The Sleeping Beauty Killer Part 24

Angela's thoughts were racing. She wanted to stop time and travel backwards to a parallel universe ten minutes in the past. If she could have hit the pause b.u.t.ton at that exact moment, she would have seen that the situation wasn't as dire as it felt. All Charlotte knew for certain was that she had clicked on a few websites from work. Depending on how closely Ladyform monitored employees' computers, Charlotte might even know that she leaked information to Mindy Sampson and posted negative comments about Casey online. At that instant in time, if she had been thinking straight, she could have talked her way out of this. But of course she wasn't thinking straight, because she'd been panicked about that stupid television show ever since she heard Laurie Moran's name.

"Maybe I shouldn't feel so bad about what's going to happen to you after all," she said bitterly as she stared at Charlotte. "Your family's connection to Under Suspicion is what helped persuade Laurie Moran to work with Casey in the first place."

All these years, she had led Charlotte-and everyone else-to believe that she was Casey's most loyal friend and advocate. She was the one who regularly visited Casey in prison. How many times had Angela been told, You're such a good friend. You're such a good person. Casey's so lucky to have you.

Was there any way she could hold on to that now?

At first, she was merely annoyed at the thought of Casey on television, claiming to be innocent. Once again, at least in some eyes, she'd be the sweetheart who could do no wrong. But then Casey told her she'd noticed a picture was missing from Hunter's nightstand after the murder. Worse, Casey had told Laurie about it. In that moment, Angela believed that the truth was finally going to come out.

But then she realized how much time had pa.s.sed since she killed Hunter Raleigh. The human mind is fragile. Memories blur and fade. She was certain that Sean would remember the fight that ended their relationship. He'd recall that it was about Hunter. He might even call to mind the box of mementos he discovered in her closet. But would he have memorized the exact contents of the box? Would he conjure up the one specific photograph of Hunter and the President? Maybe not. In fact, probably not, or so Angela had struggled to convince herself. And of course she had disposed of the box's contents the very next day, as much as it had pained her.

Charlotte began to move. She let out a low groan of pain. It was guttural.

Angela had taken a chance by phoning Sean after Casey suggested that Laurie interview him for the show. "After all these years, I think it would be hard if the two of us were to cross paths again. You're happily married. I'm still alone. Why didn't we end up together? I'd prefer that not to be an issue. Does that make sense?" He agreed that it did, even though it didn't, because people were so quick to a.s.sume that a single woman her age would not be happy alone.

But now Charlotte was starting to wiggle, not understanding why she couldn't move her limbs. "Angela?" she asked, in a faltering voice.

Angela tried to slow her mind down. Even though I persuaded Sean to decline Laurie's show, I didn't dare ask directly about the memory box he'd found in my closet. Any mention of it could have triggered his recollection or made him wonder why I was asking him about that. I had to cross my fingers that he wouldn't think back on that night. I had to hope that maybe he wouldn't even see the show. I could picture his wife saying, "Why are you watching that? Is it because you're curious about Angela?" If he didn't watch, no problem. If he didn't remember the picture of Hunter and the President, no problem. And even if he put two and two together, I could have said Sean was confused. He may have seen a different photograph. Or he had held a grudge against me all these years. I could have said I admired the photo and Hunter had given me a copy. There was no way to convict me of murder beyond a reasonable doubt based on an ex-boyfriend's ancient memory of a framed picture in a storage box in my closet.

But now look what I have done. I have no choice. I have to kill her and make it look like an accident.

Charlotte was regaining consciousness. Angela reached for the weapon she'd been carrying in her purse as a precaution since the day Casey signed the papers to appear on Under Suspicion. She could tell from Charlotte's terrified expression that she was awake enough to see the gun in Angela's hand.

"Okay, boss," Angela said, "you need to get up on your feet. Let's go."

65.

Laurie's Uber driver came to a halt in front of the address she'd gotten from Charlotte's secretary. She offered a weak thank-you to the driver. "Sorry, it probably sounded like you were driving into a war zone."

The driver was already checking his phone to connect to his next customer. "No offense, lady, but you've got a wild imagination. If you ask me, you should take a walk around the block. Maybe learn a bit about meditation. It's the only way I make it through the day."

He drove away, leaving Laurie alone in front of the warehouse. She heard a dog bark in the distance. The streets were surprisingly quiet.

She called Leo again, but his cell phone went straight to voice mail. She tried her own apartment next.

"Hey, Mom." One of Timmy's video games played in the background.

"Is Grandpa back from his meeting?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from sounding stressed.

"Not yet. Kara and I are playing Angry Birds."

Whenever his favorite babysitter was there, Timmy was perfectly happy to have Laurie and Leo stay out late.

Her father had to be on the subway.

She tried Charlotte's cell phone again. There was no answer.

At the front of the warehouse, she spotted a foot-wide crack beneath the steel roll-up door. Am I already too late? Did Angela realize that Charlotte was on to her . . . ?

She couldn't wait any longer. She slid her back beneath the gate, pressed her belly to the ground, and shimmied inside.

66.

Leo was deep in thought as he exited the lower Manhattan office building. He missed the excitement of police work, but did not want to jump back in full-time. The opportunity to work on this task force was perfect. It would be several evenings each month, and he could do a lot of his work from home. He could continue to look after Timmy and be around to help Laurie.

As he walked the three blocks to the subway, he spotted a cab discharging pa.s.sengers and changed his mind. After they got out, he jumped in the back and gave the cabbie Laurie's address. He reached for his cell phone to check for messages. He then remembered that he had turned it off to avoid interruptions during the meeting.

His heart raced as he saw Laurie's text and then listened to her voice mail. The building Charlotte and Laurie were in was less than two miles away. "Change of plans," he shouted to the cabbie. "Go to 101 Fulton Street in Brooklyn and step on it!"

He yanked open his wallet and held up his police credentials so the driver could see them in the rearview mirror. "I'm a cop. You won't get a ticket. Move!"

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, d.a.m.n 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 b.u.t.ton 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.