All Dressed in White Page 8

  “Where’s Kate?” she asked.

  Not surprisingly, Jerry knew the answer. “She told police that she turned in earlier than the other girls. Everyone else was still single and used to staying up late. But by then, Kate was married with a toddler who wasn’t a good sleeper and couldn’t keep up with the rest of the crowd.”

  Laurie jotted down a note on her pad and clicked on play again. The next few moments were the footage that had been played constantly on the news in the days following Amanda’s disappearance.

  All three women stepped into the elevator, but then Amanda walked out just before the doors closed. She was no longer in the sundress. She had changed into a blue dress and high-heeled wedge sandals. Laurie clicked on pause again. “This is where she said she lost something?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Jerry said. “Questioned separately, Charlotte and Meghan were entirely consistent about that. It was very sudden, like the thought just came to her. ‘I forgot something’ was the exact quote they both provided. At the time, they thought it might just be that she had left something in the lounge where they were having the after-dinner drink, but she had left so quickly they hadn’t had time to ask her.”

  “But no one from the lounge remembers her going back to it?”

  Jerry shook his head. “She just disappeared. But one theory is that she made up ‘forgetting something’ as a reason to go find Jeff. Some people think that the two of them had been fighting that weekend.”

  “Who are the some people who believe this theory?” Laurie asked.

  Grace reached for a manila folder on the table and handed it to her. She opened it to find printouts from the Palm Beach Post. The byline on all of the articles was “by Janice Carpenter.” As she flipped through the pages, Grace explained.

  “Janice Carpenter was the Southern Florida reporter who did the most digging into Amanda’s disappearance. According to her, she received an anonymous tip that Jeff and Amanda had been bickering all weekend at the hotel.”

  “One anonymous tip? Even with legitimate sources, reporters should have two before going to print.”

  “I don’t think she’s en route to any Pulitzers,” Grace said. “She’s more of a tabloid writer.”

  The three of them sat at Laurie’s conference table for the next four hours, watching much more video than Laurie had anticipated. Jerry had managed to set up the screen to play four views at once. The hotel certainly had been diligent about saving everything that might be relevant, Laurie thought.

  She started fiddling with her phone, answering texts and emails. They were playing footage from earlier in the evening, before dinner. The hotel was still busy. Amanda was still safe. Laurie found herself putting her phone down as something registered in her peripheral vision.

  “Wait,” she cried out. “Rewind.”

  Jerry reached over and did as instructed.

  “That’s Amanda again,” she exclaimed. She recognized the sundress. Amanda was in the courtyard where most of the hotel’s shops were located. She paused at a window for a few seconds, appearing to admire an outfit, and then continued to walk.

  “That’s definitely her,” Grace said.

  “This is hours before she was last seen exiting the elevator,” Jerry said.

  “I know, but play it again.” Jerry went back a few minutes and then clicked play.

  This time, Laurie took the mouse from him, waited, and then clicked pause. “See, right there.” She pointed to a grainy image that appeared to be a man and then replayed the last few seconds one more time.

  The man approached from the right side of the screen toward the left. He passed Amanda, who had paused at the shop window, her back toward the camera. Just as she disappeared into the right edge of the screen, the man pivoted ninety degrees and walked away from the shop windows. A moment before he was out of view of the camera, barely perceptible, he turned again. He passed the shop window and kept walking.

  “Did you see it?” Laurie asked. “He was heading in Amanda’s direction.”

  “He’s following her,” Grace said.

  They replayed the few seconds one more time. “Or maybe he went back to his room for some reason,” Jerry said.

  “He’s carrying something.” Laurie slid the video back again and then paused on the grainy image. “Can you zoom in on it?”

  Jerry tried, but the resolution turned to mush. “It’s a purse or something,” Grace said. The man had a strap across his chest, attached to a small case resting on his hip.

  “Looks like a camera,” Jerry said.

  Laurie squinted, as if that might help. Jerry could be right. It looked like a camera case. “That looks like a professional camera,” she said. “Five years ago, most people were already using their phones for taking pictures. Do we know who their wedding photographer was yet?” She thought about her own wedding to Greg. The photographer had been there for the rehearsal dinner. She could imagine Amanda’s family asking for a few candid shots of the bridal party during their pre-wedding festivities.

  Jerry effortlessly reached for a binder on the table and then flipped it open to a tabbed section. His organizational abilities were one of the many reasons he was such a key contributor to the success of the show. “The photographer’s name is Ray Walker. He was questioned by the police—everyone who had anything to do with the wedding was.” Jerry’s eyes skimmed the report, but Laurie could tell that he already knew the contents. “He was indeed at the property Thursday afternoon to take candid pictures of the wedding party enjoying themselves, but says he left at five o’clock because he had a separate booking for another wedding that night.”

  His gaze returned to the image of the man who appeared to be following Amanda on the computer screen. “This video was taken at five-thirty-two P.M., so according to Walker, he would have been gone by then.”

  Laurie looked at the frozen image on the screen. His height was hard to estimate, but he seemed neither tall nor short. He was a bit chubby, not overweight so much as soft.

  “Do we have a picture of Walker?”

