talk. If not, I would have to try another time. My nosiness did have some boundaries of decency and respect.
“Lisa, may I ask something?”
She looked at me and nodded slowly.
“Do you think Laurie met her killer on the Internet?”
The young woman stared at me—but not in surprise. I continued. “One theory is that each of the Blond Bomber victims were contacted first via computer chat rooms. Did Laurie spend time on the computer chatting?”
Lisa placed her lemonade on the coffee table before sitting back and crossing her arms in front of her. “The police asked me the same thing, but as I told them, I didn’t think so. She was always on the go, hardly ever home. The police even took her laptop but found nothing. Laurie hardly ever used it.” She looked at me. “My sister worked long hours at the hospital. She was a very dedicated nurse. When she wasn’t there, she was with Kirk or hiking or exercising. She couldn’t sit still for long.”
“I read that they believe she was abducted from the hospital parking lot.”
Lisa nodded and put her head down. Her long hair covered her face like a curtain. “Yes.” Again her shoulders started to shake.
“Lisa, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to. I realize this must be horrific for you. In fact, maybe I should go.”
“No.” She looked up at me through the golden hair. “Please don’t go. It’s difficult, but maybe it’s good to talk about it.”
It was a long time before she spoke again. I gave her plenty of time to gather her thoughts.
“Laurie worked very late that night. When I got up in the morning and noticed she wasn’t home, I thought maybe she’d spent the night with Kirk. But then I remembered he was in Africa on a photo shoot. I called her cell phone but got no answer. The hospital hadn’t seen her since the night before. I called several of her girlfriends, but none of them had seen her or heard from her. When she didn’t come home or show up at the hospital for her next shift, I called the police.”
Lisa looked up at me with glazed eyes. It was apparent she’d told this story before, many times. It came out of her in an almost robotic fashion, in a deadpan narrative.
“The police located her car at the hospital in the employee parking lot. There was nothing remarkable about it. No sign of a struggle or anything like that.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Three days later, they found her body in the canyon.”
I love the way playing basketball affects Greg. He plays every other Sunday morning, and following the games he’s flushed and sweaty and glows with energy. It’s as if he’s been supercharged with superpowers. And I must admit, some of our best sex has been following this Sunday morning ritual.
Usually I go with him and cheer with the other wives and girlfriends from the sidelines. And sometimes following the game, we go out with some of the other players for brunch. Today, Greg came directly home, dying to know about my meeting with Lisa Luke.
“How’d it go?” he called to me as soon as he was through the door.
Before I could answer, Wainwright barked a couple of times and dashed down the short corridor towards the far side of the house. Greg had originally purchased a run-down one-story duplex with mirroring floor plans and converted them into a charming single-family home with a Spanish hacienda feel. The two bedrooms and bath on the left were remodeled into an extra-large master suite and super bath, and the two bedrooms and bath on the right were remodeled to accommodate his wheelchair. One bedroom served as his home office, the other as a guest room. The two small original living rooms and kitchens were combined into one huge living room, kitchen, and dining area, with the spaces flowing from one to the other
“Lisa, may I ask something?”
She looked at me and nodded slowly.
“Do you think Laurie met her killer on the Internet?”
The young woman stared at me—but not in surprise. I continued. “One theory is that each of the Blond Bomber victims were contacted first via computer chat rooms. Did Laurie spend time on the computer chatting?”
Lisa placed her lemonade on the coffee table before sitting back and crossing her arms in front of her. “The police asked me the same thing, but as I told them, I didn’t think so. She was always on the go, hardly ever home. The police even took her laptop but found nothing. Laurie hardly ever used it.” She looked at me. “My sister worked long hours at the hospital. She was a very dedicated nurse. When she wasn’t there, she was with Kirk or hiking or exercising. She couldn’t sit still for long.”
“I read that they believe she was abducted from the hospital parking lot.”
Lisa nodded and put her head down. Her long hair covered her face like a curtain. “Yes.” Again her shoulders started to shake.
“Lisa, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to. I realize this must be horrific for you. In fact, maybe I should go.”
“No.” She looked up at me through the golden hair. “Please don’t go. It’s difficult, but maybe it’s good to talk about it.”
It was a long time before she spoke again. I gave her plenty of time to gather her thoughts.
“Laurie worked very late that night. When I got up in the morning and noticed she wasn’t home, I thought maybe she’d spent the night with Kirk. But then I remembered he was in Africa on a photo shoot. I called her cell phone but got no answer. The hospital hadn’t seen her since the night before. I called several of her girlfriends, but none of them had seen her or heard from her. When she didn’t come home or show up at the hospital for her next shift, I called the police.”
Lisa looked up at me with glazed eyes. It was apparent she’d told this story before, many times. It came out of her in an almost robotic fashion, in a deadpan narrative.
“The police located her car at the hospital in the employee parking lot. There was nothing remarkable about it. No sign of a struggle or anything like that.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Three days later, they found her body in the canyon.”
I love the way playing basketball affects Greg. He plays every other Sunday morning, and following the games he’s flushed and sweaty and glows with energy. It’s as if he’s been supercharged with superpowers. And I must admit, some of our best sex has been following this Sunday morning ritual.
Usually I go with him and cheer with the other wives and girlfriends from the sidelines. And sometimes following the game, we go out with some of the other players for brunch. Today, Greg came directly home, dying to know about my meeting with Lisa Luke.
“How’d it go?” he called to me as soon as he was through the door.
Before I could answer, Wainwright barked a couple of times and dashed down the short corridor towards the far side of the house. Greg had originally purchased a run-down one-story duplex with mirroring floor plans and converted them into a charming single-family home with a Spanish hacienda feel. The two bedrooms and bath on the left were remodeled into an extra-large master suite and super bath, and the two bedrooms and bath on the right were remodeled to accommodate his wheelchair. One bedroom served as his home office, the other as a guest room. The two small original living rooms and kitchens were combined into one huge living room, kitchen, and dining area, with the spaces flowing from one to the other
Similar Books
