Fight Dirty (3 page)

“I
t’s
a cult. H
e’s
building a cult—surely tha
t’s
against the law?” Caren bounced in excitement.

“I’m afraid not. I
t’s
all legal. And we’ve no evidence of any classic cult behavior. His members are free to come and go. We couldn’t find any disgruntled members with our brief background check.” She meant Morga
n’s
research, but Morgan simply sat quietly, studying the Greenes and how Jenna maneuvered them. She was setting them up for a big payoff, and even Robert Greene, Mr. CEO, didn’t see it coming.

“In sum,” Jenna said, “everything appears to be legit.”

The Greenes bristled at that, but Jenna didn’t give them time to jump ship. “Which means we’re going to have to do a lot of digging to find their secrets. Anything buried that deep is going to take time and resources to unearth.”

Caren gripped her husban
d’s
hand. “We have resources. Anything you need. But please, please, you have to find the truth. I need to know why my baby died.”

CHAPTER 4

S
tart by telling us about BreeAnna,” Jenna said.

Caren nodded, glanced at her husband, took his hand—he didn’t offer it, Jenna noted—and started. “BreeAnn
a’s
always been a sensitive child. High-strung, sometimes even willful. She was an early-bloomer, started puberty when she was eleven, and well, ever since, living with her hasn’t been easy.”

She made it sound as if her child had broken a lease agreement. The dad wasn’t even paying attention; his head was turned to look out the window.

To Jenn
a’s
surprise, Andre spoke up from behind her. “Did you also have problems with BreeAnna, Mr. Greene?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral, but Jenna knew better. Andr
e’s
dad had died in prison when he was a toddler; his mom had taken off to parts unknown soon after until sh
e’d
also died, drug overdose, when he was ten. He had strong feelings on the sanctity of family.

Robert Greene took his time in answering, slowly turning back to face them. “Caren bore the brunt of it,” he said, now intertwining his fingers with his wif
e’s
as if he spoke for both of them.

“But you both thought ReNew was the best place for BreeAnna?” Andre continued, his voice gentle now. He didn’t mention that the mother had been the one to remove BreeAnna from the treatment facility against medical advice. Only hours before she hung herself from the upper balcony of their three-story mansion.

The couple focused on the floor in front of them, not meeting Andre’s or Jenn
a’s
gaze—and not making eye contact with each other. Jenna restrained her own glare, irritated that Andr
e’s
questions may have scared them off. How were they supposed to investigate anything if they couldn’t even get their own clients to talk?

“Can you give us specific examples of BreeAnn
a’s
behavior?” Jenna asked Caren, trying to get things back on track.

The mother stared at her husban
d’s
hand wrapped around her own. She made a choking noise, shoulders heaving.

Her husband glanced up, his gaze sliding off Jenn
a’s
, then placed his arm carefully around Care
n’s
body, drawing her to him protectively. “What does this have to do with ReNew?”

“We need to understand everything we can about BreeAnna,” Andre answered. “Her life, her dreams, her hopes.” Caren flinched at his words, but the father remained impassive. “Why she grew so out of control that you sent her there.”

Care
n’s
head jerked back so hard and fast it hit the back of the sofa. “It was me. I made the decision. I’m the one who sent her there.” Spasms ran up and down her neck as she choked back sobs. “I
t’s
all my fault. BreeAnna is dead because of me.”

Andre knew h
e’d
pissed off Jenna with his questioning of the Greenes. He didn’t really care. Why come to a brand-new firm like theirs to start with? Sure, Jenna had been in the headlines with her big-time cases when she worked for the Feds, but Andre was just a grunt. Yet even he could see there was something off with this case and the Greenes. Why were they so insistent on pursuing this investigation while refusing to give Andre and Jenna any facts to go on?

Greene didn’t even turn the whole way around to face his wife. It was obvious h
e’d
heard her confession before. As the fathe
r’s
expression turned to granite, Andre caught a flicker of guilt. Greene leaned forward, both hands gripped tight around his knees, leaving his wife without comfort.

