Lizzy Gardner #2_Dead Weight (7 page)

“What do you mean by that?” Lizzy asked.

“You might be thin, but you’re in horrible shape,” Cathy said without ilters. “Every time we take a walk, you’re out of breath and red in the face. You’ve never exercised a day in your life. At least I used to do track and field and run four miles a day.”

She had a point. “I’ll call his office later and see if I can add you on.”

“Great. I’ll help keep an eye on him for you.”

“I bet you will.” They both laughed, and then made room on the table for their food. Fast, efficient, delicious: exactly why Lizzy liked to eat at Mikuni’s. As soon as the waitress walked away, Lizzy took a bite of her tuna; it melted in her mouth. “Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Lizzy said.

“I also signed up for Melbourne’s retreat that’s being held at the Granlibakken Conference Center in Lake Tahoe. Want to tag along just for fun?”

“What would I do about Brittany?”

“Hayley would be there,” Lizzy reminded her, “but if it would make you feel better I could ask Jessica to stay at your house for the weekend, too. She doesn’t start school for another few weeks and she loves hanging out with Brittany.”

Cathy seemed excited at the prospect of getting out of the house and doing something different. Although Lizzy had never cared for Cathy’s soon to be ex-husband, Richard, it was easy to see that her sister had been lonely since he moved out.

“Let me talk to Brittany,” Cathy said, “but yes, I think a little getaway is just what I need.”

Lizzy agreed. For the irst time in a long while she felt the gap between her and her sister shrinking. After Lizzy was abducted, their parents had allowed their grief to consume them. Even after Lizzy escaped the madman’s clutches and returned home, her parents were unable to come to grips with what had happened: blaming the world, blaming each other, blaming Lizzy.

To get some much needed attention at the time, Cathy ended up pregnant and eloped with Richard Warner. Her niece, Brittany, had been the by-product of that union. No regrets.

“Speaking of Hayley,” Cathy said between bites, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?”

“I caught Hayley leaving the house after midnight the other night.”

“What did you do?”

“I made a strong pot of coffee and waited for her to return. It was nearly four in the morning by the time she came back to the house.

She didn’t look right.”

“How so?”

“She was wearing an old ragged sweater and stained shirt and pants with holes in the knees, despite the fact that I just bought her some new clothes. Her hair was a mess and I smelled alcohol the moment she walked through the door.”

“Did you ask her what she was doing out that late?”

Cathy nodded. “She told me she was just walking around, thinking about things.” Cathy pointed her chopsticks at Lizzy. “I like Hayley, I really do. I’m not sure if Brittany could have gotten through her ordeal without her. Hayley can be tough and hard-hitting, but she’s also kind and caring, helping me around the house, offering to run errands for me, things like that.” She shook her head. “If this sort of behavior continues, though, I won’t be able to let her stay with us.”

Lizzy nodded. “I understand. I’ll talk to her.”

Chapter 10

No More Candy Bars

Sierra Mountains, Day 1

Early summer, 2010

 

He checked the metal band around her ankle, making sure it wasn’t too tight; easier said than done considering she weighed 300

pounds. She was the second heaviest woman to ever enter the program—a program that was a well-kept secret.

Many people might look at Vivian Hardy’s mountainous folds and ind her to be disgusting, but he thought the endless rolls were mesmerizing.

Females were genetically designed to be rounded with layers of fat, not skin and bones like the typical fashion model. Fat deposits on the breasts, hips, thighs and buttocks created the body shape that distinguished women from men.

He liked curvy women. What he didn’t like was an overweight woman who let her fat control her every thought. .and her life.

Attitude was everything. But he would never get rich telling overweight people to be happy with their bodies. The breast-loving, hips-hating society was insane, but it also made for an endless goldmine of opportunity for guys like him who had no trouble turning away a warm beignet covered in fresh powdered sugar.

While Vivian Hardy walked around, testing the limits of her new chain, he held up a logbook. “I want you to write down every single thing you put into your mouth during your stay.”

She tried to reach the front door but the chains stopped her at the red line about two feet from the exit. She went to the window next and worked on the latch.

