Page 43 of The Business Trip

“Trent?”

“Yeah, Scott, hey, I’m in a jam here. I don’t know what’s going on. I need you to know I am completely innocent and have done nothing wrong. To prove it, though, I gotta get out of this place. Have you seen the bail? Can you float me some and I’ll get you back? I’m planning to sue the entire police department.”

The guard shot me a look but didn’t say anything.

“Aww, Trent, man, I feel for you, but I don’t have that kind of money.”

“Come on, Scott, I know you have it. You gotta get me out of here. I can’t stay in jail as an innocent man.”

Scott was quiet, and I heard his breathing. I thought he was about to say yes, and I felt a surge of hope in my chest.

“Trent, man, I’m sorry. I need to stay away. I can’t have my name tied up in this. We’re just looking to buy out Southern Sails. I can’t get embroiled in some scandal.”

“Scandal? What scandal?” I asked. “This is all bullshit, 100 percent bullshit. They’ll be making a movie about how I was wronged one day. I think the police might have planted evidence.”

“Trent, you’re in jail for murder. Two women. Your name is all over the news, not just here but nationally. You’re trendingon every platform. You were the first story in my national news feed. I don’t know if you did it or didn’t do it, that’s for the courts to decide, but I can’t bail you out. And that’s final.”

This time I was the one to hang up. I put my head into my hands and began to rock back and forth. I was fired. My friends wouldn’t bail me out or even want to be a part of this.

There was only one person left to call.

“Katrina… you have to listen to me. You know I would never hurt anyone. I really need your help.”

“I don’t want to talk to you. The kids don’t want to talk to you. You’re a fucking monster!”

“The kids want to see me. I want to see them. I need to get out of here. I need bail money.”

“Oh, you want to see them, do you? Is that why you blew off the last visit you had a few weeks ago?” she spat. “And yes, you have hurt people. You hurt me, physically, you know it. You hurt me psychologically too. No, Trent, you made this bed and you will lie in it. Fuck you.”

And she hung up on me. Apparently, no one was going to say a proper goodbye ever again.

“Time’s up,” the guard said, and I replaced the receiver with an extra loud thud. “Watch it,” he added as he jerked me up out of my chair and took a firm hold of my arm through the prison jumpsuit, steering me back to the jail cell. As we walked past some of the other prisoners’ cells, one called out:

“Took out two women, huh, pretty boy? Did you do it just for fun? I’ll show you some fun in here.”

I shivered. It was like every jail movie or TV show I had ever seen, fromShawshank RedemptiontoOrange Is the New Black.

When we got back to my cell, I lay down on the hardmattress, turned toward the wall, curled into a ball, and, for the first time since third grade, began to cry. Quietly, though, so no one would hear. What could have happened? How did I get entangled in this mess? My mind struggled to put pieces together that made no sense at all.

CHAPTER 34Lucy

The Wednesday After the Conference

Robert was shell-shocked and wild-eyed as I escorted him back to Madison from Atlanta. He fell into a state of mumbling answers for basic questions, and I took the lead on every aspect of getting us home and getting him to his side of the townhouse before returning to my apartment. Of course I was distraught too, but somehow I had shifted into an autopilot of determination. I was sure grief would come later.

Police still had not found any bodies, but they had some DNA from Jasmine Littleton from hair and blood samples, and both women’s personal belongings were buried in Trent’s backyard.

Things were starting to leak out—Steph had withdrawn large sums of money both in San Diego and Atlanta. Police surmised that she and Trent started a hot romance at the conference and he convinced her that he needed money for his growing child support payments. The pair traveled together to Atlanta, but then something went wrong. Maybe Steph refused to take out more money, or maybe it was just that he had a temper. Regardless, she wanted to get away from him—we knew this from her texts to Robert—but then he killed her.

How this Jasmine woman fit in, we didn’t know yet. She was labeled as a drifter from Madison. How did she wind up dead in Atlanta too? When did Trent meet her?

His picture was all over the news now. Even his own station had to report on it. I called up NBC6’s story to see how they were handling it. A grim-faced young reporter named Hannah did a stand-up outside of Trent’s condo, police tape behind her. When she threw back to the anchors, they looked stunned and spoke in hushed tones. The female one named Leigh said they would stay on the story and update people with further details as they came in. I wanted to use the skills I’d learned in a women’s self-defense class and kick Trent right in his baby face, but I couldn’t shake the strong sense that something was just not adding up—that Reiki gut feeling again. If Steph had really met the man of her dreams and wanted more time off, why wouldn’t she have told us? Why would she lie about having a brother?

Opening a new tab on the computer, I went to LinkedIn and called up Trent’s profile. There he was, all frat-boy smiles with wickedly white teeth, grinning away with the NBC6 logo behind his head. He didn’t look like the type I thought she would fall head over heels in love with. His LinkedIn made it clear he was a market-hopper, someone who never truly put down roots, always thinking there was something better, more money, more prestige. I had seen plenty of them in TV.

I looked to see what sorts of things Trent had posted on LinkedIn. It was all egocentric, photos of him holding awards with braggy captions that said things like “So honored to be honored again! Huge night for NBC6 at the Atlanta Broadcasters Association Awards!”

I checked Twitter/X and Threads. Trent’s second-to-last tweet came the day he had flown to San Diego for the conference. Hetook a selfie of himself grinning at the Atlanta airport with the caption “Wheels up—ATL to SAN!” It had three likes.

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