by A J Rivers
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask.
“I was fourteen years old and got pregnant by a nineteen-year-old I wasn’t even supposed to be seeing. The baby was dead and buried in a field where we were trespassing. And our best friend who witnessed it all was missing after we left her drunk out of her mind and sick in a hospital waiting room. I was terrified. I had no idea what to do or if they would even believe me. Maybe they would think I did something to her because Vivian, Tegan, and my boyfriend would turn against me to save themselves.”
“Why do you never say your boyfriend’s name?” I finally ask, after having taken note of it for the last several minutes. “You’ve been talking about him all this time and haven’t once said his name.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t like talking about him. And I don’t want anybody to be able to track him down and ask him about what happened.”
“Do you think he might hurt you?” I ask. She draws in a breath and looks at the grave again. Realization trickles down my spine like ice water. “Did you think he might have hurt Ashley?”
“I thought about it,” she admits. “I didn’t want to think that was possible. For a fourteen-year-old, dating someone for six months feels like forever. I thought he was my everything. We were going to grow up and get married. We’d have babies I would get to keep and raise. Everything was going to be perfect. I didn’t want to think for a single second that he could have done something to her.”
“But you did.”
“He took me to the hospital and left. He said he didn’t want to be there and possibly get in trouble. They would arrest him and put him in jail and I’d never see him again. Of course, I believed him. I was fifteen. I didn’t know better than to believe him. I wanted to protect him. In my heart, he loved me. So,I sat there with Vivian and went through everything without him. He was back by the time I was discharged and ready to take me back to the campsite. But I didn’t know what he was doing during that time. After I found out Ashley was missing, there was a part of me that wondered if he could have gone back to the hospital and done something to her so she wouldn’t be able to tell what happened.”
“Right now, we don’t know for sure that he didn’t,” I point out.
Her face drops and she shakes her head adamantly. “No. He couldn’t have. Ashley’s back. She’s there in the hospital. He wouldn’t have kept her like that. He couldn’t have.”
“You know I’m going to have to tell the investigators what you’ve told me. And they’re going to bring you in for questioning. You’ll have to tell them who your boyfriend was and every detail you can think of. Don’t try to lie anymore. They’re going to be even more suspicious of you now,” I tell her.
She swallows hard. “Am I going to be in trouble?”
“I don’t know. I can’t tell you for sure that they won’t bring you up on charges. But if you are upfront with them and tell them everything, they are more likely to be lenient,” I say.
“Will you go with me?” she asks.
“Of course.”
Thirty-Seven
The next day I’m still at the police station with Allison when I get a phone call from Misty. I ignore it, intending to call her back when the interview is done. I don’t want to leave the girl’s side. She doesn’t want her parents here with her. She isn’t yet ready for them to know what happened, but she also doesn’t want to be alone.
She’s also twenty years old. That means the investigator could refuse to allow her parents in the room with her during questioning. This is part of my investigation, so professional courtesy has the detective let me in the room to listen to her statement and participate in the questioning.
Allison doesn’t hesitate. This time, she’s ready to tell everything. It’s difficult for her. I can see the pain in her eyes and the fear of what might come because of it. But I can also see how much of a relief it is to finally have the story out in the open rather than carrying it around as she has been for five years. This has been tormenting her. She wants to be able to mourn for her child and not try to keep up with the lies.
“I never wanted anything to happen to Ashley,” she says. “I never wanted her to get hurt. I hate myself for what happened to her.”
This is the moment in movies when a kindhearted investigator would offer her coffee and tell her what happened isn’t her fault, but this isn’t the movies. The truth is, Allison is at least partly to blame for whatever happened to Ashley that night after they left her in the hospital. Along with Vivian, Tegan, and Allison’s boyfriend, who I just now learned is a man named Sean Melrose. They contributed to this. It was their decision not to call for an ambulance or the police. It was their decision to leave Ashley in the emergency room without anyone to watch over her. And it was their decision not to come clean when they realized everything wasn’t fine.
What she went through after the last moment Allison laid eyes on her in the emergency room is still hazy. But no matter what it was, it sits partly on the shoulders of her friends.
They can’t be blamed fully. Someone else is involved. The mystery of the last five years has another player. But it started with them.
My phone rings again, and again I ignore it. The questioning is getting intense, but there’s a balance that has to be kept. Every detail needs to come out. Allison needs to tell us everything she remembers from the very beginning. But if the interrogator pushes too hard, she might shut down. It could compromise the investigation to come. Which is going to have to include Vivian and Sean, when we track him down.
Allison is sobbing over Charlie, begging for the return of his remains when the investigation is over, when my phone rings for a third time. Seconds after I ignore the call, it rings again. I ignore it, and it rings again.
