Scorned (25 page)

              “Glenn Michaels,” I asked while holding up my badge. He barely turned his head to the side before muttering a “yeah” in response. “I’m Detective Ali Ryan. I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He dipped his shade down the bridge of his nose while he undressed me with his eyes. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

              “Baby, we can go wherever you’d like.”

              “I’ll ask for you to address me as ma’am or detective.”

              He sucked in his bottom lip trying to hide the smirk on his face. “Sure thing detective; right this way.” His left hand gestured towards the building I walked through to get to the pool. I started to head back at his request and then felt another hand pressing up against my lower back with a finger resting below my belt.

             
Great, I got the asshole. Why do I always get the assholes?
I swatted his hand away. “Mr. Michaels, I’ll advise you to keep your hands to yourself.”

              “Sorry Detective,” he said slyly. Somehow I doubted he was sincere in his apology. He opened the door for me and ushered me into a tiny office. “So what can I help you with Detective?”

              “As I understand, you frequent the Highland Fitness gym.”

              “Yeah, I go there to work these bad boys out.” He flexed his muscles in a blatant attempt at seducing me with his fit physique.

              “And you were there Monday night?” He nodded apparently unsure as to why he was being questioned. “What time did you leave that night?”

              “I don’t know. I tend to lose track of time when getting my swell on.” He flexed again admiring himself more than paying attention to my questions. “I mean, this kind of body doesn’t happen overnight.”

              I was getting annoyed by the narcissistic replies. I slammed my hand on the desk. “Cut the shit and be serious for a minute! We know you were there the night Tyson Lee was murdered.”

              “Whoa, whoa I didn’t kill nobody.” The arrogant prick persona was replaced by a more fearful wuss.

              “You were there. You checked in at the gym a few hours before he was found dead in the steam room. So if you wanna get off my list of suspects, you better start talking and telling me everything you know about that night!”

              “Okay, I got to the gym sometime between eight and nine. I really wasn’t paying too much attention to the clock. I threw on my headphones and blasted my music before hitting the treadmill and then the weights. I was gone by eleven the latest.”

              “Did you know the victim?” I slammed one of the pictures on the desk allowing Michaels to get a look at Tyson Lee.

              “I’ve run into him a few times. He seemed like a cool guy, always surrounding himself with the ladies though.”

              “So you’d say he was a lady’s man?”

              “Yeah, I guess so.”

              “How’d that make you feel?”

              “What the fuck? Am I in a therapy session or something?”

              “Answer the damn question.”

              “I didn’t care. Most of the chicks there are older broads.”

              “It looked like you were trying to score some older broads of your own a few minutes ago. What’s the difference between them and the ones at the gym?”

              Michaels sat back in his chair with a smile on his face. “The ones at the gym are more like older moms. They’re either in their forties or just about to hit forty. I’m more interested in the ones out here that are in their late twenties and early thirties. Plus, they’re a lot better to look at when they’re wearing practically nothing.”

              I was completely disgusted by his remarks. My skin crawled with every word he spoke. I wanted out of there, but decided to throw a few more questions at Mr. Michaels. “Did you see Mr. Lee there that night?”

              “Yeah, he’s there every night.”

              “Was he with anyone, a client, an employee, or a woman perhaps?”

              Michaels thought about it for a few moments. “Now that you mention it, I saw some tall chick with long black hair getting real close with him. I didn’t get a good look at her, but she looked like a knockout from across the room.”

              I held up another picture and showed him the one of Blake Ambrose. He shrugged and had no clue who the man was. Thankfully that solidified the end of my time with Glenn Michaels, but not before he had a few more choice words for me.

              As we stood up from our respective chairs, he allowed me to take the lead to the door. “Now that we’re done playing twenty questions, how about you and me get a room and have fun with some of our own interrogation techniques?”

