I hear Mindy take a sharp breath, and then she covers her mouth with her hands. ‘That’s her,’ she says. ‘That’s my neighbor. Layla Bosch,’ she manages before she begins to sob. Her hands tremble in front of her face and I can see red splotches blooming on her cheeks underneath.
‘Thanks, Dr Gress,’ Lanner says through the intercom. The coroner nods and pulls the sheet back over Layla’s face as I switch off the screen.
I lead a tearful Mindy to a seat while Lanner goes to talk to Dr Gress about his findings thus far.
‘Do you mind answering a few more questions for me?’ I ask Mindy gently.
‘Of course. Anything I can do to help.’ Mindy’s eyes fill with tears again and I hand her a tissue from a box on the small end table situated next to us.
‘We’ve been trying to track down Layla’s family,’ I explain. ‘We haven’t been able to find any next of kin for her.’
‘She doesn’t have any family, I don’t think. She told me that her parents and her only brother were killed in car accident when she was very young. She was raised by her grandmother who recently passed, which is how she ended up moving to Brooklyn in the apartment next to mine. After her grandmother died she wanted a fresh start. Oh my God, I can’t believe she’s really gone.’ The tears in Mindy’s eyes begin to fall.
‘Were you two close?’
‘We were becoming pretty good friends, I guess’ she replies. ‘Layla only just moved to town but I made an effort to get to know her. I live alone too, and I figured two single girls should look out for each other. She was kind of shy at first, kept to herself, but lately we’ve been spending more time together. Having a glass of wine after work, that sort of thing.’
‘Did you ever meet any of her other friends? Boyfriends?’
‘I don’t think she had anyone else,’ Mindy explains. ‘She was new to town and really only ever talked about people she worked with. It didn’t seem like she socialized with them much outside of the office though. I don’t think she was seeing anyone either. If she was, she never mentioned it. I told her about my love life, or lack thereof, all the time. I think she would have told me if she was dating.’
‘Thanks, Mindy. You’ve been really helpful,’ I reassure her, handing her my card. ‘If you think of anything else, you can call me any time.’
Lanner folds himself into the passenger seat of my car, his long lanky legs nearly pressed up against the glove compartment. He slams the door behind him, making me wince. He always slams the damn door. It’s infuriating. He immediately rips open a bag of chips, shoving a handful in his mouth. I watch the greasy crumbs fall onto the passenger seat of my car. Also infuriating. I don’t know how Lanner manages to stay so thin with all the junk he eats.
‘What did Dr Gress have to say?’ I ask.
‘He hasn’t finished his autopsy yet,’ Lanner replies while munching away, ‘but his initial impression is that the cause of death was blunt force trauma to the back of the head. He’s putting her time of death at approximately 9.30 last night. Give or take about a half hour.’
‘That’s consistent with CSI’s initial findings. When they looked at the site this morning they said that the blood spatter along the jogging trail looked like it came from a blow to the head. They’re still canvassing the area, but no sign of the murder weapon yet.’
‘What’s the plan?’ Lanner asks.
‘I’ve asked Kinnon to put together a team to check CCTV footage. There are no cameras in that area of the park, but maybe we can pick her up somewhere heading into the park. See if anyone was following her.’
‘Good idea,’ Lanner agrees. ‘Where to now?’
‘Let’s go see what we can find at her apartment.’
Chapter 3
Vince
DAY 1
I park my Tesla in my driveway and take a deep breath, my hands still curved around the leather-wrapped steering wheel. I plaster on a fake smile and check my reflection in the rearview mirror. I’m surprised to see that despite the fear roiling inside me, I look like my usual self, or at least the image of myself that I’ve carefully cultivated over the years. The CEO. The tech mogul. The rock climber. The philanthropist. It frightens me how easily I’m able to turn it on. To tramp down my true feelings and play the part. But right now it’s what I have to do. I have to pretend that the world is not crumbling beneath my feet.
I walk up the front path to my house reminding myself that today is just any other day. It has to be, as far as Nicole is concerned anyway. I stand in front of the house for a moment, under the clear blue sky, steeling myself for the conversation I know I need to have. Our house, a Mediterranean villa styled after a home we once rented on the Amalfi Coast, stares back at me unforgivingly. Its stone archways, sweeping balconies, and soaring pillars already seem to be aware of the lies I’m about to tell within its walls.
