Seeking Refuge

by Alana Terry

  “I’ll be right there.”

  While Wes waited impatiently for Joe, he told Heather about his job, the assignments he loved and hated, and the ones that changed his life. It worked to distract Heather, but nearly drove him insane. Just has he started to ask her about her Job, Joe arrived, pounding on the door.

  Joe took over the situation from the moment he entered the door. He greeted Wes and asked if Alexa had called. Seeing Heather on the couch, Joe chose to let her think he didn’t know she’d be there. He smiled and said, “I’m glad to find you here. You’ve met Wes?”

  “No,” she snapped. “I came in and made myself at home while she’s gone.” She pointed at Wes. “I don’t know who he is or why he’s here, but I think you should kick him out. Strange guys have no business being in Alexa’s house when she’s gone.”

  Taken aback, Joe started to correct her and then laughed. “Sorry. I have a tendency to ask the obvious—occupational hazard. I needed to talk to you about Hunter Lloyd.” Remembering that Heather’s rudeness to Alexa had directly led to her sprained ankle made Joe impatient and snappish. He had to get control over himself.

  “Hey, where are your children?”

  Heather’s head jerked up, eyes wide with surprise. “They’re with their father until New Year’s.”

  “How long have you known Hunter Lloyd?” Joe tried to formulate his questions in unpredictable order in order to catch any discrepancies, but was also anxious to hear what she’d told Wes.

  Heather, unaware that she slowly destroyed a cheerfully orchestrated interrogation began telling the story from the day she met Hunter and accepted an invitation to his office party. “I thought he was so good looking—charming. He just—oh, I don’t know. I just liked how he made me feel.”

  Wes nodded slowly. “Like a woman rather than a mother or a teacher?”

  Heather nodded. “Anyway, I knew Zach had that sleepover and that Alexa would probably invite Sarah if she knew about it. I know it’s kind of rude, but she seems to like the kids so I convinced myself it wouldn’t be an imposition.”

  “She means it. If she didn’t want to do it, she wouldn’t offer,” Wes assured her. Joe couldn’t help agreeing internally.

  “That’s what I figured. She invited Sarah the second she heard about my date. I didn’t even have a chance to mention looking for a sitter.” Her voice caught as she whispered, “She’s always been good to us—from the first day.”

  Heather stared at her feet as though the woolen clogs she wore were suddenly of great import. “I was really ticked when Alexa called. It wasn’t just because she wanted to bring Sarah home.”

  “It wasn’t?” Joe kicked himself for showing surprise. He was behaving like a rookie—stupid.

  “No... I had just seen Hunter put something in my drink. I assumed—still think—that it was some kind of date rape thing or something.” This time a sniffle escaped before she added, “I feel so stupid.”

  Wes took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. Joe watched, interested, but not surprised. He could easily see Alexa making the exact gesture. Heather gathered courage from it and continued. “I just wanted you guys out of there before you found out what happened.”

  “And maybe a little insulted?” Wes added.

  “Yeah—I mean, come on. Am I really so desperate looking that he’d think I’d go for something—whatever.” She swallowed, choking back more emotion. “Anyway, after Alexa called, I told him he had to go and why. As I started to shut the door, I told him not to call or come back—told him I’d seen him put something in my drink and I didn’t need a man like that in my life.”

  Joe nodded supportively. “How did he react?”

  He was angry, but I’d shut and bolted the door by then. You guys knocked almost immediately.”

  “He went out the back then?” he asked, knowing the answer, in order to keep her talking through the more difficult moments ahead.

  “Yes. You guys came in and I was so mortified. I just wanted you out of there. If anything ever happened, I could lose my kids! My ex—”

  “Tell him what happened next.” Wes reached for the box of tissues as a preventative measure.

  Heather gave him a little smile and pulled out a tissue, twisting it in her fingers. “Well, just after you left, I turned out the lights and got ready for bed. I almost called to apologize, but with all those lights down there, I figured she’d be busy.”

  “Somewhat,” Joe agreed.

