The Sleeping Beauty Killer Read online

  His first call was to the police commissioner’s office. He was promised that squad cars would be immediately dispatched to the Brooklyn address.

  •••

  As the cabbie wove through the narrow streets causing loud horn blares from angry motorists, Leo called Laurie’s cell phone. His heart sank when it went to her voice mail.

  67

  Her head hurt. Barely conscious, Charlotte felt herself being half-pushed, half-carried up the stairs. Why couldn’t she move her arms? Her legs were so hard to move. Something was tugging against them.

  What happened?

  She heard Angela’s voice.

  “You need to keep moving. Come on, Charlotte.”

  Angela’s voice. And also. And also. Angela had sent those terrible emails. Why? Charlotte felt a hard jab against her back.

  “I started carrying a gun when your dear friend decided to investigate Casey’s conviction.” It was Angela’s voice, but it was a ­different-sounding voice. It had a desperate, hysterical quality.

  They had reached the second floor. Charlotte felt her knees buckle, but Angela shoved her forward. “Keep going up, damn you.

  “Charlotte, don’t worry. When something happens to you, the show will go on.” She began to giggle. “Maybe your family would even like me to offer a dedication to you. Better yet, they might offer me your job.”

  Once they reached the third floor, Charlotte collapsed to the ground. “You don’t . . . have . . . to do this,” she pleaded.

  “I do, Charlotte,” Angela said grimly, her voice rising. “I have no choice. But we’re friends. I promise it will be quick. You won’t suffer a bit.”

  Charlotte yelped in pain as Angela yanked on the wrists tied behind her back, dragged her to her feet, and started pushing her toward the elevator shaft.

  68

  I can’t take the elevator, Laurie thought frantically. I can’t let Angela know I’m in the building.

  She heard a voice scream from upstairs. “I promise it will be quick. You won’t suffer a bit.”

  Her father would have warned her against entering the warehouse alone, but she hadn’t had a choice. She dropped her bag down on the floor, pulled out her cell phone, and made sure the volume was off. If she had any chance to save Charlotte, she needed to remain silent. Kicking off her shoes, she made her way to the stairwell.

  69

  Charlotte was pulling against Angela’s grasp as Angela guided her toward the broken elevator.

  “I didn’t tell you,” Angela was saying in that same giggly voice. “The elevator’s stuck on the first floor, but the doors will still open on this floor. It’s a fifty-foot drop.”

  She let Charlotte, whose breathing was labored, collapse against the wall next to the elevator.

  “I don’t understand,” Charlotte gasped. “Why are you doing this?”

  Angela tucked her handgun into the waist of her suit pants and slipped the box cutter from her jacket pocket. Charlotte flinched when she saw the blade. “No!”

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” Angela said. “Not with this anyway.” She cut the workout top from her ankles first. In a reflexive action, Charlotte began to wiggle each foot once her legs were freed.

  Angela pushed the call button for the elevator. The doors eased open, but there was no sound of the car moving up from the first floor. Angela was reaching for Charlotte’s wrists to drag her toward the shaft when Charlotte jerked away. Steeling herself against the dizziness, she fought for time. The words could barely escape her lips. “Please, before I die, tell me the truth. You killed Hunter, didn’t you?”

  70

  From the top of the stairwell, Laurie could see Angela and Charlotte next to the warehouse elevator. Angela’s back was to Laurie, and she was pulling some type of cloth from around Charlotte’s lower legs. Charlotte was facing out, leaning against the wall.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” she heard Angela say. “Not with this anyway.”

  Laurie saw her opportunity. She stepped out from the dark stairwell and into the room, and waved both arms. Please let her see me, she prayed. Please let her see me.

  The warehouse room was cavernous and dimly lit. Charlotte would only notice her here if she was looking in this direction. She fumbled with her cell phone to pull up the flashlight function.

  She found another chance when Angela moved toward the ele­vator. She waved the beam of the phone quickly in Charlotte’s direction and then immediately turned it off.

