Page 58 of Beach Bodies


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She had to ask. “Um, why not just take birth control?”

Jessica glanced over at her, a look of understanding on her face. “Some women don’t want the inconvenience of taking something every day, or it’s dangerous for them, or they don’t plan on being sexually active for long. Or they want it handy, just in case.”

“Makes sense,” Laura replied, not thinking it made sense at all, her yearning to get pregnant blocking out her ability to understand that rationale. “Can I take this along?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“Can you tell me the last time she had it filled?”

“Two weeks ago.” Then Jessica looked at her more intently. “Laura Long. You’re the PI my sister hired, aren’t you?”

Laura didn’t answer; it would breach the privacy clause in her contract to admit to it.

“I’m embarrassed,” Jessica said. “It just happened.”

“I know. Believe me, I’m not judging you. Sometimes we don’t even realize we’re faced with a choice when we make a bad decision.”

“You’re not kidding.”

“How is everything?”

“My sister confronted me and her husband, so we ended it, but I’m pretty sure she’s going to divorce him. I miss her already.”

“I’m sorry,” Laura said sincerely.

“I don’t blame you for it, if it sounded like I did.”

“I didn’t take it that way at all. Thank you, Jessica.” Laura moved to the door, the urge to flee mounting.

“Are you any closer to finding Lily Porter’s murderer?”

“Not yet, but the police don’t share everything with me. I want to do what I can for her mother and father.”

“Right. How sad.”

They said goodbye, and Laura made her way to the exit. Evidently, Lily Porter had been preparing for the eventuality that she might get pregnant with Alan Stone’s baby but had been murdered before she could take the pill. Or maybe she’d had no intention of taking it. They’d never know.

Chapter 9

Henry Wong arrived home to his neat, small apartment north of Babylon, having stopped by the bank of mailboxes first. The usual junk mail folded neatly together hid a small package. He rarely got packages. Maybe something from his grandmother, who was known to send him socks she’d knit. He was wearing a pair now, the thought making him smile.

Inside, he placed the items on the hall table and took his winter coat off. He had no tolerance for the cold, and it was already freezing outside. He hung the coat next to a half dozen other winter coats. The suit jacket came off next, and he hung that over the back of a chair just in case he had to go out again. Sharing the coat closet with the coats was an old, University of Michigan zip-up sweatshirt, and he took that off the hanger and slipped it on over his dress shirt.

The package didn’t have a return address, which he found odd. His grandmother always used a free sticker from some charity looking for a donation. The stamp had a Babylon cancelation.

Snipping a corner of the package with scissors, he stuck his finger inside and tore it open. He wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but there was white fabric folded and stuffed into a food storage bag. A piece of paper had been taped to the front of it, warning,Wear gloves before handling.Evidence.

Henry kept a box of vinyl exam gloves in the pantry for making meatballs or doing any food preparation that required getting his hands dirty, which he didn’t like. He pulled the gloves on and opened the baggy. The item looked like a T-shirt. He pulled it out, holding it by the shoulder seams, grimacing. It was a cheap department store brand, men’s size large, with a grimy ring around the collar.

He noticed red marks near the bottom, and upon closer examination, he saw something dried. A chill went through his body. Evidence for what?

Refolding the shirt, he tucked it back into the baggy and wrapped the whole thing back into the original packaging. After removing the gloves, he stood at the kitchen sink, washing his hands, thinking. The only open case they had going was the Lily Porter murder investigation.

While he was reaching for his phone to call the precinct, he nearly jumped in the air when it rang.

“Henry, it’s Samantha. I’ve got some interesting, disturbing, um, upsetting reports.”

“Oh, great. What now?”

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