‘Laura?’ said Ingrid. ‘Why? What is it? What’s happened?’
‘Could we please come through?’ said Janine.
‘Yes, I’m sorry, of course,’ said Ingrid.
The gates swung open. Janine drove in and parked beside a gold Range Rover.
‘Do they own this place?’ said Janine.
‘No, but they could – that’s the main thing,’ said Ren.
‘Yes,’ said Janine. ‘OK, now let’s go hang with a Swedish former model, just in case we were feeling too good about ourselves.’
Everything about Ingrid Prince’s face said model – everything about her posture, her aura, the movement of her long limbs. She even managed to open the door with grace. She was wearing a floor-length gray strapless jersey dress with an oversized beige cotton cardigan. Her blonde hair was tied up and she had on a gray cotton headband. Her skin was flawless, unlined, glowing.
‘Come in, please,’ she said. ‘Take a seat.’
She gestured to an open-plan living area. There was a magnificent curved stone fireplace with a thick oak beam running the length of the chimney breast and an alcove beside it stacked with logs. On the floor in front lay a pristine rich cream rug. Three brown leather sofas were arranged in the center of the room around a solid, blocky coffee table in the style of a vintage suitcase.
After a moment’s seating panic, Ren and Janine sat side by side, and Ingrid Prince sat perpendicular.
‘Please,’ said Ingrid. ‘Just tell me.’
Janine leaned forward. ‘I’m afraid we found Laura Flynn’s body this afternoon close to Pike National Forest—’
‘Body?’ said Ingrid. ‘Pike National Forest? I’m sorry, I’m not following …’
Ren shifted forward in her seat. ‘Mrs—’
‘And where’s Pike National Forest?’ said Ingrid.
‘I’m sorry to tell you that we found Laura about sixty miles south of here,’ said Ren.
Relief flooded Ingrid Prince’s face. ‘No, that’s not Laura. Laura’s in Chicago. She just didn’t make it back. She must have missed her flight. My husband was just concerned that—’
‘Mrs Prince, I’m afraid we have been able to identify her body,’ said Ren. ‘She was the victim of a shooting. Her car was found—’
‘No,’ said Ingrid. ‘She wasn’t driving! She was flying, then she was getting a cab, then … a shooting? No. I don’t understand … No.’ She started crying hysterically. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, please. Please don’t tell me this happened to Laura. Please. Her baby. Her baby. She was pregnant. The baby. Did … did they save the baby?’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Ren. ‘I’m afraid that was not possible.’
Ingrid broke down. She clutched her stomach.
It was only then that Ren realized that Ingrid Prince had a tiny bump of her own.
Ingrid Prince followed Ren’s gaze down to her belly. She looked up at her.
‘I know … can you believe it?’ she said. ‘Laura finds out she’s pregnant and, two months later, I do.’
‘So, you’re four months along?’ said Ren.
Ingrid nodded. She welled up. ‘This is not right. Poor Laura … the baby … and … I get to …’ She shook her head. ‘I’m still here. My baby’s here. It’s too much.’
‘I’m going to make a call to our victim advocate,’ said Janine. ‘She can come stay with you until … are you expecting your husband back tonight?’
Ingrid nodded. ‘He’ll come back now.’
‘OK,’ said Janine. ‘We’ll have someone wait with you, if you think that’s something you’d like?’
‘Thank you,’ said Ingrid. ‘Yes.’
Ren waited until Janine had made the call.
‘Was this a robbery?’ said Ingrid. ‘Was anything taken from the car?’
‘Her purse was there, her suitcase …’ said Ren. ‘We don’t know what else she may have had with her.’
‘And she was just found, alone, in her car …’ said Ingrid.
‘Yes,’ said Ren.
‘What a horrible way to … I just didn’t think this was going to be … the news I would hear. I was worried about her when she didn’t return, but I was worried because she was pregnant, you know, that she might have taken ill. I thought maybe she had been admitted into hospital. Apart from that, I thought maybe she had met up with the father of her baby … I know the relationship didn’t end well.’
‘Do you know his name?’ said Ren.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t,’ said Ingrid. ‘Laura mentioned an old boyfriend called Johnny once or twice, but she never gave the name of the baby’s father. She said that she didn’t want anything to do with him. She just said that he was bad news. And, sorry – he’s Irish … that’s the only other thing I know.’
‘Did she say where he lived?’ said Ren.
‘No,’ said Ingrid.
‘But you thought she had met up with him in Chicago?’ said Janine.
‘No, no – I thought that maybe he could have known her friend, or followed Laura … or waited with the friend if he had heard Laura was going to visit. I’ve had all day to think these things … but nothing came close to the reality.’
‘Does the father of the baby know that she’s pregnant?’ said Janine.
‘I don’t know,’ said Ingrid.
‘When did Laura tell you she was pregnant?’ said Ren.
‘About six weeks ago,’ said Ingrid.
‘And did she plan to continue to work for you?’ said Janine.
‘Absolutely,’ said Ingrid. ‘Obviously she would be taking some time off, but …’ Her voice cracked and she began to cry again. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I just can’t believe this is happening. The baby, everything, it’s just so sad. Laura’s had a tough time, she was a strong person to come through that, and this is what happens? It’s so wrong.’
‘I know,’ said Ren. ‘So, Laura’s baby was due in September …’
‘Yes,’ said Ingrid.
‘And what was the plan in terms of work?’ said Ren.
‘Well – we summer in the Hamptons,’ said Ingrid.
Summer is not a verb.
‘We were happy to hire staff there,’ said Ingrid, ‘and Laura would be back to work when she was ready. This might not sound orthodox, but, as I said, we’re like family.’
‘And, speaking of family,’ said Janine, ‘do you have details of Laura’s?’
‘That’s another tragic story,’ said Ingrid. ‘Her parents both passed away in Ireland within a few years of each other. Laura was still in college at the time. Laura’s sister, Saoirse, had already moved to New York and Laura followed her over. Within months of Laura arriving, her sister died.’
‘How?’