Stella took the pad and pen. “Why? I told you I—”
“Just being thorough,” Foster said. “Thank you for your cooperation.” Foster watched as Stella jotted down the information she requested, then handed the paper back, looking far less confident as she did it. “Did you speak at all with Peggy yesterday afternoon?”
“No, like I said . . .”
“Did you try calling or texting her later in the evening?” Foster asked.
Stella shifted in her seat. “Maybe once or twice.”
Foster held her hand out. “Show me?”
Stella’s eyes widened. “You mean my phone?” It was as if Foster had asked for one of Stella’s kidneys. A kid and their phone weren’t easily parted.
“I’m not going anywhere with it,” Foster assured her. “You’ll get it right back. Unless you’re refusing to show me?”
Stella hesitated before lifting her phone out of her pocket. She held on to it for a moment, clutching the device in her hands. “Don’t you need a warrant or something?”
“Not if you voluntarily comply with my polite request,” Foster answered.
Stella handed the phone to Foster, who quickly thumbed through her outgoing-call logs and text messages. She looked up at Stella when she was done and handed the phone back, as she’d promised. “Four calls. Twelve text messages. The last one at four this morning. A little more than once or twice.”
“I wanted to make sure she was safe,” Stella replied. “You know how dangerous this city is.”
“What’d you think when you got no response?”
Stella dropped her head to her chest. “That she was avoiding me.”
“So you got worried,” Foster said. “Did you come down to her room to check to see if she made it back?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t, okay?”
Foster let things sit. “That’s it for now. We’ll be in touch.”
She and Lonergan watched as Stella got up and rushed out of the room. Foster closed her file, the paper with the names on it tucked inside, then turned to Lonergan. “Did you get anything else from her?”
“We spent most of the time in a stare-off. She’s one tough cookie, that one. What’s with the stalker texts? What’d you get out of the other one?”
“That Peggy and Stella didn’t exactly have an easy relationship. Stella’s controlling and has a temper. Also, according to Wendy, Peggy never told Rimmer she was dumping him for Stella. She just stopped answering his calls.”
“So how’d he know?” Lonergan asked.
“Good question.”
They walked out of the room and back to the car. “Four a.m.,” Lonergan said, jangling the car keys in his pocket. “Birch was dead by then. Stella didn’t know it. She was just bein’ a pain in the ass.”
“Or she did know, and that’s why she sent it.”
“You distrust everybody, Foster?”
She thought about the question as she walked. She’d heard so many outright lies and shaded half-truths in her career. Everybody lied about something, even to themselves. Add murder to that, and the lies multiplied because now self-preservation was in play. Would a person lie to save themselves from a life behind bars? You bet they would, so Foster had long ago adopted the old standard of trust but verify. It worked for her on the job, and it worked for her when she laid the badge down at night. Trust but verify was somehow safer, cleaner. It protected the soul and the heart.
Foster put more distance between them, needing some space, suddenly in a gloomy frame of mind. “Yeah,” she finally said.
CHAPTER 14
Bodie looked around, taking in the lakefront park and the marina beyond. If he turned south, he could see the iconic Chicago skyline glistening in the late-afternoon sun. It’d be dark soon, and then a million lights would twinkle like fairy lights in each of the tiny skyscraper windows. He often wondered what went on behind all those windows. Who lived or worked inside? Were they happy? Did they have fantastic careers and kids and dreams? Were they sick and twisted with friendly smiles? He liked to imagine they were happy, normal, and that he might fit in their world if only he didn’t know what he knew—that where there was light there was also darkness.
He kicked up dried leaves as he walked along the pedestrian path, his hands in his pockets, breathing. No Dr. Silva. Not even Am, who pitied him for his weakness. Am didn’t have to say the words. Bodie could feel it, see it in the way she looked at him, as though he were some poor unfortunate clod she had to steer this way or that. Hide the scissors—here comes Bodie, he often imagined her saying. But he knew exactly what he was doing and why. All he needed was a moment to get his thoughts together, to make a life plan. It wasn’t his fault things kept getting in the way. He was strong, capable. He would prove that he was just as smart, just as talented, as Am . . . at something.
A yappy little terrier bolted out of the doggy park and ran for Bodie, trailing a glittery leash behind it. He froze as the dog raced around him, tangling the leash around his legs. His first impulse was to punt the little rat, but just a half second before he did so, a woman’s voice called out.
“Gus! Oh my God.” She ran over and reached for the dog, unwinding the leash from around Bodie’s legs. “I’m so sorry. He just took off.”
Bodie, a moment ago angry enough to strike, stood down, even managing a polite smile. She was pretty. Young. Nice smile. How long had it been since a woman so young and pretty had stood this close to him? She grabbed the rat and the leash, pushing her dark hair back from her face.
“He doesn’t usually do that. I’m so sorry. Did he get you dirty?”
“No problem. Gus, is it?”
She chuckled, her brown eyes dancing. “Short for Augustus. Seriously, he didn’t scratch you or anything?”
Bodie held his arms out, turned around in a circle playfully. “No damage.”
“Good.” She put the dog down and turned to go. “Well, have a good one.”
Bodie watched her stroll up the path to whatever wonderful world awaited her. There would be friends there, he knew, maybe a boyfriend. A full life that included Gus, short for Augustus. She’d been nice, he thought. As the dog trotted along at her side, she talked on her cell phone. She was likely making plans for the night, Bodie thought. Dinner out, maybe, or a meetup at a favorite bar. That was what life was like for people not raised on evil secrets.
Should he have asked her out? Their chance meeting could have been one of those meet-cute encounters normal people always talked about. No ring on her finger; Bodie had slipped a look. He turned and walked away. He might have, he thought, if only her eyes had been blue.
CHAPTER 15
Teddy’s Bar was outfitted in dark wood and brass fittings, swinging for upscale, trying really hard to look like an old English pub, only it felt a little too forced and fake, too stiff. It was just after four when Foster and Lonergan walked in to find the place all but empty. The nine-to-fivers had yet to clock out and wander over from the office buildings off Michigan. Just a few of the tables were occupied by early birds having a quick meal. The big-screen sets mounted to the wall were tuned to an English rugby match, and the sound was muted, but no one seemed to be paying any attention to the game. Foster clocked the slightly built white man behind the bar as he dried glasses with a towel—gearing up, apparently, for the happy hour rush to come.