Cry For Help

by Wendy Dranfield

  Mike is nodding, agreeing with her.

  Madison can’t believe she won’t get to say goodbye properly. She won’t have a grave to visit. And Stephanie didn’t get the send-off she deserved. She’s so angry she could cry. “When did it happen?”

  “Yesterday, apparently. Douglas only told me afterwards.”

  She sees red, suddenly understanding. “He let it happen to piss me off. That son of a bitch! He probably talked her mom into rushing it on purpose.” She puts her hands on her hips. “That’s it. I want to make a formal complaint against him.” She’s starting to seriously wonder whether Douglas could have been the one who killed Ryan Levy. He obviously has it in for her. She needs to dig into his background, and she thinks Nate and his friend Rex could help her with that.

  “I don’t think he did it on purpose, Madison.”

  She scoffs. “You would say that.”

  He looks at her. “No, I wouldn’t. Trust me, I’m not exactly his biggest fan either. The guy’s an asshole and not easy to work with. But the coroner released her body. Douglas tracked down her family and they wanted her cremated. If he’d told me, I would have made him put a hold on it, but we’re not exactly working well together, so I never know what he’s up to. I’m sorry, I’ve been distracted by another case.”

  She takes a deep breath. Once she’s calmed down, her interest is piqued. “Nikki Jackson? Do you have the knife yet?”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t talk about that.”

  They’re both silent for a while, and Madison wonders what he wanted to ask her. “You said you had questions.”

  He avoids eye contact, looking at Brody instead. She used to be able to read him so well, but he’s changed since they worked together. Instead of the light-hearted person she knew, he looks like he’s carrying a heavy burden. She wonders if he ever remarried after splitting from his wife. Then it occurs to her that she hasn’t asked him anything about himself or his daughter. She’s been too absorbed in her own problems. He’s probably thinking how much she’s changed too.

  “I just want to know what your intentions are now you’re back.” He looks at her. “Because sooner or later it’s going to make the news, and Ryan’s father has already called me, which means someone’s told him.”

  Her heart sinks. She’s still hated here.

  “I assumed you were only coming back to bury Stephanie, but now that you own this place, I’m guessing you might plan on staying a little longer, which would put you in a precarious situation with the locals.”

  “Screw the locals, Mike. I can live where I want.” She realizes she’s being too harsh with him, but it’s frustrating to be treated like a killer. She leans against the car. “I don’t know what my intentions are anymore. I guess I thought I could find out who framed me, but that’s not looking likely now Nate’s gone AWOL.”

  “Is Nate the guy you travelled here with?”

  She nods. She doesn’t want to tell him too much. “He’s a friend. Maybe I’ll just stay long enough to find out what happened to Owen.”

  She sees trepidation in his eyes and wonders why. She leans forward. “You could help me with that.”

  Mike’s shaking his head. “No, I can’t. His child services record is sealed until his eighteenth birthday. I don’t have access to any of that.”

  He could call in a favor if he wanted to. She looks away, disappointed that he’s not willing to help her. Just like when she was arrested. She knows he’ll be conflicted because of his badge, but it still hurts.

  She opens the car door. “I have things I need to do.”

  He moves away slowly. “Sure. Keep in touch.”

  She waits for him to drive away before she leaves to find Nikki Jackson’s parents.

  28

  Madison gets lucky at the trailer park. An elderly woman with a bad wig and no qualms with gossiping about her neighbors points out the home of Nikki Jackson’s parents. Brody explores the area while she heads over there. The minute she spots the vegetable patch outside, her stomach flips. It could confirm that Nikki Jackson was the intended recipient of Steph’s note, but she still wants to speak to the parents to make sure. She walks up the steps and gently knocks on the door, wiping the sweat from her brow as she waits. With not a cloud in the sky, the direct sunshine is intense.

  When the door opens, a woman who looks slightly older than her appears.

  “Sorry to bother you,” says Madison, “but I’m working with the police and I just have a few questions about your daughter. Do you have a minute?” She holds her breath, praying the woman doesn’t ask to see her badge.

  Mrs. Jackson steps out and quietly closes the door behind her. “My husband’s asleep.”

  Madison wonders why he’s asleep in the afternoon, but then she spots some empty liquor bottles spilling out of a garbage bag to her right that answer her question. “This won’t take long.” She gestures to the vegetable patch. “Am I right in thinking Nikki planted those?”

  Mrs. Jackson frowns. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I’m just trying to find out if she ever worked for a woman called Stephanie Garcia. Helping her mow lawns and maybe doing some basic gardening.”

  “She was doing some garden-related chores for someone, but I can’t remember the woman’s name. She did tell me.” Mrs. Jackson tries to concentrate, but gives up. “Whoever it was, they taught her all about how to grow fruit and veg, and she’d come home once a week with a fresh box of it. It certainly saved me some money.” She looks down at the vegetable patch, misty-eyed.

  “Do you know where this person lived?”

  “No, just that it was the other side of town. Nikki needed to cycle over there because it was too far to walk.”

  That sounds like Steph’s place.

  “It helped her mentally, I think. Being outdoors and growing things stopped her obsessing over high-school dramas.”

