by Mary Cantell
“Yes, not to worry, she’ll be fine. Just a broken arm and some bruises.”
Don’s mouth curled downward. “She was so upset when she got into the cab. I asked her what she was doing walking by herself, and she kinda mumbled something. Poor kid. She asked me to take her home, and I told her sure.”
“She mentioned you before,” Lissa began. “Or the friend she told me about…someone she met when walking Toby—that’s our landlady’s dog.” She shook her head. “I admit that I often don’t pay attention to everything she says. Kids, you know how they prattle on and on sometimes. I thought you were just some other kid like her friend, Tommy, or somebody from her school.”
“She was fascinated by my spotting scope. I’m out in the woods a lot…take pictures of birds and nature, that kinda thing. I can attach my camera to it to take pictures. I took her picture once.” He brightened. “You know, she looks exactly like you—when you were her age. I never realized it until after I took her picture and then I remembered you and wondered…but I never got a chance to ask her.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Lissa said. “Same hair and eyes, I guess.”
“I’m embarrassed to say this, but I had such a crush on you,” Don managed to say in an almost whisper. “Maybe that’s why I was so taken with her.”
Lissa smiled and briefly glanced at Brian. “I liked you, too, Donny.”
“I can’t believe that little girl is your daughter.” He wiped his eyes with his free hand. “This is unbelievable.”
Outside the room, she noticed Detective Hastings in the hallway by the nurse’s station on the phone. A moment later, someone appeared at the doorway.
****
Camera in hand, Jason Stokely headed for the precinct’s dark room. He organized the space himself out of the tiny restroom at the end of the hall not being used. When the plumbing finally took its toll and the toilet was no longer serviceable, he figured a darkroom made good use out of the unused space.
Jason turned off the safelight and took the film out, cut the end, and loaded it onto the reel. He followed the standard directions—stop bath, fixer—and let them fully agitate in the chemicals to ensure a thorough surface coverage before placing it in the developing tank. Afterward he washed and agitated the film before hanging it. Fifteen minutes later, he retrieved the negatives and prepped them for printing in the enlarger.
“Sergeant Matthews?” Joe called from the doorway. “The pictures are ready.”
The sergeant sat at his cluttered desk with one hand on the phone and the other holding a half-eaten donut. “Good work, Stokely,” he said through a mouthful. “I’ll be right there.”
****
Officer Dwayne McCall stepped into the hospital room. He nodded to Brian and Lissa on the approach to his brother’s bedside.
“Looks like there’s someone here to see you,” Lissa said to Don, stepping away from the bed. “I guess we’ll be leaving now.” She looked up at Dwayne, who stood head and shoulders above her. “We’re old school mates,” she said, smiling at him.
“This is my big brother,” Don told them.
“Hi, pleased to meet you,” Lissa said, extending her hand, “and this is Brian Pickering.”
“Pickering? Do I know you?” Dwayne asked.
“Grew up in Pinewood.”
“Yeah, but—oh, aren’t you a former cop or something?”
“D.O.D,” he replied modestly.
“That’s right.” He extended his hand to Brian. “I remember you from your presentation at one of the security conferences a couple of years back.”
Lissa moved toward the doorway and noticed the detective still on the phone.
Dwayne moved toward Don’s bed. “So what’s goin’ on, man? You feelin’ any better today?”
“I guess so.”
“What’s the doc say?”
“He’s been AWOL, so who knows for sure.”
Dwayne paused before speaking. “I, um…I have some bad news,” Dwayne said, taking a seat by the bed after Lissa and Brian left.
“Wha’d’ya mean?” Don shifted under the covers.
“The police…” he began.”
“What about them?”
“They think that…” He shook his head. “And it’s crazy, but they think you’re the Peeping Tom they’ve been looking for.”
Don’s gaze turned stony. “What?” His voice rose in anger. “They think I’m a Peeping Tom? What the—how they’d get that idea?”