              Now that the pressure was off, Michaels was back to being a little creep again. I plastered a fake smile on my face. He took that as an opportunity to cop a feel. “Here, let me get us started.” In one quick motion, I spun on my heel and jammed my knee into his groin, toppling him to the floor leaving him there in a heap. “I told you, never put your hands on me again.”

Chapter 31-Claire

              Fear of the unknown can easily cause people to make rash decisions. Even the most intelligent people fall victim to fear. Claire Cain was no exception. Her fear resided in knowing Ron DeMarco was gunning for her. She was his conquest that he had a taste of once before and desperately wanted again. Claire’s anger was reaching the purest form of hatred. It took everything in her to not to act out against him. She wanted him dead for what he did to her and for what he took from her. But thoughts of the fallout haunted her with every waking moment. If she pulled it off, there would be an investigation with the hospital and all its employees would be heavily scrutinized. By being a top contender to take his spot, Claire would be the most likely suspect. Once they focused on her, they would find her gym membership, linking her to Highland Fitness and Tyson Lee. They would pry into her life and eventually uncover all of her dirty secrets. Then her professional and personal reputation would be tarnished beyond repair, but she wasn’t about to let DeMarco get away with everything either. She booked a roundtrip ticket out of the country days ago. With her passport in hand, the only items left on her list were to pack her bags and get her revenge.

              Claire rushed into her room like a hurricane. Suitcases were ripped from her closet. Clothes were flung from her dressers until they were strewn across the floor and bed. Next came the shoes. Dozens of heels, flats and sandals soared through the air, finding their place beside the clothes. Claire turned and faced the disaster her room became and began piling everything into two suitcases. She was in a zone where survival and her escape were the only things that mattered. The only thing that could deter her was…
Ding Dong
; the doorbell.

              Terror filled her mind with thoughts of the police finding evidence to link her to the murders. Were they there to arrest her? Did she still have time to run? Hesitantly, Claire moved towards the front of her house. Her hands trembled as they reached for the handle. She inched forward until her eye pressed up against the peephole. A sigh of relief escaped her slightly parted lips. She gripped the handle and yanked the door open.

              Becky stood in the basking glow of the sunlight in a long pencil skirt and solid navy blue blouse. “Well it’s about time you opened the door,” she snapped. She entered her friend’s home and kicked off her four inch heels immediately.

              “Please, why don’t you make yourself at home,” Claire said with sarcasm ringing in her voice.

              “Thanks, my feet have been killing me all day.” Rebecca became suddenly silent. “Sorry, I didn’t mean…”

              Claire disregarded the comments and continued pacing the house in search of items to pack. “You know your feet wouldn’t hurt as much if you didn’t wear such a high heel.”

              Rebecca cradled one of the shoes in her hands while holding it to her face. “But I love them. They’re my babies.”

              Claire laughed. “You want something to drink?” She entered the kitchen and rummaged through the refrigerator.

              “Nah, I’m good.”

              Claire returned with a beer in her hand. “So what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

              “I wanted to check on you; see how you were doing since the whole, you know, killing thing.”

              Claire shifted her eyes from side to side nervously. She told Rebecca about what happened with Blake Ambrose, but she didn’t mention a word about her being the one who killed Tyson Lee or that she was planning one more murder before skipping town.

              “I’m uh fine. I’m just keeping myself busy.” Claire made a move towards her bedroom, hoping to shut the door before Becky found the evidence of Claire’s impending plans. But Rebecca was right behind her yammering on about her day at the court house and how her firm lost a case defending a wife accused of murdering her husband.

              “What the hell happened to your room?” She pushed Claire aside and entered. Clothes were draped across the sides of the suitcase. She picked up a shirt and held it up for Claire to see. “You going somewhere?”

              Claire tore the shirt from Rebecca’s hands. The kind caring eyes Claire once exuberated were gone and replaced with a look of malicious intent. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

              “Where the hell are you going? When are you coming back?”

              “I’m getting out of town for a little while and will come back when I’m good and ready.” The fire burning in Claire’s eyes was one that Rebecca had never seen before.

