Discretion (16 page)

Maybe she could still catch some of the guys. She called the first number.

“Hello?” answered a man.

“Hi.” She used her breathless, flirty voice. “This is Bethany. You called? I’m sorry I didn’t pick up.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“I’m available tonight if you’re still looking to book an appointment.”

“I already made other plans.”

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out today. Maybe next time?”

“Maybe.”

Click.

She tried the other numbers. One gave her a similar response; the other didn’t pick up. She cursed her bad luck, her bad timing, her—okay, she’d admit it—stupidity in falling asleep when she should have been fielding calls and setting up dates.

To make matters worse, she was getting the unbearable craving
that made it hard to concentrate on anything else. She felt lethargic and low; the whole world appeared gray. Only another hit would provide the intense euphoria that—for a few minutes, at least—would make her feel all right.

She fished through her bag for Belinda’s prescription bottles, popped a couple of codeine, and swallowed them dry. The pills made their painful way down her throat. When they hit her stomach, they would make her feel a little better, though they wouldn’t satisfy her real craving. She needed the sweet smoke of rocked-up cocaine burning its way into her lungs. And for that, she needed cash.

There was one place where she could always make a quick buck. She wasn’t proud of it, but no one would know. The house was quiet—Belinda was out conducting her own business. And none of her friends would be caught dead where Nicole was heading.

Nicole promised herself that this was just a quick fix until she got back on her feet. This wasn’t going to be her life—she was just resourceful. She was a survivor.

She couldn’t go out like this. Pulling off her sweaty dress, Nicole padded down the hallway in black panties and bra and crept into her friend’s room. Belinda’s venture must be doing well; her walk-in closet could have starred in a
Sex and the City
movie. Nicole spun a lazy-Susan-like shoe rack and chose a pair of high strappy stilettos. Then she plucked out a slate-gray leather dress with broad zippers slashing diagonally across the front. She checked the label: Hervé Léger. It must have cost over two thousand dollars. She hated to ruin the dress, but Belinda could afford it.

She went to the bathroom and ran the shower. As she waited for the water to heat up, she unclasped her pearl necklace and tucked it regretfully into her bag. This wasn’t going to be a string-of-pearls kind of night.

19

A
nna hurried to the USAO gym, hoping to arrive before Eva Youngblood’s self-defense class ended at nine
P.M.
There was an infinite amount of office work that Anna could be doing on the homicide case; the motion to obtain the congressional videos alone could keep her late every night. She would’ve skipped the self-defense class entirely, but she wanted to talk to Eva about Caroline. If Anna waited for Samantha to do it, the information might come too late to be of any use.

Jack had long since headed home for Monday “movie night” with Olivia. Anna could picture him tapping away on his laptop as Olivia watched the Disney movie of the week. He’d asked Anna to join them, suggesting she work from home, too. But she demurred. Part of the reason was she knew Olivia didn’t want her there. Another part was that it was easier for Anna to do her work at the office—an excuse Jack always respected. But neither reason was the whole truth. The fact was, Anna was still a little annoyed by how quickly Jack had discounted her opinion about a potential conflict of interest. She knew she shouldn’t take it personally, but it felt personal. Would he brush her off so cavalierly if they were colleagues with no personal relationship?

When Jack had asked her to be on the case, he’d said he needed her. Those words had meant a lot to her. So far, though, he seemed to put very little weight in her judgment.

As Anna walked into the gym, the students from Eva’s class were leaving the floor and heading for the showers. A handful of women carried powder-blue flyers; Anna couldn’t see what they said. Blotting her face with a towel, Grace came up to Anna. “Hey, there you are! We thought yesterday’s class scared you away!”

“No.” Anna laughed. “But this Capitol homicide case is a hot mess. I couldn’t get here earlier.”

Grace lowered her voice. “How’s it working out, doing a case with Jack?”

Anna smiled ruefully. “Some ups and some downs.”

“Highlight the ups. The whole office is watching. It’s not every day you get to prosecute a congressman for killing a prostitute. There’s been some gossip about why Jack put you on the case. You know how people are.”

“What are they saying?” Anna said softly.