  “About an hour later, he came back. I think he was drunk.” Her eyes shifted, looking anywhere but at the men seated before her. “That’s not true. I know he was.” She sighed. “Alexa probably saved me from a miserable night. He started screaming at me—called me a flirt and tried to intimidate me. I told him to shut up and go home.”

  “Good for you.” It sounded inadequate, but Joe had heard and seen too many women who allowed themselves to be browbeaten into things they didn’t want by guys accusing them of flirting or leading them on.

  “I was trying to be quiet so I wouldn’t wake up Sarah—no idea why I bothered. Nothing wakes her up. Anyway, he started acting even more aggressive, and I realized that he took my being quiet as giving in.”

  Joe grew sick, thinking he knew what was coming. “Oh, Heather...”

  “He pushed me a few times, so I started yelling. I told him that there were a bunch of cops down the street and that I knew one personally.” She ducked her head before she met Joe’s gaze. “I meant you—hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all. You do what you have to do to be safe,” he assured her.

  “I don’t think he believed me at first, so I dragged him through the house to the front door and showed him the cars at the end of the street. That totally freaked him out. He said if I tried to get him in trouble, he’d make sure I lost my kids, my job, even my house. I don’t think he can do all that, but I pretended that I did just to get him out of here and off my back.”

  “Do you know where he is?” R-2 pills weren’t a problem in Fairbury—but stuff like that came in from Rockland at times. A few geriatric hippies occasionally grew a marijuana plant in their backyard for personal use, but for a bedroom community, drugs just weren’t a serious problem in Fairbury—and he wanted it to stay that way.

  “He said something about spending Christmas and New Year’s in Rockland.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be home?”

  Heather shook her head. “All I know is that he has to work on Friday and he’s pretty ticked about it.”

  Joe asked a few more questions before leaving to file his report. Wes stared at the door and then the miserable woman before him. “Let’s go out to dinner and see a movie. You can’t sit around thinking about this.”

  “Is there anything even playing?”

  “Alexa says Yesterday’s Tomorrow is good—the one she saw with Joe and your daughter the other night. C’mon. It’ll make you feel better.”

  JOE DIALED ALEXA’S room for the third time. She hadn’t answered all evening Friday, and as he packed, he realized it had been over twenty-four hours since he’d started calling. After one more message left at the front desk, he called her house.

  Wes answered on the third ring, calling out to someone, “Don’t let the soup boil over! Alexa is fussy about her stove.”

  “Wes?”

  “Yeah, who—Joe?”

  “Yeah, hey have you talked to Alexa lately?” Joe explained his concern and waited for Wes’ verdict.

  “Joe, that’s not like her. She always returns messages promptly. Do you have the number for that girl she’s planning to see? Maybe she stayed over at their house instead.”

  He pounced on that like a cat on an unwelcome rodent. “I’ll call back as soon as I learn something. With everything going on, I won’t be comfortable until I talk to her.”

  By Sunday morning, both Joe and Wes were unnerved. The hotel insisted that they could only say that there was room activity and they had no concern for their guest’s safe
ty. No matter how much Joe pressed, they refused to give any other information citing the need to protect their guest’s privacy.

  Joe abandoned his plans to drive the six hours to Chicago and drove to the airport instead. One of the shuttle-style flights to Chicago would be faster, and Joe was anxious to get there—now. He called his brother and asked Jeremy to meet him at the airport. All was set.

  All he had to do now was convince Wes to stay home. “Yeah, like that’ll be easy,” he muttered, pulling out his phone at the terminal.

  JOE’S FLIGHT WAS DELAYED by thirty minutes, his seat was farthest from the door, and next to him stood an elderly woman who naturally needed assistance. He ached to blow her off. His conscience and his heart warred within him—heart insisting that she’d never know he was a Christian or an officer, conscience insisting that it didn’t matter. Conscience won—barely.

  Once finished helping the woman with her baggage and into a cab, he found himself smothered in a bear hug from behind. “Finally! I thought you were worried about Miss Hartfield. What are you doing out here playing Boy Scout?”

  Joe shoved his carry-on bag at his brother, but Jeremy hoisted his suitcase muttering, “I have to carry everything?”

