The Last Lie Read online

  Ten minutes later Cai strolled in, her pale skin flushed from the cold, her dark hair worn long and straight. Cai’s mother was Japanese, her father Irish, and she’d gotten the best of both in looks and in personality, although neither parent admitted to that.

  “Hey doll,” Cai said, swooping in for a quick hug. “Hope we can hear each other over all the hook-ups being maneuvered.” She looked over at the bar and rolled her eyes. “When do we get too old for that?”

  “Emotional age? We’re long past. Sit. Have a drink and tell me about latest your case. I’ll fill you in on the drama with Seth after I’ve had a little more of this.” I tapped my glass.

  Cai was an attorney with one of Chicago’s top law firms, specializing in corporate law. She, and the nearly 700 attorneys at the firm, put in enough billable hours to fund a small country. Legal work had been too soul draining for me. I left after a young man I’d prosecuted took his own life, and then I arm-twisted my husband for a shot as a journalist with his digital media company. Hard to believe that had only been a year ago.

  “You know how it is,” she said, tipping back her glass. “Another arrogant client who’s bullied his way to business success by bending the law. When it catches up with him, he still thinks he’s going to win by being a blowhard. And I get to be the one to give him tough love and pull a miracle out of my ass.”

  “Sounds like marriage.”

  Cai let out a cackle, nearly spitting her wine. “Exactly. I babysit men all day, who wants to do it at night too? Cheers.”

  We clinked our glasses and started to dig into the details of our week starting with my conversation with Janelle Platt.

  Over the din of the busy restaurant, I heard a familiar high-pitched laugh. Lane was at the bar, one arm draped over some guy I didn’t recognize, the other holding a martini. By the sway of her body I could tell it wasn’t her first. I watched for a moment, then turned back to Cai.

  She was watching my sister too, a look on her face that mixed incredulity with disgust. I probably had the same expression.

  “Really? Haven’t I seen this movie before?” I said, feeling my body tense. I looked at Cai and shook my head.

  “Are you going over to save the day?” Cai asked.

  “Not if I don’t have to.”

  The crash of glass hitting the tile floor drew me back to Lane. She let out a shriek of laughter, and then I watched as her friend struggled to catch her as she went down too.

  “Shit. I have to play Mommy again.” I finished off the rest of my wine and maneuvered through the crowd to the bar.

  “Hey, Andy what are you doing here?” Lane mumbled.

  “Jesus, Lane. You can’t even talk. I’m her sister,” I said to the guy attempting to hold her steady. “How much has she had to drink?”

  “Hell if I know. She’s had two while I’ve been talking to her. I just met her half an hour ago. She seemed sober then.”

  He propped her on the stool, but she continued to sway. As he held her shoulders, I raised her chin and looked at dilated pupils that couldn’t focus. She lifted her hand and started pulling at the top edge of her turtleneck as if it were constricting.

  “She looks sick. Maybe you should take her to the bathroom,” he said, happily abdicating responsibility to someone else.

  The patrons on either side seemed to be having the same thought and had stepped back. I couldn’t blame them. She looked like she was about to toss her cookies.

  “Is she okay?” Cai had joined us, our coats and purses thrown over her arm, having jumped to the obvious conclusion that our evening was over.

  “Nope. Help me get her to the ladies room.”

  Cai and I stood on each side and coaxed her to her feet. Lane’s hands went back to her neck, and she pulled violently on the shirt as if struggling to breathe. As Cai and I fought to steady her, Lane lost her footing and went down hard, out cold on the floor next to the bar.

  “Call an ambulance,” I yelled to the bartender, then looked down at my sister and cursed.

  11

  Second time in three days I’ve been in this damn hospital,” I complained to Cai. “And now I have to sit here because my 37-year-old sister doesn’t have the sense to keep her drinking under control. It feels like high school all over again.”