I push open the double entry door and step onto the shining travertine floors of the foyer. Nicole loved these floors when we were first designing the house. I remember watching her poring over sample materials with our team of designers, choosing a palette of warm cream tones and cool grays for the home we were to build. She used color names like ‘River Rock Gray’, ‘Dove White’, and ‘Vanilla Cream’. All natural hues, an earthy palette that would make the house feel both bright and tranquil, at one with the natural landscape surrounding it.
I drop my keys on the entryway table and call up the grand staircase which leads to the second floor bedrooms, but Nicole doesn’t answer. I’m about to walk up the stairs when I catch a whiff of roasted garlic in the air, and decide to check the kitchen instead.
Our kitchen combines traditional Mediterranean design with ultra-modern amenities. The warm, sun-dappled room features natural stone surfaces with top-of-the-line stainless steel appliances fit for a chef. It’s one of Nicole’s favorite rooms in the house as it seamlessly flows out onto our pergola-covered patio where we often sit to eat outdoors. This space always feels warm and inviting, and today it’s also filled with the unmistakable scent of Nicole’s homemade lasagna. It’s her specialty, her recipe perfected over the years. But Nicole isn’t here.
I crack open the oven, something I know my wife would hate, but I can’t resist the temptation to peer in at the bubbling cheese.
‘You aren’t opening the oven are you?’ Nicole calls in.
‘How do you always know?’ I yell back.
‘I know everything,’ Nicole teases as she appears in the doorway of the kitchen. No, you don’t.
‘Lasagna looks delicious, Babe.’ I slide my arm around her slender waist. ‘Were you in your studio?’ I take in the sight of her yoga pants, Lycra tank top, and her long blonde hair pulled back into a thick plait that hangs down her back.
‘Yes, I wanted to get in a little yoga session before we indulge in all that pasta and cheese,’ she says, patting her flat, toned stomach.
Nicole swipes an oven mitt off of the counter and lifts the steaming tray of lasagna from the oven. ‘It needs to set for a few minutes.’ She says this as if I’m not very well aware of her lasagna schedule by now. ‘I’m going to take a quick shower and then we’ll eat.’
‘Sure. I’ll set the table.’
Nicole rises up onto her tip-toes, and I lean over so that she can give me a quick kiss before she makes her way out of the kitchen. I can’t help but steal another glance as she’s walking away. With her trim, petite figure and the delicate way she pads out of the room, she reminds me of a little bird. But my wife is anything but fragile. She’s been through so much and she’s always remained so strong. I just hope she can do it again.
I remember the first time I ever saw Nicole. It was about ten years ago, when KitzTech was just a start-up. I was looking for office space to rent, and had found an ad online for a postage stamp-sized room available for lease. I called the listing agent, and to my surprise, it was within my minuscule budget. I set up an appointment to see it that afternoon, and jotted down the address on a scrap of paper. A few hours later, I found myself staring up at the old brick building wondering if I had the right address. I opened the battered-looking door on the first floor of the building and walked into a small, but beautiful, art gallery. Nicole stepped out from behind a desk, wearing a delicate, flowing dress in a soft pink. Her long, white-blonde hair fell loose around her face giving her an almost ethereal look.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked.
I was so mesmerized by the frosty turquoise blue of her eyes that I couldn’t bring myself to answer right away. ‘Oh, uh, yeah, I think I may be lost,’ I eventually stammered.
‘Can I see this?’ She gently took the scrap of paper with the office address from my hand. ‘Oh, that’s the unit upstairs,’ she explained. ‘The entrance is around the other side of the building.’
‘Um, thanks.’ I tried to tear my eyes away from her, but found it nearly impossible. She was the loveliest creature I had ever seen. I went to see the dank, musty office space upstairs and rented it on the spot. I didn’t care that it wasn’t at all what I was looking for. Because I needed to see that girl again. It felt like a fait accompli. I was meant to meet Nicole.
I don’t know how I’ve strayed so far from the starry-eyed young man who accidentally stumbled into the art gallery that day. I don’t know when exactly I lost that version of myself and became this person, the one with so many secrets to protect, but I am not proud of the transformation.
Just as I finish setting the table and putting together a quick chopped salad, Nicole walks back into the room pulling me from my reverie. She’s barefoot with her long, damp hair thrown back over her shoulders.
