You Don't Own Me Read online

  “And another man went up to the apartment?” Alex asked, the concern rising in his voice.

  “Yes, a guy who said he was her husband. I was surprised. He didn’t look like her type.”

  Alex was already racing to the elevator. After pushing the button for the sixteenth floor, he dialed Leo. He prayed he would not lose the connection while in the elevator. “A guy who claimed to be me followed Laurie into the apartment. It’s at 230 East Eighty-fifth, sixteenth floor. I’m on my way up now. Send help.”

  Leo disconnected without answering.

  The elevator door opened to the sixteenth floor. Alex, grateful that the apartment door was not fully closed, moved it open very slowly. He could see into the living room where Laurie, her hands up, was talking to a man whose back was to him. He could overhear the conversation.

  “You’re running out of time, Laurie. Say your prayers.”

  • • •

  In a second, Laurie saw snippets of a future she wouldn’t be around to experience. The images were as real as if she had already lived them. Either Alex or Rhoda would arrive to find her body. Leo and Alex would probably tell Timmy together. Timmy would run to his room and cry on his bed, burying his face in his pillow so no one could hear.

  Her current will appointed Leo as Timmy’s legal guardian in the event of her death. Would Alex still be part of the picture when she was gone? She wanted to think so. He’d become an honorary uncle to her son instead of a stepfather.

  Would her murder ever be solved? She imagined Ryan Nichols taking over Under Suspicion—maybe with Jerry at his side. Maybe her own case would be the show’s first priority. But maybe not.

  She pictured Timmy graduating from college. Getting married. Having a baby and maybe naming her Laurie.

  All of it, she saw in an instant. And only then did she realize that she had seen a version of this story play out before. Greg had been shot in the head in the middle of the day by a killer known only as “Blue Eyes,” based on the best description Timmy could provide as a toddler. For years, she believed the murderer was some dangerous man Greg had encountered as an emergency room doctor at Mount Sinai.

  But Blue Eyes turned out to be a sociopath who had never even met Dr. Greg Moran. His long-harbored grudge was against someone else entirely—Deputy Police Commissioner Leo Farley. To ruin Leo’s life, he planned to kill everyone close to him, starting with Greg. Laurie and Timmy were supposed to be next.

  She looked directly into the eyes of the man pointing a gun at her and knew her instincts were right. He had nothing against her personally. This was all about Alex.

  She had known Alex for less than two years, but they had no secrets. She took her best guess at the source of the grievance.

  “This is about Carl Newman, isn’t it?” she asked, referring to the investment banker who had run a Ponzi scheme on his clients to the tune of hundreds of millions of dollars. “Even Alex was surprised by the acquittal. Other defense attorneys would have strutted like peacocks on the cable news circuit. Not Alex.”

  “Stop saying his name!” the man said, straightening his gun arm out to bring the weapon closer to her.

  “Please,” she said. “I have a young son. His father is dead. He needs me.”

  “I had a family, too. I lost them!” he shouted at her. “I had a lot of money and I lost it. And the guy who did this to me got away with it because of your precious Alex Buckley.”

  Looking past him, Laurie could see the door of the apartment opening slowly. It was Alex.

  “Newman stole your money?” she asked, struggling to remember the victims who were most vocal in their opposition to Alex’s judicial nomination. She remembered Alex telling her that, despite the large financial amounts involved, most of the victims had lost a combination of inherited money and relatively small percentages of their overall wealth. Only a few people had been completely wiped out of everything they had worked for. Looking at the man in front of her, a name came to her: Willie Hayes, son of a handyman and a laundress, a wholly self-made contractor who rolled over all of his assets to Carl Newman after his baby was born, only to discover he had lost everything six years later.

  “Are you Willie Hayes?” His face told her that she was right. “Please, tell me your story. I have a TV show. Carl Newman was acquitted in federal court, but the state could still bring charges. We could make that happen. A civil suit, too.”