“The window cannot be opened,” he told her.

“What about fresh air?”

“Central air will keep this place at a comfortable sixty eight to seventy degrees at all times.”

“What if I get cold?”

He pointed to the treadmill. “Start walking. It’ll warm you up in no time.”

The kitchen was small, but the entire cabin was perfectly aligned so that his clients could reach the sink, the refrigerator, the dining room table, the bed, and of course, the bathroom. The bathroom door had been cut short so that the chain could it underneath when the door was closed. She could even lock the door for added privacy. There was a large metal hook on the side of the treadmill for the chain so the heavy links wouldn’t get in her way when she walked. Yeah, exercising with a chain around her ankle may take some getting used to, but all in all, it was a minor inconvenience.

“What about television?” she asked.

“No television. It defeats the purpose. You need to learn to occupy your time in other ways.”

“I was told I could have a television if I wanted one.”

Damn. This wasn’t the first time his assistant had promised his client something that went against his principles, not to mention his clearly de ined regimen. “I’m sorry she told you that. Television is not part of the treatment. People have been programmed to want sugary soft drinks and fast food.”

“You think television made me fat?”

“I’m sure it played a big part. Your application said that you watch at least ive hours of television each day. The advertisers are hypnotizing you, motivating you to want nothing but creamy caramel candy bars dipped in rich chocolate and juicy hamburgers served with mounds of greasy fries.”

“I could use a mound of greasy fries about now.”

His smile was illed with understanding. His clients were always so eager to get started in the beginning, but within twenty-four hours they were usually ready to throw in the towel. It had only taken Vivian fifteen minutes.

He pointed to a shelf illed with books from every genre. He then gestured toward the pile of pamphlets stacked on the bedside table.

“Instead of television, I suggest reading.”

“So this is it? This is the place where it all happens?”

He nodded, feeling proud.

“This isn’t what I signed up for. I want out.”

“This is exactly what you signed up for.” And in three months, maybe four, she would be thanking him.

In the end, they always did.

Chapter 11

Going Green

August, 2010

 

For the most part, Hayley and Jessica worked opposite days, so there was always someone in the of ice to help Lizzy. Today, though, Lizzy had asked them to come at the same time so they could have an of ice meeting.

“Thanks for coming,” Lizzy said. “I know you both like to switch days so you’re not too crowded, but I have a lot of work right now and I thought it would be good if we went over our schedules. Until you start school, Jessica, I would appreciate it if you could work eight hours a day.”

“That’s fine,” Jessica said.

“Great. Thanks.” She looked at Hayley. “Since you’re taking a few summer classes, I was hoping you could come in whenever you’re not too busy.”

Hayley gave her the thumbs-up.

“Okay, then,” Lizzy continued, “Jessica, what’s on your to-do list?”

Jessica’s hair was braided, one long braid hanging over each shoulder, making her look fifteen instead of twenty-one.

“I’ve been working on condensing our iles,” Jessica told her. “You know, like scanning important documents in hopes that we can go green by the end of the year.”

“Go green?” Lizzy asked. “Whose idea was this?”

“Mine,” Jessica said. “Don’t worry, I’m not putting the hours I spend on going green on my time sheet.”

“The carpets could use a good cleaning,” Lizzy said as she glanced at the floor.

“I’m not a maid.”

Lizzy smiled, figuring it had been worth a shot.

“As I was saying,” Jessica continued, “any duplicate or unnecessary papers should be shredded. When you have more time I would like to talk to you about making this of ice environmentally friendly: using recycled paper, staple-less staples, printing on both sides, that sort of thing. We need to start re illing our pens instead of sending them to the landfills. It’s getting out of hand around here.”

“What’s a staple-less staple?” Hayley wanted to know.

Jessica’s eyes brightened. “It’s a stapler that cuts tiny laps in the paper and then bends and weaves the laps together so that the papers stay secure.”

Hayley looked as if she was sorry she asked.

Jessica waved passionate hands toward the ceiling. “All these bulbs need to be replaced with CFLs. The list is endless.”

“Great,” Lizzy said, “now what about work that actually might bring in some income?”