  “No, but according to this report, he was fifty years old five years ago.”

  Something about the man on the screen seemed younger, but the image was too blurred to be certain. Laurie glanced at the clock and realized she needed to leave for her meeting with Amanda’s sister, Charlotte.

  “I’ve got to go. Let’s make a note to follow up with Walker,” she said to Jerry, “just in case. It’s probably just a tourist who’s into photography.

  “On the other hand,” she paused, “Amanda was a strikingly beautiful woman. It’s very possible that she might have attracted the attention of someone who began following her.”

  “You mean a stalker?” Grace asked.

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  25

  The Ladyform waiting room was fit for a couture company, complete with wine-colored velvet furniture and black-and-white fashion photos lining the wall. Sandra wasn’t exaggerating when she said the family business had shifted its “branding” in recent years. When Laurie was a child, her grandmother had bought Ladyform “foundation wear.” Laurie was too young to understand all the snaps and buckles, or why her grandmother would spend so much time squeezing herself into those heavy-duty contraptions, but she remembered being scared by the entire process. Now Ladyform was synonymous with women feeling happy and comfortable inside healthy, natural bodies.

  A woman about her age opened one of the double doors leading to the lobby and greeted her with a smile. She was tall, probably close to five-ten, and slightly heavyset. She had shoulder-length light brown hair and appeared to wear no makeup. Laurie recognized her from their research as Charlotte Pierce, current executive vice president of design at Ladyform and, more important for Laurie’s current purposes, the older sister of Amanda Pierce.

  “What can I do for you, Ms. Moran?” Charlotte asked once they were settled into her office. “Have you decided to take my sister’s case?”

&n
bsp; Laurie had scheduled an appointment through Charlotte’s assistant, but hadn’t yet spoken to Charlotte directly. “I should make clear that we don’t take a case, like a lawyer or private investigator would, since your family wouldn’t actually be our client. But we are looking closely at featuring your sister’s disappearance in our next special.”

  “That’s great. As I told my mother, I’m happy to participate if you need me.”

  “Terrific. She told me that, but we always double-check. I have the paperwork for your review.” She retrieved the production contract from her briefcase and slid it across the desk. She could have emailed it to Charlotte, but she had another reason for being here. As Charlotte reviewed the agreement, Laurie pretended to make small talk. “So I’m told you were a bridesmaid.”

  “Hmm?” she said, her attention focused on reading. “Oh sure, that’s right. I suppose the bride kind of has to ask the big sister.”

  “But you and Amanda were close, weren’t you? Not only sisters, but co-workers.”

  “She probably would have said too close at times. It’s not always easy to work professionally with family members.”

  Laurie nodded. It was Austin Pratt and Nick Young who’d mentioned a sense of sibling rivalry between the Pierce sisters, more on Charlotte’s part than Amanda’s. According to them, Charlotte showed no real interest in her sister’s wedding. She had been supposed to offer the toast at the Friday brunch but had asked Nick to do it. Amanda never appeared for brunch, so the moment of the toast never arrived. Thinking about that, Laurie wondered if somehow Charlotte already knew that Amanda wouldn’t be there.

  “Your mother tells me that Amanda was the one to suggest this New York office. Things seem to be going very well for the company.”

  Charlotte’s grimace was unmistakable. “Yes, it was Amanda’s idea. I’ve managed to steer it in the right direction in her absence, but who knows where we might be if she were still here.” She barely tried to hide the sarcasm.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to suggest that you didn’t deserve the credit,” Laurie said, even though that wasn’t quite true.

  “It’s fine.” She handed back the signed document. “So is that all?”

  “What do you think happened to your sister?” Laurie asked bluntly.

  Charlotte looked Laurie directly in the eye. “I have no idea. My mother is convinced she was kidnapped and probably murdered. My father seems to think she ran away to start a new life. I have dreams—nightmares—involving both scenarios and everything in between.”

  She spoke in a tone that was almost businesslike.

  “Why would she want a different life? From everything I’ve heard, she had it all: a great job, a fiancé who loved her, a close-knit family.”

  Charlotte swallowed, and for just a moment, she looked genuinely sad. “Amanda did have it all, everything that most of us hope and pray for. But you know how some people have everything but are still yearning for something different? Almost like those people who feel like they’re living in someone else’s body.”

  Laurie knew the scenario Charlotte was describing, but didn’t understand the comparison to Amanda. “Whose life did Amanda want instead of hers?”

  She shrugged. “Her cancer—do you know about that?”

  Laurie nodded.

  “Some survivors become more grateful. Not Amanda. I think she started to doubt every choice she’d ever made, like maybe she’d taken the easy route. Job in Daddy’s company. Sweet, devoted fiancé. She was only twenty-seven years old, and her entire future was already mapped out for her.”

  “Did she say anything to you about wanting to back out of the wedding?”

  “No, but I got the sense she was looking for reasons.”

  “Any examples?” Laurie asked.

  “Like she said she was worried Jeff only proposed because she was sick. And then she said Jeff was more excited to have children right away than she was. I got the impression she didn’t want to be the one to call it off, but was sort of hoping Jeff might.”

