The Perfect Game (3 page)

Chapter Four

(Sunday, July 24)

Moments later, Jake's cell phone rang again. After hanging up, he announced he was going to the police station to give a statement.

Buffy fussed, asserting that Jake should be allowed time to grieve. Jacob Sr. insisted Jake needed a lawyer. As Jake interacted with his father, Lauren was struck by their physical similarities. Although he was in his sixties, Jacob Sr. looked much younger with his trim build and thick brown hair. He managed to look elegantly casual in an expensive sports jacket over khaki slacks. “They always want to pin things on the husband,” he warned Jake.

“Dad, I was all the way across the country. They aren't looking at me. I need to do whatever I can to help the investigators.”

“Let me give Bob a call and ask him to meet you there.”

“Absolutely not. How is it going to look if I show up with the family lawyer? I've got nothing to hide and I don't want it to look like I do.”

As Jake rose to go, Lauren followed suit. She did not want to be left behind in the Wakefields' museum-quality home, with their wealthy friends discussing Liz's death in hushed voices.

Buffy and Jacob Sr. hovered over her.

“Stay, dear, we insist. You shouldn't be alone at a time like this.” Buffy said.

“I don't want to intrude.”

Jacob Sr. waved his hand in the air in protest. “You're not intruding! You'll always be family to us, Lauren. You're welcome to stay. We'll have Yvonna make up the guest room for you.”

“You're so kind, but I need to get home and make some phone calls.”

The Wakefields relented and air-kissed Lauren good-bye before she left the house with Jake. He hugged her, promising to keep her posted. He donned his sunglasses, slid gracefully into his bright red convertible, and roared out of the driveway.

Lauren's one-bedroom apartment near the light rail line in Phoenix was exactly as she had left it. It seemed impossible that her world could be so different and yet look the same. She clicked on the television to see if she could glean any information. Liz's murder was breaking news on every local station. It was even featured on CNN and ESPN. Lauren viewed the same clips over and over: Liz's body being wheeled out to the coroner's van, detectives greeting Jake at the airport, herself begging reporters for privacy. There were no new developments.

Lauren's cell had been ringing all day. She let all the calls go to voice mail. But her heart leapt when she saw a familiar number on her caller ID.

She hurried to answer the phone, “Michael?”

“Oh, hey, Lauren, I wasn't sure you'd even pick up. I just heard about Liz. I am so sorry.”

Lauren forced out a response through a throat tight with grief. “I can't even believe it's true.”

“I know. It was so surreal when I heard her name on TV.”

“I appreciate you calling.”

“Of course. Liz was really special.”

Lauren had no idea what to say and an awkward dead air lingered on the line.

Michael broke the silence. “If there is anything Darcy or I can do to help, call us, okay?”

“I think you and Darcy have done plenty already. I have to go.” Lauren had barely finished saying the words before she hit the Call End button.

She watched her cell phone screen impassively as her phone vibrated several more times.

After a while, she took some time to listen to her voice mail messages. Friends, coworkers, Dr. Stone, all calling to express their condolences. And dozens of reporters calling to request interviews. They had already managed to find her phone number somehow. Then a message from somebody she did wish to speak with. Lauren called him back.

His telephone voice was professional. “Detective Boyd.”

“Hello. This is Lauren Rose. Sorry I missed your call. I've been inundated.”

“Yes, this case has stirred up quite a media storm. Ride it out, it should die down, I mean quiet down, in a few days. How are you holding up?”

“Um, okay. Has there been any progress in the investigation?”

“Nothing significant yet. It may take some time, but we'll sort it out. I was hoping I could come by and ask you a few more questions.”

Lauren agreed, eager to have something to contribute. She settled back on the couch to await his arrival, continuing to watch the news. It was like a bad car accident. She did not want to see it, but couldn't resist looking. The ghastly news images were interrupted by a knock on the door. She checked the peephole, before opening the door to let Detective Boyd in.

“What can you tell me so far?” she asked.

“Not much. In an ongoing investigation; we aren't authorized to release much information.”

“Not even to the family?”

“Not even to the family.” He shifted uncomfortably. “We have to consider everybody a suspect until we can rule them out. That's partly why I'm here.”

“I'm a suspect? I thought you said it was a burglary?”

