Sweet Little Lies Read online

  The male blond detective who was on TV the other day was talking.

  “We feel it is only a matter of time before we find Kelly Ross. She’s made some stupid mistakes. We know that in time she will slip up, and when she does, we’ll be there. We consider her to be an extremely dangerous individual, and dangerous individuals don’t stay hidden for long.”

  Kelly had to laugh at the guy’s dramatic posturing. He was trying to get a rise out of her.

  “Dangerous individual,” she snorted. “Give me a break.”

  “Reporting live from Olympia Fields, I’m Mel Hayes. Andrea, back to you.”

  Kelly shut off the TV, her heart racing. The picture they’d shown was the same one they’d shown on the Saturday news, and with her makeover, and what she would do in the morning, she would look nothing like that. She leaned back and sighed. She just needed to get through tonight. She thought back on Geneva’s arrest and couldn’t help but smile.

  “Score one for the bitch,” she said.

  Where Is She?

  It had been a long and excruciating day, and he was drained. Hanson was glad to get home to Lakeview, sit out on his deck, and just be still for a few moments. He was guzzling a beer and thinking about Kelly Ross. As much as he hated to admit it, Shelia Stevens was right; she was no dummy. He had to give her credit for managing to get Geneva arrested. When Visa had been contacted, they said a woman had called earlier that day claiming she’d been the victim of identity theft and had closed the account. He was supposed to have the tape tomorrow, and he’d bring her parents in to give him a positive voice ID, though he knew it couldn’t be anyone but her.

  The remainder of Geneva Monroe’s credit cards had been confiscated, and similar calls to each credit card company revealed Kelly had done the same thing for all of them. The trace of Mark Monroe’s cell phone showed she’d been making sporadic phone calls since Sunday, with a flurry this morning.

  He couldn’t believe she had slipped away yet again. He’d reamed that uniform out but good when he caught up to him and had wanted to strangle that currency exchange worker over her blasé attitude when he questioned her. The cab driver who had picked her up had tried to catch her, but he had a fare hop into his cab right after and wasn’t able to stop her.

  So once again, she’d gotten away.

  She had been lucky so far in dodging his grasp. But what he absolutely hated was that he knew a lot of it wasn’t luck; Kelly Ross had outfoxed him, managing to stay just one step ahead of his pursuit, fleeing just as she felt his breath on the back of her neck. Hanson took another chug of his beer as he watched the lights of the city twinkle in front of him.

  He had to figure out what the hell she would do next and be there when she did it.

  Tuesday Morning…

  Geneva hit the snooze button on the alarm before rolling over to doze for a few more minutes. She hadn’t gotten much sleep, her grief over Mark co-mingling with her hatred of Kelly and the shit she’d pulled. Nobody messed with her, least of all that bitch. No, she’d bought herself a world of hurt when she’d tried to screw with her, and now she’d get way worse than what Geneva had originally planned.

  She heard her son stirring in the kitchen and closed her eyes. He’d get his own bowl of cereal and get himself together to go to school. He’d been sound asleep when she got home last night, and she realized she hadn’t talked to him since Sunday.

  Truth be told, Geneva didn’t know what her son was doing half the time. He was so strange, always with his nose in a book. He must have gotten that from his daddy, because she for damn sure hated to read. Geneva couldn’t relate to him at all, so mostly, she just let him be. She lay in bed for a few more minutes before she finally swung her legs around to the side of the bed and struggled to the bathroom to get herself ready to go to Harvey Jackson’s office. She had a feeling it would be a long day.

  Dirty Little Secrets…

  Bill Hanson had called Candice and Harry Ross quite early and asked them to come down to the police station to ID Kelly’s voice from the Visa tape. The Ross family had watched the news last night in disbelief over all the things that had happened yesterday. Their daughter, Stacy, had arrived late Monday night, and the trio now sat nervously waiting for Hanson to come out and talk to them. He was on his own now, as Didi had been pulled to help the FBI out with a cold case she’d worked on a few years ago. His CO told him the department was working to free up another detective for him, which irked Hanson. Temporary partners always seemed to make him think he would’ve been better off working solo.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Ross?” Hanson extended his hand to the couple. “We met yesterday.” Candice, Harry, and Stacy took turns shaking his hand. “Follow me,” he said, motioning for everyone to come with him. He led them to an interrogation room where a tape player was set up.