  I was beyond irritated with Lane. We were sitting on a bench in the emergency room waiting area of Northwestern Hospital, fighting impatience and trying to distract ourselves with vending machine tea. Dinner hadn’t happened and stale cellophane-wrapped peanut butter crackers were starting to look appealing. Codes and pages pinged over the PA system while we sat. The room was already buzzing with what I assumed was a typical Friday night crowd—fights, overdoses, and accidents that wouldn’t have occurred if the victim hadn’t been inebriated. I shuddered at the image of what the medical staff might be dealing with at the height of the evening.

  “We’ve both been too busy to talk about it, the shooting I mean.” Cai said. “I can’t imagine how frightening it must have been.”

  I felt myself shudder. Images of the hate in Cavanaugh’s face, the sound of the gun as it discharged, the terror of hold Seth’s bleeding body in my arms, all played through like a horror movie I couldn’t turn off.

  “I spoke to Seth this morning,” she said. “I swear he’s too obstinate to die.” She chuckled.

  “You spoke to him?”

  “Yeah. Actually, he’s a new client. Something else we haven’t had time to talk about.” A shadow crossed Cai’s face. And she paused as if she were suddenly uncomfortable. “You were there with him when he was shot?”

  “It all happened right in front of me. Seth and I went to the gala together. Obviously, I wasn’t hurt, but yes, I had a front row seat.”

  “You went together? A date?”

  “No, of course not.” I shook my head. “You know I’m not interested in him romantically. I hadn’t seen him since right after Erik died so when he asked me join him, I thought it would be a nice change. Some evening that turned out to be…”

  Cai was intimately aware of my romantic history, both the issues in my marriage that had led me to file for divorce last year, and the unease I was feeling about my budding relationship with Michael.

  As I sat lost in thought, I watched a woman across the room consumed with tears, and wondered what had brought her to the hospital. It was an instinct for me now to be curious about people’s stories, particularly those that brought pain. And what better spot for a story than a hospital emergency room.

  She looked back at Cai who seemed lost in thought herself.

  “What’s up? You’re being a little cagy. What’s that about?” I asked. An idea popped into my head and I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Are you representing Seth in his IPO?”

  She tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. “You know I can’t talk about my clients,” she said, straightening up as a nurse walked by.

  “Seth told me himself that he hopes to go public this year. That’s not a deep dark secret,” I said, taking a sip of the lukewarm tea.

  “Fair enough,” she shrugged. “Yes, I’ve been retained. But that’s going to be the extent of our conversation on this subject. This is way too complicated. And you’re a journalist for god sakes.” She tipped her head back against the wall and sighed, then a smile. “I bet the shooting made Borkowski’s day. Nothing better for a headline than an incident among Chicago’s elite”

  “I’ll make sure to save the photo that ran in the Sun-Times if you haven’t seen it. They got me with boobs hanging out and a bloody Seth in lap. I’m sure it’s still online. I’m thinking with a little cropping it could be my new headshot.” We both laughed.

  “Ms. Kellner?” I looked up. Dr. Lassiter stood in front of us. His face still full of warmth despite the later hour. “Back again I see. I’m afraid we don’t give friends and family discounts.” He held out a hand and smiled. I stood and introduced him to Cai.

  “It’s nice to see you, but I’m starting to
worry about your choice of friends.” Cai and I chuckled at his joke, but unfortunately, he wasn’t far off.

  “Is my sister ready to go home? I assume you’ve pumped her stomach and lectured her on the dangers of alcohol poisoning? She’s prone to over-indulgence, but this is the first time a visit to your fine establishment was required. Lectures from her little sister never seem to break through, perhaps this will.”

  I rambled on not normally willing to share my sister’s challenging personal life, but under the circumstance, it seemed like the sensible thing to do. Perhaps another voice could get Lane’s attention. Mine certainly never seemed to.

  “Actually, although there was alcohol in her system, it was insufficient to cause this episode.”

  “What? Then what happened? She was stumbling, slurring her words. I don’t understand.” Possibilities ran through my mind but nothing came to me that could explain the behavior I witnessed earlier in the evening.

