Saving Rachel

must have started formulating a plan. A girl like Karen wouldn’t know how to do it herself, but she probably knows some shady character who has the right connections. Meaning, there could be several, possibly a bunch of people involved in the plan—which makes sense. After all, I’m floating billions of dollars for my clients, not just millions.

My inner voice is relentless. Great work, big man. You thought you seduced Karen Vogel, but she played you and you fell for it like the pathetic little worm you are! Now your sister-in-law is dead, your wife’s in danger, your marriage is down the toilet, the cops are after you—oh, and by the way, if she succeeds in getting you to steal money from your clients … well, you know what kind of men you’re dealing with. There is no solution, no outcome that’s going to get you back to the life you used to have. Face it, you’re … I’m fucked. Unless … Unless … Unless I kill her.

Right, just listen to yourself. Like you’ve got the guts to kill someone! But even if you did, you’d have to kill the gangster and Mr. Clean as well. Think you’re up for the job, big man?

I want to pull over and throw up.

That beautiful bitch set me up!

My life is totally fucked. Everything I’ve built, everything I’ve worked for has been flushed down the toilet in a month’s time. I can’t believe I put myself and the people I care about into this situation. And for what: a little trim. Son of a bitch! What the hell am I going to do?

You can start by saving Rachel, you stupid prick.

I’m close to my exit but stuck behind an eighteen-wheeler. I want to pass him, but there’s a Saab clinging to the speed limit in the left lane. I’ll have to sit tight till I reach the turn.

My focus shifts to Mary and the policeman and the joggers from the park. Why were they shot? How did the gangster know Mary would be there? Could Karen possibly be involved in the park thing? Though I’m resigning myself to the fact that she used me and may have ruined my life, I’m still having trouble believing she’s a cold, calculating killer.

But Karen almost has to be involved to some extent. Could she have formulated the extortion plan? If she did, I wonder if maybe the gangster hijacked her plan. He told me he wanted me to know he means business. Kidnapping me and stealing my car would have convinced me of that. If he’s trying to extort money from me, why not give a warning first or make some sort of demand?

Why would he kill Mary? She’s completely innocent.

My inner voice says, What if Mary was in on it? What if she changed her mind at the last minute and they killed her to keep her quiet?

My inner voice always assumes the worst. But no, Mary’s a good— was a good friend. I always suspected she liked me far more than she liked her own sister. She wouldn’t have turned on me for the money.

But my inner voice isn’t through with me. It hits me below the belt with a question that sends me reeling: What if Rachel is involved?

Chapter 8

I think about that. If Rachel found out about Karen, she’d blow a gasket. She’d demand a divorce. But all we’d be splitting is our highly mortgaged mansion and the small amount I earn legally—not enough. So Mary suggests killing me, but Rachel says killing me would do her no good, since all my income is generated by what I do personally. If I were dead, all she’d get is the small amount of money in our bank account. So they hatch a plan to extort money from me. Mary gets a gangster involved, and he kills her to keep her quiet.

If this is how it went down, Rachel wouldn’t know that Mary had been killed.

I shake off these thoughts. In my heart, I don’t believe Rachel or Mary had anything to do with today’s horrible events. I think Karen started something that quickly got out of control, and as a result, Mary’s dead and Rachel is lying on the floor in my kitchen.

I wonder what happened to Rachel. I wonder who did it and why. I speed up at the Blankenbaker exit, squealing my tires on the wide, looping ramp. I glance at my watch. I’m sure she’s not hurt. Scared, sure, that’s a given. But they didn’t hurt her. They wouldn’t hurt Rachel.

Not until they get the money.

I make the light and shift into third. The gangster bought Rachel a replacement bra. He wouldn’t have done that unless he’d expected her to be able to wear it.

Unless it’s for her burial.

I feel the stomach juices boiling in my gut. I look at my watch again. I’ll know what happened to Rachel in about … four minutes.

This is not about the affair. Follow the money. They killed Mary to show me what they’re capable of. They physically manipulated and photographed my wife to demonstrate their ability to invade my house. The “K” and “V” prove they have something on me, something that can be used to disrupt my marriage.

It’s a lot to take in, but don’t kid yourself, Sammy Boy; this is about the money. They decided a warning wouldn’t do. A demand wouldn’t have the proper impact. So they’re putting on a show of violence and threats, and the implication is obvious: play ball and we won’t tell Rachel about Karen; play ball and Rachel gets to live.

Okay, so if I’m right, if this is a warning, Rachel is probably okay. Maybe she’s been drugged, and if so, I’ll be able to untie her, destroy the bra, and get her back in bed. But yes, they are definitely serious. They’ve already killed Mary. Have I fully comprehended the enormity of that statement? They’ve killed Rachel’s sister, murdered her in cold blood, right before my eyes.

I’m two blocks away from my wife now, and my first thought is to circle the block and make sure no one is waiting for me. Then I realize how stupid this sounds because I’ve still got the only red Audi R8 in town. If they’ve put me at the scene, I’m toast, whether I circle the block or not.

I roar into my driveway, press the remote door button, and enter the garage. I press the button again to close the door behind me. No sense in making it too easy for the cops to know I’m home.

I climb the four steps to the landing, enter the code to unlock the door, and hit the hall running. My house is