Paper Cuts, page 22
“Am I supposed to call you Nora?” he asked, giving her the once-over. “I thought you’d have more scars, but you look good. Really good.”
“Why are you here?” she demanded flatly.
“I came for Kelly’s funeral. It was the right thing to do.”
Nora’s eyes narrowed. “Since when have you cared about that?”
Lawrence clutched his heart as if he’d been wounded. “Not pulling any punches, are you? Okay, fine. I have business in the area, so I thought I’d pay my respects and see my son. I’m his father, after all.”
“You share DNA, but you’re not his father any more than you’re a father to your daughter.”
“I see you’ve been keeping tabs on me.” He sounded pleased. “What about you? Did you ever have a kid?”
Keeping her expression blank, Nora replied, “No. Anyway, the funeral’s over and you’ve seen Tucker, so I guess you’ll be on your way.”
“I’m in no hurry to listen to any more of that”—Lawrence jerked his thumb toward the back of the store—“but I am dying for a coffee. Why don’t we grab a cup and catch up?”
I’d rather walk barefoot over burning coals, Nora thought.
But Lawrence was the common denominator between herself and two murdered women, so Nora bit back an acerbic reply and said, “Are you staying at the Lodge?”
“I am.”
“We can catch up there. I’ll meet you at the outdoor bar at seven.”
A gleam appeared in Lawrence’s eyes. “You want to meet at my hotel, eh? You little minx.”
Nora smirked. “We’re meeting at your hotel because copious amounts of alcohol and a public setting will force me to be civil.”
Lawrence laughed. “You’re a breath of fresh air. Okay, Nora, see you at seven.”
Unlocking the front door, Nora waved Lawrence through it. Before she could close it again, one of her regular customers approached. Pointing at the ambulance, she asked if everything was okay.
“Yes, but we’ll be closed for a just a few more minutes. Do you mind coming back?”
“Not at all. I’ll just pop into the hardware store.”
Nora locked the door and returned to the Readers’ Circle.
When she noticed that Sheldon’s face was still pale, she quietly told him that his workday was over. For once, he didn’t protest. He simply hung up his apron and left.
Isabel and her brother were the next to go.
“See you next week,” Derrick said as he shook hands with Kirk. He then waved to Nora and headed outside.
“That man couldn’t have picked a better moment to walk into our lives.” Kirk put a hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “We’re going to visit him at his office next week, and if all goes well, he and Tucker will be spending a lot more time together.”
Val put her arm around her nephew. “Let’s get you home, sweetheart. You must be awfully tired.” Glancing at Nora, Val mouthed a thank-you and exited the shop.
Kirk watched them leave but made no move to follow.
“I’d like to help you clean up.”
“That won’t be necessary. And I meant what I said about the insurance. I’m covered for the damage. Really. It’s fine.”
Kirk nodded. “Okay, then. Would you let me put together a flower arrangement for your checkout counter?”
“As long as none of the flowers mean ‘sorry.’ We’re friends now, so there’s no need for that.”
“Friends,” Kirk repeated.
He smiled warmly at Nora before hurrying outside to catch up to his family.
* * *
That evening, Nora took a quick shower, slipped on a sundress, and laced up a pair of white Chuck Taylors. Without telling McCabe or the other Secret, Book, and Scone Society members what she was doing, she drove to the Lodge to meet her ex-husband for drinks.
He was already seated when she arrived but got to his feet and pulled out a chair for her.
“You look stunning,” he said, his hand lingering on her bare shoulder for just a second too long. “I’ve ordered some appetizers, but feel free to add to the order.”
Nora picked up the cocktail menu. “I might. I’m hungry enough to eat a gas station sandwich.”
Lawrence laughed. “Oh, you’re so refreshing. The girls I date seem to survive on lettuce and air.”
