Weekend Warriors (Sisterhood #1)(10)
Hearing Yoko gasp, Myra said, “Yes, we’ve been spying on all of you. We wanted to make an impression on you here tonight, to show how technologically capable we are and to show you that we mean to ensure the secrecy of this organization.”
The women stared, transfixed as their images flashed across the screen. When the screen turned dark, twenty-seven minutes later, Kathryn Lucas was the first to speak. “I don’t see how videotaping me in my flowered underwear will help anyone get to know me better or ensure the secrecy of the Sisterhood.”
“How did you get in my house?” Julia Webster demanded.
“You filmed me buying Tampax,” Alexis Thorne grumbled.
“You actually watched me buying groceries and saw that humiliating moment when I didn’t have enough money to pay for them at the checkout?” Isabelle Flanders said angrily.
“It is no one’s business but mine that I mix manure with peat moss for my plants,” Yoko Akia said quietly, her eyes lowered.
Nikki Quinn’s eyes apologized and accused at the same time. “I can’t believe you videotaped me, Myra. Me, Myra. Christ, I’m the one who agreed to help you form the group! So what if I cried and kicked the door and threw the whole damn case file down the courthouse steps. So what, Myra. I hate to lose. I hate it when scum-bags win and the good guys have no other recourse but to cry. I didn’t see you or Charles on that damn film, Myra.” Her tone was so vehement, the other women sat up straighter in their chairs.
“It was done to remind you of why you’re here, Nikki.” There was no apology in Myra’s voice. It’s to show you what we can do, what we’re going to be doing from here on out. Think of it as your security blanket.”
Nikki wasn’t about to give up. “There’s more, isn’t there?”
“Miles and miles of tape. It’s all safe and secure. None of you have a thing to worry about, since it’s for your own protection. Yes, we were intrusive and yes, we were thorough. The reason Charles and myself aren’t on the tape is because we’re old and we’re boring. And…we’re paying for this party. End of discussion.”
The women looked at one another but no one offered up a comment.
Myra picked up a bright red folder. Her movements were slow and deliberate. The women leaned forward expectantly.
“Alexis Thorne, you’re here because the brokerage firm you worked for pinned a crime on you that they themselves committed. You did a year in prison for their crime. They ruined your life and you are now a felon with a new identity, thanks to Nikki Quinn.
“Isabelle Flanders, you’re here because one of your trusted employees, while driving you to a construction site, had a car accident that killed a family of three. Because you were unconscious when they pulled you out of the wreckage, she accused you of driving the vehicle. You lost your business in the lawsuits that followed and you were wiped out financially. You are virtually living hand to mouth working at whatever you can find to support yourself while your employee will never have to work another day in her life, thanks to generous court settlements.
“Julia Webster, you’re here because you thought you were married to a man who took his marriage vows seriously. He infected you with the HIV virus and made it impossible for you to continue your career as a plastic surgeon. A death sentence looms on your horizon because of those infidelities.
“Yoko Akia, you are here because your father brought your mother to this country under false pretenses. Unable to speak English at the time, she thought she was coming to the golden world. Instead of the golden world she expected, her world turned into a life of corruption and prostitution. She died at the age of thirty-three.
“Nikki Quinn, you are here as our legal counsel. It’s important for all of you to know that Nikki has put her career on the line to join us.”
Charles took that moment to press a button on the remote in his hand. Nikki’s picture flashed on the monitor. The same picture that had appeared a short while ago. She flinched at the memory.
“Last but not least, sisters. I’m here because my daughter was killed by a hit and run motorist who had diplomatic immunity. At the moment there is nothing I can do, but the day will come, I’m sure, when the man will find his way back to this country. When that happens, I want to be ready to exact my vengeance. Until that happens, I’m here to help you in whatever way I can.
“What we’re going to do now is this. Each of you write your name on the slip of paper that Charles will give you and drop it into the shoebox in the middle of the table. Charles will pick a name and that’s the first case we’ll work on.”
Myra watched the play of emotion on the women’s faces as they wrote their names on the small squares of paper Charles handed out. She saw misery, despair, hope and hatred. She couldn’t help but wonder whose name would come out of the box.
Charles clicked the remote and a statue of the scales of justice flashed on the monitor. This was Myra’s cue to end her speech. “Unlike her,” she said, pointing to the screen, “we are not blind, nor do we care about the scales of justice because those scales favor the criminal more than the victim.”
“Kathryn Lucas,” Charles said clearly, reading from the slip of paper he’d drawn from the Keds shoebox.
“Kathryn swallowed hard as the others stared at her. She felt light-headed. She turned to look around the room. She saw everything as if in slow motion. It was all so surreal. “I have to get my dog out of the truck. I didn’t think we’d be here this long. I don’t know why I left him in the truck. I shouldn’t have done that. It’s like…like when I left Alan in the truck that…that time. I want my dog. I need my dog. I need him right now.” She was off her chair a second later, the panic on her face obvious to everyone in the room.