Now You See Me... (26 page)

Chapter 48

Hadassah’s head ached. She tried raising her hand to massage her temple and realized he’d tied her hands. Not so tightly that they hurt, and he’d been careful to avoid the scars above her wrists, but the knots were tight enough so that she couldn’t undo them even if she could reach them with her thumbs.

She was lying on a bed in a small room that glowed with the light of candles. Some of them had a fruity scent. Others were musky. There was another smell, too, and the combination was making her nauseated. From outside the room she heard music. The sound track from
Romeo and Juliet.
His favorite.

He was sitting on a folding chair, watching her. When she opened her eyes, he hurried to her side and put his hand over her mouth.

“Please don’t scream,” he said. “I would never hurt you, Dassie. Don’t be afraid.”

She nodded. He removed his hand.

“I had to tie your hands, Dassie. You were thrashing. I was afraid you’d hurt yourself.”

She knew he was lying. She had been walking to Sara’s, thrilled to inhale the crisp evening air after being indoors for so long. Suddenly he was standing in front of her. “I’ve been waiting for you, Dassie,” he said. A cloth covered her face. She smelled something sickly sweet. Then everything was black.

“I could watch you sleep for hours,” he said now. “I did that in the other apartment. You didn’t even know.”

He ran his fingers through her curls. She cringed at his touch, but lay still.

“This isn’t how I wanted it to be,” he said. “Greg is dead. Because of you, Dassie.” His voice was soft with reproach. “But I still love you.”

Her lips were dry. She licked them. “Water,” she said.

He left the room and returned with a glass. Sitting on the side of the bed, he raised her head and brought the glass to her lips. The water was cold, with a hint of chlorine.

“Why did you ruin everything, Dassie? Why did you run away?”

“I was scared. You lied to me. It was his apartment. I was scared,” she said again. She didn’t want to tell him that his talk of death and dying had frightened her. She didn’t want to say the word
death.

“We wanted to be alone. Where should we have gone? I would have explained.”

“You took away my phone. You locked the door. The key didn’t work. I felt trapped.”

“You gave me your phone to protect what we had,” he chided. “Remember? I had no idea the key didn’t work. I would never hold you against your will, Dassie. How could you think that?” He stroked her cheek. “I waited so long for someone like you, pure and true. Someone just like me. We’re the same, Dassie.”

She recognized the lyrics from the song. “Their” song.

“I brought you a new nightgown.” He walked to the chair and held up a creamy white satin gown edged with lace, just like the first one he’d bought her.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

He frowned. She thought he knew she was lying, but he said, “Why aren’t you wearing the ring?”

Friday night, after coming home, she had realized that the ring was on her finger. She had taken it off and put it in a dresser drawer, in case he wanted it back.

“I was afraid my parents would take it away, so I put it somewhere safe,” she told him.

She had no idea what he planned to do, but she knew enough to be afraid. She’d thought she would never be as terrified as she had been on Friday night, but Friday night she’d had a phone, she had called for help. Friday night, she thought, biting her lips to stop their trembling, she had stabbed a man who had done nothing to deserve it. Now he was dead. So maybe she deserved to die, too.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“An apartment. It’s empty, except for the mattress and box spring. I brought the sheets, because I wanted everything to be pretty. I brought the candles, and the wine I bought for
Shabbat.”
He leaned close. “I would die a million deaths for you, Dassie. Would you die for me?”

“Yes,” she lied.

Wine would make her drowsy, but it might make him drowsy, too. Hadassah had learned about Yael, who saved the Jewish people by inviting the enemy general, Sisera, into her tent. Yael plied Sisera with cheese to make him drowsy. And when he was asleep, she took a peg and a hammer and drove the peg into his forehead.

Hadassah didn’t have a peg. She had taken the shard with her, she wasn’t sure why. It was in the pocket of her sweater.

She didn’t know where he had put her sweater.

And her hands were tied with rope.

Chapter 49

I found a spot in front of my favorite house with the multiple turrets. I still hadn’t figured out what to say, but I locked the car, walked the few steps to the apartment door, and rang the bell.

Cheryl opened the door. “Molly, what a lovely surprise. No treats from The Coffee Bean this time?” She smiled.