‘You even made a salad,’ Nicole says. She’s smiling as she takes a seat at the table and tucks her legs up under her.
‘See? I told you I could cook.’
Nicole laughs. I never cook and we both know it. Burnt toast is the most I can manage most of the time.
‘How was your day?’ I ask before she has the chance to ask me about mine.
‘It was good, I taught a few classes this morning, and then I had a client come in for a private session in my studio.’
We built a yoga studio for Nicole on a cleared section of our wooded property last year. It’s built in a converted and air-conditioned greenhouse that lets Nicole’s affluent and captious clients feel at one with nature without having to actually deal with any of the inconveniences of the outdoors.
‘I’m glad the studio is working out so well.’
‘The clients love it and I do too,’ Nicole replies nodding. ‘It’s so peaceful out there.’
There’s a brief moment of silence while we both dig into the rich lasagna, letting the flavors melt on our tongues.
‘Anyway,’ Nicole says, ‘how was your day?’
Here we go. ‘Well … not so good, actually. A few detectives came by the office this morning. It turns out one of our interns was killed last night.’ My voice waivers as I choke out the words and I clear my throat to steady myself.
‘Oh how awful!’ Nicole exclaims. She drops her fork and looks up at me, her eyes wide.
I feel my cheeks grow warm under her expectant gaze. I know she’s waiting to hear more, waiting for an explanation.
‘Yeah, it was an unexpected visit, to say the least,’ I reply, trying to sound as casual as I can under the circumstances.
‘I’m sure.’ Nicole resumes twirling cheese around her fork.
She doesn’t yet know that there’s nothing casual about this. Not for me. Not for us. Nicole is the most caring and kind-hearted person I’ve ever met, but she doesn’t understand yet. She couldn’t. She’s hearing this story at a remove; like one who learns of a death on the evening news and thinks to themselves, ‘Such a shame’ while taking for granted the luxury of being able to simply flick the channel and let the tragedy gently drift from their minds. Aren’t we all guilty of this though? Of failing to internalize the plight of others? We may feel compassion, perhaps even sympathy, but a stranger’s pain doesn’t keep us up at night when it doesn’t reach out its cold, spindly fingers and touch our own lives. When the suffering isn’t ours to carry, we wash it off hastily and unceremoniously and, if we’re being honest, quietly think to ourselves that we’re glad to be rid of it and the mild discomfort we fleetingly felt as a result of its proximity to our lives.
‘Who was it?’ Nicole asks, yanking me back from the darkness of my own thoughts.
‘Huh?’
‘The intern. Who was it?’
‘Her name was Layla. She was new. I don’t think you ever met her.’
‘Such a shame.’ Nicole shakes her head sadly. ‘Do the police know what happened to her?’
I shake my head. ‘All I know is that she was found in Central Park early this morning. They came by the office looking for anyone who knew her.’
‘Did you know her? Layla?’
Now is the time to tell her the truth. ‘No, not really,’ I lie. ‘I’m sure we crossed paths a few times, but like I said, she was relatively new at the company, so I didn’t really have the chance to get to know her too well.’
‘Well, I think it’s terrible what the city is coming to. Can’t even take a walk through the park without having to worry these days.’
I nod in agreement.
We eat the rest of our meal in relative silence, making small talk about the weather, her class schedule, the new video game branch we’re planning to launch at KitzTech, but the darkness of Layla’s death has already settled between us and Nicole doesn’t know that it’s only going to get worse from here.
I help Nicole clear the table, loading the dishes into the dishwasher and packing the leftovers into the refrigerator.
‘I have to make a few calls,’ I tell her. ‘And then maybe we can have a drink by the pool?’
‘Sure, sounds great.’
I head to my home office and wait until I hear Nicole open the sliding doors to the yard and close them behind her. I sit down in the plush leather chair behind my polished mahogany desk. Unlike my office at KitzTech, my home office is far more traditional. Large built-in bookshelves wrap the walls in warm wood tones, and a bar cart stands at the ready with a crystal decanter of amber whiskey which beckons to me now. I resist the temptation to pour myself a glass, even though I know that the phone call I’m about to make will not be an easy one.
I fish my phone out of my pocket and call my best friend, Jeff. Who also happens to be an attorney.
‘Hey! Vince! Been a while, buddy!’ Jeff exclaims.