  “None of that will rewind the clock,” he said. “I used to have it all, and now it’s gone. A loft in Tribeca, a country house upstate. A wife. A son. Love. I had to file for bankruptcy. The property, the bank accounts, the cars—all of it got taken. My wife and son, too. Alex Buckley doesn’t deserve to be happy.”

  She pictured this man watching her engagement party at the piano bar. He had never been interested in her laptop and case notes. He was angry because she and her friends had been celebrating the life she was going to share with Alex.

  “Please,” she said, hearing her own voice begin to shake. “I have nothing to do with any of that. My work is literally dedicated to finding justice for people who are wronged. I have a son, too. How old is yours? I’ve been raising Timmy on my own since his father was murdered.” She felt sick entrusting this sociopath with her past, but she was willing to do anything possible to live.

  As she was talking, Alex was making his way quietly across the room toward them. The wail of a police siren in the distance helped drown out the faint sound of his shoes on the hardwood floor.

  “Shut up!” Hayes yelled. “You . . . you mean nothing to me. If you want to blame anyone, blame Alex Buckley. He’s the one who landed his dream job with courthouse security and U.S. Marshals installing high-tech alarms in his apartment. You’re the only way I can get to him.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, not knowing what words to use. She wished there were some furniture, a couch to dive behind if he began shooting. There was nothing between the two of them as he began to walk closer, the gun at her chest.

  66

  “Now, Laurie Moran, you’re gonna pay for what your boyfriend did.”

  Terrified, Laurie could hear the sound of her own breathing. She watched as his finger moved ever so slightly on the trigger of the pistol. The silence was broken by a noise from behind.

  “Hey, Willie, I’m the one you want!” Alex shouted.

  Startled, Willie turned in the direction of Alex’s voice. As he did so, the gun moved slightly to his left and was no longer pointed at her. She recognized her opportunity and pounced.

  Laurie sprinted toward Willie and grabbed his hand and wrist that held the gun. He struggled to turn it toward her. As they grappled for control of the weapon, a shot was fired and lodged in the ceiling. She heard Willie gasp as from behind Alex enveloped him in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides. Still holding onto his hand with the gun, Laurie slipped four of her fingers around Willie’s index finger. She bent his finger back. He yelped in pain as he released his grip on the gun. It clattered to the floor. Laurie scrambled to pick it up. She assumed a classic triangular stance to level the weapon at Willie’s torso, just as her father had taught her when she was in high school.

  Alex was holding Willie’s arms at his sides like a human straitjacket. “Why? Why, Willie?” he demanded. “This wasn’t going to get your old life back. Now your son’s going to have to visit you behind bars.”

  The moment of sympathy for his client’s victim was only temporary. Alex ran to Laurie and held her around her waist from behind as she continued to aim the gun at Willie.

  Laurie finally released her grip on the gun when a row of police officers rushed through the door of the apartment. Alex pulled her into a tight hug, turning her face away from Willie Hayes, who was glaring at them as he was handcuffed.

  When Alex let go, he looked into her eyes with sadness. “I know how hard it was for you to accept me into your world, and now my work put you in danger. I would understand if it changed the way you feel.”

  She
felt tears come to her eyes as she shook her head adamantly. “No, never. When I saw him standing there with that gun, all I could think about was the wonderful life we were going to have together. My love for you is even stronger, if that’s possible.”

  “God, that’s a relief. Oh, Laurie.” He wrapped his arms around he. “I’ll never let you go.”

  She murmured, “I’d marry you right here and now if I could.”

  Laurie began to feel the shock from what had happened and leaned closer to Alex for support.

  Behind them, they heard a commotion from the foyer. They looked from the kitchen and caught a glimpse of Rhoda Carmichael trying to force her way past a police officer looping crime scene tape across the threshold.

  Spotting them inside, Rhoda shouted, “What’s going on? Sorry I’m late. The traffic on the LIE was brutal. But forget that. What’s going on? What happened?”