I forced a smile in return. “Sorry.”

“I’m just joking.” She furrowed her brow. “Are you okay? You look upset.”

“It’s been a long day. Is Justin here?”

“You came to see how he’s doing?” She squeezed my hand. “You are so sweet. He left an hour or so ago and took my car. He said he’d be out late and not to wait up. I’ll tell him you stopped by. Can I fix you a cup of coffee?”

“No, thanks. Maybe another time.” I wasn’t sure whether there would ever be another time. Even if there were, nothing would be the same. “Do you know where to reach him? I wanted to ask him something about Adam Prosser.”

“I don’t, sorry. He lost his cell phone and hasn’t had a chance to buy a new one. He called me earlier and said he was using a friend’s cell, but he didn’t leave me the number, and I don’t have caller ID. I’m making a salad. Do you mind if we talk in the kitchen? I don’t want the lettuce to wilt.”

We walked to the kitchen. Cheryl stood in front of the sink and rinsed some vegetables. I sat at the table, just as I had two days ago.

“I saw the get-well card Justin sent Dassie the other day,” I said. “That was thoughtful of him.”

From Yamashiro, I’d returned to the Bailors’ and to Dassie’s room, where I found the blue envelope that matched the blue card. The return address said CHERYL WEXNER. I hadn’t said anything to Rabbi Bailor or to Mrs. Bailor, who looked as though she’d died. As soon as I’d left their house, I phoned West L.A. and left a message for Jessie to call me.

Cheryl looked at me, surprised. “He sent her a card? That
is
thoughtful.”

I could see in her eyes the beginnings of something that wasn’t quite alarm. “I didn’t realize Justin knew Hadassah,” I said.

“She came here half a dozen times to work on her application. She and Justin met once or twice. To tell you the truth, if she wasn’t so young, and so religious, he might have been interested in her. I’m not sure he’ll ever be Orthodox. Although people do change,” she said. “Rabbi Bailor wasn’t always rabbi material.”

“Neither was my husband.”

It would have been easy for Justin to get hold of the contents of Dassie’s file when his mother was away. I had read the essay—there had been nothing revealing. Had there been a questionnaire?
Write
down your favorite color, your favorite foods, what music you like, your hobbies, your talents. What significant events have shaped your life?

Cheryl peeled a cucumber. “Anyway, Rabbi and Mrs. Bailor would never have allowed Hadassah to go out with someone they didn’t hand-pick. And not with a screenwriter. I’m sure they want her to marry someone who learns Torah every day. I don’t blame them.”

An edge of anger in her voice said otherwise. Had Justin been angry, too? Was that why he’d done what he had—because he hadn’t felt good enough for the rabbi?

“Anyway,” Cheryl said. “I’m so relieved Hadassah’s safe at home. I meant to ask you, did you tell the Bailors about the cutting?”

“I did. They’re upset, but now they know to keep an eye on her. And of course, she’s going to continue therapy. It’s sad how many at-risk teens there are. You’re lucky that Justin wasn’t scarred by the divorce. I know you said he had a rough time, but he seems to be doing well.”

“He’s a sensitive young man. I think I told you that? And so creative.” She put down the peeler and turned toward me. “Between us, Molly?”

I nodded.

“Justin tried to kill himself two years ago. He slit his wrist. Thank God I got him to the hospital in time. He had therapy, and he’s been on medication since. He hates being on meds, but I tell him thank God they’re available. His father tells him, too.” Cheryl set the cucumber on a wood cutting board and sliced it. “Don’t tell Justin, but that’s why I moved to Los Angeles. He was three thousand miles away, and I worried that he wouldn’t remember to take his meds. And I
do
like it here.”

“I’m glad. By the way, how was dinner with the Stones?”

“Lovely.” Cheryl flashed a smile. “They invited me for Thanksgiving dinner. And I’m planning to have them for lunch the following
Shabbat.”

“Did Justin enjoy it, too?” I hoped my tone was nonchalant.

Everything indicated that Dassie had been with Justin. The get-well card, Irene’s comments. But if he had been with his mother and the Stones on Friday night, how had he seen Rabbi Bailor leaving the apartment?