  “Would she really let you all worry about her for all these years?” Laurie couldn’t imagine anything more selfish.

  “Not the old Amanda. But the cancer treatment changed her. She was colder. Less patient, more demanding.”

  “Tougher?” Laurie asked. That’s what Jeff had said.

  “Exactly. But still, as much as I’d like to think she’s out there somewhere, doing her thing, I can’t fathom her putting our parents through this much pain. Our mother still wears those yellow-ribbon buttons everywhere.”

  “I spent a long time talking to your mom. She seems to think that Jeff killed your sister so he could inherit her trust fund.”

  “Then why hasn’t he tried to inherit?”

  “Maybe he intended for the body to be found.”

  “I don’t know. Jeff’s a sweet guy. I actually feel pretty bad for him.”

  “So if someone hurt your sister, who else would it be?”

  She didn’t even pause. “Meghan White.”

  “Because she wanted Jeff for herself?” Laurie asked.

  Charlotte shook her head. “I think that happened after the fact, or maybe it was an added benefit. If Meghan did it, it was because of Ladyform.”

  Laurie was confused. “I thought Meghan was already a lawyer by then. She was working for your family’s company?”

  “No, but the two of them had a major blowup right before we all flew down for the wedding. We were still in the transition then, trying to convince Dad that we could be more than the tried-and-true granny-panty company. Amanda launched a breakthrough workout line called X-Dream: high-end exercise clothing with room for cell phones, iPods, all the gadgets we want with us but don’t want to hold while we’re exercising. Until then, the best you could get was a loose pocket, where your phone bounced around as you ran.”

  “I remember that!” Laurie exclaimed. Greg had bought a sports top for her right before he died. It was her favorite running shirt because she couldn’t even feel her iPod zipped into the fabric. “What does it have to do with Meghan?”

  “When she saw the clothing in stores, she showed up here, screaming at Amanda for stealing her idea. It was so loud that people could hear it all the way down the hall.”

  “That seems bizarre,” Laurie said. “Meghan’s an immigration lawyer. What was she going to do with an idea about workout clothes?”

  “Nothing, of course, but that didn’t keep her from wanting a piece of the pie. The X-Dream line was huge for us. I could go back and show you the spike in our sales and you’ll see: we literally made millions. Amanda was nervous enough that she asked our corporate counsel to prepare for a potential lawsuit.”

  “So was it in fact Meghan’s idea?”

  “Only if you call two college girls saying they wished their phones didn’t bounce off the treadmills at the gym an idea. The real work is the execution. We actually hired an engineer with NASA experience to find the exact right way to keep everything snug and safe but still accessible. If Meghan played any role at all, it was simply identifying the need for the product—something thousands of people had probably done by then.”

  “So was Meghan still angry at Amanda by the time you were down in Florida?”

  “She certainly wasn’t acting like it, but anyone can compose themselves for a few days. All I know is that Amanda only quieted Meghan down by telling her no one would ever believe her. She even went so far as to warn her that as a young lawyer, she could ruin her career by filing frivolous litigation.”

  “Wow,” Laurie said. “I didn’t know your sister, but that sounds pretty cutthroat, especially toward her best friend. And just before the wedding.”

  “As I said, by the time she disappeared, Amanda was no pushover. Sometimes I wonder how well I really knew her.”

  26

  Laurie found herself whispering as though she were in a library. “Your office is never this quiet,” she said to Alex, who was seated next to her.

 
Alex shared office space with five other attorneys each of whom had his own administrative assistant and shared with them a pool of eight paralegals and six investigators. “And I would never leave someone waiting this long.”

  Laurie looked over to the gum-chewing receptionist to make sure she hadn’t heard the comment. “Don’t forget that we’re here, hat in hand, begging for help he’s not obligated to provide. We don’t want to offend the man.”

  The man in question was Mitchell Lands, Esq. Laurie was enjoying the absolute silence of the sole practitioner’s office, and she was savoring the excuse to read the trashy celebrity magazine she’d found on the coffee table.

  Alex was not so patient. “If I were a paying client, I would have walked out ten minutes ago.”

  “Be careful, Alex. Stress is bad for you. I might tell Ramon that you need some more yoga in your life.”

  Ramon was Alex’s butler. Alex had made numerous attempts to find an alternative title: assistant, house manager, scheduler. But Ramon had finally won the battle. He was a butler. In addition to running errands and preparing meals, Alex’s live-in helper also had come to care for Alex like a son. When he learned recently that Alex’s blood pressure was on the borderline of high, he had reduced the sodium and red meat in Alex’s diet. But when Ramon had tried to enroll Alex for weekly “stress-reduction” yoga sessions, Alex had put his foot down.

  “Just in the knick of time,” Alex muttered, as they saw a door open.

  • • •

  “My girl said that you’re here about Amanda Pierce’s will.” Mitchell Lands was a short man with unruly gray hair and glasses that were much too large for his face. Laurie felt herself blinking in shock that anyone still referred to his assistant as “my girl.”

  Alex jumped in before she could say anything to start an argument. She, after all, had been the one to warn him that they were here asking for a favor. “We already have considerable information from Amanda’s family,” Alex said, “but we can still use your help.”