  “You got it already?”

  Jeremy laughed as he pulled Joe toward the exit. “I’ve been behind you the whole time. You were just so busy trying not to look desperate to get away that you didn’t see me.”

  Traffic dragged through the streets until Joe accurately surmised he could have gotten there faster on foot. Unaware that his toes and fingers kept a running pace of their own, Joe tried to ask about how their Christmas had gone. His wandering thoughts prevented his finishing any sentence. He tried Alexa’s room once more as they neared the hotel, but the phone rang endlessly.

  “This just isn’t normal. No one can go for over two days without sleep. She has to be there some of the time.”

  They rode the elevator to Alexa’s floor and pounded on the door. Silence replied. Again, they pounded, Joe shouting her name as he did. No response. Jeremy and Joe stared at each other, concern growing exponentially.

  “Can’t you just kick down the door or something? Don’t they teach you how to do that in the academy or something?”

  “I could get in a lot of trouble—not my jurisdiction but...”

  “Who cares about trouble? We’ll pay for damages, but if she’s hurt or worse—”

  Mind made up, Joe nodded. “You’re right.” He started to raise his foot, hoping the hotel locks wouldn’t be as strong as he thought. Just as he began to lower it again, certain he’d never be able to do it without a battering ram, a voice cried, “Stop!”

  The two men turned toward the voice and stared as a young woman—a room service attendant—hurried to where they stood. “What do you think you’re doing to Miss Hartfield’s door?”

  “She’s not answering; she hasn’t answered her phone for days. We’re concerned.” Joe pulled out his Fairbury PD badge. “I’m not trying to hurt her. Alexa is a friend.”

  The girl’s eyes grew large. “That doesn’t sound right. I know there’s been room service daily.” She glanced around her. “Let me go get the housekeeper’s passkey. You don’t need to smash the door.”

  Joe glanced at Jeremy. “I wasn’t going to,” he murmured as she hurried to retrieve it. “It’s too strong. I’d never be able to bust that in without a ram.”

  A woman stood to one side, listening as the attendant swiped the card, stepped in the room, and flipped on the lights.

  Alexa laid face first on the bed, almost completely covered by blankets. The phone cord lay draped over the phone, disconnected from the wall. A tray of untouched food sat cold beside the bed, and a pot of stale coffee warmed in the coffee pot. She didn’t stir.

  As Joe neared the bed, the hotel employee and Jeremy retreated to the doorway. The girl hovered between Joe and Jeremy as if unsure where she belonged. They smiled awkwardly at one another as Joe glanced over his shoulder before sitting on the edge of the bed.

  He watched for signs of breathing, and the gentle rise and fall of bed coverings assured him that she was alive. He tried touching her temple, but she rolled over, draping her hand over her eyes—an unnecessary move considering the thick eye mask that covered them. A flash of yellow caught his attention.

  “Hey—do these look like ear plugs to you?” he hissed at the others.

  “Yeah—the package is on the end table.”

  Joe didn’t bother looking. Something else caught his eye, though. A prescription bottle, partially hidden by a cold cup of coffee, piqued his interest. He let out a low whistle. “I think we have the culprit.” He shook it for effect.

  Jeremy took it to the table and began counting tablets. Joe shook Alexa gently. She rolled onto her side, her back to Joe, and pulled the blanket over her head. Jeremy’s voice grabbed his attention. “Joe, the prescription is for thirty tablets and there are twenty-two left.”

  “When was it filled?”

  “Almost a year ago.”

  “Unlikely overdose then.”

  The attendant chuckled. “Unless she’s like my aunt.”

  Jeremy’s eyes asked the question before Joe could verbalize it. The girl hurried to explain. “Aunt Marcy doesn’t handle prescription drugs well. One Vicodin can knock her out for the whole day. I mean out—as in sleeping through anything—out.”

  Joe pulled the earplug from Alexa’s ear. Bending close, he tried to be reasonably quiet. “Alexa... wake up. Come on, wake up.”