“Oh, Justin didn’t go for dinner,” Cheryl said. “He joined me for services at
shul,
but he had other plans. Young people are so secretive, aren’t they? But I’m glad he has friends, especially lately. He was doing so well until Greg was fired. He took it so personally.”

So Justin had been at the apartment. Had he seen Rabbi Bailor leaving? Or was that a lie?

Cheryl rinsed a tomato and set it on the cutting board. “Would you like to stay for dinner? I can defrost another steak. I’d love the company.”

“I wish I could, but Zack is expecting me home. You mentioned the other day that Justin wasn’t going to continue studying with Rabbi Bailor. That’s too bad.”

I wondered where Justin was right now. With Hadassah? Had she lied about going to Sara’s? Had he talked her into running away with him a second time?

“Yes, well, he was terribly disillusioned when Rabbi Bailor didn’t support Greg,” Cheryl said. “And some of his anger toward the rabbi is my fault, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t understand.”

Maybe Justin had communicated with Dassie. I had seen her in the chat room last night. Maybe he’d IM’ed her:
Come with me, or I tell the
police about your father.

Cheryl laughed, nervous. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You’re not going to think well of me.”

“Try me,” I said, hating the fact that I was eliciting information under the promise of friendship.

“God, I haven’t talked about this in years.” She cut the tomato and tossed the chunks into a glass bowl, along with the cucumbers. “Justin and I have always been close—probably too close. I was a single mom with an only son, and Justin is so empathetic. I talked to him about personal things as if he were an adult. I treated him like a friend. That was wrong. I regret it.”

I nodded, my mind on Justin. What if he’d followed Dassie while she was walking to Sara’s? What if he’d snatched her?

“You remember I told you about my first love?” Cheryl said. “Justin came across some love letters I’d kept, and some mementos. So I told him about it. It was a mistake. I must have sounded bitter—I
was
bitter. For a long time, really. And after the first time, it became easier to talk about it with Justin. And poor Justin.” Cheryl sighed. “He took on my hurt, and he decided this man had ruined my life. Justin believes that I never gave Simon a chance, that he and Simon and I could have been a happy family. And you know, he may be right.”

I had learned the other day that Cheryl liked to talk. I wanted to yell at her.
Hurry up! Get to the point!
I pictured Dassie walking to Sara’s, unsuspecting. I pictured Justin grabbing her and forcing her into his car. I couldn’t begin to imagine her terror.

Cheryl took a handful of lettuce leaves, sealed the bag, and put it in the refrigerator. “But it’s too late, isn’t it? You can’t redo your life. I’ve tried to explain that to Justin, but he won’t listen to me. So I was surprised and a little nervous when he began studying with Rabbi Bailor. But Justin really liked him.” She tore a leaf and tossed the parts into the bowl.

I was confused, not really focused. “Because . . . ?”

She stopped what she was doing and looked at me. “Oh, I thought you understood, Molly. Charlie Bailor was my first love.
Chaim,
now. We dated our senior year of high school.”

I hoped my face didn’t reveal my shock. That was why Cheryl had looked familiar. I’d seen her photo in Rabbi Bailor’s yearbook. Her hair had been brown then, and she’d been decades younger.

“We came from similar backgrounds,” Cheryl said. “Orthodox, but not heavy-duty. Charlie never said so, but I was sure we’d get married—maybe in our junior year of college. And on a school-sponsored weekend at the end of that May, we
did
get married, kind of.” She sounded wistful.

“You had a ceremony,” I said. “With a ring.”

She nodded. “All the rabbis and teachers were finally asleep. A group of us drank beer. And then we were outside, Charlie and me and the others. We were a little drunk, and someone put a lace kerchief on my head and a bouquet of flowers in my hands. And Charlie put a ring on my finger and said the blessing. And he kissed me, right there under the stars. It was silly and beautiful.” Her eyes glistened.

I sensed that in her mind she was at that weekend gathering, standing under the stars.

“We didn’t think we were married, of course. It was just a joke. But I kept the ring. I still have it, as a matter of fact. I don’t know why.”

“I’d love to see it,” I said.

“It’s nothing special.”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and left the room. While I waited, I pulled out my cell phone, called West L.A., and left another, urgent message for Jessie.