“If their livelihoods are tied to their looks, I imagine the women you date have to be very disciplined. I’m a middle-aged bookstore owner. If I’m fifteen pounds overweight, nobody cares.” She dropped the menu on the table. “I’m glad you brought up your romantic partners because I’m curious about them.”
“You and every tabloid in the country,” scoffed Lawrence.
Their server appeared and Nora ordered an Aperol spritz. Lawrence chose a classic gimlet.
“With Hendrick’s,” he added gruffly. “If you don’t have that, give me your top-shelf gin, and tell the bartender not to be stingy with his pour.”
“I’ll be sure to let her know,” the server said as he turned away.
Nora grinned. “I bet you make friends wherever you go. So, what business brings you to this quiet corner of the world?”
Lawrence settled deeper into his chair. He’d always enjoyed talking about himself, and Nora could see that he still did.
“How much do you know about what I do? Aside from what you’ve seen in the media.”
“This might come as a surprise, but I knew nothing about your life until Kelly was killed. I only googled you because of her.”
Their appetizers came, and the server described each dish as he placed it on the table.
“Goat cheese crostini with honey and thyme. Fried chickpeas. Hawaiian barbecue quesadillas. Marinated olives. And soy-glazed chicken wonton cups. Enjoy!”
“Not bad,” Lawrence said as he loaded food onto a small plate. In between bites, he told Nora about his career. She knew he was trying to impress her, but she had a hard time following the cryptocurrency references. When he started talking about subsidiaries, she decided it was time for a more direct approach
“I noticed that your companies have nautical names. Do you still like to sail?”
Lawrence’s carefully curated veneer slipped, and he looked genuinely sad. “I haven’t been out on the water for years. Even when I travel, it’s all about work. I need to wine and dine the right people. Be seen with the right people. It’s part of the game.”
“Who do you need to be seen with in Miracle Springs? This town is known for its slow pace, natural beauty, and restorative properties. We don’t get many tycoons here.”
Lawrence caught their server’s eye and signaled for another round. Then he used the side of his fork to slice a wonton cup in half. “I’m going to build a casino. Not here, exactly. A few towns over.”
Nora thought of the photos she’d seen in the paper. The protest against the “outsider” gaming corporation had drawn a crowd of thousands. Protesters had carried signs complaining of corruption and demanding justice for the Cherokee. Many of the Cherokee had attended in ceremonial dress, as had people from the Lumbee, Choctaw, Chickasaw, Catawba, Creek, and Seminole tribes. The solidarity among tribes had garnered national attention and within hours, the protest had gone viral.
“The Cherokee need the casino. The income will make a big difference to their community,” Nora said. “Why not build yours elsewhere? You don’t have ties to this area.”
“People are moving here in droves. The housing and leisure markets are booming. I’d be an idiot not to build a casino here. My world-class resort will provide lots of jobs and revenue for the county.” He shrugged. “There’s always a winner and a loser when it comes to deals like this. I’m not a villain because I have more to offer than the next guy. Or, in this case, ten little Indians.”
Nora wondered exactly when her ex-husband turned into a sexist, racist, megalomaniac.
“You were fiscally conservative when we were together. What changed?”
“The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward,” he said.
It was a well practiced line. A conversation ender. But Nora couldn’t let it go at that. She knew the casino deal was important, she just didn’t know how it connected to the death of Lawrence’s second wife or his current girlfriend.
“You’ve obviously had big wins. Have you ever lost big?”
A shadow crossed Lawrence’s face, but their second round of drinks arrived, and he was saved from having to respond.
Direct questions weren’t paying off, so Nora decided to switch tack.
“Between the casino deal and the murders of an ex-wife and a girlfriend, you must have the press breathing down your neck.”
Lawrence dismissed this with the flick of his wrist. “Money buys me privacy. I have a team of PR people, drivers, bodyguards, consultants—you name it. Besides, I have an airtight alibi and no reason whatsoever to want them dead.”
Because you didn’t care about them at all. Women are disposable to you.
