by Leigh Lennon
The fish sticks and mac and cheese recoil in my stomach, and I’m left with so many questions. Why? Who? And why Stewart and Greenlyn?
I twist my body to Georgia’s. “Hey, let me show you where the guest room is, and we can send Kenzie to go get your suitcase.”
Georgia throws Kenzie her keys. “Might as well make yourself useful.” Georgia never means to do it, but she is an enigma, and men and women alike fall for her at the drop of a hat. Kenzie doesn’t question my friend, or the fact that Georgia had told us she’d not packed. Kenz grabs her keys, and we move toward the back of the house.
Pushing her in the guest room, she turns around quickly and precisely in her three-inch heels. “Whoa, girl, you better watch it,” she teases.
“Georgie, I need you,” I say, and I’m almost begging.
“Whatever, honey, you know this.”
I show her the text from the kidnapper. “They’re going to kill them.”
She doesn’t bat an eye. “What do you need from me?”
Me: What do you need me to do?
My heart is pounding a mile a minute, my hands are sweaty, and I almost drop the phone several times.
Greenlyn: Go out the back door, through the neighbor’s yard, and you’ll be picked up, and if I hear or see anything, just know, your roomie will not see another night.
His words are so final, and I think of how he took my family away from me.
“You track my phone and call 911 once we stop. That way, they can save us all.”
Georgia hugs me. “Fuck, I don’t like this, Malia. Not one bit.”
“I know, but if I don’t do this, they’ll kill Greenlyn and Stewart, and I can’t have anymore deaths on my conscience.”
“Maybe I should come with you, or follow you?”
This is Georgia. She’s one to go rogue just on pure principle. “Promise me, you’ll stay here.” I bring her back for a hug. “And I’ll be back by bedtime.”
Wells’s back door is odd, and it exits from the side of the house, so with Georgia keeping an eye out, I open the guest room window and sneak through the neighbor’s backyard.
I wait on the sidewalk of the busy street on the other side of Wells’s house. Many cars pass by me, and when a white van speeds by for the fourth time, it brakes immediately. Someone opens the door and grabs me, placing a hood over my face all in one fluid motion.
“It’s nice to see you again, my sweet Malia.” The voice is so familiar yet older. My nine-year-old mind tries to recall the pitch and tone, but I can’t, but it’s a distinct timbre which helps jar a little of the past.
“You’re trying to place me, aren’t you?” he asks.
I’ve seen enough cop shows to know I need to keep this asshole talking, and I ask, “I know you, don’t I?”
A hand slaps my face, and even with the protection of the black cloth over my head, my cheek stings.
“I ask the questions. You answer. So let’s try this again. You’re trying to place me?”
The pain pierces my head. “Yes, I am,” I say as clear as I can, never letting him sense my fear.
“Okay, now that’s a good little girl. But there’s more who want you besides me.”
I don’t understand this, but I answer right away to avoid another hit. “Okay,” I return in acknowledgment.
“Now that’s good, you’re learning quick.” His hand connects with my arm, and it’s instinctual to pull away. He slaps me on the other side of my face this time.
“Hey, bro?” a foreign voice calls from where I assume is the driver’s seat. “We have someone following us.”
He reaches around my waist and pulls the cell I snuck below my beltline against my skin. “Well, you’ve been a bad girl. But the better question is what the hell will we do with the person who’s chasing us.”
“It’s a late model red Honda Civic,” the voice calls from the front of the van, and my heart falls. I know exactly who drives a late model Honda.
“Don’t hurt her… I swear, she’s not the cavalry. She’s just my best friend.”
Both men begin to cackle so loud, I lose concentration on how long or where we turn. Now I not only have Greenlyn and Stewart but also my spunky best friend to protect. Though I’d lost track, I begin to count the turns again in the hopes it will help, listening intently to the outside until one more punch to my head has me seeing black.
I hear familiar voices, calling for me to wake up. “Malia, Malia.” It’s what breaks the haze of my blackout as I attempt to raise my head. Not only does it hurt like a son of a bitch multiplied by a hundred but there’s also a crick in my neck, causing the pain to radiate down my spine.
“Shit!” I shout when my eyes adjust to the light.
“I think she’s coming to.” There is a male voice, but not one I recognize.
“Yeah, I think she is, too. Malia, honey, focus, we need you to focus.” This second male voice, I know.
“Stewart,” I call out. Somehow, I feel relief knowing he’s with us. I don’t want anyone here on my account. My eyes briefly stare at every person in the room, all of us in a circle, in steel chairs, with our hands bound behind us and legs tied at our ankles.
“Yeah, honey, I need you to wake up for us. Can you do this for me?”
My eyes focus on Higgie, but next to him, my heart falls when the fire engine red hair of Georgia catches my attention. Next to her is the grown man version of Smith Turner, and next to him is Greenlyn.
“Holy fuck, how many of us are there?”
“Do you know…?” Stewart is about to ask as a man drags another person into the large warehouse room, and my chair is placed in the center of the circle—as I’m the center of this whole clusterfuck.