  “Frankly, I don’t know. Not yet anyway, but I’m concerned. She’s experiencing cardiac arrhythmia, in layman’s terms an erratic heartbeat. Does she have any history of a heart issue? Or is there any family history?” he asked, concern showing in his eyes.

  “No, nothing,” I said, my mind searching for anything that might have gotten buried in my memory. For the first time, I was scared.

  “Could someone have slipped something in her drink? She was at the bar with a guy I think she’d just met.” I asked. A hazy image of the man came to mind. And every story I’d ever heard of a woman being slipped Rohypnol or other date-rape drugs. Why hadn’t I thought to get the guy’s name? Could I pick him out if I saw him again? Unlikely.

  “Possibly. But don’t jump to conclusions yet,” he said, hearing the alarm in my voice. “It could simply be a virus. I’ve ordered some additional testing. We’re giving her fluids to help push the alcohol out of her system. Right now she’s sleeping, and that’s the best thing for her. Check back in with me in the morning. Hopefully, we’ll know a little more.”

  I looked at Cai, feeling a cold sweat break out on my neck as he walked away. A heart issue? Hadn’t Seth said Cavanaugh’s daughter died of a heart issue?

  12

  The doorbell rang as I was pouring hot water in my teacup. Michael. We’d made plans to go out for brunch this morning and shopping for office furniture after, but my thoughts were tied up with Lane. I’d spent the evening tossing and turning, and in between, beating myself up over not getting contact info for the guy at the bar. I was also dreading the phone call I needed to make to my father. Even the smallest bit of bad news seemed to crush his soul a little bit more.

  Since my mother’s death, he lived as if another massive blow was always around the corner. Not that he said much, men of his generation didn’t talk about their feelings, but gone was the easy smile that lit up his eyes, the one I could still picture from my childhood. Now he seemed hollow, a physical clone of a man that went through the motions of being alive but had no joy.

  I set down the cup and went to the door. Walter meowed and followed as I walked, nervous that I was leaving him alone.

  Steeling myself against the fear welling inside me, I opened the door, but instead fell into Michael’s chest before he’d even walked inside. Despite my uncertainty about a relationship, in this moment I needed him, I needed to be held and told everything would be okay.

  “Hey, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” He whispered into my ear as he stroked my hair. Taking hold of my shoulders, he stepped back, his face full of concern.

  “It’s my sister. She’s in the hospital.”

  “Let’s sit down and talk.” He closed the door and took my hand leading me to the sofa. Walter jumped onto my lap when I sat, eyeing Michael with suspicion as he always did. It was hard to know what went though that little cat mind of his, but it didn’t seem he was ready to share me with anyone, especially Michael.

  “Tell me what happened.” Michael said once we were settled.

  I filled him in on the evening at the bar. “I thought she’d just had too much to drink. Lane’s never been one to turn down a party, but the doctor is saying something else is wrong. She was incoherent, stumbling. He’s not sure what it is. Her vitals are wonky. It could be a virus, but he also said her heart beat has been erratic. He wanted to know if she had any history of heart issues.” I was vomiting out the information not pausing to breathe or bothering to add any context.

  “Have you checked on her this morning?” he asked. His voice was full of concern but at the same time strong, reliable, soothing. I was filled with relief just having him here to talk to.

  “I called the hospital about half an hour ago. She was still asleep, but that’s all the nurse could tell me. The doctor will be able to speak with me in a few hours.”

  Michael pulled me in for a hug. Walter hissed and jumped to the floor. But I stayed there relishing the feeling of safety in his arms. It wasn’t an emotion I’d often felt over the past year. And I recognized how much I missed it. I thought of the days not that long ago that I had blindly assumed safety would always be part of my life. But trust and safety had abruptly been yanked from me. First when I learned of my husband’s infidelities, and then again when I realized how deep into the casino scheme he’d been.