“I met Justine, you know. She came into the shop looking for book recommendations. She specifically wanted romance novels where the young, beautiful heroine gets the older, richer, savvier hero to marry her.”
“Of course she did. Even though I told her on our very first date that I’m not into commitment. No more wives. No more kids.” He used two fingers to mime a cutting motion. “I got snipped, so I can’t be tricked.”
Nora took a generous swallow of her drink and said, “You should have that made into a T-shirt.”
Lawrence chortled in delight, and Nora was tempted to throw her drink in his face. Instead, she took a deep breath and kept talking.
“Justine seemed angry. At me. Any idea why?”
“She flew here from Vegas to check you out. You and Kelly. She was trying to figure out what made you two special. The girl was desperate. She knew I was ready to move on. And she had the nerve to charge the flight and her hotel room to my Visa card.”
Nora drained the rest of her drink and leaned forward in her chair. “You loved Kelly. It might not have lasted long, but you loved each other. Justine obviously cared about you, or she wouldn’t have tried so hard to hold on. Kelly and Justine are dead. They both died in this town within days of each other. They’re both connected to you, and you’re here because of a casino. Does anyone else have to die for this deal, or are all the loose ends tied up?”
Though she hadn’t seen Lawrence for over a decade, some habits never changed. He still ran his thumb over his watch face when he was uncomfortable. He did this twice before reaching for his cocktail glass, but it was enough to convince Nora that she was barking up the right tree.
The server stopped by to see if they wanted another round and Lawrence nodded in assent. A phone rang from the inside pocket of his jacket. He took a quick glance at the screen and got to his feet.
“I have to take this. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he told Nora. He flashed her his trademark smile, but his body was tense. If he squeezed his phone any tighter, it would shatter.
Hurrying away from the bar, Lawrence took the path leading to the Japanese Zen Garden.
When he was out of sight, Nora entered the hotel and crossed the lobby to an alcove where the restrooms were located. Opening an unmarked door, she stepped out into the Zen Garden.
In three steps, she was facing the exterior rear wall of the teahouse. It was the only structure in the garden with a modicum of privacy, so Lawrence was likely to seek it out. The walls looked solid but were actually quite thin, which meant Nora could listen to his conversation without being seen.
“Thank you for stating the obvious, but it won’t be a problem. I will get the damned papers.” Lawrence’s voice sounded like the snap of a rubber-band. “She’ll lead me right to them. Sees herself as a fixer. She’s got a Mother Teresa complex.” Lawrence grunted. “Yeah, I don’t miss a thing. Just gimme another day. Two at most. I’ve gotta go.”
Since she couldn’t beat Lawrence back to the table, Nora used the restroom and checked her phone for messages. She had a text from Estella, who still hadn’t heard from her father, and a missed call from Kirk. He hadn’t left a message.
“Where’d you run off to?” Lawrence asked when she returned to the table.
Nora didn’t sit down. She held up her phone and said, “It’s time for me to go, but thank you for the drinks.”
“Just like that?” Lawrence was nonplussed. “Come on, the night is young!”
“But I’m not. It’s been a long day and I’m ready to put my feet up.” Nora wished him a good night and walked out of the bar.
She didn’t feel the least bit tipsy. She wasn’t sure if the food had soaked up the alcohol or if talking about Kelly and Justine or listening in on Lawrence’s phone call had had a sobering effect on her, but she felt okay to drive.
Her moped’s speed topped out at thirty-five, but Nora would slow down even more once she reached the dark, curvy road leading back to town.
She’d just passed the stone pillars marking the Lodge’s entrance when she heard a motorcycle engine roar to life in the parking lot behind her.
The space above her pinkie tingled and she gripped her handlebars in fear.
They’re following me.
Knowing she’d never make it to town before her pursuers caught her, she didn’t turn left on Mountain Road but kept going straight. Pushing the moped to its max speed, she leaned forward, silently egging the little engine on, until she came to a steep driveway on her right.