  Did she see me? There was no way to know.

  Then she heard Charlotte’s voice. “Angela, explain something to me. How did you manage to kill Hunter and frame Casey?”

  Laurie felt herself breathe again. Her plan may have worked. Charlotte was trying to buy some time. Hopefully she knows I’m here.

  But she couldn’t help Charlotte from here. She began moving slowly across the room, searching for the darkest shadows as she made her way toward her friend.

  71

  Charlotte thought she heard a sound in the distance, and then saw a quick flash of light. Was someone there, someone who might help her? It was her only hope. Charlotte could see the darkness awaiting her behind the open elevator doors. And she knew she didn’t have the strength to stop Angela from pushing her into it.

  A blinding headache started to engulf her mind.

  Angela is a murderer. Angela is trying to kill me, she thought. She had to find a way to save herself, to buy time. She had to get Angela to start talking. If someone is there, help me please, she prayed.

  “At least tell me the truth,” she pleaded. “You killed Hunter, didn’t you?”

  Charlotte felt a moment of relief when Angela took a step backwards and placed the box cutter in her pocket. But then she substituted the gun from the back of her waistband.

  Angela’s voice was rapid and approaching hysteria.

  “Oh, Charlotte, you were so kind to let me leave early all those Fridays to see Casey. No one knew the joy I took watching her age in that horrible place. It was wonderful and great fun. My little cousin, my sister—always smarter, more loved—ends up in prison. Then she was despised. Loathed for killing Hunter. When we were young, no one ever thought I’d amount to anything special. I was the one with the single mother. I never got the grades Casey got, or did all the school activities. I was the one who skipped college to be the model, the party girl. No one ever thought I’d have a career, or could marry someone like Hunter Raleigh. But Casey’s parents always acted like she walked on water.”

  “But why kill Hunter? Why kill me?” Now Charlotte’s voice was a whisper.

  “I don’t want you to die,” Angela said, “just like I didn’t want Hunter to die. I was stupid to think your friend’s show might find enough to convict me. Now look what I’ve done.”

  She began to sob. “You’ll tell everyone what happened, what I told you.”

  “But why did you kill him?” Charlotte gasped.

  “That wasn’t supposed to happen. It was all Hunter’s fault.”

  Charlotte couldn’t make sense of Angela’s disconnected thoughts.

  “He was dating Casey, just like he dated me, and others. But then he proposed, as if she were special, as if they were in some kind of fairy tale. Casey told me all about how he’d broken down, crying about the pain of watching his mother die of breast cancer. She had the audacity to say they had bonded about a common loss.” Her voice was now raised to the point of screaming. “But that loss wasn’t Casey’s; it was mine. Don’t you get it? It was mine. She may have lost an aunt, but I lost my mother, just like Hunter. But, no, Casey was the one he shared that with.

  “They were planning the wedding. It was absurd. Casey was pretending to be Miss Perfect, but Hunter needed to see Casey for her true self. He’d forgiven her after a few of her rants, but he needed to see that she’d be an embarrassment
to him. I bought some Rohypnol on the black market and slipped it into her second glass of wine.” Now Angela laughed. “Needless to say, it didn’t take long.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Charlotte whispered, hoping to prolong the story. Help me, she thought. Somebody help me. I was wrong about the light. Nobody’s here.

  Now it was as though Angela were talking to herself. “I left the gala early, just as planned, because I had a photo shoot the next day. But I didn’t go home. I drove to Hunter’s house. I parked down the road. When they got there, I waited a few minutes. I went to the house. The door wasn’t completely closed so I pushed it open. Casey was lying on the couch. Hunter was bending over her saying, ‘Casey, Casey, come on, wake up.’ When he saw me, I told him I was so worried about Casey that I followed them up. I pointed to her and said, ‘Hunter, look at her. Do you really want to marry this drunk?’

  “He told me to shut up and get out.”