“I did get one of the three workers’ compensation cases dealing with fraud off of my desk,” Jessica said. “I wrote a report and dropped off the pictures of H.D. Palmer at the attorney’s of ice. I still need pictures of Jim Thatcher and Eric Farrell so I can inish up those reports and deliver them to the prosecuting attorney. We’re getting close to deadline.”

Lizzy and Jessica looked at Hayley since she was their unof icial photographer. Lizzy hadn’t had a chance to talk to Hayley about wandering the streets of Sacramento in the middle of the night, but that would have to wait until they were alone. Hayley had de initely been quiet lately. Her eyes, shadowed with exhaustion, were cast downward. “Any luck with Thatcher or Farrell?”

Hayley wore cutoffs and a T-shirt. She was leaning on the desk that she and Jessica shared. Her right knee was bruised. Lifting her gaze, she crossed her arms and said, “Farrell has been a no-show at his weekly bowling league for the past two weeks. Weeds are overtaking his front lawn, which tells me he’s not mowing it, which means he might actually be legit. Thatcher, on the other hand, is a clever dude. I don’t think he’s hurt at all.”

“Is he still using crutches?” Lizzy asked.

“Yes, and no,” Hayley said. “I waited for him at the school after Jessica discovered he played basketball with his buddies after church on Sundays. Sure enough he pulls up in his bright orange Hummer right on time, and then proceeds to make a big show of hopping on one leg to get his crutches from the backseat of his car. After he disappeared inside the gym, I waited about ten minutes before I went inside and pretended to look for someone. Not only was Thatcher playing basketball, he was dunking the ball. That’s not easy to do. Not too many guys half his age can touch rim, let alone dunk. It was impressive.”

“Did you get pictures?” Jessica asked.

“Are you kidding? I had six gigantic men staring me down before I got halfway across the court. They weren’t happy about me being there and one guy looked like he was going to drag me out by my hair.

I had to think fast so I made up a story about my little brother running off. I told them he was only ten and that my mom was at home getting ready to call the cops. They didn’t trust me any more than I trusted them. The mean guy started asking questions like where I lived, things like that. That’s when I broke down and cried.”

Jessica looked from Lizzy to Hayley. “You cried in front of ive big men?”

“Six. There were six big men. And yes, I cried because I didn’t have an answer to his question and nothing scares a man like a crying female. They backed off real quick and I just ran from the gym as if I couldn’t handle the thought of losing my little brother.”

Lizzy shook her head. “I told you never to approach the people we’re watching.”

“I’m eighteen now. You’re not going to get in trouble for my actions.”

“That’s not the point,” Lizzy said. “You could get hurt. Using a zoom lens from afar and taking a picture is one thing, but putting yourself in danger like that is something else altogether.”

“I’ve handled worse.”

“I don’t care. Please don’t do that again. If you can’t get the picture from the safety of your car, then leave it be. We’ll find another way.”

“Okay, will do,” Hayley said, using her four-fingered hand to salute.

“Jessica, I think you need to put Project Going Green on the back burner for now. Today, I need you to go to High Street Bank in Auburn and talk to Ellen Woodson. She was Carol Fullerton’s best friend at the time of Carol’s disappearance. I called Ellen at her home. She picked up, but refused to talk to me about Carol.”

Jessica picked up pen and paper. “What do you need to know?”

“Anything and everything Ellen knows about where her friend Carol was going the day she disappeared. We need to know if Ellen has any idea of what Carol was going through at the time of her disappearance. Why did Carol leave school, go to the store for snacks, and then drive for hours on I-5 before her car broke down? Where was she going and why? According to Carol’s mother, who has the school records to prove it, Carol was an above average student. She got along well with her mother, she kept her room clean, and she followed her parent’s rules without complaint. Carol was known as a friendly person at school and everybody seemed to like her. But Ellen was the one person whom Carol chose to hang with twenty-four-seven. At this point, Ellen is all we have. Over twenty years ago Ellen was too distressed to talk about her friend’s disappearance. Two decades later and she still won’t talk. Ellen Woodson knows something.”

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