  Madison tilts her head, trying to figure out what the woman isn’t saying. “Was everything okay with Nikki before this happened? Was she getting bullied at school, perhaps?”

  Mrs. Jackson chews her lip, clearly reluctant to say too much.

  “I know high school is awful for a lot of kids her age,” says Madison. “I have a son just a year older than Nikki, and I worry about him all the time. Some kids cope well, but not everyone. Was Nikki sensitive to that kind of thing?”

  Eventually Mrs. Jackson nods. “She didn’t have a lot of friends and she suffered with bouts of depression. It meant she sometimes cut herself.”

  “She was self-harming?” Madison’s surprised. Then again, that might be why Mike is so insistent on treating her death as a suicide. “Is that something she did often?”

  “She used to, before she started going to therapy. But she didn’t like her new therapist, Dr. Chalmers, so I was worried she’d start doing it again. It was her way of coping with her anxiety and depression. But helping out with that woman’s garden really seemed to settle her mind.” Mrs. Jackson pauses, clearly putting two and two together. “Isn’t that Garcia woman the one who was murdered recently?” She suddenly looks horrified. “Did she get my girl killed?”

  Shaking her head, Madison tries to calm her down. “There’s no evidence to suggest your daughter was murdered, Mrs. Jackson. These are just some leads we’re working on to get some background information, that’s all.” And now she has a new lead: Nikki’s therapist. She knows Dr. Chalmers: he worked with her on the case of a sexually abused boy they were trying to get removed from his parents. She doesn’t know if he’d talk to her now she no longer works in law enforcement.

  “Did you tell the detectives about her history of self-harm?”

  “They never asked.”

  The door behind them opens and a skinny white guy appears. He looks annoyed. “What’s going on?”

  “This woman is just updating me on Nikki’s case,” says his wife.

  He eyes them both suspiciously. “Why are you doing it out here?” He stand
s to one side, indicating they should go in.

  Madison considers whether it’s safe. She looks around for Brody, but he’s vanished. Some police dog. She has no choice but to follow Mrs. Jackson inside.

  Her husband closes the door behind them and stands in front of it, arms crossed. “You trying to have a discussion without me?”

  Madison tenses and immediately understands that he runs things around here. The resigned, slightly fearful look on Mrs. Jackson’s face confirms it. “Not at all. Your wife didn’t want to wake you, that’s all.”

  “So what’s going on? Can we have her back yet?” he asks. “I never realized how much caskets cost. Our girl’s got to be cremated instead of buried because some asshole businessman wants to turn a profit from her death.”

  Or you could get a job to pay for your daughter’s funeral, Madison thinks. She’d never say that, though. She has to be careful, as she doesn’t want him to find out she’s not a cop. “Not yet, I’m afraid. But as soon as you can, the office will let you know. Now, I need to be going.”

  “That’s it? You didn’t tell us anything.”

  His cell phone rings and he rushes to take the call. When he looks at his screen, he disappears to a bedroom for privacy. No doubt it’s his dealer.

  Madison looks at Nikki’s mom, who relaxes ever so slightly when her husband leaves the room. She knows she should just leave right now, but something compels her to speak up. “There are ways of getting away from him, places you can go.”

  Mrs. Jackson’s eyes widen in horror at discussing this out loud. Then she checks over her shoulder to make sure he’s still out of earshot. “Not without money there aren’t. It’s not like you think. He doesn’t hit me. He controls me financially and…” she hesitates, “psychologically. I don’t know why he has a hold over me, but he does. I can’t explain it to someone like you. Someone with bags of confidence and who probably has a whole family to support them. I have no one else. Especially now Nikki’s gone.”

  Madison tries not to comment on her own situation. “There are shelters to give you a head start. It doesn’t have to be in Lost Creek; in fact it’s better if you go further afield. If you have any distant relatives in another state who might help you, try asking them. If Nikki was your buffer, now’s the time to go, because he’s only going to get worse.” She can tell from the look in the woman’s eyes that she already knows this.

  Mrs. Jackson opens the front door and composes her face so that Madison can’t read her expression. “Thanks for stopping by.”

  Brody’s waiting for her at the car, and she scratches behind his ear as she googles the number for Dr. Chalmers. A receptionist answers and surprises Madison by agreeing to put her straight through to him.

  “Detective Harper, what a pleasure. How are you?”

  “Well I’m not a detective anymore, I just want to make that clear from the start.”

  “Yes, I remember what happened. How can I help you?”

  He’s probably wondering if she’s after some therapy to help her deal with the repercussions of serving her sentence. “I’m unofficially looking into Nikki Jackson’s death, and I understand she was a patient of yours.”

  He doesn’t reply immediately, and when he does, he sounds guarded. “She was, yes. But as you know doctor–patient confidentiality remains after death, so I’m afraid I can’t tell you much.”

  She opens her car door and gets in, switching on the A/C. It’s too hot to stand outside. Brody jumps in beside her. “What if I get her parents’ permission?” She thinks she might be able to talk the mother round if she could catch her alone.

  “That’s not enough. And Nikki would not have wanted to give them that choice.”

