by Mia Sheridan
The apartment building where Aria Glazer had once lived was a large, older home in Hyde Park that had been converted into three units. Zach pressed the buzzer next to the label that said Glazer/Lewis and waited. He heard footsteps and a few seconds later, a pretty blonde opened the door, hair in a bun on top of her head, an overly large sweatshirt falling off one shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed as though she’d been crying. “Tessa Lewis?”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Yes. Detective Copeland?”
“Yes. May I come in?”
She nodded as she stepped back. “This way.” She turned and started walking toward an open door to the left of a staircase and Zach followed. She looked over her shoulder, eyeing him. “I didn’t expect . . . I mean, I thought you’d be . . . older.” She gave a small nervous laugh as she entered her apartment and turned toward him.
He smiled, closing the door of her apartment. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She bobbed her head. “You should.” Color crept up her neck and she played with a piece of hair that had escaped her bun. She waved her hand toward a table next to the open kitchen. “Do you want to sit?”
“That’d be great. I appreciate you meeting with me.”
She sat down and so did he. She bobbed her head again and swallowed, her chin trembling. “I can’t believe she’s dead.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Can’t believe someone murdered her.”
Zach grabbed a tissue box at the end of the table and handed it to Tessa. She dabbed at her eyes. Zach had gone home and showered and managed to grab a couple of hours of sleep, woken by the call that Aria Glazer’s dental records matched those of the DOA from the basement. He’d delivered on his promise—he’d given that poor girl back her name. Now he was bound and determined to give her parents and loved ones the closure of knowing why they were grieving, and who had committed such a disturbing crime against a young woman with her whole life in front of her. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Zach said, though he’d said the same thing earlier when he’d called Aria’s roommate with the news of the ID, and asked if he could meet with her. He’d driven to the small town twenty minutes away in Kentucky and delivered the news in person to Aria’s parents. Working-class people who lived in a small house with a nicely kept lawn. They’d looked shell-shocked with anguish. It was the very worst part of his job, hands down.
Tessa sniffled and wiped at her nose as she nodded. “Thank you. I’ve called a couple friends who worked with us at Aster. We’re going to get together tonight, remember Aria, you know? Just reminisce about her.”
“I’m glad.” He paused. “You worked with Aria at Aster. Is that where you first met her?”
Tessa nodded. “Yeah. We hit it off and it just so happened we were both looking for a place to live. We found this rental pretty quickly.” Her eyes moved toward the back of the apartment. “Our friend Genevieve is staying in Aria’s room for now, paying her share of the rent. I guess she’ll be able to move in permanently.” Her voice broke on the last word as sadness washed over her expression.
Zach gave her a moment to compose herself. “Tessa, I know Aria was your friend and may have asked you to keep secrets for her the way friends do, but if we’re going to solve this case and bring Aria’s murderer to justice, I need you to be totally upfront with me now about anything you know that might help us find who did this, even if you didn’t mention it before.”
“Like what, Detective?”
“Anything. Was Aria upset about something around the time she disappeared? Even something minor? Did she feel threatened by anyone?”
“The detectives who came here after her disappearance asked all those questions.”
“I know, but sometimes in retrospect, and now that you know she was abducted by a person who meant her harm, memories surface, things take on a new context, small run-ins or even relationships that didn’t seem important take on new meaning.”
Tessa bit at her lip before meeting Zach’s eyes. She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. “She’d been seeing someone, oh I don’t know, about eight months or so before her disappearance. I didn’t mention it because it didn’t seem relevant, and it was totally casual from what I could tell. She’d started dating a new guy she met at the gym—her boyfriend, Chad, who you guys questioned—and she was happy at the time of her disappearance. The other detective who came here asked about her possibly disappearing on purpose—running away or something—but I told them that didn’t fit. Aria had gone through a rough patch six months before, dropped the night classes she’d been taking, started drinking a little more than usual. Nothing too severe, you know? And then it was over. At the time of her disappearance, Aria was the happiest I’d seen her in a long time. She even told me she was falling in love with Chad. No way she would just up and purposely disappear. No way.”
“Aria was taking classes that she’d dropped?”
Tessa nodded. “Yeah, she was taking some night classes at UC. She stopped going and when I asked her about it, she said it was no big deal, the timing just wasn’t right and she’d think about signing up for them again the next semester.”
“Did you mention this to the other detectives you talked to?”
Tessa shook her head, her eyes widening slightly. “Is it relevant? She’d dropped the classes long before she disappeared. And she was on her way home from work in Hyde Park when she . . . before she was taken.”
Zach nodded. “It might not be. I’m just trying to get a full picture of Aria’s life.” Zach already knew from the missing persons file that the boyfriend had been questioned extensively, but he’d had an alibi. He’d been visiting an ailing grandmother who subsequently passed away the week Aria had disappeared. He hadn’t even been in the same city. And regardless, from all accounts, they were a happy couple. At least, that’s what the file said. “Who was the person she was dating before Chad? About eight months before you said?”
“I don’t know. She was dismissive about it. And I don’t think dating is the right word. I thought it was mostly a bootie-call situation. She’d leave all dolled up, but she was always home a few hours later. I thought she was just hooking up with some random.” She bit at her lip, looking to the side.