Cheryl returned. She had an odd expression on her face—a mix of annoyance and bewilderment, maybe a little concern. I had probably worn the same expression when I saw the credit card charge for flowers that Ron had bought and I had never received.

“I can’t find it,” she told me. “I saw it a few weeks ago. I can’t imagine where it is. I don’t think the housekeeper would have taken it. It’s not worth much.”

“You were telling me about you and Rabbi Bailor?”

She picked up the peeler and another cucumber. “Someone talked Charlie into going to Israel for the year, instead of straight to college. At first he wrote me all the time. He called me, too, but not as much. Phone calls from Israel were very expensive then. But after a few months the letters didn’t come as often, and the calls stopped. And then he wrote me a letter. He said he really liked me, but his life was taking a different direction, and he hoped I’d understand. And I heard from someone who was in touch with Charlie that Charlie went to a different yeshiva, a stricter one. And that he changed his name to Chaim.”

I wondered if Cheryl was aware that bitterness had crept into her voice.

“I phoned him. I told him whatever direction he was taking, I would take with him. But he said that wouldn’t work, that he wasn’t the same person, that he knew I would find someone who would make me happy. I wasn’t going to beg, you know? The next letter came a year later. He was getting married and wanted to talk about the ceremony we’d had. The rabbi who was going to perform the wedding told Charlie that if we had two valid witnesses, we’d need a divorce. Charlie didn’t want to take any chances, so he wanted to give me a
get,
a divorce. A divorce!”

Her voice shook. She slammed the peeler on the board. “I was so hurt. I didn’t answer his letter. Or his phone calls. But my parents said Charlie was right. What if I met someone? Without a divorce, I couldn’t get married. So I phoned Charlie, and he sent me a
get,
from Israel. And someone hand-delivered it. And that was it. And it
hurt,
Molly.” She wiped her eyes. “God, I thought I was over this, but it just doesn’t go away, does it?”

Better love me a little, Bubbie G says, but love me long. “Did Rabbi Bailor know that Justin was your son?”

“No.” Cheryl came to the table and sat down. “Wexner is Simon’s last name. Charlie—Chaim—doesn’t know who I am. I never heard from him after I received the
get,
but I kept tabs on him. I was kind of obsessed with him.” She blushed. “It was stupid, and unhealthy. I knew he’d moved to L.A. I knew he was a principal at Torat Tzion. I saw him when I first moved here, the day I went to meet with the secular studies principal, Dr. Mendes. I think I told you? Charlie passed me in the hall. He didn’t even recognize me. I recognized him, even with the beard. I was going to say something, but then I didn’t.”

“But Justin knew.”

She nodded. “That’s why I was surprised that he agreed to study with him. Greg convinced him. He told Justin that Chaim was a great guy. I think Justin was curious, you know? And then Greg was fired— and well, here we are.”

I didn’t know where to begin. “Cheryl, I have to tell you something.”

She frowned. “Something’s wrong? Is it Hadassah? Did she . . . ?”

I took her hands. “Cheryl, you know what they’re saying on the news, that Dassie ran away with Greg? It’s not true.”

Her eyes widened. “But Greg is dead. Someone killed him.”

“Cheryl, Thursday night Dassie was at Yamashiro with the man she met in the chat room. She was with Justin.”

She yanked her hands free. “That’s crazy!” She got to her feet. “Why would you say something so awful?”

I took the blue get-well card from my purse and handed it to her. “Justin sent this to Hadassah.”

She looked at the envelope as if it were tainted. Then she took it, pulled out the card, opened it, read it.

Her face had turned the color of putty. She dropped the card on the floor and moaned. She started to sway. I stood to help her, but she sank back onto the chair and buried her head in her hands.

“My God,” she whispered.

“Cheryl, did Justin know that Greg was going away?”

She looked up. “Greg asked him to water the plants and take in the paper. Justin was disappointed that Greg didn’t want him to use the car, but it’s new. My God,” she said again. “But Justin would never hurt Greg. He
loved
Greg.”

“I know he did. Cheryl, Dassie is missing.”

She stared at me.

“She left her house to walk over to a friend’s, but she never showed up. Do you have any idea where Justin is right now?”