“Give me a second,” I say, standing up from the table. I rest a hand on Allison’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
I look over at the attorney who has been sitting silently next to Allison and he nods, a silent acknowledgment that I’m passing over to him the responsibility of both protecting her and making sure the truth comes out.
My phone is already to my ear when I step out into the hallway.
“I’m at the police station,” I tell Misty as she answers. “There’s been a development.”
“Emma, they’re trying to take her,” she says.
“What?” I ask. “Who? What’s going on?”
Misty sounds frantic, right on the edge of losing control.
“Someone put in a request to have her transferred to another hospital, to a secured ward,” she says.
“I’ll be right there. Do not let them take her,” I say.
“I’m trying.”
“Just hang on. I’ll be there.” I hang up and rush back into the room with Allison and the investigator. “I need to leave. Is Allison free to go?”
The detective looks at me in shock, but I need to get out of here, and I’m not leaving without knowing the direction this is moving forward.
“I don’t think we’re finished here,” he says.
“Unless you plan to put her under arrest, you are,” the attorney adds.
The detective knows he’s stuck. He only has a couple of options at this point. He could technically hold Allison for twenty-four hours before bringing any charges on her. He could also put her under arrest right now. Neither of those options is ideal in his situation. They could greatly compromise the future of the case and create a number of issues. Which leaves him with the final option. Letting her go.
He glares for a few more seconds, then stands. “Don’t leave the area.”
Allison looks at me and I nod. “You can go. Just make sure you stay accessible.”
She nods and I head out of the station to my car. I don’t know for sure the direction things will go with Allison and the others. There are definitely charges that could be brought against all of them. Whether there actually will be, and if said charges will be brought to trial, is yet to be seen.
I
get to the hospital and flash my identification as I run past the security guard. Misty is standing in the hallway in front of Ashley’s room, wringing her hands. A doctor is standing in front of her and a police officer is at his side.
“It will be easier for everyone if we get her moved and settled into the other unit, then we can figure out where to go from there,” the doctor says.
“How is that easier?” Misty demands. “After everything she’s gone through, you want to disrupt her again, transport her to another hospital, and make her get used to another set of people? Without even knowing why they want to move her?”
“They want to move her into a secure unit that will be easier to monitor,” the officer says. “She’ll get better care and the family won’t be as exposed to the media.”
I stalk up to them.
“What’s going on here?”
Misty looks relieved to see me. She gestures at the men in front of her.
“They want to take Ashley to the hospital across town,” Misty says.
“You said the secure ward. Are you referring to the psychiatric floor?” I ask.
The doctor looks slightly uncomfortable but holds his ground. “Yes. The request states the patient would be more comfortable and better served in that environment.”
“Her name is Ashley,” Misty says angrily. “Not the patient.”
“Ma’am, I need to ask you to calm down,” the officer says. “It isn’t going to do anyone any good for you to react like this.”
I hold up a hand. “That’s enough. There’s no reason for you to talk to her like that. This is her daughter. She isn’t some nameless, faceless case file. She’s been missing for five years and has just come back to her family. Both of you need to show some more respect.”
“I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “That was insensitive of me. But I have to admit, I’m surprised by your reaction, Miss Griffin.”
“It’s Agent Griffin,” I snap to the doctor I haven’t met yet. “And you are?”
“Dr. Floriani. I’m one of the team handling Ashley’s case.”
“Alright, Dr. Floriani. Why would you be surprised by my reaction? You might be working on her medical needs right now, but I’m handling the case of what happened to her five years ago. It’s my job to protect her and her family, and to ensure her best interests are upheld,” I say.
“Which is precisely why I’m surprised,” he says. “Considering you are the one who put in the request for the transfer.”
Thirty-Eight
Misty gasps beside me, but I hold up a hand.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“The request was put into the hospital administrator’s office this morning. It stated you wanted Ashley Stevenson moved to Gunter Memorial for admission into the secure mental health ward for observation and monitoring. It stated she would be better protected there, and it is your professional opinion that she has been through such a horrific experience she is not in a mentally sound enough state to face the investigation and the potential of a trial,” Dr. Floriani says.
“Emma, how could you do this?” Misty asks.
“I didn’t,” I frown, then turn back to the doctor. “Why are you just saying this now? Why didn’t you mention before that I’m supposedly the one who put in this request?”
“I thought it was of such sensitive nature and could be part of the criminal investigation, so it was better if I left the details out of it,” he says. “It seems that might not have been the best choice.”
“That is a tremendous understatement,” I say. “Considering that I had nothing to do with this.”
“You didn’t put in the request?” Misty asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “Why would I go to the extent I have to ensure there is so much security around here if I was just going to have her moved somewhere else? How did this request come in?”
“It was a phone message,” the doctor explains. “The hospital administrator called Gunter Memorial and they say they received a similar message asking that space be prepared for her arrival.”