Zach made a mental note to see if Aria’s cell phone records from the phone that had disappeared along with her, had been pulled from that far back. He figured they hadn’t been. But they might be able to figure out who the “bootie call” was, based on her call logs.
“Someone she may have met at work?” Zach asked.
Tessa shook her head. “We both have”—her eyes widened and she flinched—“had a no-dating policy as far as customers. Too messy.” She looked down at the tissue in her hands.
“Is there anything else, Tessa?” he asked gently.
Tessa folded the tissue once and then again. “Well, I mean . . .”
“Anything,” he prompted again. “No matter how small.”
She paused but then nodded. “She might have gotten an abortion during that rough patch.” She looked down, her eyes still on the tissue as she folded it into smaller and smaller pieces. “I’m not positive, and I didn’t want her parents to know if I was wrong. They’re real religious . . .” She took a shuddery breath and dabbed at her nose. “I heard her on the phone one day when I was getting home. It sounded like she was making an appointment and from the questions she was answering, I got the idea she was pregnant. But then I asked her about it, and she brushed me off. She seemed kind of . . . I don’t know, off maybe a couple of weeks later, and that’s when she got that tattoo. I’d see her touch it sometimes and get this sad look on her face. I had this thought . . .” She shook her head.
“Tessa, whatever it was, no matter how vague, it might help.”
“Well, after I heard her scheduling that appointment, and then when she came home with the daisy tattoo, I wondered if it was in memory of that baby she didn’t keep.” Her expression filled with guilt, and she lowered her eyes again. She took a deep breath, meeting
Zach’s gaze. “But then she went back to being her old self, she met Chad, and things seemed good. Just a little blip on the radar, you know? Something that was totally in the past.”
“Thank you for telling me that. It might help.”
“She was my best friend, Detective,” Tessa said, her eyes filling with tears again. “I’d never want to tell anyone things she wouldn’t want told, but if it helps you find who did this to her, I know she’d understand.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Before
Despite the irregular meals, Josie’s stomach began to swell with the evidence of her pregnancy. She could see the tiny bump under her shirt, and she longed to run her hand over her skin, to feel the roundness, the subtle change in her body from the outside. It was an instinct, she supposed, a pregnant woman’s need to reach for her own child. But she couldn’t. Her hands were still bound in chains.
As fall’s blustery winds whipped past Josie’s prison window, Marshall discovered her secret, his body stilling on top of hers as his hand reached down to touch what Josie herself had not. He moved away quickly, his masked face turned toward her bared skin, staring. She saw his throat move. He looked away, up to the small patch of light on the wall. “You’ve been keeping secrets from me, Josie.”
“I don’t have any secrets.” How could she? She was laid bare in every single way. She’d known it was only a matter of time until he figured out that she carried his child.
He stood, making a scoffing sound, though there was something different in his movement. The knowledge of her pregnancy had shaken him. She pulled herself to a sitting position. “This is your baby too.” He stilled further and she swallowed, tears threatening. She felt so afraid, so alone, the emotions she’d tucked beneath the cradle of continuous sleep slipping free and wrapping around her. Would he kill her now? Her and the life within her? Sweeping away all evidence of his crime? Maybe he’d leave for good now, let her starve.
The baby she was carrying meant she had his DNA safely tucked inside her. How could he allow her to live, his child to live, if he had any hope of getting away with what he’d done?
Terror was a stone in her chest, crushing her lungs.
He left without a word. Josie hung her head and cried. Winter would soon arrive. It would be frigid in the room where she was held prisoner. It was already cold, though the mattress beneath her had served to keep her from freezing on the cement floor. Still, she shivered constantly, her teeth clicking against each other as she rubbed at her exposed skin. Temperatures were dropping and eventually, she’d die of cold or hunger or thirst. She wondered which one would take her first.
She heard Marshall outside her window, outside the building, heard him pacing, his footsteps moving back, forth, back forth. What was he doing? Pacing as he tried to figure out his new dilemma? He was up there, she thought, planning her demise.
But later, he came back, rousing Josie in the dead of night. She startled, her heart racing as he did something over her head where her hands were chained in the position she was in, lying on the mattress. One hand fell free. Her heart rate spiked further. Was he freeing her? Or had he come to kill her? Hurt her?
She heard his zipper and then he took her freed hand, using it to run down his side as he came over top of her. “Touch me,” he demanded.
“Where?” she asked, her voice emerging as a croak.
“Everywhere,” he barked. “Like you mean it.”
Her hand trembled as she ran it down his side and around his back. He moaned, his breath coming faster. A hot tear leaked from her eye, running down her cheek to pool in her ear. He reached for her hand and moved it between them. He was hard, his skin hot. She considered wrapping her fingers around him, squeezing until he screamed. But she was still chained to the wall. If she hurt him, he’d hurt her worse. He’d make her pay.