  I drew in a breath and worked to calm my racing heart. If for no other reason, I needed to pull myself together for the call to my father.

  Michael kissed my forehead and pulled back. “Don’t start assuming the worst. The doctor said a virus was a possibility. Maybe she took something that didn’t mix well with the alcohol.”

  “She wasn’t sick on Thursday. We met for coffee.” I paused, my mind racing down rabbit holes.

  “What? What are you thinking?” he said. “You’re obviously going to a bad place.”

  “I’m thinking about Luke Cavanaugh’s daughter.”

  He looked at me intently before responding. “Wait a minute, that’s a huge leap. Just because two people show an erratic heartbeat doesn’t mean they have the same illness,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. He knew I was alarmed and was trying to pull me back.

  “Cavanaugh believes his daughters heart issues and death were caused by Seth’s energy drink. When I saw Lane yesterday, she had a bottle of the stuff in her bag. How can I not think about that?”

  “Look at me.” His voice was demanding. “Cavanaugh’s daughter had a genetic condition. This doesn’t mean Lane is going to die too.”

  I squeezed his hands and tried hard to dispel my fears. I knew he was right. I’d let my imagination suppress my normally logical thought process. I nodded, trying to convince myself it was just a coincidence. “Okay.” I shook my head in agreement. “I’m going to need a raincheck on brunch. I have to call my father and then go pick up a few things for Lane before I go to the hospital.”

  “Of course.” He traced the curve of my cheek with his finger. “Call me as soon you know more.”

  We stood and walked to the door. He pulled me in for another hug, whispering, “it’s going to be okay.” We stayed there feeling each other’s warmth, basking in the comfort until I pulled away.

  “Thank you. I’m glad you were here today.” I said, giving him a weak smile and a kiss goodbye. I picked up the phone as soon as the door was closed.

  My father sounded calm but then I hadn’t expected anything else. He handled his pain by letting it eat away at his insides.

  My mother had died in a car accident with her lover when I was in high school. Leaving my father a widower, a single parent to two teenage daughters he didn’t know how to raise, and with the aftereffects of a betrayal he couldn’t understand. He’d died emotionally in that moment and was no longer the man I’d grown up with.

  Although I’d told him it wasn’t necessary, he insisted on coming to Chicago, intending to drive the hour and a half down from his home in a suburb of Milwaukee. I gave him the address of the hospital and told him I would meet him there. Then I grabbed my bag and he
aded over to Lane’s apartment.

  Lane had given me a set of keys two years earlier after losing hers for the second time in a month. I’d grown tired of her sleeping on my couch and insisted on the backup set of the keys. I let myself in.

  She’d purchased the condo in a River North high-rise during the frenzied boom of the pre-crash years when realtors were buying multiple units pre-construction with little or no down payment. Ever the optimist, she’d jumped on that bandwagon as well, and at one point owned four units in this building. Luckily she’d been able to dump everything but this one at a small loss. She didn’t say much these days about her financial situation, but she hadn’t fully repaid the money I’d last loaned her either. Perhaps that was the real motivation behind her suggestion that we sell the three-flat.

  Despite its sleek modern bones, the interior furnishings had the look of Grandma’s castoffs. I found it odd that a realtor, keenly aware of the value of visual appearance, didn’t seem to care about her own home. But then again, there were many things about Lane that I didn’t understand.

  Her bedroom was down the hall in the back. I pulled open the heavy drapes that blocked her city view and got to work. Dust motes danced in the sunlight. Grabbing a shopping bag, I threw in a robe, a cardigan, and an assortment of toiletries. Seeing a couple trashy romance novels sitting on her nightstand, I added them to the bag. I made one more pass around the room but didn’t see anything else I imagined she’d need for the next few days, but what the hell did I know?

  Moving back to the kitchen, I bundled trash that was getting ripe. Then decided to open the fridge and make sure nothing was going to turn into a science experiment before she got home. I opened the door and stared at the shelf. A dozen bottles of VTF.

  13