“Just jealousy.” Grace waved dismissively. “Did he put you on the case for your brains or your boobs, that sort of thing. Ignore it. But—try not to screw anything up.”

“Wonderful.” Anna knew the talk would be worse if her relationship with Jack were public. She changed the subject. “How was Rosa Mexicano?”

“Fun. We missed you.”

“Next time,” Anna said. “Promise.”

“No worries,” Grace trilled. “This is make-or-break time for you, my dear. I’ll force margaritas on you when it’s done.”

“Sounds great.”

Grace squeezed Anna’s shoulder and headed to the locker room. Anna turned to the mats, where Eva was collecting foam pillows. The petite instructor looked like an athletic-gear model, in black pants with fuchsia racing stripes and a tight fuchsia tank top that showcased her muscular arms. Her dark hair was pulled into a long ponytail. Anna set her gym bag on the floor and went over to the instructor.

“I’m sorry I missed today’s class,” Anna began. “I have this case—”

“No need to explain,” Eva said. “I’m married to a lawyer. I know all plans are tentative.” She handed Anna a powder-blue flyer. “Dylan and I are having a fund-raiser Friday night. All my students are invited.”

“Oh, thanks,” Anna said. She couldn’t go to Dylan Youngblood’s fund-raiser in the middle of an investigation of his rival. She looked at the flyer. It started at five hundred dollars a head. She held back a laugh. Even if she weren’t conflicted out of the party, she was certainly
budgeted out of it. She tucked the flyer in her bag. “I actually came tonight because there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Ask away. But you really should make up today’s lesson,” Eva said.

“I know. Maybe I’ll sign up for the class next time you offer it.”

“Don’t wait until my next class. Let’s do it now.”

Anna looked down at her clothes. She was wearing the standard female prosecutor’s uniform: a sleek black pantsuit and comfortable pumps.

“You’re more likely to get mugged wearing a suit than yoga pants,” Eva said. She called out to someone behind Anna. “Barry—one more!”

Suddenly, strong arms grabbed Anna’s waist from behind in a tight bear hug. She heard a masculine grunt as he practically lifted her off the ground, dragging her backward.

Anna twisted, thrashed, and battered her fists back against him, but the guy was wearing some sort of thick padding, and his grip was strong. She only managed to scrape up her own knuckles. His arms squeezed tighter, making it hard for her to breathe. Mock fight or not, Anna’s heart started racing. She remembered her father punching her mother, then dragging her across the kitchen by her shirt.

“Stop!” Anna yelled. She hated the note of fear she heard in her voice.

Eva blew the whistle, and the arms released their grip. Anna pulled away and turned to see her attacker. He looked like a sci-fi cousin to one of the huge-headed mascots at a Nationals game. The man wore an enormous foam helmet wrapped in silver duct tape. The helmet’s big eyeholes were covered in red mesh netting, giving the impression of an evil space alien. He wore loose blue overalls over massive body padding.

Anna put her hands on her hips as she tried to get her breath back. Eva’s surprise assaults were getting on her nerves.

“I wasn’t ready,” Anna said.

“You won’t be ready when it happens for real, either. Watch how it’s done.”

Eva nodded at the mock attacker. He grabbed the instructor from behind in the same bear hug.

“You plant your feet wide to get a strong stance,” Eva explained as she demonstrated. “Use your hands to push his hands down. Then you pivot from your torso, and—” Eva twisted from her waist, thrusting her elbows backward into the mock attacker’s head: right, left, right. Even with the foam helmet, the mock attacker was forced to pull back a bit. But he kept his grip around her waist. “Now watch this.” Eva stomped down on the guy’s padded foot. He reacted as if in real pain. Eva then slammed an arm backward, grabbed his groin cup, and yanked.

“Ow!” The attacker bent over and loosened his hold on Eva. She spun around, hitting him in the head with her elbow again. She was free. She faced the attacker, who appeared to be in Oscar contention for his performance of “injured man.”

Eva wasn’t through. “If you run away, he’ll chase you. You always have to go
through
your attacker.” She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him so close, his chest was pressed against hers. She kneed him in the groin, then followed with a swift kick to the same place. He went down on all fours, and Eva finished the exercise with a running knee to the head.

“Now you try,” she said to Anna.