  “We believe this is Kelly’s voice on the tape, but we need you to positively identify it for us.”

  Candice nodded. “Yes, let’s just get this over with.”

  Hanson hit “Play,” and it was a few seconds before the audio kicked in. Almost immediately, Harry waved his hand, indicating Hanson could stop the tape.

  “That’s her, that’s Kelly.” He paused. “You were pretty brazen to go on TV and say my daughter has made some stupid mistakes. If she’s so stupid, how come you haven’t caught her?”

  Hanson didn’t flinch. “We are watching all the airports, bus, train stations, and rental car agencies and are following up every viable lead. We do feel it’s a matter of time before we find her.”

  Stacy shot him a disbelieving look and laughed. “Do you really think Kelly is dumb enough to try and leave town? I mean anyone with the balls to pull this off—”

  “Stacy!” Candice interrupted, shocked at her daughter’s language.

  Stacy looked at her mom, exasperated. “Oh, Mom, please. I mean seriously, Kelly’s very smart, and it seems to me the last thing she’d try and do would be to leave town, because she knows you’re looking for her.”

  Hanson smiled. “Ms. Ross, you’d be surprised what people do when they are in the situation your sister is in.”

  “You won’t…you won’t hurt her, will you? When you find her?” Candice asked. “Just, please…tell us you won’t hurt her. She really isn’t a dangerous person, I don’t care what happened with her and Mark.”

  “We will do everything we can to ensure a peaceful resolution to this matter, Mrs. Ross.”

  “What about Mark’s body?” Stacy piped in. “Don’t you need someone to take the body?”

  “Well, his younger brother came down from Indianapolis late Sunday and did that for us. He’s still trying to decide how he wants to handle arrangements.”

  “Could we…well, could we call him and maybe we can help him…” Candice’s voice trailed off.

  “Sure, we’ll get you his number. I have to ask again, though, has Kelly tried to contact any of you in any way?”

  Candice shook her head. “No. Kelly wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t want to involve us in this.”

  “Alright. I have to repeat—if she tries to contact you, please let us know. Aiding and abetting a fugitive is a felony.”

  “We understand, Detective Hanson. May we go now?” Harry asked.

  Hanson gestured toward the door, and the three of them stood and filed out of the room. He headed out to his desk and found a manila envelope with his name scrawled across the front. He ripped it open and pulled out the sheaf of papers inside.

  “Background on Geneva Monroe,” he murmured to himself. He sat down and leaned back in his chair, wondering what, if anything, Kelly Monroe knew about her.

  He snorted to himself, leafing through the pages. “She probably doesn’t care much beyond the fact that her husband was married to her while he was married to Geneva.”

  •

  Hanson had a headache after reading Geneva Monroe’s rap sheet.

  Born in Alabama, she was the middle of seven children. She dropped out of school a
t the age of thirteen and was fourteen the first time she was arrested for prostitution. She’d spent most of her adult life in jail for everything ranging from drug possession, robbery, fraud, and solicitation.

  Mark Monroe had pulled himself up from dirt to become a hotshot sports lawyer—and it could be said—one who married up considerably with Kelly Ross; what would a rich lawyer with a rich wife be doing with a common criminal like Geneva? Why would he jeopardize his career like that? Had they been dating and gotten married because she got pregnant? Did they have some kind of strange addiction to each other? Was he planning to bump off Kelly and take the money and live happily ever after with Geneva? Hanson was now equally determined to not only catch Kelly Ross but also uncover Mark Monroe’s dirty little secrets.

  Do Your Worst…

  Geneva sashayed into Harvey Jackson’s office at nine a.m. sharp. She’d had a huge breakfast of scrambled eggs, biscuits, three slabs of bacon, two cups of coffee, and was raring to go. Harvey, however, looked like he’d had one too many bottles of Maalox that morning.