  Alex, still holding Laurie in his arms, called back to her. “What happened is that I want to get Laurie out of here. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Laurie looked around, but didn’t move. From the little she had seen, the apartment was beautiful. If they bought it, would they always be haunted by the memory of Willie Hayes pointing a gun at her? Maybe. Maybe not.

  By now the police had let Rhoda in. She ran to them and tried to joke, “I didn’t know someone would try to kill you to get this place!”

  Neither Laurie nor Alex smiled.

  67

  Two Weeks Later

  Laurie watched as Ryan Nichols looked into the camera with a somber expression. “Daniel and Leigh Ann Longfellow had been called the rulers of a New American Camelot—a beloved and beautiful political couple with the potential to heal a divided nation with their popular policy views, sterling credentials, and personal charms. But, tonight, we’ll take a closer look at the shocking events that have left Leigh Ann in custody, facing a life sentence for murder, and Daniel fighting for the survival of his political career.”

  True to form, Brett Young had started publicizing the airdate of their next episode within twenty-four hours of Leigh Ann’s arrest. When Laurie pointed out to him that they hadn’t even begun to collect footage, he had winked and said, “Nothing like a deadline to motivate your team.”

  After working around the clock for two weeks straight, they were nearly finished with production. They had saved Ryan’s introduction and closing comments for last to make sure they included the new facts that continued to trickle in daily.

  For Brenner there would be no get-out-of-jail-free card. He was facing a multitude of charges for extorting and threatening both Leigh Ann Longfellow and Kendra Bell over a period of many years. Kendra was ready and willing to testify that her many withdrawals of large sums of cash and payments to him had been made in a desperate attempt to protect herself and her children. And, ironically, his recording of Leigh Ann on Randall’s Island, which he had made to continue to blackmail her, would now be powerful evidence against him. The police had seized his recorder when they arrested him, and it was now stored in their evidence safe. There seemed to be little doubt that he would spend many years in prison.

  Likewise, the case against Leigh Ann looked rock solid. They had Brenner’s recording, plus ballistics tests showing that the 9 mm handgun she brought to Randall’s Island was the same weapon used to kill Martin Bell. She had been so confident that she had gotten away with it, she hadn’t even bothered to get rid of the gun. Leigh Ann, too, would probably spend most or all of the rest of her life in prison. The police were also looking into the role her law firm had played in funneling payments to Brenner.

  In between all of the work on the production, Laurie had found the time to testify in front of the grand jury last week to support charges against Willie Hayes for robbery and attempted murder. Hayes told the police he was only trying to get Laurie to hear his side of the story in the hope that she would end her relationship with Alex. But the bullet hole in the apartment’s ceiling told another story. They might never be able to prove that he was the one who attacked her outside of the piano bar, but he’d be going to prison for years.

  Ryan looked at the studio door with annoyance when they heard a knock. The recording light was on in the hallway, indicating that no one should disturb them. A second later, the door opened. It was Jerry. “Sorry, but we’re going to have to rewrite the copy anyway. Daniel Longfellow’s giving a press statement in five minutes.”

  • • •

  Grace, Jerry, Ryan, and Laurie gathered at the conference table in Laurie’s office to watch Senator Longfellow step in front of the cameras. For fourteen days, he had managed to say nothing about his wife’s arrest except for platitudes such as “continuing to focus on my work for the American people,” “cooperating with law enforcement,” and “trusting the greatest justice system in the world.” Political pundits expressed dismay that, under the circumstances, he had not yet been arrested, let alone that he was still going to work.

  Laurie hadn’t seen Longfellow since Leigh Ann’s arrest. He appeared to have lost ten pounds and aged a decade.