She ascended the driveway and was soon hidden by a wall of trees and shrubs. Switching her engine off, she went very still and listened.
Within seconds, she heard the growl of the motorcycle. She didn’t need to see it to know that its rider wore black clothes and had a spider web tattoo on his neck. He might even be carrying a passenger. A woman with a high, thin voice.
For a few, terrifying moments, it sounded like the bike was heading right for her. But as she pressed her chest to her handlebars, she realized that the noise was fading.
The motorcycle had taken Mountain Road.
Nora let out the breath she’d been holding and sent a text to McCabe.
She sat in the darkness for another ten minutes before turning the moped on and easing back onto the road. She assumed she was safe.
But she was wrong.
Chapter 17
A map does not just chart, it unlocks and formulates meaning; it forms bridges between here and there, between disparate ideas that we did not know were previously connected.
—Reif Larsen
There was no sign of a motorcycle at the bottom of Mountain Road, but Nora wouldn’t breathe easy until she knew the Walshes were safe.
She wasn’t foolish enough to take on a potential killer alone. The best she could do was look, listen, and call for help, so she parked her moped at the end of the block and continued down Maple Street on foot.
It was almost eight thirty, and the neighborhood was quiet. Porch lights sparked in the darkness and windows were illuminated by the bluish flicker of television screens and the buttery glow of lamps. It felt like every resident was curled up on a sofa with their feet up.
Sugarberry Cottage seemed peaceful and still, so Nora decided to walk past the house and go around the block to return to her moped. She was a hand’s breadth from the Walshes’ mailbox when she heard shouting from inside the house.
The shrill, angry voice belonged to a child.
Tucker!
Nora was about to charge down the front path when she remembered Tucker’s outburst at the bookstore. He’d said his final farewell to his mother that day. As if that hadn’t been enough emotional turmoil for the boy to grapple with, his father had suddenly materialized, demanding attention and a physical display of affection. Was it any surprise that Tucker was expressing his hurt and frustration right now?
Glancing up at the window of Tucker’s room, Nora didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want to disturb Kirk and Val, but she needed to warn them about the motorcyclist.
In the end, she sat on the curb and dialed Kirk’s number.
It rang for a long time before he finally picked up.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Nora began. As quickly as she could, she explained why she was sitting outside their house.
“A motorcycle? The way Tucker’s carrying on, I doubt we’d hear a commercial jet landing in our front yard. We can’t understand him, and I’m about to pull out what little hair I have left. I have you on speaker, by the way.”
“Can I help?” Nora asked, and instantly regretted having opened her mouth. She didn’t know how to calm a person with Asperger’s. Her experience with kids was limited to the storytime regulars or teens seeking book recommendations.
Apparently, Kirk’s thoughts ran along a similar line. “I’m not sure . . .”
“Let her try!” Val cried in the background.
Five minutes later, Nora stood in the upstairs hallway. As soon as she’d reached the landing, Val had grabbed her by the arm. She was still clinging to it like a vine wrapped around a tree branch as she led Nora to the first door on the right.
“This is Tucker’s room,” Val whispered, cracking the door a few inches.
Nora peeked in.
Tucker was sitting on the floor, talking in a low, rapid-fire voice. He held Derek’s pen in his hand and was bending it back and forth in a steady rhythm. Though still agitated, he was clearly exhausted.
Glancing down at the papers protruding from the crack under the door, Nora said, “What are these?”
“He draws maps when he’s upset. Even when he was really little, he could draw maps from memory.”
Nora gently detached Val’s grip on her arm and reached for a piece of paper. “May I?”
“Please. See if you can make heads or tails of it. I can’t tell if it’s a country, a county, or Neverland.”
The first sheet Nora picked up didn’t resemble a map at all. It looked like toddler scribbles.
The next sheet was similar, as were the third and fourth. However, when Nora pulled out the bottom-most sheet, she saw a definitive shape.
