Page 74 of The Change
“Depressive psychosis,” the doctor called it. He prescribed pills that arrived in an unlabeled bottle. He trained Spencer to administer a sedative in emergency situations.
She stopped taking her pills after the woman from the gym showed up at the beach. When her head had cleared, she couldn’t take her mind off the photo. The more she thought about it, the more terrified of her husband she grew. If the gym lady didn’t come back soon, she’d ask Claude to help her escape from the Pointe.
Invasive Species
Every few minutes or so, a client arrived at Furious Fitness in workout gear, gym bag slung over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Heather would say, handing each of them a gift certificate for the smoothie place down the street. “We’re having plumbing problems, so we’ll be closed for the next hour. Have a treat on us while you wait.”
From her position right outside the changing room, Jo kept one eye on the entrance and the other on the crime scene. She watched anxiously as another client was sent away with a coupon. Thirty-two had already claimed one. “Any idea how much longer this will take?” she asked Franklin. “I’m not sure how many smoothies I can afford.”
“Looks like they should be finishing up soon,” Franklin said as the crime scene technician began packing his equipment. The combination lock had been bagged as evidence, as had the photo. The technician had dusted the inside and outside of the locker in question, but only two partial prints had been found. Jo, Nessa, and Harriett had all supplied fingerprints for comparison.
Jo heard the front door open once again. This time, Chief Rocca charged into the gym without so much as a glance at the young woman who’d held the door for him. He marched back toward the changing room, acknowledging Jo with a perfunctory nod as he passed.
She followed Rocca and watched him do a double take when hespotted Nessa and Harriett sitting on a changing room bench a few feet from the locker in which the photo had been found.
“All three of them were here?” the chief of police addressed Franklin brusquely.
“Yes,” Franklin responded.
“I’m sure you’ve made it clear to the ladies that everything they’ve seen and heard today must remain confidential for the sake of the case.”
“That’s going to be hard,” Harriett said. “Everyone knows ladies can’t resist the urge to gossip.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Osborne,” the chief acknowledged her coldly. “Taking some time off from your gardening?”
“I preferMs. Osborne,” Harriett corrected him.
He replied with a lazy, lizardlike blink and returned his attention to Franklin. “This the locker where the photo was found?”
“Yes,” Franklin confirmed, as Rocca squatted down in front of the locker. “Ms. Levison is the owner of the gym. She believes that the locker was being used by Rosamund Harding.”
Rocca’s head spun around to face Jo. “Do you have a record of Mrs. Harding renting the locker?”
“No,” Jo said. “It was being used without a rental agreement.”
“Were any of Mrs. Harding’s belongings discovered inside the locker?”
“No,” Franklin answered this time.
Rocca stood up. “Then how do we know that Rosamund Harding ever laid a finger on this locker?”
“The lock’s combination was F-A-I-T-H,” Jo said. “The only reason I was able to crack it was because Rosamund tossed an apple to Harriett and me with that word carved into it.”
Chief Rocca responded with a snort. “I’m sorry, shewhat?”
“She—”
“No, no.” Rocca cut her off, as though he had no time to spareand no interest in anything else she might say. “I heard you the first time—and once was more than enough. Let’s just hope someone left some prints on that photo.”
“But—”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you, Mrs. Levison,” the chief said, making it perfectly clear that he didn’t. “But I don’t want to be the one who tells that story to the D.A. without some forensic evidence to back it up. Until we have fingerprints, I recommend you not breathe a word about any of this. Otherwise, you could have a very costly lawsuit on your hands. Some people are willing to do almost anything to protect their reputations.”
“Yeah, the law does a great job of protecting rich criminals,” Jo said. “What are you doing to protect the girls they kill?”
“The young woman in the photo was a prostitute who chose a high-risk lifestyle,” Chief Rocca said. “She abused her body and died of a fentanyl overdose. The medical examiner declared that she alone was responsible for her untimely death, and we’ve found no proof to the contrary.”
