dead he was going to personally kill her himself. By the time the detective returned to the phone, Matthew was about to punch a hole in the wall.
“Sorry. I’m back. The tag inside is worn too much to tell the brand, but I can describe the contents for you…if you’d like.” Walker paused.
“Sure. Go ahead.” Matthew tried to sound nonchalant. Inside his blood boiled as he tried to come up with a plausible explanation for what was happening here.
“Lipstick, compact, really old compact, all used up.” A popping noise made Matthew squint as though that were going to help him hear better. “The lipstick is all gone too. Strange things to carry in a purse. But then again the owner of the purse seems to have lived quite some time as a bag lady. In my line of work, I’ve seen a lot of this. Homeless people tend to hang on to everything. Even after it is used up. Not that unusual really… Let’s see, there’s a lighter—”
“My wife didn’t smoke,” Matthew interjected as though that mattered.
“Gum wrappers—”
“What kind?” She only chewed one kind of gum. A fact he knew because he hated listening to her smack it when she was nervous, which was all the time. He’d banned her from buying the shit, but that hadn’t stopped her apparently. Hell, what was he even thinking? His thoughts were a scrambled mess right now.
“Double Mint.”
Bingo. Matthew ran his free hand through his hair and winced at the pain he inflicted on himself when he pulled the strands too tight away from his head.
“Hair bands. Just plain black bands. That’s weird.” The officer was at least as perplexed as Matthew.
“What makes you say that?”
“The woman we found had very short hair. What would she need rubber bands for?” A pause and then, “Empty tissue package, receipt, ahh keys. Did your wife have a special key ring that might stand out?”
“Yes, a rabbit’s foot. She said it brought good luck.” Obviously not for her . Unless…
“Well, I have one pink rabbit’s foot in my hand. Could your wife’s purse have been stolen? Before 9/11 maybe?”
“No.” She’d had it with her that day, he was sure of it.
“I don’t know what to tell you, sir. I think you’d better come here and identify the body. Just in case.” The apologetic voice dripped through the line.
“I’ll be there on the next flight.” Matthew hoped he sounded more even keel than he currently felt.
His head began to pound as he hung up the phone and considered the possibilities. Was it even remotely possible Beth had survived the collapse of the South Tower? If she did, what the hell was she doing in Minneapolis living under a bridge?
The pencil in Matthew’s hand snapped in half and he glanced down to find his pinky bleeding from a lead puncture he hadn’t even realized he’d suffered. Impervious to the injury, he just stared at the growing drop of blood as though seeing someone else’s finger. The slight pain was masked entirely by the violent urge to kill someone.
Chapter Four
Several hours after Liz began to figure Alan’s taxes she struggled to keep her cool while he breathed over her shoulder for the umpteenth time. He’d given her the fancy chair and insisted she take center stage at the desktop computer, but it didn’t keep him from exhaling his warm breath in her left ear dozens of times an hour.
She knew a lot more about Alan than she had this morning, and the information practically made her moan with wanting him to nibble on that ear instead of just breathe into it. He was the most upstanding citizen, with every I dotted, every T crossed. His philanthropic exploits were numerous. His wealth was far more than his modest house implied. In addition to eight years as an attorney, he had invested in several properties and made a healthy salary from rent alone.
It had been over two years since Liz had been able to practice her degree, and even that had been tutorials she’d done in school. Nevertheless, she
“Sorry. I’m back. The tag inside is worn too much to tell the brand, but I can describe the contents for you…if you’d like.” Walker paused.
“Sure. Go ahead.” Matthew tried to sound nonchalant. Inside his blood boiled as he tried to come up with a plausible explanation for what was happening here.
“Lipstick, compact, really old compact, all used up.” A popping noise made Matthew squint as though that were going to help him hear better. “The lipstick is all gone too. Strange things to carry in a purse. But then again the owner of the purse seems to have lived quite some time as a bag lady. In my line of work, I’ve seen a lot of this. Homeless people tend to hang on to everything. Even after it is used up. Not that unusual really… Let’s see, there’s a lighter—”
“My wife didn’t smoke,” Matthew interjected as though that mattered.
“Gum wrappers—”
“What kind?” She only chewed one kind of gum. A fact he knew because he hated listening to her smack it when she was nervous, which was all the time. He’d banned her from buying the shit, but that hadn’t stopped her apparently. Hell, what was he even thinking? His thoughts were a scrambled mess right now.
“Double Mint.”
Bingo. Matthew ran his free hand through his hair and winced at the pain he inflicted on himself when he pulled the strands too tight away from his head.
“Hair bands. Just plain black bands. That’s weird.” The officer was at least as perplexed as Matthew.
“What makes you say that?”
“The woman we found had very short hair. What would she need rubber bands for?” A pause and then, “Empty tissue package, receipt, ahh keys. Did your wife have a special key ring that might stand out?”
“Yes, a rabbit’s foot. She said it brought good luck.” Obviously not for her . Unless…
“Well, I have one pink rabbit’s foot in my hand. Could your wife’s purse have been stolen? Before 9/11 maybe?”
“No.” She’d had it with her that day, he was sure of it.
“I don’t know what to tell you, sir. I think you’d better come here and identify the body. Just in case.” The apologetic voice dripped through the line.
“I’ll be there on the next flight.” Matthew hoped he sounded more even keel than he currently felt.
His head began to pound as he hung up the phone and considered the possibilities. Was it even remotely possible Beth had survived the collapse of the South Tower? If she did, what the hell was she doing in Minneapolis living under a bridge?
The pencil in Matthew’s hand snapped in half and he glanced down to find his pinky bleeding from a lead puncture he hadn’t even realized he’d suffered. Impervious to the injury, he just stared at the growing drop of blood as though seeing someone else’s finger. The slight pain was masked entirely by the violent urge to kill someone.
Chapter Four
Several hours after Liz began to figure Alan’s taxes she struggled to keep her cool while he breathed over her shoulder for the umpteenth time. He’d given her the fancy chair and insisted she take center stage at the desktop computer, but it didn’t keep him from exhaling his warm breath in her left ear dozens of times an hour.
She knew a lot more about Alan than she had this morning, and the information practically made her moan with wanting him to nibble on that ear instead of just breathe into it. He was the most upstanding citizen, with every I dotted, every T crossed. His philanthropic exploits were numerous. His wealth was far more than his modest house implied. In addition to eight years as an attorney, he had invested in several properties and made a healthy salary from rent alone.
It had been over two years since Liz had been able to practice her degree, and even that had been tutorials she’d done in school. Nevertheless, she
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