Had the father no say in the decision to send his daughter to ReNew? Busy executive, how involved was he with his wife and family? Maybe Greene was having an affair; that would account for his distance. Andre made a note to look into the Greenes’ marriage. With a child dead, nothing was off-limits.

“I did the best I could,” Caren said to the ceiling, leaning back against the couch as if she couldn’t support her own weight. “The school, ReNew, they had references—even from our minister. And I just couldn’t take it anymore.” Her chest heaved as she gulped down a breath. “I couldn’t watch my family self-destruct like that. I had to do something.”

Greene made a low noise, deep in his throat, and finally raised an arm to wrap around his wif
e’s
shoulders, pulling her to him once more. He glared at Andre as if her pain was his fault. Andre kept his face impassive as he stared back. Nice thing about his scars, they made for a helluva poker face.

Jenna broke the impasse, awkwardly handing Caren a tissue. Caren stifled her sobs, wiped her tears, but still didn’t look up. “You don’t understand,” she said in a low tone, one suitable for confession—or a funeral. “I was trying to save her.”

“I
t’s
okay,” Jenna said, even though clearly it wasn’t. “Tell us what happened.”

Caren nodded. Andre had a feeling Caren Greene enjoyed the spotlight as much as she did the catharsis of baring her soul to strangers.

“I could take the smoking, her skipping school, the shoplifting, sneaking our liquor, even the marijuana,” Caren started. “I mean, we were all kids once, right?”

Andre glanced up at that. Hardly overboard for a rebellious teenager. Of course, that was teenagers from his Homewood zip code—the kind of folks who wouldn’t even qualify to work as servants for a family like the Greenes. The M
E’s
report had documented a negative tox screen. BreeAnna had been clean at the time of her death.

Jenna made an encouraging noise. Caren continued, “She hated me. She really did. The things she said when we fought—and we fought constantly. Hateful, vile, things. She even hit me a few times. I tried to get her to counseling, to talk to the youth ministers at our church—she refused. Said I was the one who needed help, not her. That I was trying to control her life—”

Finally her husband joined in, although he still didn’t turn to look at his wife. “She was a fourteen-year-old girl, Caren. Of course, she hated her mother for trying to set boundaries. You can’t keep beating yourself up over it.”

“Is that why you sent her to ReNew?” Jenna asked in a gentle tone. “Because she was becoming more violent?”

Caren shook her head, staring at the wrung-out tissue in her hands. “No. Not just that. I was bringing her clean sheets and towels when I found a bag full of lingerie on her bed. Expensive lingerie she could never have afforded to buy. Things much, much too mature for her to ever wear. And then, in her bathroom, I found a pregnancy test.”

That got Green
e’s
attention. “A pregnancy test?”

Andre looked up. Why did Greene sound as if he was hearing this for the first time? If not from his daughter, then why hadn’t his wife told him? Maybe Greene wasn’t just a father who was absent physically; maybe h
e’d
checked out of the marriage and his family altogethe
r . . .
or maybe it was the opposite. Maybe Caren hadn’t disclosed anything to her husband because she was afraid of his reaction. Greene was solidly built, seemed like the type who might hit first and ask questions later, despite his veneer of a polished executive.

“No. It was negative, thank God, but tha
t’s
when I knew I had to take drastic measures.” Caren glanced up at her husband. “Not like yo
u’d
ever do it yourself. She had you wrapped around her little finger, could sweet-talk you into anything.”

He grimaced. “My hours, I work hard, travel weeks at a time—is it too much to ask to come home and relax with my family instead of walking into a battlefield and being expected to referee?”

“She needed you to be her father, not her best friend,” Caren snapped.

Greene slid his hand down her arm to intertwine his fingers with hers. He squeezed her hand. Offering support or reminding her they weren’t alone, Andre wondered. It hadn’t escaped his attention that Greene didn’t ask who may have gotten his daughter pregnant.

Andre caught Morga
n’s
eye. She raised an eyebrow, glanced at Greene, and he knew she was thinking the same thing. He cleared his throat, wishing Jenna was the one doing the asking. She had a way of making the most intrusive questions sound reasonable.