‘Sure has,’ I reply, unable to match his enthusiasm.
‘Uh oh, sounds like this isn’t a social call then?’
‘No, unfortunately it’s not.’ I take a deep breath. I don’t know if I’m making the right choice, letting the truth out into the open, but I need advice and I know I can trust Jeff. ‘One of the interns from my company was killed last night.’
‘Oh, man! That’s awful.’
‘But here’s the thing. I was sleeping with her.’ There. I said it.
Jeff is silent for a moment. I look down at my phone to see if the call is still connected. ‘Are you kidding me, Vince?’ he says. He can’t keep the judgment out of his voice. Or maybe he isn’t trying to. Jeff and I have been friends since we were kids. He’s never been one to mince words with me. ‘You’re married to Nicole. That woman is a goddess. What the hell were you doing getting some on the side?’
‘I’m an idiot, okay?’ I concede. ‘But that’s not the point. I was sleeping with her, and now she’s dead.’
‘Are you telling me you had something to do with it?’ Jeff begins, ‘Because if you are—’
‘No! Jesus, Jeff! How long have we known each other? Do you really think I’d … kill someone?’
‘No, you’re right. Of course not. I’m sorry,’ Jeff says, backing down. ‘I just didn’t see this coming. I always thought you and Nicole were the perfect couple.’
‘We are. Were. It’s complicated. I’ll explain all of that another time. But right now I need your help.’
I fill Jeff in on my meeting with Detective Barnes this morning.
‘So you didn’t tell them about your involvement with Layla then?’ he asks as I conclude my story.
‘No. I didn’t know what to do. No one knows about the affair and I thought if I mentioned it, I’d only make myself look guilty.’
‘That’s true, but if the police find out on their own, it’s only going to look worse for you.’
‘What the hell am I supposed to do?’ I groan.
‘Well, let me ask you this: how careful were you and Layla about covering your tracks?’
‘We were very careful. She knew that this couldn’t get out. She knew I was never going to leave Nicole, and that it would be some serious bad press for KitzTech. It was supposed to be a no-strings-attached thing. We only communicated through an app that sends messages over the Internet and they are automatically erased after they’re read.’
‘And you’re sure that there’s no record of those messages anywhere?’ Jeff inquires skeptically.
‘Positive. I developed that app myself.’ That much I feel confident about.
‘Well that’s on your side, but these things have a way of getting out. You said this girl was only twenty-three. She was probably gossiping to all her girlfriends about banging her boss. As your lawyer, let me sleep on this, figure out if we should bring the affair to the police’s attention or not. But as your friend, I’d advise you to tell Nicole. If this gets out, and she has to hear about it from anyone but you, I’m sure it won’t go over well.’
‘God, I’m such a fucking idiot,’ I reply, dropping my head into my hands.
‘Yes, you are,’ Jeff agrees. ‘Call me immediately if anything else happens.’
‘Thanks, I will.’
I end the call and stare down at my phone for a moment. I know it’s time. It’s time to tell Nicole the truth. Well, most of it anyway.
Chapter 4
Vince
DAY 1
I walk out into the yard, running my hands through my hair. I have to stop doing that. Maybe that’s why my hair is thinning. I can’t lose Nicole. I just can’t. What happened with Layla was stupid, reckless. It was just sex. A fleeting, visceral entanglement. But what I have with Nicole is real, and it was supposed to last forever. We may have hit a rough patch in our marriage, but I don’t want this to be the end of the line for us. Jeff is right though. I have to tell her. I owe her the truth, and if she hears it from anyone but me, I know I’ll lose her for good.
It’s growing dark outside, the sky an inky midnight blue, but our yard looks like an oasis in the darkness. Underwater lights illuminate the pool in a celestial blue, and the lush garden surrounding it is dotted with soft fairy lights strung along the trees. Between two lounge chairs on the deck Nicole has placed a silver ice bucket with a bottle of white wine sticking out of the top, the cork already pulled. Condensation from the chilled wine is beading on the neck of the bottle and slowly sliding down into the ice below. Two crystal glasses stand on either side of the bucket waiting to be filled. I pour each of us a generous portion of the wine and take a small sip from the brim of my glass. I feel the of bite of the Chardonnay on my tongue.
