She's Not There (33 page)

When Rollie called to tell her he’d found the perfect place for her new business, TJ thought there was no harm in looking even though she was nowhere near ready to begin the endeavor. As soon as she saw it though, she knew the large, two-story duplex off of State Street on the outskirts of Wauwatosa couldn’t have been a better fit. An insurance office had been on the first floor, so it was equipped for a business and the upstairs was a spacious, four-bedroom flat. The place had been taken over by the bank when the insurance business didn’t work out and was being auctioned off.

Eric had gone with her the day of the auction, acting as her advisor for the sale. She’d gotten a fantastic price and only used part of the money Jeff had left her.

She’d miss living downtown, but she’d only be minutes away. The view from the upper floor where she’d reside wasn’t nearly as breathtaking as the one from her high-rise, but the historic riverscape of Milwaukee’s Menomonee Valley would be, nevertheless, an inspiring form of relaxation.

Her eyes welled with tears, remembering that Jeff had made her dream possible and vowed she would make him proud of her.        

TJ was organizing boxes in her apartment, getting ready for the move, when her cell phone buzzed. She looked down to see it was Lisa, but before she could open the phone, the doorbell rang.

She wondered who’d gotten in without buzzing. Putting the phone back in her pocket, TJ opened the door to see Tommy Rennicke standing at her doorstep, looking uneasy.

“Some lady let me in. I hope that’s okay,” He shuffled his feet, shaking drops of rain from his shoes. “Uh, you said I could talk to you about the shooting. You know, when you came to my school.”

She wanted to ask how he’d found her, but realized that if Tommy had the computer skills of most teenagers, finding her wouldn’t have been too difficult.

“Sure, come on in. How’d you get here?”

“I’ve got my dad’s truck—I have my license now. Our school’s in the playoffs today over in Shorewood, so he let me use it.” He looked around. “Nice place. Must be really cool to live in the city.”

She offered him a soda, wondering what he wanted, but knew she had to let him get there on his own.

He looked around as if making sure no one else was there. “If I tell you something, will you have to tell the cops?”

“Depends. Did you commit a crime?”

“Dunno. Maybe.”

“Talk to me.”

Tommy swallowed. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Sometimes it wakes me up at night . . . I have these nightmares. I guess I have to tell somebody it might be my fault that guy died. You know . . . James Wilson.

“
You
shot him.” TJ couldn’t imagine where this was coming from. Why would the kid think he’d shot Wilson or that he was in any way responsible?

“Um . . . no, I didn’t shoot him.  But I found him there. He might have been alive.”

The kid looked like he was going to faint. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me about it.“

She led him to the couch.

He told TJ about an incident with his dad’s sled. Without permission, Tommy had taken his father’s new snowmobile out for a spin. Wilson had run him off the trail and never looked back to see if Tommy was hurt. “He forced me off the trail and just left me there. I could have needed help. I hated him for that; used to think about killing him—even planned how I’d do it. So when I found him, I didn’t do anything—just went back home and waited for someone else to find him—just like he did to me. That’s what I never told anybody.”

TJ sat next to him on the couch. Tommy had his face in his hands, obviously tortured with guilt. She put a hand on his back, waiting to see if he’d have anything more to say.

He looked up at her. “I saw another guy leaving the trail right after I heard the shots. I didn’t tell the cops about that either.”

“Why not?” she asked softly.

Tommy pulled off his hat, leaving his hair in stiff peaks. “There wasn’t anything to tell. It was just a guy. It was snowing. I couldn’t see much, couldn’t even tell what his sled looked like. He was too far away.” He swallowed. “And if it was him, if he killed the guy?—I wanted him to get away with it.”

TJ sat back. The boy looked like he was fighting back tears. It would be self-serving, but she said, “If you’re sure there’s nothing you saw that could help the police, then it doesn’t matter if you didn’t tell them, does it?” The cop in her cringed at the blatant manipulation; the tiniest detail could be important in any investigation.

Tommy released a deep breath. “I guess not. But what if I could have saved him?”

“Tommy, whoever did it made a killin’ shot, and two more to be positive he was dead. Guy probably was dead before he hit the ground, would have bled out in minutes. There was nothin’ you could have done for him.”

“Are you sure?”

Now for the big lie.
“Yeah. I saw the autopsy report.”

Tommy Rennicke walked out of her apartment a short time later, standing taller. TJ relieved him of his burden, but assumed one of her own. She hadn’t done the right thing—but it was the right thing for the kid—and for Lisa.

Walking with Phanny along the streets next to Lake Oconomowoc, Lisa contemplated the direction her life had taken.  She felt good about putting the families of the missing women at peace and that their murderer wouldn’t be terrorizing any more women. But personally, for her little had changed. She was busier than ever with her practice; the publicity that came with the group’s part in the discovery had made them all household names. In an attempt to smooth out the rough edges of her life, she was still seeing Bernstein. Their discussions had progressed from James Wilson to her ineffective relationships. She felt like they were making headway.