Chapter 27
Wells
I’m in Vanessa’s office, accessing her database. Some of the reports have not been sent to me. She’ll be pissed, but she’s not back yet, and I can’t wait. We have forensics from the scene, I need to look at it before I start to comb the old files, attempting to make sense of whatever I heard that had put me on high alert. I haven’t been able to figure it out from the drive to the precinct.
And I have no idea when Vanessa will bring the foremen in for questioning.
I have the forensics, but still no solid evidence that will help me solve this case or figure out where the fuck my partner is. My phone is ringing off the hook, when I print what I need, which really is nothing, and return to my desk, where my cell is.
Ten missed calls. Mostly from uniforms watching Malia and two from Vanessa, along with a text.
Vanessa: You better call me, right fucking now.
Well, that’s Vanessa. One minute, she’s all sweet, and the next, she’s as unreasonable as they come.
Eight calls from the uniforms have me reaching for my cell to call Kenzie back, the one who was tasked with watching Mal in the house.
“I saw you called. What’s up, Kenzie?”
“Shanahan, shit, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. Malia’s best friend showed up on your doorstep. She was here for an hour, then I went out to get her stuff from the car. The best friend told me I missed something in her trunk, and she ended up speeding away.”
“What? You’re telling me you let both girls get away from you?”
There’s a pause on the line. “Yeah, but right before, she got a text, Malia that is, and she looked upset. Do you think this has anything to do with Detective Higgins’ disappearance?”
I hang up the phone, my badge, piece, and keys in my hand. Hitting Vanessa’s number on the phone, I’m about to tell her to meet me at the house as a foreign voice answers the call.
“I’m glad you returned your captain’s phone call finally. Her life, and that of everyone I have, lies in your hands.”
A picture is sent my way, and in a circle sits Stewart, Vanessa, and Greenlyn. I look further at the other two. One is Smith Turner, and the other has fire engine red hair. This explains what happened to Georgia, Mal’s best friend
. In the center of the circle is a body I’ve memorized in the short amount of time since being back in her life. It’s appropriate that my girl is in the middle because she’s become the center of my world.
He’d hung up on me, sending me a slew of texts with instructions.
Vanessa: You have three minutes to get in the car.
They hadn’t given me any instructions while I was in the precinct, but I knew well enough to use a landline to call the one person I trust with my life, leaving a quick note. I had all of three minutes to get to my car, so the note I left on the desk was quick.
Vanessa: I’m tracking you, and I’ve installed something where I can monitor your phone calls and transmissions. We can tell if anyone is following you and can hear if you leak this information to someone. Don’t tell one officer about this. Your ex will be the first to bite the bullet.
Vanessa: I need you to drive North on I-5 until you reach the exit for Everette. Then you’ll get more instructions.
Sons of bitches. I have no idea what to expect and hoped my GPS on my car could be traceable.
I turn toward the freeway, heading north on I-5. I don’t know the town of Everette that well, but it’s a place with a lot of docks, so I assume it’s where they are holding everyone.
This couldn’t have been a job one person is able to pull off. And that little detail which has niggled away at me continues to. I pull up to a red light, taking out my phone to open up my email. I’d made myself a witness list a couple of years ago. Something about the names is too familiar, and when I download the list, I’m staring at the reason for that little cop instinct that won’t go away.
I go further, as the light is still red, searching the names of everyone in the dorm, where Malia and Greenlyn had resided, and like a jigsaw puzzle, it all makes sense now.
I text back on Vanessa’s phone.
Me: I’m curious, who is texting me? Is this Tim, Curtis, or Victor Wayne?
With the dots appearing underneath my text, I know I’ve gotten their attention.
Vanessa: Good job, detective. Too bad someone has to die now for you being an excellent dick. Let’s see. I think I’ll play eeny meeny miny moe.
My heart falls. I have no idea how truly unstable the three brothers are, but I’ve heard stories of the demons they were in the neighborhood from Matt, Jules, and all the other Montgomerys over the years. No one even looked at them for the murders because the entire family had been on vacation three states away for two weeks. But a family that murders together, stays together, I guess.
My car continues to the pier when another text comes in. It’s a video.
I open it up, and my heart races.
Chapter 28
Malia
“No, you son of a bitch, don’t you fucking dare!” Stewart yells, a gun pointed at Vanessa’s head. It’s the first time I focus on the men, one with a gun, one with a phone, and the other walking around with a laptop in his hand.
They look familiar. One is recognizable as the man who propositioned Greenlyn and me for a threesome on my first night in the dorm—the one she had a bad feeling about. I guess her gut was right after all.
“I know you,” I say, the phone is focused at first with the gun on Vanessa’s head, then the phone turns to me.
“Yeah, you sure do, and I’d still take you and blondie and even the redhead, though she’s a raging bitch.”
He moves the camera to Georgia, bending down when he touches her face, all the while, my skin breaks out in a sweat. She’s a loose cannon on a good day. What will she do to escalate the situation now?
“Take that, you son of a bitch!” she screams as she spits in his face, and he’s quick when he backhands her.
The man I know as Victor turns to the guy with his gun trained on Vanessa. “If we take out a bitch, let it be this one.”
My stomach tightens in knots, and a text comes through immediately. “Ah, you all are saved by the bell.”