  “Five years ago, I told the police that my wife, Leigh Ann, had traveled with me to Washington, D.C., while I was meeting with leaders there in anticipation of my appointment to a temporary vacancy in the U.S. Senate. That was a lie. I could tell you why I believed it was harmless at the time, but ultimately, none of that matters. It was a lie, plain and simple, and it was wrong. I never suspected my wife’s involvement in the murder of Dr. Martin Bell. In fact, when the police contacted us, I assumed that I was the suspect they were investigating. The police spoke to Leigh Ann first, and she told them that she’d been with me in D.C. At that point, I had a choice to make: I could either repeat her version of events, or tell the police that the woman I loved had just given them a false statement in my defense. Because I was certain that I was innocent, and I had an ironclad alibi, I didn’t see the harm in protecting my wife. I swear to you, the American public, that it never dawned on me that she was lying in order to create an alibi for herself. But none of that ultimately matters. We are a nation of laws, and I did not live up to one of the basic responsibilities we all share as citizens. I will work now to listen to friends, trusted advisors, and most importantly, you, my constituents, to decide my next steps. But, no matter what happens, I promise I will cooperate with the prosecution of my wife, Leigh Ann”—his voice caught—“and will never betray the public’s trust again. Finally, I want to extend my deepest apologies to Martin Bell’s parents, Cynthia and Robert; to his children, Bobby and Mindy; and to his widow, Kendra Bell, who lived for years under a shadow of suspicion that was wholly undeserved. I realize that my dishonesty and cowardice prevented you from knowing the truth about what happened to Martin, and the shame of that will live with me forever.”

  After he walked away from the microphones without taking questions, Jerry clicked off the television.

  “It sounds like he’s days, maybe hours, from resigning,” Jerry said.

  “Or not,” Laurie noted. “I heard a panel of pundits this morning saying that he could ride it out. A lot of his supporters want him to stay in office.”

  Once Laurie was alone, she called Kendra Bell on her cell phone. She started by apologizing for interrupting her at work. “I wanted to make sure you knew about Longfellow’s press conference.”

  “Are you kidding? Steven played it on the television in the waiting room. It’s been a rough couple of weeks trying to explain to my kids why the wife of their senator wanted to hurt their father, but you don’t know how good it feels to have my name finally cleared.” She lowered her voice. “One of the old biddies who usually gives me the evil eye actually hugged me and apologized for having doubts about me. I feel like I finally have my life back. Steven’s coming over tonight to celebrate. I’ve always been so grateful for his friendship, but I’m starting to realize that he was the one person who never doubted my innocence.”

  “Any chance you’ve heard from Robert and Cynthi
a?” Laurie had spoken to Martin’s parents last week. She sensed their shame at having vilified Kendra for years, but admitting mistakes did not come naturally to the pair.

  “We visited them last weekend at their country house, in fact. I was reluctant to accept the invitation, but Caroline persuaded me to give them a chance at being regular grandparents again instead of my adversaries. They were actually kind to me, if you can believe it. And more importantly, I can finally see how much they love Bobby and Mindy—in their own uptight way,” she added with a small laugh. “Even Caroline seems . . . lighter. I wasn’t the only one carrying the load of Martin’s murder all these years. Anyway, a lot’s changed for the whole family, and I have you to thank for that.”

  Something in Kendra’s voice sounded warmer. Happier. It had taken Laurie six years after Greg’s death before she could picture herself sharing her life with someone else. Kendra Bell was approaching that same landmark.

  Laurie congratulated Kendra again and told her she’d call her once the production was finalized. She had just hung up when her cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Alex: We’re downstairs.

  Outside, a black car was waiting. Timmy bounded from the backseat, gave her a big hug, and then hopped into the front next to Ramon while Laurie climbed in back next to Alex.

  “There had to be an easier way to do this,” Laurie said. Ramon had picked up Timmy from school, driven down to the federal courthouse to pick up Alex, and was now in Midtown to gather up Laurie.

  Timmy grinned at her from the front seat. “That’s okay, Mom. Ramon likes having me in the car with him. We listen to jazz and I tell him about the different musicians.”

  “And then sometimes I make him listen to the hip-hop channels I like,” Ramon said with a smile. “We could be in one of those movies where a young person and an old person switch bodies. Now where is our next destination?”

  All Ramon and Timmy had been told was that they were all going somewhere together. Alex gave Ramon the address of a building on 85th Street between Second and Third.