  Over Angela’s shoulder, Charlotte could see someone, Laurie, working her way through the half-built sets. She had no idea how long she could keep Angela talking. When she’s finished, she thought, she’ll push me into the shaft.

  “Hunter ran into the bedroom. I followed him. I tried to tell him that I was only trying to help him, to keep him from making a mistake. But he wasn’t even paying attention to me. That was when I decided that if I couldn’t have him, neither would Casey. I knew he kept a gun in the nightstand.”

  Laurie had stopped behind the “living room’s” sofa, the last spot of cover on her path toward them. Charlotte gave the slightest nod in her direction to signal that she could see her. Laurie’s here, Laurie’s here, she thought. Keep stalling!

  “He rushed into the bathroom. I could hear the water running in the sink. I grabbed the gun while he was still in there. I knew how to use it, too. Casey wasn’t the only woman Hunter had taken to the range. He came out of the bathroom with a wet cloth in his hand. I guess he was planning to put it on dear Casey’s forehead. But he didn’t get the chance.”

  Angela smirked. “He looked so confused when he saw me pointing the gun at him. The next thing I knew, he was lying on the bed, bleeding, dying. I knew I had to get out of there. But first I had to think. It had to look like Casey had shot him.

  “Hunter had dropped the damp cloth on the floor. I picked it up. Fingerprints. Did I leave any? I wiped the drawer of the nightstand.

  “I fired a shot at the wall.

  “I went into the living room.”

  Charlotte could see that Angela was reliving the night of the murder. Her voice sounded as if she were in a trance.

  “Casey had to be the last one to use the gun. I wiped it off. I put it in her hand. Put her finger on the trigger. Fired another shot at the wall. Held the gun with the cloth. Hid the gun under the sofa.

  “Sleeping Beauty never stirred. Thought about the pills. If the police test Casey’s blood, they’ll know she’s drugged. What if she drugged herself? Took the other Rohypnol pills out of my purse. Wiped the bag the pills were in. Pressed Casey’s fingers on the bag. Put it in her purse. Wasn’t I smart?”

  “How could you have done that to Casey?” Charlotte asked as she watched Laurie moving closer to them.

  The question snapped Angela out of her rambling.

  “I’m done talking.” Angela shifted the gun to her left hand and pulled out the box cutter from her pocket. “Turn around,” she told Charlotte.

  This was Charlotte’s only shot. She had to take it. She turned slightly so Angela could cut the workout top from her wrists. Then she twisted into a low crouch and rocketed up, slamming the top of her head against Angela’s chin. Searing pain shot through her body. She heard the echo of metal against concrete as Angela’s gun fell to the warehouse floor.

  72

  Laurie rushed forward when she saw Angela careening backwards, she and her gun tumbling to the floor. Laurie lunged toward the weapon. Too late. She saw it slide into the elevator shaft, and then heard a clang from the first floor as the gun hit the metal cage two floors below.

  Charlotte was bent over, her hands still tied behind her. Angela had regained her footing and was advancing toward Charlotte. Laurie saw the glimmer of a small silver blade.

  “Get away!” Laurie called out as she rushed toward them. “She has a knife.”

  Charlotte stumbled forward, fell, and curled her body into a ball. She tried to protect her face by pressing it against the floor.

  Laurie ran toward Angela, then leapt on her back with all the force she could muster. They both fell to the ground. Angela was on her hands and knees, but her right fist was still clenched around the knife. All Laurie could think about was the blade of the box cutter. She could not let Angela get back up again, not while she had that blade.

  She grabbed Angela’s right bicep and tugged it, trying to shake her grip on the knife.

  Charlotte was no longer in a fetal position, but was still on the floor, kicking at Angela’s arms. Laurie managed to stagger back onto her feet. She stepped hard on Angela’s wrist, careful not to let her bare skin near the shimmering blade. She dug her weight hard against Angela’s bones until she saw her grip loosen. “Get the knife,” Laurie yelled. “Get it!”