“Your telescope.”
“It’s a spotting scope. I use it to spot birds. I’m a birder—not a stalker.”
“Tell that to the police.”
“What…am I arrested?”
“They already have a warrant for your tele—I mean, spotting scope. I saw them haul it out.”
“So next, they’ll get a warrant for my arrest, is that it?”
“I’m sorry—”
“I’m in no condition to go to jail, Dwayne.”
“I know, I know. Don’t worry about it. I’m just giving you a heads-up. Look, it’s one thing to get an arrest but a whole other thing to get jail time. It’s categorized as disorderly conduct, a misdemeanor with a maximum sentence of a year in—”
“A year? Dwayne, I didn’t do anything, not a gosh darn thing, man. I didn’t enter anyone’s property or stare in any windows, nothin’ like that. This stinks.”
“I’m doing all I can to convince them, bro, I really am.”
“So how’d they track me down?”
“Dunno. I guess someone saw you going up to wherever you spot the birds—so where is that anyway?”
“In the neighborhood, over by the swim club near Apple Valley road. There’s a walking trail in there and the woods go back pretty deep.”
“That’s near a residential area. I guess someone spotted you and thought the worst.”
Chapter Forty-One
Officer Matthews unclipped the pictures Jason Stokely hung in the dark room. Each one a black and white photograph. His brow furrowed. One-by-one, he sorted through them while shaking his head back and forth.
“These are…what are they? They’re all like something out of a wild life magazine. Looks like a bunch of trees and birds here…you develop the whole roll, Stokely?”
“Yes, sir, it’s a 24-shot roll, and only twenty-one shots that are good. That’s all, sir.”
“This is it?” Officer Matthews’s mouth hung open. “This all you got? If this guy’s a Peeping Tom, he’s got a fetish for birds. That’s about it. You sure this is the right roll of film?”
“Yes, sir. I’m positive. I took it out of the camera myself.”
He went through the photos a second time and then got up. “Thanks, Stokely. Good work, but I guess we’re back to square one.”
Jason collected the pictures. “Do you want me to keep them anyway?”
Officer Matthews shrugged, “Yeah, might as well date and file them.”
“Okay, will do, sir. Looks like there’s already a date on them. Says July 18.”
“Good enough.”
Jason counted the pictures again and then brought them down the hall to Dorinda Walcott.
“Hi, Dorinda, can you file these? They’re the photo evidence from the camera…the guy they think is the Peeping Tom.”
“Oh, sure. The Don McCall case. I’ve got the file started already.”
When he handed the pile of photos to her, something caught his attention. “Wait, can I see them again, please?” Jason stared at the photo on the top of the pile. “Do you have a magnifying glass?”
“I used to have one somewhere,” she said, rummaging through her desk. “Yep, here it is.”
He took the picture and held it up against the window and brought the magnifying glass in close. “Hmmm, this is interesting.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I think Sarge ought to have a look.”
****
“So—” Sergeant Matthews began, stari
ng at the picture. “What am I looking at here? Looks like a bird, Stokely.” The photograph depicted a black-capped bird with a long tail sitting on top of a branch.
“Look in the background, sir.”
In the upper right corner of the photo, a semi-blurred figure appeared on the stairway adjacent to a clapboard house.
“Ah, okay. Looks like a female…dark hair.” The sergeant looked up at him. “So?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I just thought it might be something,” said Jason. “Just a gut feeling.”
Sergeant Matthews focused on the picture.
“And this other one,” Jason said, “has the same girl looking inside the window. It’s not unusual until you see her doing this.” He handed him a third picture that showed the same girl bending down in front of the door and inserting something long into the doorknob.
“Something about this looks familiar.” Officer Matthews turned over the picture. “It’s dated July 18.” He checked the incident report log for the eighteenth of July and noted a break-in reported on Bellevue Avenue at just after seven p.m.