He’s been communicating with Wells, or it’s what they tell us. But how can you trust a psychopath to be truthful?
“Wait, I know you, too!” I shout, my eyes focusing on the oldest of the three, the one with the gun.
He’d been eighteen at the time, but he still looks the same, with a few lines marking his face. “You’re a Wayne boy, the oldest—Tim?”
“You finally get it now. See, the thing about us Wayne brothers is we stick together.”
My mind is still foggy. He was not the one who grabbed me and shoved me in the van. It was the guy walking around with the computer. “He’s getting close. How do you want to work it?” the computer man asks, and I think he may be the middle of the brothers.
“Tell him the address, and that you’re tracking his incoming calls.”
“Yeah, he pulled up his email. That is how he figured us out, but he’s not sent anything, and his radio has stayed mute.”
They are tracking Wells. He won’t hesitate to come here, to save me, to save everyone without any regard for himself. It’s where he shines. It’s what makes him—him, but what if I lose him after finally being able to call him mine?
“Did you kill my family?” I ask, my mind racing with the logistics of how three people could be involved.
“Little girl, you can’t handle the truth from me.”
I’m trying to buy time. I don’t know why, but every television show I’ve watched tells me this is what I should do.
“I think I deserve to know.” All five remain silent, except for Georgia.
“Yeah, assholes, I think she deserves to know the truth.” The one I know as Victor stalks toward Georgia, and winds back his hand, when he only rotates, slapping Greenlyn so hard across the face, she whimpers and begins to lose consciousness.
“Greenlyn!” I scream, “Greenlyn.” I attempt to garner her attention as she closes her eyes.
“Greenlyn.” Stewart's words pull her out of her daze. “Keep those eyes open.” He’s been the calm in the storm as Vanessa and Smith continue to stay quiet.
“Now, you mouth off again, Red, and I’ll hurt someone else.” Her face falls because Georgia’s tough, but even she knows she’s beat.
“Greenlyn, are you okay?” Georgia asks, and when she doesn’t answer, Stewart answers for her.
“Keep your fucking mouth shut.” Georgia mouths, “I’m sorry,” and I can only fully see her, Stewart, and Greenlyn. If I rotate my head, I’m able to watch Vanessa. I’ve not been able to look upon Smith since they placed me in the middle.
“I loved Annie,” Smith begins, and maybe he’s seen the same cop shows and wants to stall, whatever we’re stalling for. “She’d been my best friend since kindergarten. I miss her, but all this time, the cops have been trying to pin the murders on me. I think I have the right to know since I’ve been looked at as a murderer for years.”
“Ah, I forgot about our patsy,” the eldest stalks over to him, but I can’t see. “You know me, right, Mr. Turner?”
“Yeah, now I do,” Smith begins, and though I can’t see him, I hear him clearly. “I remember now, after all these years, it was you Annie got in the car with on the day of the murders. I always told the police she left with someone before going home, and it was you.” Smith takes a deep breath. “She told me she couldn’t be friends anymore because her boyfriend was jealous. Did you murder her because of that?”
Aunt Mally told me for years that this had been Smith’s claim. She never kept the progress of the case from me, but neither one of us thought Smith would ever hurt Annie, let alone my entire family.
“I didn’t believe the lying bitch, not one bit. I’d seen how you looked at her, and she was so upset when she got in the car.”
His voice rises, “Because you made her give up her best friend, you fucking psycho.” Smith is loud, but I don’t have to see when the sound of fists hitting bones is apparent.
“So, why did you kill her?” I call out. “And why my whole family?”
He positions himself in front of me to
begin. “Because I wanted to hurt the entire family, wipe you all out. Curtis had a thing for Gracie, and we just knew Victor would end up with you.”
Curtis continues, his head popping up from the computer. “If one of you bitches hurt one of us, we knew all of you would, and if we couldn’t have you, no one could. We couldn’t leave witnesses, I slit Gracie’s throat, and your dad ran with you. He’d not seen me. I knew you hadn’t. I finished with your family, and Tim worked on your dad. Vic was too young to murder, just being eleven, but we let him kill the Mastilles to see how it felt.”
“Killing is fucking freeing, and there are five people in this room,” Victor starts. “Who will breathe their last breaths in here, and I can’t wait to kill them. But Malia will be ours.”
Tim answers for me before I can ask. “You’ll belong to Victor. We’ll go somewhere overseas, and we’ll find our own partners…”
“You have a family, a wife, kids,” Stewart begins, and this is news to me.
“Tim,” Curtis calls, ignoring Stewart, “Detective Shanahan is here.”
“Ah, let the fun begin, motherfuckers.”
Chapter 29
Wells
I pull up in front of the door as I’ve been instructed, and when I do, a gun is pointed at me. “Get out, motherfucker.”
So original, a perp using language like this. “I need assurances that everyone is okay, and you’ll let them go!” I yell with my demand.
“And I’m the one with the gun, you son of a bitch, so tell me, do you think today is your lucky day?”
Another man, who bears a strong resemblance to the person in front of me, approaches with another gun in his hand. “Come in here and join everyone. It’s a big fat party.”