They practiced that for ten minutes. Then Eva demonstrated how to get out of a headlock before passing out. “It only takes six seconds for the blood flow to your head to be cut off. And once you’re unconscious, it’s over.”

By the end of the session, Anna felt as tired and bruised as the armored attacker pretended to be. He took off his giant helmet, revealing a medium-sized man with a blue handkerchief tied over red hair. Even with all the padding, he looked exhausted. It must be a tough job. So many blows to the head. Anna wondered what kind of man would voluntarily endure that on a nightly basis. He must have his own issues to work out.

She thanked him as he walked off to the men’s locker room. Despite the surprise attack, she was glad to have learned the techniques.

“Thank you, too.” Anna turned to Eva. “For staying so late for me.”

Eva started to walk toward the locker room. Anna grabbed her gym bag and fell into step.

“You’re welcome,” Eva said. “Being able to work late is one of the advantages of not having kids. One of the very few.”

Anna looked at her instructor curiously. The note of melancholy was surprising. Eva seemed to have the perfect marriage, the perfect life. Anna had seen so many glamorous pictures of Eva in the society pages. Wearing fabulous gowns, standing next to her handsome husband. Traveling to Europe on a trade delegation, smiling in front of the Eiffel Tower. Anna had always wanted to travel and see the world. Maybe once she paid off her ninety thousand dollars in law-school loans.

“Do you have any children?” Eva asked.

Kinda,
Anna thought, picturing Olivia. “Not yet,” she said. “I’m not married. Someday. I have to make sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”

“Don’t wait too long. I always imagined I’d have a big family. But I put it off, and now—too late.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna said. She wondered whether she should ask more but decided against delving into such a personal issue.

“It’s not
your
fault.” Eva seemed to shake herself out of the moment. “Anyway, you didn’t come to hear my family-planning troubles. What did you want to ask me about?”

“A class you held at your studio about two months ago.” Anna pulled out a copy of Caroline’s DMV photo and handed it to Eva. It was only a matter of time before the photo began circulating in the press. “Do you remember this woman?”

Eva took the picture as they walked into the locker room. “Yes. I don’t remember her name. She took a one-day Women’s Basics. Beautiful girl.” Eva handed the picture back to Anna and unlocked her locker.

“Did you ask everyone why they took that class?”

“Sure. Every class is tailored to the students’ needs.” Eva kicked off her shoes.

“Do you remember what Caroline said?” Anna asked.

“Those are personal stories, not gossip.”

“She’s the woman who was killed falling from Congressman Lionel’s balcony. That’s what I’m investigating.”

Eva sank down onto the bench. “Oh God. That’s awful.” She suddenly seemed small and fragile. Anna remembered how terrible she herself had felt two years ago, when she lost a trial against a domestic abuser and the battered woman was killed a few months later. Anna had blamed herself for the death—if she’d won that first trial, everything might have been different. She wondered whether Eva was having similar regrets.

“Do you remember whether Caroline said why she was taking the class?” Anna asked again.

Eva nodded slowly. “She had a stalker. Somebody she met at work who wouldn’t leave her alone. I don’t think she said where she worked. She didn’t mention Lionel. I would have remembered that.”

“Did she say anything else about who was stalking her?”

“No. It was just a one-day class—you don’t get to know the students very well. But I liked her. There was something about the way she spoke, the way she carried herself. I saw a lot of myself in her. I can look up her name in my records, get her address and phone number if that would be helpful.”

“Sure, whatever you have, I’d appreciate,” Anna said, although she doubted Eva would provide anything Anna didn’t already have. “Do you remember anything else she said?”

“I remember she was scared. There might’ve been more to the story, but I can’t recall. I see so many students. I only remember her at all because her story resonated with me. When I was in grad school, I had some bad experiences with men. It’s why I started studying self-defense.”

Eva stood up and pulled off her tank top. She wore nothing underneath but seemed comfortable with her partial nudity.

“I know Congressman Lionel is innocent until proven guilty,” Eva continued. “But I wouldn’t put this past him. Let me tell you, people like that, in politics—once they’ve got that power, they’ll do anything to keep it. That’s why we’re running against him. I hope you’ll come to our fund-raiser on Friday.”