  Charlotte kicked the knife away from Angela’s hand, and Laurie lunged across the floor to grab it. “I got it,” she cried. She rushed toward Charlotte and cut her wrists free.

  Angela had scrambled to her feet and was rushing toward them. She stopped when Laurie held up the box cutter. “Don’t make me do it, Angela!”

  Angela’s shoulders slumped, as the reality of what had happened set in. She was out of options. Laurie heard the shriek of approaching sirens. When she turned to look out the window, Angela began running toward the staircase. She was halfway across the room when Leo, gun in hand, raced out from the staircase.

  “Freeze. Down on the ground. Put your hands behind your head,” he shouted as he advanced toward Angela.

  Moments later, there was a pounding on the stairs as several police officers rushed up and into the room. Leo held up his shield. “I’m Deputy Commissioner Farley.” He pointed at Angela. “Cuff her!”

  73

  When Paula had returned to the hotel and told Casey that Laurie was going forward with the show, she finished with the anguished cry “I begged you not to do this to yourself, do this to us. I warned you not to do this. I told you—”

  “ALL RIGHT! Stop it. Don’t you think I know I made a mistake? Now everybody will think that even though I served fifteen years in prison, I got off easy. I should be serving a life sentence. And that’s probably what you think.”

  They drove back to Connecticut in stony silence. Paula’s few attempts at conversation went nowhere. It was six o’clock. She went into the living room and turned on the news. She heard the anchor say, “This just in. There has been a stunning new development in the case of the fifteen-year-old murder of philanthropist Hunter Raleigh. We’re going to our reporter on the scene, Jaclyn Kimball.”

  Oh God, Paula thought. What now?

  Stunned, she watched as Angela was led out of the warehouse in handcuffs, a police officer on each arm.

  “Casey,” she shrieked. “Come here. Come here.”

  Casey rushed in. “What’s going on?”

  Then she heard Angela’s voice. Her eyes froze on the screen.

  Reporters were pushing microphones toward Angela as she was hustled toward a squad car. One could be heard shouting, “Angela, why did you kill Hunter Raleigh?”

  Angela’s face was twisted with rage. “Because he deserved it,” she snarled. “He was supposed to be mine and Casey stole him. She deserved to go to prison.” A police officer pushed her into the backseat of a squad car and slammed the door shut.

  Several seconds passed before either of them could speak.

  “How could she have done this to you?” Paul
a cried. “Oh, Casey, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for not believing you.” Tears streaming down her face, she turned to her daughter. “Can you ever, ever forgive me?”

  As Casey felt an immense burden fall from her shoulders, she reached out and enveloped her mother in her arms. “Even if you didn’t believe me, you always stood by me. Yes, I forgive you. It’s over. It’s over for both of us.”

  74

  At two o’clock the next day Laurie stood on the stoop outside General James Raleigh’s townhouse and rang the bell. She was surprised when the General himself answered the door immediately.

  He led her up to the library. She sat in the same chair she had used when she interviewed Andrew two and a half weeks earlier.

  “Ms. Moran, as you can imagine, I’m stunned. The woman who my son loved so dearly spent fifteen years in prison for a murder she did not commit. I turned a deaf ear to all her protestations of innocence. After she was convicted, I introduced Jason Gardner to my publisher. I wanted him to write a book that would further destroy her.

  “I made a promise to appear on your television show, and then broke that promise.

  “I have been wrong from the very beginning. I tried to convince my son to break his engagement to Casey Carter. Then after she served all those years in prison, I was pleased to see that even after she was released, her torment would continue.

  “Now, if you will have me, I would like to appear on your program and offer my profound apology to her on national television.

  “I want to tie off a loose end you were interested in. Hunter was concerned that my assistant, Mary Jane, had been fired from her previous position. Here’s what happened. She was the executive assistant to the husband of her best friend. When she inadvertently stumbled across his travel plans with his mistress, he fired her. He told her he would make her life miserable and ruin her own reputation if she breathed a word of it. In these twenty years with me, she has been a superb employee and confidante.”