“That's how it looks at this point, but most homicide victims are killed by somebody they know. The sooner we can rule out family and friends, the better. I was hoping I could see the clothes you were wearing last night.”

Last night seemed an eternity ago. Lauren glanced down at the rumpled scrubs she was still wearing, “You're looking at them now.”

“I need to take them into evidence if you don't object. You'll get them back as soon as forensics is done examining them.”

“No problem. There's more where these came from. The hospital provides fresh scrubs by the cartful. Let me just change out of them.”

Lauren stepped down the short hallway to her bedroom. She threw on the first clothes she could find, shorts and a T-shirt. She folded the scrubs and placed them in a plastic grocery sack before handing them to Detective Boyd. “It's possible that you might find body fluid splashes from different people on those.”

Detective Boyd raised an eyebrow. “That should make the forensics team earn their paychecks. What time did you work last night?”

“My shift was scheduled from noon to midnight, but I didn't actually get off until this morning because of a tough case.”

“Did you run out for Starbucks or anything?”

The very idea struck Lauren as funny, but she couldn't muster a laugh. “No. We don't usually have much time to eat. Sometimes, we don't even have time to use the bathroom. We joke about inserting catheters so we don't have to.”

“Is there somebody at your work that could verify your shift?”

“The best one would be my resident. I doubt I could get out of his sights for more than thirty seconds without him noticing.” Lauren provided contact information for Dr. Stone.

Boyd hesitated for a moment, “Miss Rose, did you know you were the sole beneficiary on your sister's life insurance policy?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. She changed it just recently from Jake to you. Any idea why?”

“None. I didn't even know she had life insurance.”

“Was she having marital problems?”

“No, not that she mentioned.”

“And would she have mentioned it to you if she was?”

“Yes,” Lauren answered immediately, but then hesitated. She hadn't even known that Liz wanted to be cremated. “At least I think so.”

Chapter Five

(Monday, July 25)

Unable to sleep, Lauren was relieved when her bedroom lightened at dawn, giving her an excuse to quit trying. She headed out for her morning run. She had been plagued by insomnia after her parents died and running had given her an excuse to start her day early.

Afterwards, she showered before perusing the Internet, hoping the web might provide details about the investigation. Typing Liz's name into the search engine resulted in dozens of hits. Most were about the murder the day before, but none yielded more than Lauren already knew; the Scottsdale police suspected Liz had been victimized by a burglar who expected the house to be unoccupied. Several older articles were written about Liz's charity work. Others were society pages, heralding Liz and Jake's attendance at various events.

Lauren couldn't believe how many hits Liz's name produced. Previous Google searches of Lauren's own name produced only one mention of herself, an article listing her as one of ninety-seven medical school graduates from UCLA earlier in the year. Idly, Lauren entered her own name in the search engine and was astonished when several links popped up, identifying her as a surviving sister in news articles about Liz's death.

Lauren watched the clock, wondering how soon she could call the detectives for an update. She gave herself permission to call at eight o'clock, but at 7:47, she broke down and dialed Detective Boyd's number. He answered on the third ring.

“I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I was wondering if you have any news about the investigation?”

“I was actually waiting for a decent hour so I could call you. Would you be able to come into the station to give a statement? The more we know about the victim, the better.”

“Absolutely.” Lauren jumped at the chance to help.

Though she hadn't lived in Phoenix long, she was adept at navigating the city streets, which ran along predictable grids. The Scottsdale Via Linda Police Station looked more like a small resort than a government building.

A stout receptionist took Lauren's name and Detective Boyd soon rounded a corner to greet her. It looked like he had not shaved since the previous day and his hair was untidy. His tie knot had been loosened around his neck. Dark circles ringed his eyes. Lauren hoped his disheveled appearance meant he had been making good headway on the investigation.

“Wow. You made good time. I hope you didn't pass any of our local traffic cops. They hand out speeding tickets like candy around here. It's a nice little source of revenue for the city. Funds lots of donuts.” Lauren forced a polite smile and did not dispute his assumption that she had been speeding.

He shook her hand and offered a warm smile. “How are you holding up?”

Lauren's eyes filled with tears and she shrugged her shoulders in response.

“I know this must be a terribly difficult time for you,” he said. “Can I get you coffee or anything?”

“No, thank you.”