  His attempts failed. When Alexa rolled over again, Joe’s training clicked in. He removed the other earplug, pulled her hair out of her face, motioned for Jeremy to flip off the lights, and pulled the mask from her eyes. Dark circles rimmed them, making her look almost racoonish. She slept on.

  Joe strode to the bathroom, soaked a washcloth in cold water, and wrung it out. He sat next to her again, shaking her shoulders gently. She stirred but didn’t open her eyes. Dreading the potential for a sock in the nose, Joe laid the washcloth on her forehead. It failed to wake her.

  He shook harder. She didn’t respond. He moved the washcloth to her neck. She stirred restlessly and pushed at it. Joe took the opportunity and shook her again. “Alexa! Wake up—c’mon, wake up.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered. He tried again. “C’mon. We’re worried about you. C’mon.”

  She rolled over and a slight snore followed. Frustrated, he whacked at her backside with the washcloth and shouted, “Fine! Let people die! Murders are happening because of you, and you just lie there sleeping!”

  Alexa sat straight up, clutching her head. From the look on her face, Joe could see that the traces of something—migraine it seemed—still lingered. “Murder? I thought I heard someone shout murder!” She winced at her own voice. Yep. Migraine.

  At the sight of Joe, she pulled the blankets up to her chin and rasped, “Joe? What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to get here until Sunday.”

  “It is Sunday.”

  “Already?” She sat up, still trying to cover herself with the sheets.

  Joe stood, backing toward the door. “Why don’t you put on a robe or something? Just let us back in when you’re—covered.”

  The room plunged into darkness as the door shut. They’d turned off the light again. Alexa snapped on the lamp next to the bed, wincing in anticipation of the pain. It didn’t come. That was a good sign. She stood on wobbly legs and licked her cracked lips—dehydrated. She rummaged through her suitcase for her robe and slipped it on. Grabbing a brush and a bottle of water, she opened the door, snapping on the room’s overhead lights. “Come on in—sorry. I’m still waking up. What did you say about a murder? I haven’t written anything since I got here.”

  “There is no murder,” Joe admitted. “I was just trying to wake you up. I’ve been calling for two days now.”

  Alexa nodded, sinking into a chair and guzzling water. “I guess I didn’t eat enough. If I take a Lortab and don�
�t keep food in me, it knocks me out forever.” She guzzled another third of the bottle. “I am so parched!”

  Chapter 21

  ALEXA AND LORIE BURST through the hotel room door, laughing. “That man was so funny! I had no idea it would be so amusing to be you!” Lorie’s face fell as she remembered what recent weeks had brought to Alexa. “Sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

  “It’s fine. It usually is fun to be me—not because of ridiculous pickup lines, but just because I’ve created the life I want—that makes it fun. Now...” She withdrew a garment bag and laid it on the bed. “Ready?”

  “Um, yeah!” Lorie thought she’d go crazy waiting, but Alexa and her father both had kept the dress such an enormous secret.

  “Close your eyes...”

  Exasperated, the girl sighed, trying to sound as put out as possible. She made exaggerated peeking gestures until Alexa threatened to throw the dress out the window. “Fine, fine. I’m not looking.”

  Zipping, shuffling, rustling—she thought she’d go insane with curiosity until Alexa said, “There.”

  “Oooh! Red! Chinese! It’s beautiful. I love it! Thank you for not putting me in black!”

  “People like it with your hair and fair skin?”

  “Yep, but I’m not exactly Goth material.” Her hand smoothed over the oriental pattern to the fabric. “How did you find it?”

  “It was at a shop in New York. The woman who ordered it never picked it up, so I got a great price on it and it fits!

  “How do you know?”

  Alexa grinned. “I brought back the blue dress you’ve been missing. Your father mailed it to Silva for me.”

  “Aaakk! I asked him if he’d seen it!”

  “And he told me he’d tell you that he hadn’t in the past week or so.”

  Lorie knew she was beaten. That was exactly what he’d said. She carried the dress to the bathroom and grinned as it zipped up perfectly. Alexa knew her business. “What do you think?”

  “Oh, Lorie... you’re going to knock Jeremy’s socks off.”