Chapter Forty-Two
“Thanks, Dr. Billing. Yes, she’s coming home today,” Lissa bubbled to her boss on the phone. “I’m on my way to pick her up now. My friend, Brian, is taking me. We’re almost at the hospital. Yes, sir. Thank you for your understanding. Will do.” She snapped her phone shut. “My boss is so great, so accommodating. Best boss I’ve ever had.” She leaned in to give him a kiss.
“What’s that for?” Brian asked at the wheel.
“For everything. If not for you, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“What have I done?” He grinned shyly.
“Oh, stop with your modesty.” She slapped his arm. “You were only my rock, that’s all. Hey, by the way, I’m feeling hungry.”
“Did you eat this morning?”
“Actually, I forgot to—”
“To eat?”
“To pick up groceries.”
“It’ll be a while before we get there. Do you want to stop somewhere first?”
“No, let’s wait ’til we get to the hospital. The dining room there is always open.”
“Okay, but we can always stop at a Quik Mart or someplace to pick up something for the ride. Besides, I need gas. The tank is near empty.”
“Okay, then. As long as you’re stopping anyway, I could really go for a cream cheese bagel right about now.”
A few miles up the road, a sign for food and fuel indicated a rest stop. Brian pulled in and got out to fuel up. “So you want a poppy bagel with cream cheese or plain?”
“Plain is fine.”
“Want coffee, too?”
“Sure, that’ll be great,” she said with a nod. “A couple of creamers, too, and plenty of napkins.”
When Brian left, Lissa turned on the radio. WBAL’s news reporter, Art Aikens, updated information about the seven-car pile-up and subsequent closure of I-340. Next, Aikens introduced a local break-in story that included a voiceover of an interview with Pinewood’s Chief of Police. She turned up the volume and listened.
“Brian,” she said excitedly as soon as he came back. “The radio report—it just mentioned the break-in. My break-in.” She pointed to the radio.
“What? What did it say?” he asked, handing her the bag.
“The police chief said they had a lead on it, something about recent vandalism in the neighborhood, and they also tied it in with my break-in.”
“Did they mention any names?”
“No, but they have a suspect.”
****
Entering Lacy’s hospital room, Lissa could see her daughter’s improvement. Clear-eyed and smiling. With the exception of the broken arm, her daughter was back to her cheery, normal self. Hopefully, the emotional backwash would heal just as quickly. Only time would tell. Lissa prayed God would spare her daughter any serious repercussions. Lissa’s joy overwhelmed her, and she wanted to kiss everyone in the hospital.
On the ride home, Lissa noticed Brian was unusually quiet ever since he took the phone call in the hallway of the hospital.
“Everything all right, Bri?” she asked once they got onto the main roadway.
He shook his head.
“What is it?”
“Angela called.”
A stab of anxiety hit her chest and wound its way into her loins, cinching her stomach. She always wondered about his wife possibly getting back together with him and worried that one day it would happen. “What…” she began hesitantly, “what did she say?” The weight of the words gave her pause. While she was curious, she was equally frightened of what he might say.
He shook his head again. “It’s Madison.”
“Madison? What about her?”
“It’s not good. She’s in juvenile hall.”
Chapter Forty-Three
“I’ll be right back,” Lissa called to Lacy, who sat on the living room sofa in front of the TV engrossed in a cartoon. “I’m just going downstairs to drop off the rent check.”
Lacy barely moved a muscle, wrapped cocoon-like in the afghan her great-grandmother made. The jade green wool softened over the years along with the unraveling of some of the stitches, but the comfort of the yarn trumped its looks. She held a cup of hot cocoa on her lap and beside her, a bag of mini marshmallows.
“Go easy on those marshmallows, please,” Lissa called before opening the door.
“I know, Mom,” she replied, still focused on the TV.