  “Hey, Harvey,” Geneva said, cracking her Juicy Fruit gum. “What’s going on, baby? You don’t look so good.”

  “I just got some bad news.”

  Geneva frowned. “Well, don’t just sit there. What the hell is it?”

  “A source of mine inside Chicago PD says Kelly Ross wiped out her personal accounts. Everything’s gone.”

  Geneva gave Harvey a puzzled look. “What do you mean ‘gone?’ Where is it?”

  He threw up his hands. “The hell if I know. Every single personal account the woman had has dried up. Nowhere to be found.”

  Geneva banged her hand down on his wooden desk. “That kind of money doesn’t just up and disappear overnight! Where the hell is it?”

  “I just told you, I don’t know. The good thing is, there’s time for the assets to be recovered before we file our lawsuit.” He stopped and looked at Geneva. “I do have some more good news.”

  She leaned back against her chair, her arms folded. “It better be damned good.”

  “Runway is without leadership. What say we go over there and rattle their cage a little bit?”

  A wicked smile curled on Geneva’s lips. “See, Harvey? That’s why I like you. Always looking at the big picture.”

  He chuckled. “It is one of my strong suits.” He stood and gathered up his briefcase, giving his Afro a quick pat with his hand.

  The pair made their way down to State Street, and Harvey hailed a cab. Runway’s offices were located on the Magnificent Mile, and within minutes, they pulled up in front of the forty-story skyscraper. Harvey threw some money at the cab driver, and he and Geneva got out and headed into the elevator, neither of them saying a word on the ride up. The doors slid open, and they stepped out into the lobby, decorated with sleek, minimalist glass lines, wrought iron, and shiny maple. A tiny blonde receptionist looked up at them and smiled.

  “May I help you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I am Harvey Jackson, and this is my client, Geneva Monroe, and we have a pending suit against this company’s owner, Mrs. Kelly Ross Monroe, and we’ve filed an injunction to cease all operations.”

  The receptionist gasped, and Geneva smiled, smug. She looked around the reception area. There was a massive headshot of Kelly hanging over a glass coffee table. Well, that would be the first thing to go.

  “Just…just hold on a minute,” the receptionist said as she fumbled for the phone and dialed a few numbers, speaking in hushed, worried tones. She placed the phone back into the cradle.

  “Someone will be with you shortly,” she whispered.

  A woman strode out within in seconds, dressed in a black pantsuit with leopard stilettos, blonde Farrah wings fluttering behind her as a man dressed in a pink bowtie and navy suit with her worked to match her determined steps. She marched up to Harvey and held out her hand.

  “Mr. Jackson? Marcy Chambers and this is Runway’s corporate attorney, Clarence Brown. What seems to be the trouble here?”

  Harvey shook Marcy’s hand. “Ms. Chambers, this is my client, Geneva Monroe, and we are in the process of bringing a multimillion-dollar lawsuit against the owner of this company, Kelly Ross Monroe, for the wrongful death of Geneva Monroe’s husband, Mark Monroe. We have filed an injunction against this company to cease operations.”

  Marcy offered up a sweet smile. “Yes, I believe I heard something about that on the news yesterday.” Marcy looked over Harvey’s shoulder at Geneva. “And wasn’t she arrested last night for identity theft? Kind of funny, isn’t it? Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but as of midnight last night, Kelly Ross Monroe no longer owns this company. As stated in our company bylaws, should Mrs. Monroe be unable to perform her duties as president and CEO, ownership of the company automatically reverts to me, Marcy Chambers, Chief Operating Officer. As Mrs. Monroe is currently unable to perform her duties, I’m in charge. So, you can try and sue me to stop me from running this company, but since your lawsuit deals with Kelly Ross Monroe and her assets…well, I really don’t think you’ll get very far.”

  Both Harvey and Geneva’s jaws dropped open, and Clarence slapped a piece a paper in Harvey’s hand and smiled.

  “We won’t stand for this! We’ll take you to court!” Harvey said.

  Marcy put up her hand and shot her index finger in Harvey’s face. “You try and challenge this, and I’ll take your ass to court.” She straightened up and smiled again. “Now…if you two will excuse me, I’ve got a cosmetics company to run. Have a good day.”