‘Wine?’ I ask Nicole gently. She’s sitting on the edge of the pool in a pink silk robe, her feet dangling into the water, swishing back and forth methodically.
Nicole shakes her head sadly but takes the glass from my hand. She doesn’t have to tell me what this means. She’s not pregnant. The latest round of IVF has failed.
‘I’m so sorry, honey. But we’ll keep trying. There’s always next time,’ I say reassuringly.
‘Is there though? What will make the next round any different than the last one? Or the one before that, or the one before that?’ Her words sound defensive but her voice sounds broken, defeated. ‘I’ll be turning thirty-two next month. I don’t know how many more shots at this I’m going to get.’
‘As many as it takes,’ I tell her with certainty. ‘You still have plenty of time. And I know how badly you want this. I do too. You’re going to be an amazing mother some day. I know it.’
‘Well, today is not that day, so we might as well make the most of it.’ She takes a large gulp of her wine and places the glass on the edge of the pool. Nicole hasn’t had more than a sip of alcohol in years to increase her chances of getting pregnant. But it seems like she needs this tonight. She slips off the silk robe and I see her naked silhouette set against the glow of the pool in front of her. She dives into the water hovering below the surface for a moment. When she resurfaces, her pale breasts just beneath the water’s edge, she looks up at me with her impossibly blue eyes and says, ‘Are you going to join me?’
I strip down slowly with Nicole watching me from the water, and slide into the pool beside her. Nicole wraps her legs around my waist and kisses my lips, slowly and passionately. Her kiss has the same bite as the wine.
There is no way I can tell her now.
Chapter 5
Vince
BEFORE
I hear a light rap on my open door which causes me to look up from my desk. I find myself staring at an unfamiliar, and strikingly beautiful, face surrounded by luxuriant, chocolate brown hair that falls in soft waves down her back.
‘Sorry to interrupt, Mr Taylor. I can come back another time if you’re busy,’ the woman says in a smooth, yet delicate, voice. She is standing in my doorway wearing a form-fitting black dress that accentuates her hourglass figure and the perfect roundness of her breasts which curve over the top of its V-shaped neckline.
‘No, please come in,’ I say, gesturing for her to take a seat in my office. ‘What can I help you with?’
The woman strides into my office, the scent of her sugar-sweet perfume trailing behind her, and sits herself in a chair across from my desk. She crosses one long, tanned leg over her thigh and I can’t help but notice her black leather heels and pink polished toes.
‘My name is Layla Bosch, I’m one of the new interns. I just started last week,’ she says extending a perfectly manicured hand to me. ‘I just wanted to introduce myself, Mr Taylor.’
‘Please, call me Vince.’ I give her my hand and silently chide myself for taking note of the gentle curves of her body. ‘I’m glad you stopped by. It shows initiative. How are you finding KitzTech so far?’
‘Oh, it’s great. Everyone has been wonderful. I really think I’m going to love it here.’
‘I’m so glad to hear that. What department are you in?’
‘I’m working with the development team. Jason was assigned as my supervisor, and he’s just brilliant. I feel like I’ve already learned so much.’
Her deep brown eyes sparkle and they seem to dance as she speaks.
‘That’s great,’ I reply. ‘Jason is fantastic. We have a lot of new projects coming up and I’m sure he’ll be keeping you guys busy.’
‘Good, I’m looking forward to it. Anyway, as I said, I just stopped by to introduce myself. I won’t take up any more of your time. But I hope to see you again soon.’ Layla gracefully rises from her chair.
‘Thanks again for dropping in,’ I tell her. ‘And I’m sure we will be seeing more of each other.’ At least I certainly hope so.
I try to shake off thoughts of Layla as I turn back to my work. She’s stunning, and my attraction to this this woman, who is so much Nicole’s opposite, takes me by surprise. I look over at the framed photo of Nicole that I keep on my desk, her icy blue eyes staring back into mine. Perhaps it’s because Layla represents something foreign, the allure of the unknown calling to the part of me that sometimes yearns to break free from the routine that has become my life. Yes, that’s all it is. This isn’t attraction, it’s wanderlust, the same pull that drives us to escape to the tropics when snow blankets our known landscapes. But, sooner or later, we all find ourselves longing for the comforts of home. I glance over at the photo of Nicole one last time. At her white-blonde hair, and her familiar smile. She is my home. I can’t forget that.