  Madison wonders what he means. Is it because Nikki’s dad is an alcoholic? Maybe he was abusing her in some way. Could he be a suspect? Maybe for his daughter’s death, but not for Steph’s. Stephanie would have been able to overpower a scrawny guy like that. “How about a court order?”

  “Well, yes, that would be one option. But since you’re no longer a detective, how are you going to obtain that?”

  She resigns herself to the fact that if she wants answers, she’ll have to tell Mike about Nikki’s therapy sessions and get him to take over. But there’s no guarantee he’ll tell her any of what he discovers.

  “Are you able to just tell me when your last session with her was?”

  He sighs. “I suppose that won’t do any harm. I saw her on the afternoon of July fourth.”

  “The day she died?” She’s surprised. That might suggest Nikki needed to talk to someone urgently.

  “That’s right.”

  “Dr. Chalmers, can you at least tell me whether, in your professional opinion, Nikki was suicidal the last time you saw her? I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.”

  He remains silent for a minute, and Madison thinks he’s not going to reply. Then he says, “She was perhaps a little more emotional than usual, but she didn’t mention any intention to harm herself. The fact is, she didn’t ever really open up to me about anything. Just snippets here and there. I always felt she was holding back, and even cynical about therapy in general. But I was under the impression she was not at risk when she left my office. If she had been suicidal, I would have taken the necessary action.” He sighs down the phone. “I can’t disclose any more than that, but put it this way: I was shocked when I heard the news.”

  Madison nods slowly. It’s looking more like someone else persuaded Nikki to harm herself, or her death was a murder staged as a suicide. “Thanks for talking to me, Doctor. I appreciate it, and I won’t repeat anything you told me.”

  “No problem at all. Before you go, can I just ask out of professional interest how your reunion with your son went?”

  She’s taken aback. “What do you mean? I don’t know where Owen is.”

  He hesitates. “I, er, I just assumed with you being back in town that you’d reunited, but maybe I’ve misunderstood the situation.”

  The hairs on her neck stand up. “Are you saying Owen is in Lost Creek?”

  He answers too quickly. “No, not at all. I’m sorry, I just thought…” He stops. “I have to go; my next appointment has arrived. Don’t listen to me, I’m easily confused the older I get. Goodbye, Ms. Harper.” He ends the call before she can react.

  “What the hell?” Looking at her phone, she tries to figure out whether he was just jumping to the wrong conclusion, or whether he knows where Owen is. Maybe she’s wishing for the latter so much that she’s the one jumping to conclusions.

  It’s exhausting being back and not knowing who to trust, or where to turn. It’s so different to when she was on the force. Before her arrest she had a mostly supportive team around her, and if she called someone for information, they’d give it willingly, knowing they could trust her with it. But now she feels like an outsider who has to fight for every small detail. The community feels closed off to her.

  She sighs and thinks about what Dr. Chalmers told her about Nikki’s appointment. She can’t shift the feeling that the girl wanted a session that day to discuss something that had recently happened to her. One thing is certain: the link to Stephanie is too important to ignore.

  29

  Independence Day

  At mid afternoon, Nikki slips away from the park without anyone noticing. She has a therapy session with Dr. Chalmers at the medical center, and even though she doesn’t feel like he’s helping her much, if she misses just one session he’ll stop seeing her. And if he stops seeing her, she can’t get her prescription. She’s lucky to get free sessions thanks to the principal at her high school. He referred her after she disclosed to the school counselor about a year ago that she was starting to have distressing thoughts again.

  Instead of wasting money on catching the bus, she cycles to the medical center, but gets a puncture just as she’s arriving. She curses as she realizes she’ll have to leave her bike locked up out front until she can persuade her dad to pick it up for
her. It’ll probably be stolen by then. This is turning into the worst day ever. A flashback to two days ago makes her take that thought back immediately. Nothing could be worse than that day.

  She catches her reflection as she approaches the glass doors to the center. Her face is bright red thanks to the heat, and her hair is sticking to her face. She can see her makeup has melted away from her latest acne outbreak. Basically, she looks gross.

  “Hey, Nikki,” says the receptionist. “You can go right in. His previous appointment didn’t show up. I think everyone’s gone to a party but us.” She smiles, then waves a small plastic flag unenthusiastically, obviously bummed that she has to work today.

  Nikki walks into Dr. Chalmers’ office, where he nods to the couch as he finishes typing something at his desk. Even though today is a public holiday, he’s on duty for emergencies. She knows he always volunteers to cover public holidays and emergency referrals because he once told her he doesn’t celebrate anything and he doesn’t drink. He just likes to work. He sounds like no fun at all. Today, she’s considering telling him what happened the other day. But she’s not sure whether that’s a good idea. She starts shaking just at the thought of it.

  She sits on the leather couch directly under the cool breeze from the A/C and checks out his many house plants, which are all wilting from a lack of water. She can’t help thinking that if he can’t even take care of his plants, how can he take care of his patients?

  As the minutes tick by, waiting for him to finish what he’s doing makes her anxious. Her breathing becomes fast and shallow and she still can’t decide whether to confide in him about what happened. She could find herself in trouble for not telling anyone sooner, but she was scared for her life.