“I’ll take photos of you before and after the beating, and my people will alter the police photos to match your face and body. They’ll even do an age regression on you to show the beatings over a period of years. Then they’ll superimpose Kathleen’s injuries on your photographs. The updated packet will be delivered to your home address by courier within eight hours.”
“You can’t possibly know where I live,” she said.
To her horror, I recited her address from memory. “So the story and paperwork will be real,” I continued. “Only the police photos will be doctored.”
Lauren said, “How do you know that Janet never met Kathleen?”
“There’s no way Ken would have let them meet. He wouldn’t want Janet to learn about the beatings.”
“Why can’t I just pay her a visit, pretend to be Kathleen, and tell her the truth about Ken?”
“I thought about that, but we have to make Janet want to protect Kathleen.”
“Why?”
“Because if Janet thinks Ken beat Kathleen half to death as a warning, she’d be putting Kathleen’s life in danger by implicating her.”
“You’re talking about later on, when Janet breaks off the wedding,” Lauren said.
“Exactly. If Kathleen just shows up on Janet’s doorstep without any injuries, Janet will tell him, and he’d either say Kathleen was crazy or that it all happened years ago and he’s cured. Remember, he can prove he’s been to anger management courses.”
“Required by the court.”
“Right, and also counseling.”
“Also a provision of his probation.”
“You know the drill.”
She nodded.
“He’ll claim he was bipolar,” I said, “and that he subsequently took drugs to alleviate his chemical imbalance.”
“All of which might be true.”
“It might be, but that’s not the issue. I don’t want this creep in my wife’s life—or my daughter’s.”
“Your ex-wife, you mean.”
“Right.”
“So, if I pretend to be Kathleen, show up all battered and bruised, and tell Janet he did this to me as a warning, you think she’ll buy it?”
“I know she will. He can’t claim to be cured if he did this to you. But you’ve got to play it a certain way. We’ll need to do a lot of rehearsing.”
“I charge a two-hour minimum.”
I smiled. “I thought the twenty grand might be enough.”
She smiled back. “That’ll help take away the sting,” she said, “but you said the twenty was for the beating. Anything else, such as rehearsing, that’s extra.”
She saw me frown.
“Don’t go cheap on me now, Donovan,” she said. “I’m obviously the only game in town, the only escort that matches Kathleen enough for this crazy scheme to work.”
“Fair enough,” I said, noting she’d called herself a hooker earlier. “But if I’m paying for your time I want your full attention.”
“Of course.”
I nodded. “Good. And, Lauren, I’ll make you a promise: if my ex breaks off the wedding, I’ll owe you a favor.”
“A favor,” she said.
I nodded.
“You mean like some kind of Mafi a thing?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Like what, you mean you’d kill someone if I asked you to?”
I shrugged. “It’s up to you how you use your favor.”
“Mister, you are some kind of twisted freak, anyone ever tell you that?”
“I hear that a lot, actually.”
She looked at me silently for a moment. “Well I intend to hold you to it,” she said, “cause I’ve got a Ken Chapman in my life, too.” Lauren tried to hand one of the envelopes back to me. She said, “Don’t you want to just give me half now, half later?”
“I trust you,” I said.
She nodded. “I guess if you’re willing to beat me up and kill my ex, you’re not the sort of person who gets