              “So what; you killed a man and are skipping town so you don’t have to deal with the consequences?” Claire held up three fingers in reply. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rebecca thought about it for a moment before realizing the three fingers meant three people. “Claire, tell me you didn’t.”

              “I didn’t; not yet anyway.” Rebecca wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “I killed two.”

              Rebecca turned ghostly white. “You killed t-two p-people? What? Why? How?” She shifted her feet and pointed them back towards the living room. “Forget it, I don’t think I wanna know.”

              The switch in Claire’s brain was turning from a cowering fearful woman trying to flee from possible prosecution to the cold hearted bitch that no one thought they’d see in her. “I’ll have you know it was my personal trainer.”

              Shock and horror was etched on Rebecca’s usual bubbly face. “You-you killed Tyson?” She backed away slowly.

              “It’s not what you think.” Claire became overly defensive. Becky was her friend and her legal attorney. “He tried to drug me and rape me or god knows what else.”

              “How do you know he tried to drug you?”

              Claire recounted what happened the last two times she ran into Tyson which led to her turning the tables on him and leaving his unconscious body in the steam room. Although, her version of the story made it seem like he was the one leading her to the steam room.

              “Who knows what he planned on doing to me that night. Hell, it could’ve been me he left in there for dead.”

              “Claire, you should’ve gone to the cops about it after the first time. You should’ve held onto the bottle of water, given it to the police, let them dust it for fingerprints and test the water to see if it was laced with something.”

              “I know that, but I couldn’t think straight. I was freaking out and didn’t know how much of it had worked through my system. When he tried doing it the second time, I completely lost it and needed to put an end to this once and for all.”

              Rebecca slowly made her way to the living room couch trying desperately to process everything Claire was telling her. “Okay, we might have a case of self-defense here. Did you at least keep the bottle Tyson drank out of?”

              “No, I think I left it there.”

              “That means there’s a chance the police might have it already. If they don’t, then it’s long gone.”

              “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

              “Both. If the police found the bottle, then they must’ve had it tested and now know Tyson was murdered. That’s bad for you. If they find a way to place you there that night, you’ll be one of their prime suspects. The good news is that if they found the bottle, we can use that to as a way to search Tyson’s house and find his drug supply. That’ll show he intended on using it either on you or another woman.”

              “Perfect,” Claire said with a gleam in her eye.

              Rebecca caught sight of it. Something was off in the way Claire was accepting this as a viable option. “You said you only killed two, but said there were three. Who’s the third?”

              “I can’t tell you.” Claire turned to stroll back to her bedroom, but felt Rebecca’s hand close around her arm.

              “You can tell me you killed two people, but you can’t tell me who the third is going to be?”

              “If I do, you’re an accessory to the crime.” Rebecca was stunned by Claire’s statement. “Come on; I took a few law courses in college and I’ve watched enough crime shows to know what an accessory before the fact is. If I tell you anything about it, you could go to jail. And if I tell you and you run to the police, then I’m guaranteed life in prison.” Claire took a deep breath. “Just know that I found out who raped me six months ago and I’m going after them. He’s going to pay for what he did.”

              Hearing Claire talk about the rape brought tears to Rebecca’s eyes. She lunged forward and threw her arms around Claire, pulling her in for a tight embrace. “If you go through with this, I won’t be able to help you.”

              Claire wrapped Rebecca in her arms. “I know, that’s why I’m leaving town for a bit.” Tears trickled down their cheeks. “I need to do this though. I can’t let him get away with it.”

              “Just promise me you’ll be safe and that you’ll get out of town before the police find you.”

              “I will, but you need to forget we ever had this conversation. You need to forget any of this ever happened.”

              Rebecca gave a tearful nod before turning back to her spot on the couch. She wiped at her face while placing her shoes back on. She stood and stared at her friend. Rebecca hugged Claire as if it were the last time she would ever see her again.