“You listened to a phone message claiming to be from an FBI agent handling a kidnapping case and you just took it for face value?” I ask incredulously.
“It wasn’t my decision,” the doctor protests. “The administrator…”
“I need to speak with the administrator,” I cut him off. “Right now.”
“I’ll show you to his office.”
Misty looks confused and afraid when I make eye contact with her again. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get this straightened out. You stay with Ashley and don’t let anyone move her. No matter what anyone says, don’t let anyone into the room unless it’s a doctor or nurse you already know. I’ll be back.” I look at the officer and point at the door. “No one in. No one out.” He nods, gulping, and I walk away.
The wait outside the administrator’s office only gets me more frustrated. It’s as if this place is designed to irritate me. Finally, after what feels like forever, the secretary lets me in. The hospital administrator stands and extends his hand to me from behind his desk.
“Hello,” he says with the kind of smile that comes only from thinking he can do no wrong and defies anyone to think otherwise. “Elton McCarthy.”
“Agent Emma Griffin,” I say.
“Of course,” he says. “I got your message earlier and I have ensured the process is underway. Ashley Stevenson will be safely transferred to the unit this afternoon.”
The smile becomes even more self-satisfied. As though he’s positive I’m here to thank him and praise him for the smooth, swift action of his administration. Hopefully, the look on my face is giving him a hint that’s not the case.
“That would be great news, if it wasn’t for the tiny detail that I’m not the one who left that message,” I say.
The smile falters. “Your name was very clearly stated. Along with your credentials and an explanation of your involvement in the case. I’d seen you on the news making statements about the case before Ashley resurfaced, so I was comfortable with its authenticity.”
“Play me the message,” I say.
I’d like to think I have it in me somewhere to be patient and tolerant, but this is not a moment to try out that theory. I need to find out what the hell is going on, and that takes precedence.
He plays back the message for me and I’m stunned at what I’m hearing. When it’s done, I point at the phone.
“Do you think that message sounds anything like my voice?” I deadpan him.
“To be fair, Agent Griffin, this is the first time I’m speaking to you in person,” he says.
“Yes, but you just said yourself you saw me on the news talking about the case. Which means you have heard me speak before. When you heard that message, did you think it sounded like me?” I ask.
“I can’t say.”
“What you’re telling me is you got a phone message stating it was me, essentially demanding the relocation of a patient who has been missing for five years, who has clearly been through some very serious abuse, and you took it as gospel. No warrant. No documentation. No court order. A phone message that could easily be snuggled right in there between an invitation to lunch and someone calling out sick for tomorrow. You didn’t think it needed any form of verification? That perhaps you should speak to the investigators, or at the very least, to the person who supposedly left the message?” I ask.
“I didn’t know the proper protocol for a situation such as this,” Elton says. “It isn’t something I’ve encountered in my career. I’ve never received a phone call from an FBI agent about one of my patients before.”
“You still haven’t,” I point out, my voice rising in pitch.
“I apologize,” he says, finally looking less smug, as though the gravity of what he almost allowed to happen is sinking in. “It was a mistake.”
“Yes,” I nod. “It was. And it could have had serious consequences if it went through. Ashley is still in very real danger. I don’t kn
ow how to emphasize that enough. Yes, she is here now. She got away from wherever she’s been for these past five years. But there’s someone who wanted her five years ago and who wants her now. Nobody let her go. She escaped. And until we find out who that person is and have him in custody, she is at risk. It’s things like this that could hand her right back over to someone waiting to keep torturing her—or kill her—to ensure she stays quiet.”
“I sincerely apologize,” he says. “Is there anything I can do to assist you in finding out who did this?”
“No,” I say. “I will do my job. You figure out how to do yours.”
Stalking out of the office, I get on the phone with Eric.
“How’s everything going?” he asks.
I can hear Bebe in the background fussing. “I could ask you the same question. Everything okay over there?”
“Just time for a snack. She’s gotten very good at letting us know when she’s hungry,” he says.
“Sounds like her mama.”
“I’m not going to say anything to confirm that about the woman I love, and who has only just given me a beautiful child, but we both know I’m nodding right now,” he says.
“I miss you guys. Can’t wait to see all of you soon. I’m not going to keep you and I know you’re not working right now…”
“What do you need?” he asks.
“I don’t want to take up any of your time. You should be with B and the baby.”
“She has her mother here, and she’s been saying I should take a break. Let me help you,” I say.
“I’m not sure working counts as a break, but I’ll take the help.”
I explain what happened, and Eric says he will work on tracking the call and figuring out where it originated. From there, it should be easier to narrow down who actually made it. Thanking him, I end the call and tuck my phone away in my pocket just as I’m getting to Ashley’s room. I knock on the door and wait for Misty to open it.
“Did you talk to the administrator?” Misty asks.