  Marcy crossed her arms, shooting a defiant look at both Harvey and Geneva. “Goddamn her! Goddamn her!” Geneva began to scream.

  “Ma’am, if you don’t leave, I’m going to have to call security. Sir, if you would please remove your client from our premises?” Clarence said, his own smug smile spread out over his face.

  “Come on, Geneva, let’s go,” Harvey mumbled as he grabbed her arm.

  “I’ll be back—she won’t get away with this!” Geneva managed to scream at Marcy and Clarence before Harvey yanked her towards the elevator and hissed at her to be quiet. Harvey jabbed the down button on the panel. The elevator opened, and Harvey hustled Geneva into it.

  “You think I’m a let her get away with this?” she yelled once they were headed back downstairs.

  “Geneva, please, calm down. Now listen, we’ll head back to my office to talk strategy—”

  “You know what, Harvey? I’m tired of talking. Because of that bitch, my husband is dead, I’ve been arrested, and the po-lice can’t find her.” She crossed her arms. “It’s time I took matters in to my own hands.”

  •

  Marcy let out a breath and grabbed the reception area desk to keep from falling.

  “How’d I do?” she asked Clarence.

  “You were brilliant. Thank God Kelly called and we were able to drop that little bit of legal language in there.”

  “No kidding.” Marcy straightened up, smoothing down the front of her Donna Karan pantsuit. “Well, that’s all the excitement I can handle for one day. Excuse me.”

  Marcy turned on her three-inch heels and walked in the direction of her office.

  In Preparation…

  Kelly woke up at four a.m., adrenaline coursing through her veins at breakneck speed. She felt like she used to whenever she was about to do a big show. She placed a plastic cap over her hair and jumped in the shower. She got out and quickly dried off, wincing as the rough white material brushed over her skin. She then pulled out the makeup she’d bought yesterday before she examined her face in the mirror. Three days of junk food along with cheap motel lotion and facial soap had wrecked her skin, as evidenced by the little dry patches she was seeing. She picked up a bottle of foundation that was about a shade darker than what she should wear. She’d always hated foundation. It was goopy, gloppy, got all over everything and, most of the time, just didn’t look natural, mainly because most women had no idea how to apply it. She didn’t carry found
ation at her company. Instead, she had created a loose powder that worked just like a foundation, except it didn’t get all over your clothes and fingers, and it made you look like you had flawless skin. It was Runway’s most popular product. Seeing as how Runway was only sold at department stores, she couldn’t exactly go prancing into one for a compact, especially since the entire sales force knew who she was. She was forced to improvise.

  So, for today’s purposes, a competitor’s foundation. She had considered getting one of those fake tan products but decided against it. Makeup, she knew; fake tans, she didn’t.

  She expertly blended and contoured the foundation into her face and, using long strokes, worked it into her neck as well, including the nape, though that was a little trickier. She used a matte powder to set the look. Quickly, she outlined her lips with a reddish-brown lip liner and matching lipstick and filled them in with a golden honey lip-gloss. She rubbed her lips together several times to blend the colors before kissing a tissue to ensure her handiwork wouldn’t bleed. Kelly picked up the reading glasses she’d bought yesterday and slipped them on. She blinked. She looked completely different from how she’d walked in yesterday.

  She looked down at her hands. For the first time since this whole odyssey began, she noticed her wedding ring. It was two diamond eternity bands connected on either side to her engagement ring, a platinum, twelve-carat emerald cut diamond. She held up her hand and watched her rings sparkle in the fluorescent lighting. Carefully, she slipped the set off her finger and dropped them inside the small zippered compartment of her purse, next to the key from Mark’s safe, and zipped the pocket shut. As she walked back into the bathroom, Kelly examined her nails. She’d just gotten a fill on Saturday and, as much as she hated to do it, with some effort clipped her nails short before she removed her pale pink polish. Her long graceful fingers looked foreign with the now-stubby ends. She repeated the same makeover on her hands that she’d performed on her face, making sure to work the makeup past her wrists and to her forearm. She looked in the mirror when she was done.