“We’ll need to know who BreeAnn
a’s
boyfriend was,” he said. “And if she had any contact with him after she came home from ReNew.”

Green
e’s
head jerked up, his expression thunderous. If it wasn’t for Care
n’s
grip on his arm, he would have come out of the couch. “Do you think we would allow our daughter anywhere near—”

Caren interrupted, her voice carrying over her husban
d’s
. “I have no idea who BreeAnna was seeing. She refused to tell me—it was one of the reasons why we were fighting so much, especially after I grounded her.”

“How long after that fight did she leave for ReNew?” Jenna asked.

The tension in the room eased, as if answering a simple numeric question would give them the key to BreeAnn
a’s
death.

“Two nights later,” Caren said. “I tried to talk to her, about the sex—she was only fourteen for Go
d’s
sake—about whoever the boy was.”

Or man, Andre added silently. Fourteen-year-old girls didn’t find a way to the mall and shoplift expensive lingerie to impress fourteen-year-old boys.

“But she became more and more out of control. Explosive is the only word I can use to describe what she was like. Then, that last night, I caught her trying to sneak out, run away, and I thought, this is it. If I don’t do something here and now, I’m going to lose her forever.” She paused, eyes closed, face up to the ceiling. “So I made the call. I sent her away to that place.” She opened her eyes, stared directly at Jenna. “I will never, ever forgive myself.”

After a moment of silence, Greene said, “Is there anything else you need to know about our private life?”

Life. Singular. As if his daughter and wife lived for him, through him, three lives intertwined as one.

There was a lot more they needed to know. Impatient with Jenn
a’s
dancing around the issue, Andre asked, “Why did you withdraw BreeAnna from ReNew early?”

Care
n’s
shoulders slumped as violent sobs rocked her body. Once again, her husband glared up at Andre as if he was to blame for her pain instead of the weight of their grief. Jenna shook her head at him, scowling as if h
e’d
made a rookie mistake. He frowned back at her. He might not have her training, but he knew enough to see that the Greenes were holding out on them.

Care
n’s
sobs grew in volume, crowding the small room as if her grief had a life of its own. It was clear they wouldn’t get more now. Might be best to question Greene alone, Andre decided. The more emotional Caren became, the more rigid and stoic the husband grew. They fed off each other.

Where had BreeAnna fit into the famil
y’s
delicate ecosystem?

“I think tha
t’s
enough for now,” Jenna said. “But we’ll need to talk to BreeAnn
a’s
friends, teachers—see if any of them had any inkling she was about to kill herself.”

“Electronics,” Morgan reminded her. Andre looked over at Morgan—sh
e’d
been so still and quiet, h
e’d
forgotten she was there. He wondered what her take on the Greenes was. But Morga
n’s
poker face was even better than his own. He hoped Jenna knew what she was doing, bringing a kid like Morgan into the mix.

“Oh yes,” Jenna said as if it was her idea, “any electronics she might have had access to and her passwords if you know them.”

“Why do you need all that?” Caren asked, one hand fisted at her throat as she glanced up.

“We’ll need to show BreeAnna wasn’t suicidal before she entered ReNew. Even better would be any indication she shared with her friends that something happened there that drove her over the edge.”

“She was only home a day, isn’t it obvious?” Greene said.

“If all you want is reassurance, tha
t’s
one thing. But if you really want to see ReNew closed down, save other families from the pain and suffering that you’re going through, then we’ll need hard evidence.”

Andre had a thought. “How about a psychological profile?”

Jenna nodded. “Good idea. We can ask Nick—Dr. Callahan is a psychologist who consults with us on difficult cases like this one.”

Caren twisted in her seat to glance at her husband. “
I’d
like that,” she told Greene, her voice now laced with steel. “I can’t stand the thought of anyone thinking this was my fault.”

The woma
n’s
emotions jackknifed so quickly, Andre wondered how anyone kept up. Being in the same room with her was exhausting.

Greene didn’t seem too happy about the idea but finally nodded. Caren turned back to Jenna. “Do it. Whatever it takes to shut down that awful place before any more children die.”