As Boyd led Lauren down the building hallways, he said, “We'd like to tape the interview if you don't mind. It allows us to review helpful information later if needed.”

“Sure. No problem.”

They entered a small room with a table, two chairs, and a two-way mirror on one wall. Lauren doubted anybody cared enough to observe this mundane family member interview from the other side. The room was freezing and Lauren, who was wearing shorts and a T-shirt appropriate for the 107-degree day, wished she had thought to bring a sweater.

Detective Boyd encouraged Lauren to take a seat. The metal chair was cold and uncomfortable. Boyd offered coffee again and Lauren, now shivering, asked for tea. He arranged for warm tea to be brought in and Lauren was grateful when he draped his own suit jacket around her shoulders.

Despite the formality of the interview room and the whirring video camera in the corner, the conversation was comfortable. Boyd started by asking lots of questions about Liz. How did Liz spend her time? Who were her closest friends? What were her hobbies? Lauren answered to the best of her ability, uneasily realizing she no longer knew all the details of Liz's personal life. Liz had often visited Lauren in California, but Lauren had not often had the time to make the trip to Arizona. And since starting her internship in Phoenix, Lauren had been too busy to spend much time in Liz's world.

“Was Liz cautious? Did she lock doors and set her security system?” Boyd asked.

“She wasn't easily spooked. We grew up in a small town where nobody locked their doors. Jake worried about security, so Liz locked up and used the alarm, but she wasn't obsessive about it.”

“Would she have opened the door to a stranger?”

“I don't know. She might have.”

“Tell me about Liz's relationship with Jake.”

“They met at Arizona State. He was on the baseball team, of course. And Liz was a cheerleader. They started dating when she was a sophomore and he was a junior. They were crazy about each other. When he got drafted by the Diamondbacks at the end of his senior year, Liz quit school so she could travel with him. They got married that summer. It would have been seven years this August.”

“And they got along well?”

“Incredibly. He was the Ken to her Barbie.”

“Except Ken and Barbie ended up splitting up.”

Lauren almost smiled. “Wow, you have an impressive command of Barbie's personal life. I just meant that they seemed perfect for one another.”

“And what about the relationship between you and Liz?”

“We were exceptionally close. Losing our parents really bonded us. I wouldn't have survived that without Liz. She's always the first person I want to call when something significant happens in my life.” Lauren realized she had lapsed into the present tense when referring to Liz.

“Have you had any arguments lately?”

“None.”

Detective Boyd asked Lauren to specify her movements the previous evening. She reiterated what she had told him before. She had spent all night at the hospital, staying until morning because of a tough case.

“Thank you so much for coming in this morning. I appreciate it,” Detective Boyd said, wrapping up the interview.

“Of course. Any time.”

“Detective Wallace would like to ask you a few more questions before you leave.” He glanced at the two-way mirror and Lauren realized for the first time that other people
had
been watching the interview. Now, her shivering was unrelated to the temperature.

Boyd exited as Detective Wallace entered the room. He was wearing the same suit he had been wearing the day before, which looked rumpled. His eyes were bloodshot and watery. But he entered the room with a commanding presence.

“I have a few matters that we need to clear up, Miss Rose,” he said.

“Of course.”

“Isn't it true that you were jealous of Liz?”

“What? No. We—”

But Wallace interrupted, “Isn't it true that you were jealous of her wealth while you took out loans to get through school?”

“No.” Lauren furrowed her brows.

Detective Wallace leaned in now, getting uncomfortably close. “Didn't you convince your sister to change her life insurance policy shortly before she was killed?”

As Wallace neared her, Lauren shrank back in her seat. She responded with absolute clarity. “That's ridiculous. You worked all night and that's the best you've come up with?”

“I think we're done here,” Wallace said, departing the room without another word. As if on cue, Boyd re-entered. He smiled at her, but said nothing as he busied himself with the video camera. Lauren fired upon him. “What the hell was that all about? You guys can't seriously think I did this!”

Detective Boyd finished clicking off the equipment. “Don't worry about him. He's under a lot of pressure to solve this case. To him, everybody is a suspect until proven otherwise.”

“But I was at work all night.”

“We know. We already confirmed your shift with Dr. Stone. You were at the hospital for your entire shift, right?”

“And then some,” she said.