He ran his hand roughly over her breasts, sensitive from the pregnancy, and she cringed. He moved his hand down her side, pausing slightly before moving over the swell of her belly. She felt a tiny bump from within, once and then again. Her heart stuttered. The baby. She’d just felt the baby. His breath stalled, his body giving a small tremble, as he removed his hand quickly as though her skin had burned him. Had he felt it too? He ran his hand back up to her breast, his own stomach meeting hers as he lowered himself. He paused again, a strange sound emerging from beneath his mask. Frustration? Distress?
He stood quickly, zipping himself back into his pants. She scrambled to a sitting position, confused, wary. Had her pregnant body, the feel of the baby moving within served to quell his arousal? She was glad of it and not. She didn’t know what it would mean for her. At this point, it might be her only value.
Marshall walked to the door and she thought he’d leave but he only left for a moment and when he came back in, he had a fast food bag and a . . . quilt. He threw the quilt at her, his eyes glittering from beneath his mask with some emotion she couldn’t read. Why was he providing comforts to her? She couldn’t understand it. He placed the bag next to her and then turned and walked out the door. It closed behind him with a click, the lock engaging from outside.
Once his footsteps had faded, she sat there in the dim quiet for several minutes, turning her hand on her wrist, stretching it, glorying in the small bit of freedom. Why hadn’t he chained her back up? Did it even matter? She was still held prisoner, still unable to free herself. But now . . . now she could feed herself. She could take the food he’d left and bring it to her mouth. A small bit of dignity, something to remind her she was still human.
She removed the burger and fries from inside the bag and took several ravenous bites, hardly tasting the food, desperate to stop the burning hunger in her gut. Another bump from within. She dropped the burger to its wrapper and moved her unshackled hand to her rounded belly, placing her hand over the spot from where the tiny kick had come. She felt it again, her heart squeezing tightly in her chest as her breath hitched.
I’m not alone. You’re here, aren’t you?
It felt surreal. Like a miracle in the very last place she’d ever expected to encounter one. She knew it wasn’t—that it could be broken down into simple biology. Coarse language. She’d been raped and she’d conceived. But to Josie, it felt like more than that. Something that was only hers, something others probably wouldn’t understand the beauty of, and perhaps she didn’t either except on a level she could hardly explain. Starlight in a blackened sky. Blinking to life where before only darkness existed.
The tiny being inside her was already making his or her presence known, already grasping for life, fighting for its existence, staking its claim. And she was the guardian of that life. The protector. She was its mother. A surge of love washed through her, so suddenly and so strongly it stole her breath.
Strengthened her.
Gave her divine purpose.
It humbled her, caused a fierce protectiveness to grab hold.
It was up to her to stay alive long enough that Marshall would free her, or that she’d be found by someone else. A transient maybe? Someone looking to rent out the abandoned building where she was being held? Someone must own this lot. Even if she hadn’t heard anyone in many months, there were still possibilities of being found—things Marshall didn’t control. Reason for hope. She just had to hang on to it. Stay alive so her baby had a chance at life too. Or die trying.
It was all she had. All anyone had. To keep fighting with the tools available to you until your final breath. It was what the innocent life inside of her was doing—all he or she knew. It was what her own mother had never done, deciding instead to wallow in her own misery, to take out her anger and frustration and despair on Josie. To see her own child as the enemy, someone to beat down and use to relieve her pain.
Josie would not be her mother. Even here, she vowed. Even in a dungeon in hell. She was different and she would own that. No one could take it away. It was the tiny fire burning in her chest. Her own fight for life. Something that could not be stolen. Somethi
ng that would not be extinguished as long as she kept it burning.
“Okay, little fighter,” Josie whispered, moving her hand over the swell of her stomach. “This is something we’re going to have to do together. You get that, right? You keep fighting, and so will I. I promise.”
Josie picked up her burger again and took a bite. She wanted to stuff the whole thing in her mouth, eat every crumb, lick the grease from the paper. But she needed to start rationing. If Marshall was going to keep staying away for longer periods of time, she had to ration what she had so she wouldn’t starve.
She needed regular meals—even if they were pitifully small. A constant stream of nutrients for her baby.
She gathered her will power and wrapped half of the burger back up in the paper wrapper, along with half the container of fries. She threw the fry container in the bag, crumpled the napkins up and tossed the garbage over near the door. She didn’t know if Marshall would confiscate her rationed food or not, and she wasn’t willing to take the chance. She hid it under her mattress.
There was a crack in the wall that leaked when it rained. Not a lot, just a tiny trickle that would then flow into another crack in the floor. A few times when she’d been parched from thirst, she’d watched that small trickle moving down the wall and disappearing into the floor. It tortured her—relief that was so near and yet so far away. But now . . . now she had her hand free and she could catch the dripping water in her palm, bring it to her mouth.
Stay alive. Keep trying.
I will not die. I will not die, she chanted in her mind. I now have a reason to live. And that evening when she fell asleep, she wasn’t crying.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I’m going to make a quick trip into town to buy some labels,” Josie said to the detective with the square head and jowly cheeks. Despite his lumpish features and pockmarked skin, he had the clearest, most beautiful green eyes she’d ever seen. Something about his face was very . . . comforting somehow, and she wasn’t sure why but it was.