When Lissa stepped outside, she noticed Mrs. Houser’s son, Drew, take a leap off the last step and dart around the side of the house. In the corner of the landing by the railing sat a small poinsettia plant. She glanced back down the stairs and wondered if little Drew recently placed it there. A smile crept onto her face.
Lissa heard the sound of voices around the side of the house and spotted Mrs. Houser. With a wave, she called down to her, “Good morning.” Mrs. Houser waved back.
“His body suffers from palsy, but his mind is intact,” she said later to Lissa. “He has such a lovely spirit, though.” She smiled. “Actually, I think my Drew has a crush on your little girl.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet. Really?” Lissa asked, taken aback at the revelation.
“Yes, in fact, I saw him one morning with a pair of my pinking shears outside by the rose bushes. You know, Miss Rucker has the loveliest grandifloras out back. Have you seen them?”
Lissa nodded. “Oh, yes, I love her roses. They’re gorgeous.”
“Yes, well, I saw Drew cutting a rose from one of her bushes. It was probably the last of the blooms for the year. I hope Miss Rucker didn’t see.” She shook her head with disapproval. “It was very early in the morning when he usually goes out to walk Miss Rucker’s dog. When he came back, I asked him why he took my sheers and he sheepishly confessed about cutting a rose for his ‘girl.’ I laughed to myself because he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” she said with a shrug, “but I figured it was little Lacy.”
“You know, we wondered who left the rose. It’s funny, I always thought it was for me.” She covered her mouth and dipped her head in mock embarrassment.
Lissa picked up the plant and brought it into the house.
“Look what someone left for you, Lace.” Lissa placed the poinsettia on the coffee table in front of her.
“For me?” she questioned, curiously.
“You have a secret admirer.”
“Who?” she asked, unfazed.
“Drew.”
“Next door Drew?”
“Uh huh.” Lissa nodded happily.
“Why?”
“Probably a get-well gift.”
“Okay,” she said and went back to watching the TV.
****
“Hi, Robin, it’s me,” Lissa said flatly.
“Hey, girl. What’s wrong? You sound depressed.”
“My whole life’s falling apart,” she said. Lissa looked out the window into the gray winter sky. This is what happens when
you get in over your head. She pulled the shade down and sank onto the couch.
“What happened? Dear Lord, don’t tell me they found something wrong with Lacy.”
“No, no, she’s doing great, thank God. Improving daily. She’s back in school. Everything is coming along fine with her. Her cast will come off in another week, the doctor said.” She paused and lowered her voice. “It’s Brian.”
“Oh?”
“It looks like we’re breaking up. Or already did.”
“Oh, that stinks. Sorry to hear that, sweetie. Why? What happened?”
Lissa sighed. “There’s so much going on with his life right now—his marriage, or what’s left of it…and now his daughter. The oldest one. She’s in trouble.”
“What kind?”
“Remember the break-in at the apartment back in the summer? Turns out his daughter, of all people, is involved.”
“His daughter?”
“Yep.”
“How old is she?”
“Seventeen or maybe eighteen by now.”
“That’s crazy. Why would she do that?”
“I have no idea. I can’t even get my head wrapped around it.” She sighed again and started gnawing her lower lip. “But ever since then, Brian’s been emotionally MIA. It’s been six days since we last spoke.” She bit her lip and silently cursed herself for getting involved with a married man.
“Aw, I had such hopes for you guys.”
“When I called him on it, he sounded a bit evasive. But the take-home message I got was that he thinks we should cool things off.”
“Do you think he’s getting back with his wife?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied, and continued speaking as evenly as she could, despite her fractured heart. “He told me a while back she’s asked for a divorce, and he seemed pretty intent on following through with it. She probably has a boyfriend. I don’t think there’s anything between them—not that he hadn’t tried to keep things together at one point. I think he made peace with the idea a long time ago. But why he’s leaving me out in the cold is the weird part.”
“I’m so sorry, Liss. I wish there was something I could do to help you,” she said sweetly.
“Your prayers would be helpful.”