At Eric’s request she’d stayed on in his house long after TJ and Shannon had left. It had been comfortable living with him, but little changed between them. They remained friends, nothing more. On the day of Kayla’s memorial service, Kayla’s sister Dawn had clung to Eric, apologizing over and over for not believing in him. Lisa knew all about Kayla’s family, their rejection of Eric and their input to the police, spinning Eric as Kayla’s murderer, even expanding on the most trivial details to cement his conviction.

She couldn’t help but notice that Eric and Dawn left the service together, or that he didn’t come home that night until after midnight. Eric had apparently forgiven the woman. At length.

After a few days of quickly glossed-over phone calls when in Lisa’s presence, she was certain Eric was spending time with Dawn. Not that she could blame him—the woman was striking, a tall, auburn-haired beauty like her sister.

Using Paige’s possible return as an excuse, Lisa moved back home. It would have been awkward to stay with Eric under the circumstances, and she was glad to be back in her own home.

Their walk wound back to her house. Lisa looked at it affectionately. Despite her loneliness, her home was her sanctuary.

Later that night, Lisa sat in the screened porch overlooking the lake. A half moon lit the night while Phanny snored softly at her feet. The trees were just starting to sprout, the cool air smelled of spring, newly mown grass, and fresh earth. She heard the ripples of the shoreline lapping at the rocks.

 Lighting up the yard, the glare of headlights interrupted the tranquility of the night. Lisa no longer panicked at the sound of someone approaching and knew she’d come a long way since the days she’d been stalked by a murderer. She stood to see Eric climbing the stairs to the deck.

“Glad you’re still up.”

Dressed in a tuxedo, his tie hung loose, and his steps were weary. She couldn’t imagine where he’d been or why he was here. She opened the door to him and sat back down. “I like to sit out here at night.”

Eric lowered himself into a chair next to her. “I can see why.”

Lisa’s skin tingled at his nearness while she chastised herself for interpreting his arrival so late at night as something romantic. “Would you like something to drink?”

He leaned back in the chair with his legs stretched out in front of him, his dark eyes and hair ebony in the moonlight. “No, I’ve had enough to drink. I was at a banquet put on by the hospital where I used to work. They offered me my old job back. I turned them down and it felt great.”

“Did you know before tonight you wouldn’t accept if they offered?”

“Actually, I didn’t. I thought it was what I wanted until it happened. It hit me that I’m satisfied with what I’m doing now. Along with my employees, I’ve turned a dying business around and made it profitable. I think your suggestion was a good one. I’ll do some teaching instead of going back into practice.”

Stunned by his decision, Lisa didn’t know what to say. “Let me get you a cup of tea—I just had some heating up.”

When she handed him the tea, he asked, “What’s new with the case? I haven’t heard anything about it for some time.”

“Then you don’t know about Jamie Denison?” When he raised his brows she said, “Jamie’s body wasn’t one of the women they found at Wilson’s place.”

“I didn’t see that one coming. How did TJ take the news?”

Lisa sighed. “Not well, I’m afraid. She’s been trying to convince the Brookfield Police to change Jeff’s cause of death to foul play. Now with this unexpected twist, the Brookfield police will never believe he didn’t kill his wife—
and
commit suicide

“I’ll have to call her. See if there’s anything I can do for her.”

“She’s at Janeen’s.”

Eric put his coffee cup down and reached for Lisa’s hand. The touch of his hand sparked her desire for him.  She felt like a teenager—but he could be preparing to tell her he was dating Dawn.

“I want you to come back.”

Sure he’d felt the bolt of electricity that surged through her body at his words, Lisa asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? It was starting to feel rather awkward for me to stay with you.” There, she’d let it out.

“Because of Dawn?”

He apparently took her silence as an affirmation. “I did spend some time with her. I think I was trying to convince myself that her family really hadn’t thought I’d murdered Kayla, until It finally occurred to me that what they thought didn’t matter anymore. There was nothing between Dawn and me. Not on my part, anyway. When you moved out I thought you needed to have some time to yourself.”

He’d twined his fingers with hers, his thumb caressing the palm of her hand. She was speechless with wanting him, but unsure if packing up and moving back at his whim was the right thing for her. And she still hadn’t decided if getting involved with him made any sense without telling him the truth about James—that she’d been the one who’d shot him. The subject had been hashed over at length with Bernstein and TJ without resolution. Lisa was torn; she wanted Eric to accept her as she was, but didn’t want to burden him with the truth.

“I’m sorry, Lisa. I can’t expect you to drop everything for me. Think it over. But no matter what you decide about the living arrangements, I want you in my life.”

Filled with hope for a future with him, Lisa knew what she had to do. “Eric, there’s something I have to tell you.”

Eric placed his other hand on top of hers and turned to her. “Lisa, I know who you are. Nothing from the past matters; I want you to know that.”

Lisa felt the first pangs of regret for her act. “It’s something big, Eric. I’ve been struggling with telling you for months.” She felt a lump forming in her throat.

“I know, Lisa. I figured it out a longtime ago.” He reached for her and held her as she sobbed.